Stroke of Midnight [OPEN]

[acrookedchild]

Miss Abigail Widdowson cordially invites you to Geap Manor on Wednesday, July 1st at 19:00.

Food, drinks, and music will be provided.

All are welcome, but individuals are to be aware that any hostilities during the evening's festivities will not be tolerated.

It is the first time in at least a generation that the doors of Geap Manor have been opened to the general population. Or, at least, as general as the supernatural community could be considered. Some invitiations were made personally, but most were formally sent to the higher ranking members of the various factions.

Dinner is announced precisely at 19:30. The small, intimate eating area for the family has been turned into a buffet room. The caterers Abigail hired have obviously been paid well to make sure there is something for everyone. Rich meat dishes, hearty vegetarian dishes, light fish dishes, plenty of accompaniments and finger food. There is also plenty of fairly fresh blood for vampires. For the others, there are wines, water, and tea available.

The grand dining room has had its large table removed, replaced, instead, by small tables that can comfortably hold four. They can, of course, be pushed together to allow for more room.

The ballroom is open to the guests, and the DJ has also been highly paid to make sure the music played is precisely to the hostess's tastes. There is plenty of modern music, good for dancing, as well as older classics. However, interspersed are classical pieces meant for waltzes and foxtrots and other such ballroom dances.

In the sitting room is a drink cart with wine, tea, water, and blood. Chairs and divans are available, as the room is a quiet place, a little away from the ballroom, so conversation can be had with ease. There is an unlit fireplace, and a portrait of Abigail a few years younger than she is now hangs above it.

Most of the rest of the house is locked. One can wander the hallways, but it may prove ultimately fruitless. One who simply walks up the stairways will find the walls of each lined with the Widdowson family portraits of every generation, starting with one of a ten-year-old Abby, her parents, and her six-year-old brother. As one takes in all the paintings, a pattern presents itself. Every Widdowson woman featured is pale, thin, and blonde.

The grounds are beautifully maintained and fenced in by wrought iron on top of stone. A very traditional look for such an imposing manor. On the path from the street to the house, there's little remarkable, save the knocker on the door. Behind the house, however, if one ventures away, one might get the keen sense of something from inside the house watching, waiting, and hungering. On the ground floor, the locked rooms are mostly unremarkable, save for the study at the back of the house. Linger too long near there, and one might hear a sound coming in a pattering set. It isn't a knock against the door, no. Instead, it is the sound of something hitting the wall. If someone were to force their way into the nursery on the second floor or the attic several stories up... Well. They likely won't be coming back to the party. Or to anything.

Wandering, of course, isn't a suggested enterprise. The old house doesn't like people poking around and trying to find its secrets.


(Everyone who has at least a familiarity with the supernatural is welcome, as the invitations were distributed widely. Mingle, make your own top comments, enjoy the food, etc!)

Comments

[rules_winter]

1) Ballroom
Mab was not at all familiar with the modern music and she watched people dance to it with a look of puzzled bemusement for some time before a classical piece came on. Finally. She turned to the person next to her and tilted her head in the direction of the dance floor, lifting her hand expectantly. It may be in the look but it seemed as though she believed no was simply not an option. This person will dance with her because it is how things will be. As certain as the sun will rise again tomorrow.

2) Hallway
The Fae Lady moved up the staircase and began to study each portrait, taking note of family resemblances. Where was her young brother, she wondered to herself, mulling it over as her eyes drifted to another portrait. And where was this Fae Abigail Widdowson claimed to have raised her. Smart of him not to be caught in a portrait. Mab could feel something of him, this Unthank, but he was illusive. His power settled around the house like a second skin seamlessly becoming a part of it. She had seen the Sylvia woman finally, from a distance. During Abigail's announcement in fact. Now that had been entertaining, seeing the reaction on the woman's face. This girl who had seemed so frail and terrified when Mab initially met her, showed spirit and defiance that Mab found agreeable. And interesting.

2

[acrookedchild]

"A larger version of this used to hang above the fireplace in the sitting room." Abigail offered the information from the foot of the stair, looking at the portrait of her full family. "But when I came of age, Uncle insisted it be taken down and mine put up."

Sometimes, she had the impulse to take all the portraits down and burn them all. Burn the house, too. Raze it to the ground and salt the earth. But as quickly as the thought came it fluttered away again, and she shook her head at its inconstancy.

[rules_winter]

"We do like ceremony." She replied, her head turning to look down the stairs at the girl. Her lips quirked a little, "Speaking of which, your announcement was an impressive display of disobedience in the presence of those who would have retaliated in a less public venue." There was something like approval in that sentence.

"I expected to see your uncle here." She said thoughtfully.

[acrookedchild]

"My uncle is upstairs in the study, I believe. He dislikes visitors."

Fae or a variation of human, it rarely mattered. Only individuals would matter to him, the sort who would affect her personally.

[rules_winter]

"Ah, then the gathering was your choice?" Her voice is curious though her eyes lift a little as though she might see through the walls to the reclusive fae. Such a shame, he seemed like he would be an interesting character. To so insinuate himself into a full witch family and continue for generations. Mab would never do something quite so restrictive but she knew of fae who did such things. It gave them insular power.

[acrookedchild]

"It was. He thinks I'm being rash."

Which she was. She knew that. She was starting a coven and standing against far more powerful forces. He would rather she protect herself, hide in Geap Manor. But she has other plans. Things she must be and do if she is to live with herself.

"But I need to do this."

1

[falsify]

Well. One can hardly turn down the Lady of Air and Darkness, can they? Mostly Eames had been flitting about, seeing who of note had arrived, and Mab's hand catches him almost by surprise. He smiles as he takes it however, a soft "milday," on his lips in an almost teasing tone as he leads the way to the floor.

[rules_winter]

There is something to be said for expecting people to do things. When they do it, without a fuss it sets something of a precedent. She lets him lead her to the floor, sliding her other hand up his arm to his shoulder as they take up a more traditional dance position, her fingers curling in a little to brush lightly against the exposed skin above the back collar of his shirt. "Sir Eames," she acknowledged him as they began to dance, the dress she wore trailing a little behind her but not managing to get in the way somehow even with other feet nearby.

Mab did not regularly attend such things in the human world. This was, in fact, her first in several decades. But it had given her the opportunity to see more of those they face in the future and those that might prove to be allies or potentially useful tools. Eames, she considered, likely came to such things more often. He seemed to like the human world a great deal. "Have you been enjoying the party?"

[falsify]

"More than I expected," Eames says softly as he rests a hand on Mab's back, leading with a grace on his feet that may be surprising from someone like him. He casts the occasional glance around the room, curious about whoever else is here, but he fixes his attention on Mab when he speaks again. "Interesting to see who else made it out this evening."

[rules_winter]

"You do not normally expect to enjoy such a gathering?" She askes him and because he can dance, which she really expected he could being fae, they move through the steps with impressive finesse. She looks somewhat amused. "I would not have risked missing the young Witch's announcement had I known it would happen. An impressive show of defiance for one so fresh in our world."

Her eyes move from his to take in the others in the room. "Yes, it has been illuminating in many ways." Her eyes returned to his as they moved between another set of dancers as though unconcerned with bumping them. And though one of the men gave surprised swing of his partner away in concern, they moved through as though through water parting naturally before them. If she wasn't careful, even her human disguise would not keep her species unknown to some of the people in the room who she did not want to yet make aware of her.

[falsify]

"I can't imagine the Good Witch Redbright was too impressed," a harsh laugh implied in his tone as they move through the room. Spending as much time among the humans as he does, it's easy to forget just how refreshing it is to move alongside one of his own. The way Mab dances with the knowledge that the room will accommodate her, rather than arrogantly hoping or awkwardly shrinking away from it. A real breath of fresh air.

"This a damn sight more exciting than the usual affair." He spins Mab, a little for show, but it's also a good way to gauge how many people are watching them without being quite so obvious about it. "Generally it's all awkward children pretending that lighting a fire makes them powerful."

2

[iceolationqueen]

Elsa is sure that her blood probably runs cold anyway, but when she sees that familiar mass of silver white hair a chill goes through her veins none the same. She had left things unfinished with this woman in the coffee shop, claiming that she had somewhere to be - not entirely a lie - and making her exit. But now, in this place, surrounded by magic, she feels ready to answer her questions.

She stands at the foot of the stairs, making her presence known. "First human coffeeshops and now human parties too."

[rules_winter]

Mab felt her magic before she heard the girl's voice. Her head slowly turned and she looked down the stairs to the young woman at the bottom of them. She did not want to especially be known as fae at this party. The head witch of Redbright was here, afterall and the longer that one did not know to look out for Mab, the better.

"I do not know that I would call a party that serves blood a human party my dear." Her reply sounded amused and she turned to fully face Elsa looking down from the top step and making a gesture to indicate Elsa should join her.

[iceolationqueen]

Mab might want to mention to Elsa that she wants that particular secret kept. She has and does speak to Sylvia and that's information that Sylvia would probably want. But Elsa might be willing to keep her secret. For what reason Elsa is not entirely sure.

"It's hosted by a human. Most of us here are human, I believe." She ascends the staircase, warily, definitely not trusting Mab but hoping the fae wouldn't choose to start something at a party.

[rules_winter]

Mab thinks Elsa is not foolish enough to go around blabbing to people who hate fae about what she is. The girl seems to have some self preservation about her.

Her head dips a little acknowledging Elsa's point. Though she thinks perhaps there are more 'others' than Elsa might suspect. No need to go pointing everyone out though. Those who weren't human did not particularly appreciate that kind of thing. "You look lovely tonight." Mab sent an approving look at Elsa's party clothes.

[iceolationqueen]

Well, yes, that is true. Elsa's definitely not stupid.

"Thank you," Elsa replies, a bit surprised at the compliment. And kind of flattered too. Why, she's not sure. Maybe it's because Mab is so strikingly beautiful that it's nice to feel like she has her approval.

"Earlier when we met in the cafe.. you wanted to play a game of questions. I think I'm ready to play now."

1

[detectiveofthewest]

Heiji extended a hand to take Mab's, his manner the soul of courtesy even if she sometimes liked to touch without asking. This would be his second dance with her, so apparently the first had gone well.

He didn't say her name or her title, in case she was undercover here. "Enjoying yourself?"

[rules_winter]

If Heiji never complained he would simply have to put up with a little light petting. The fae could dance magnificently and Heiji was not an exception. Mab followed him onto the dance floor, slipping into a standard waltz posture and raising one brow. "I find the whole thing illuminating." She replied. And if anyone misstepped socially speaking, it could even grow to be entertaining.

Mab did not even have to consider how she moved, the dance came naturally instead she focused on the music and her partner. "And you, are you enjoying yourself?" She returned the courtesy of not using names. She had yet to give him the one she used for human interaction.

[detectiveofthewest]

Heiji made a noncommittal sound. "Fancy parties aren't usually my thing. Unless someone drops dead in the middle of it, of course."

Was he joking... (no.)

"But at least the music's better than at the Redbright ball. I had to twist the DJ's arm to play anything halfway decent. Figuratively speaking, of course!" Mab was a fairly fun partner to dance with, it turned out, even if she was basically a mystery.

[rules_winter]

She didn't even bat an eye as she replied, "It could be arranged."

There's some amusement in her eyes but it's not a lie either. Neither of them lies.

Her lips pursed a little. "I am unused to much of the music that has been playing tonight. How does anyone dance to some of it?" Being fun to dance with is much easier when they both have the natural grace of the fae, gliding across the floor without effort, able to move more quickly and efficiently than most humans. The vampires might be able to pull it off as well. Werewolves tended to be more clumsy about delicate things even if they could hunt with the best of them.

[detectiveofthewest]

Heiji frowned, looking directly at her for perhaps the first time since they'd started dancing. "Don't do it," he said. "There's nothing worse than the taste of a manufactured puzzle."

He wouldn't object if someone took their own initiative to revenge themselves. But a murderer goaded and encouraged into action by some force beyond his control? It would be an act devoid of anger or desperation -- and thus also of ingenuity. A cold, flavorless dish at best.

1 (ish)

[viduation]

Although most of the figures in the ballroom were dancing, Derek kept - of course - to the outskirts. Dancing had never been his thing, and he had zero intention or hope of changing that. He, too, used the time to observe, to map out the floor and the people in it. Naturally, his gaze eventually fell upon Mab. When he saw her, it was difficult for him to tell whether or not it was chance, or that strange, unsettling allure she held.

He was not surprised to see her here. In their first meeting he had come away with the impression that she was, at the very least, new to London - but even then he had doubted that would keep her out of business. She already seemed to have an interest in what was going on, after all. Derek considered saying nothing to her, but quickly dismissed the idea. He wasn't some shy wallflower, and they would be in an alliance together. That made them more than acquaintances, at least. And besides, Derek couldn't quite shake the idea that she would take it as a grave offense.

He definitely did not want to offend her.

This party is different from Redbright's, similar in many ways as it may be. In the time since, Derek's position as alpha has become more widely known, he's become recognizable. People part now not only for his dour expression, but for who he is.

Derek is finding it pretty damn useful. He heads around the dancers to the lady, offering her a nod - curt, but genuinely respectful.

"Not a dancer?"

[rules_winter]

He was about halfway around the floor when she turned her head to watch him approach like she had felt his regard instead of his movement. She watches the crowds give way for him either from the natural dominance of his position, or the knowledge of her who he is. Personally she thinks it's a little of both. Her own head inclines, her motion more graceful.

She smiles a little, "I am unfamiliar with the current dances but there are few of the high Sidhe who do not dance." And when they danced in large groups it could render a human breathless. The Rip Van Winkle story was not uncommon back in the day, time was nothing to the Sidhe and they could enthrall a human until they withered to nothing. And then because she was curious about how he'd handle the request she added on. "Would you like to instruct me in the newer dance styles Mister Hale?"

[viduation]

He found himself returning her smile, not doubting her reply for a second. She was too elegant, too poised, for it to be any kind of lie; even the delicate inclination of her head was something lovely. Besides, he'd heard enough stories about the fae - not all of them were true, by a long way, but everyone knew of their love for dancing. Her request had his eyebrows shooting up, however, genuine surprise written fleetingly across his face. Derek didn't dance, mainly because he was Derek, but at least partially because he was never asked.

With just about anyone else, Derek's response would have been a flat no. As it is, he feels he must be more careful with Mab. He chuckled, looking just a little bit rueful. "I might be a little more familiar with them, but I don't think I'm the one to teach you. Dancing isn't my thing."

[rules_winter]

His reaction was priceless. Surely he'd expected it, approaching her in the middle of the ballroom with dancers moving around them. Apparently not. She tilted her head a little, her amusement evident. He words it carefully, so polite. "Not your thing?" She repeats, all curiosity. "And what exactly is ... your thing Derek?"

He hadn't wiggled out of it just yet, but she wanted to pursue this and see where it lead.