Abigail Widdowson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
acrookedchild) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
undergrounds2015-07-01 07:21 am
acrookedchild) wrote in undergrounds2015-07-01 07:21 am
Stroke of Midnight [OPEN]
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!)
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!)
no subject
Perhaps he preferred the acts of passion, he was summer after all. She smiled slyly up at him.
"A frown does not suit you, Sir. It would hardly suit my purposes to cause quite so much of a stir in current mixed company." The hand on his shoulder slipped up a little to dangle behind his neck as she stepped closer, fingers brushing the short strands of his hair. "We are guests in this house after all." And a fae claimed dominion here from what she understood.
no subject
And then he stiffened slightly again. Mab's touch made the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. "...You know, where I come from, people only do that when they're sweet on someone."
Or pretending to be. But why Mab would be either was a mystery to him...
no subject
She could feel him stiffen under her arms and finally he showed a little bristle at the touch. Tilting her head just a touch she looked at him. "Sweet on someone...hmm." It takes her a moment to consider. She's not any definition of sweet on him. It probably wasn't something she could ever be. But to enjoy touching someone did not mean one had to have a crush on them if one were to use a human term. Mab enjoyed tactile senses. She generally did not touch those she respected if they showed they did not like it but Heiji had not done so until now. Finally she gives what amounts to a shrug though there's no actual shoulder lift. "You do not like it when I touch you?"
no subject
As for her question, he wasn't actually sure. "That depends, I guess. I'm not used to other fae doing it. 'Specially not the nape of the neck. It's probably different here, but it's a little... strange to touch someone there in Japan." Especially on a casual basis.
no subject
She slid her hand back down to his shoulder and smiled a little, "I see." She couldn't really say she didn't know it was intimate. Though perhaps not that particular zone being quite so touchy. Japan is such a small country and the fae there are rather insular. And she can't say she didn't mean to get a rise out of him. It is good to see he can be ruffled. Interesting that touch was what did it. She hadn't expect that to be his trigger. And she made no promises about not doing similar things in the future. "I have offended you. My apologies."
no subject
As for her question, though... that was tougher. "You mean in general? I dunno, it just is. Whether you check out as a coward or standin' up for something you believe in. If you teach someone else what ya know or let it die with you. If you leave your family with nothing or make sure they're taken care of."
no subject
"These are very human reasons, aren't they?" She asked. "Once you are dead does it really matter if you have left something behind? Your place will be filled and nature will move on." It is probably something they will have to agree to disagree on. Death is final to Mab, those with souls might move on to their respective nirvana but for the fae you simply become part magic again. True she would not approve of someone just laying down and dying but that was more about drive than anything else for her.
no subject
Yep, they'd probably never agree on this. Gazelles, lions, grass, etc.
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Instead she let him lead her along the floor, weaving between the other partners with easy enjoyment. "Do you think this evening will end without bloodshed?" It was more curiosity and the notice that so many warring factions were present than real eagerness for things to end horribly.
no subject
Not his responsibility or his problem, though.
no subject
She was fairly sure the Redbright leader would show some restraint. Abigail seemed smart enough to keep her mind uninhibited. But she had seen several people it would be interesting to keep an eye on tonight.
no subject
"I kinda prefer fae parties to these things. The Seelie court really knows how to celebrate."
no subject
Her glance is sly. "Beauty contests and kidnapping?" She asked him. But she agreed that the fae parties felt less reserved. More free and celebratory. Unseelie parties involved a lot of politicking and chances for bloodshed but they also had an unrestrained celebration to them. The dancing alone was something to delight the senses. But humans did what they could.
no subject
Maybe if you were really unlucky, the DJ would play Love Shack. That wasn't a party, that was Purgatory.
no subject
She leaned in a little, like they hadn't just talked about personal boundaries and murmured near his ear, "If you wish to dance more expressively we can elaborate." In other words, not hold back quiet so much. They just looked like graceful humans right now. There was room to push the border a little without giving anything away.
no subject
A slip regarding his personal space was one thing. Now it was fairly obvious that Mab was trying to get a reaction out of him, which kind of pushed it past unsettling and into mildly annoying territory. "That's okay. I'm not here for a workout. Rather just keep things low-key."
no subject
To be honest she hadn't actually been trying to get a rise out of him that time. Not like the teasing had anyway. The offer and murmur been a direct response to him thinking the human dancing wasn't as enjoyable as fae. It didn't seem to bother her much that he was annoyed though. She just lifted a shoulder and let it go. "Suit yourself."
no subject