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
Ringer selects a fairly conservative meal, with a modest amount of fish, vegetable, and a couple samples of the other food. As if her appetite wasn't already suffering enough at the mere idea of being in a place so overwhelmed with the supernatural, she comes to the source of blood for the vampires. It's only her manners that prevent her from throwing her plate away entirely as she frowns at the 'food' in disgust, oblivious to others that might be watching until one cuts directly in front of her.
2 BALLROOM
Dancing tends to be one of two things in Ringer's experience: archaic or overly sexualized. That's not to say she's against it. As a young teenager, she took lessons on many of the classical dances as an excuse to avoid being home any more than necessary. They came easy to her now, unlike the gyrating and twerking of the modern age. Still, she wasn't one to reach out much and instead enjoyed the spectacle, standing along the wall and watching the various couples twirl about the floor. It made for a beautiful scene.
3 STAIRWAYS
Where there's a will, there's a way. That's Ringer's philosophy as she makes her way up the stairs, admiring the portraits. The pictures tell a great deal about not only the master of the house, but of the eras in general and the type of people she might normally associate with. People that aren't Ringer. The girl surprised herself by accepting the invitation, generally being against parties. If not for the wealth of information the party provides - who's who, what they eat, what they do - she wouldn't have come at all. But that doesn't mean she can't be social.
When she catches sight of the new arrival in the large and mostly empty hall, she glances their way. "I don't understand the desire to be immortalized in paintings. Or photos."
1
And someone staring at the glasses of blood? Counts.
"Good evening. I'm glad you could come." Simple, polite, warm. A way to walk in and divert attention. "I'm Abigail. I don't believe we've met yet."
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"Ringer. Nice to meet you." Besides, it's not like Ringer has any idea what Abigail is. Not yet, at least. "It's Abigail.. Widdowson, is that right? This is a lovely party."
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"It's.. considerate of you to provide for the vampires," she says carefully.
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There's almost a challenge in her voice. She can't say it now, no, but at least one of the vampires is her ally in what she's going to do. Honestly, she hopes she can win over some of the others. But looking to the werewolves for an alliance too might throw off any hope of the vampires helping her.
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"I appreciate them having the option," she adds in a vague attempt to diffuse any potential tension. Better in glasses than allowing the vampires to feed on people. Though it does beg the question: "How did you find such a lavish supply to accommodate everyone at a party so big?"
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The blood had been a little harder to find the right caterer for it, but even that was managed with a little more financial incentive.
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"I know my house."
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