The Beginnings of the Harvest Season (OPEN)

[acrookedchild]

1) Business as usual

The shop was easy to manage. People came mostly or Tarot or palmistry, but she had a small, steady client base who came from what they considered spells. They were longer-ranged, though. Rituals, not spells, and Abigail didn't have the heart to tell them the truth about the strange ways in which they could work. Not that there wasn't magic in them... Still, no one seemed too concerned that their dreams of love and money didn't immediately come true.

She'd gotten used to referencing the 'Rule of Three' and 'Mother Earth' and saying 'Blessed be.' The clients came, after all, for the New Age sort. They expected Wiccanism, not true witchcraft, so Abby gave them what they wanted. They paid for it. She did, of course, try to work magic where it was needed, and she trusted the craft of the Tarot.

Still, the shop is open, still offering its first Tarot reading free and displaying the rates for everything else on a sign immediately visible upon entry.


2) Everyday dangers on the streets - closed to Cooper
cw: violence from/to a dog

It's a perfectly nice August day. Great for walking from shop to shop. Mostly, she's stocking up on candles and incense for her work, but she's got a few books for herself and other such things. Overall, it's just a nice day to herself. Which makes Abby more than content.

She stops on the sidewalk for a few moments to admire a set of painting in a window display. They might be nice on the wall of her shop. Something to give the place an even more homey feel.

A slight ruckus catches her ear. Someoneone trying to get their dog under control. A woman scolded a man for being so stubborn that he wouldn't even muzzle it. And then-- And then real shouting.

Before Abby can even really register what's going on, there's pain in her leg. Lots and lots of pain. She staggers as the dog sinks its teeth in more. When she's finally really aware of the situation, she twists to try and kick the dog anywhere she can with her free leg, though there are tears already streaking her face.

And she's screaming, too. Saying something? Or just screaming? She doesn't really know. It hurts too much to think and fear robs any remaining senses. People are trying to help, but the dog just bites at them and goes back to lunging at her.


3) A ritual at night - closed to Balem

Late at night on the 17th, Abigail left her flat and travelled by car to Bedfont Lakes Country Park. She wanted to do it when no one else would be there to see. Or, at least, when there was as little chance of being seen as possible. After all, this ritual was meant to be done in safety and privacy.

She sets down her small bag and takes out her supplies. They're simple, hardly worth notice. An apple, a penknife, an embroidery needle, and a packet of sugar.

After a few moments to steady herself, she takes up the apple and the knife, cutting the apple in half horizontally. With one half in each hand, she looked out over the north lake. Then, she spoke, quiet and serious.

"By the water in my blood,
By the rivers of the earth,
By the tides of the moon,
Bring me one who knows my worth."

She repeated the words in a gentle rythym several more times. Nine in all, if one was present and counting through them all. Then, she put the half of the apple in her right hand down on her bag and took up the embroidery needle. She drew a downward pointing triangle on the right side of the flesh, then her name along the bottom, then, at the left, a waxing crescent moon with the needle.

Half of the packet of sugar was emptied onto the apple half, and she threw it into the lake, as far from her as she could. Then, she sprinkled the other half of the sugar on the remaining half of the apple and began to eat it.


4) At the mercy of public transportation

Abby has decided that she hates crutches. They make everything a hundred times more complicated than they need to be, and they slow her down. But, well, they're better than having lost her leg to that mutt attacking her. Which is still so weird. Nothing like that has ever happened before.

Which means there's plenty to consider. That's why she's at a little coffee house, sitting on one of their sidewalk tables, as she waits for a late-evening bus to take her home.

She has a notebook in front of her, and she jots things down at certain points before scratching it out and writing something else. It could be (and probably is) something as simple as a grocery list for another time.

Comments

1

[chronobreak]

Well, she did say to stop by, and he does need/want a job for extra spending cash. So he makes his way down to the shop after all his perfect duties are done for the day and pokes in.

"Still looking for a front desk type?"

[acrookedchild]

"Hi there!"

The shop is, for the moment, completely empty. Not unusual for this time of day. She closes the book she was reading after marking her place. The great thing about hardcover books is that the dust jacket from one can be placed over another and no one's ever the wiser. The spellbook she's working from just looks like the latest in a mystery series.

"I definitely am."

[chronobreak]

Ekko doesn't mind one way or another. But real magic is real magic, and he supposes it's better to prevent mass hysteria whenever they actually can. He supposes he's lucky he doesn't have to go memorizing any spells like witches do.

"Well, I'm here. Want to try me out first?" He's pretty sure most jobs have applications, but she didn't mention one when they met previously.

[acrookedchild]

"What kind of availability do you have?"

Even as she asks it, Abby leaves her book where it is. Not only does the general public not need to see her reading books on magic, well, she doesn't know everyone in the supernatural community. Even then, she's in a perilous position here. Better to be careful than not.

As she walks, though, she takes something off another shelf and opens a door to what should have been a study in the house. Instead, it contains a table with a velvet cloth on it. Then, she holds up what's in her hand. A pack of cards.

"And, please, have a seat."

[chronobreak]

"Every weekend and any weekday after three. I'm still in school," that's probably explains enough, doesn't it? Still, he'll follow her in and take a seat. He's pretty sure it's rude not to when she offers like that.

But he does eye the cards wearily. He hopes they're just normal playing cards.

2

[emotioneater]

Cooper's up on a nearby rooftop, not doing much besides watching the city with the fondness of someone who's lived in a place for quite a while. He's already fed tonight and doesn't have any other plans. That's when the screaming starts, the scent of blood reaching his nose. Wait a minute. He knows the sound of that voice!

It's one quick jump down from the edge of the rooftop to the street. Nobody notices him landing. The crowd of people is too busy focused on the dog doing it's best to maul Abby. Some people seem to be trying to help, but with the threat of getting bit a real possibility, nobody can get close. Cooper rudely shoves his way through the crowd, his protective instincts out in full force.

He grabs the dog by the neck before it can tear into Abigail's leg again and pulls it off. When it turns to him, all snarls and a mouth full of sharp teeth, he does the first thing that comes to mind and punches it in the face.

[acrookedchild]

The dog writhes and snaps in the grip as its pulled up, but the blow makes it yelp and scramble even harder in the hold. However, now its main interest seems to be in escaping, not continue an assault against anyone close enough.

For her part, Abby's aware of people talking to and about her. Calling for an ambulance to be sent for, asking her if she's okay, but she can barely move. Her leg is throbbing, and she can feel it bleeding. She's vaguely aware that she might be sobbing.

Everything around her seems hazy. Like none of it's quite real. Which might have something to do with blood loss, honestly, but she is sure of one thing-- it's Cooper. She has a friend nearby.

[emotioneater]

He holds the dog at arm's length as it struggles. He can smell the blood, a scent so strong it's almost overpowering. The sight of Abby's tears brings on a unnatural fury. This stupid beast has caused his friend to be in pain and so it will have to pay. Cooper snaps the dog's neck without pity, its furry body suddenly going limp in his grip. He tosses it aside, barely paying attention to the dog's owners as they run forward to see what's happened to their pet.

With the dog taken care of, he turns his attention to Abby. Kneeling beside her, he studies her leg as someone in the crowd dials 999. One hand absentmindedly traces the blood on the ground. He can't help it, it's practically instinctive. This doesn't look good. "When you do things, girlie, you don't do them by halves."

[acrookedchild]

Abby lets out a strange, stilted laugh. Because she's caught somewhere between crying and really laughing. There's nothing else for her to do. And, God, it hurts. Which makes her only vaguely aware of what Cooper did to the dog and that she's badly injured very close to a vampire.

"You'd think I'd learn and just stay in my house."

For all she tried to sound like she was kidding, she knew there was only so much of a joke to be made. Things were getting more dangerous every time they happened. Which meant it was nearly the eleventh hour. She had to seriously think about contracting a fae. Soon.

4.

[damnyank]

Seeing someone walk around with crunches in London is to be expected, but who Homer Jackson doesn't expect is to see that gutsy witch with a death wish. There's that clandestine part of him that's glad that Abby hasn't gotten herself killed since their last meeting, though he'd never admit to it. He thinks well of her, respects her spine and ambition, even with all her naivete clouding her judgement.

It takes a lot for a person that young to forge her own independence, especially in this modern age of asspatting and standardized bureaucracy. London ain't the wild west of witchcraft, as it might've been centuries ago.

When he passes by the hobbling witch, he slows down and offers her a casual wave, not necessarily inviting her to conversation nor deterring her either.

Jackson decides to speak up, after a beat.

"Ms. Widdowson," he says, as he eyes her injured leg with a grin."Those damn light witches. Who do they think they are bustin' knees? The mafia?"

.

[acrookedchild]

Are things so very different in America? She hadn't thought so. Yet, the bold statement on the street about the factions of witchcraft and the like make her eyebrows raise. She won't be surprised if, before long, he finds himself in trouble with the Night Council for undermining the secrecy of the supernatural. Plus the lightness with which he refers to her injury, well... Any cordiality she might have felt is gone long before she speaks.

"A dog attacked me, actually."

Her tone is unabashedly clipped, and her gaze is particularly cool.

[damnyank]

Things are so very different across the wide, wide world, Abigail. They live in age where movies with witches and aliens are common, celebrated fare, and where video games touting magical adventure and mayhem sell in the hundreds of thousands. Hell, people make pastimes out of dressing up as fictive characters, some going so far as to play them out. For Jackson to talk boldly of light and dark witches on a London street is not so bold at all.

This isn't the middle ages, where even saying the M word might get you a date on a pyre.

Jackson can tell he's offended the younger witch, though his tone and demeanor suggest nothing apologetic. The good doctor doesn't cushion his words for anybody, but if one were to look past what he's saying, he or she might find that he ain't such a bad guy after all. In fact--

"You want me to take a look at that?" He eyes the leg. "A proper look."

[acrookedchild]

"The ER already took care of that, actually. Where I got the crutches." And bandages. And pain medication. And shots. Lots of shots. Also where she'd filled out a polite report. And... everything else that had brought. "So, thanks, but I'm good."

Maybe she'd go to Nancy later, see if there was anything her healing spell could do. But with a stranger? She was more than content with what she has at present.

3

[entitles]

Balem had a rather annoying habit of materializing from the Other Realm when nobody wanted him there, such as he did right now.

"What an interesting spell. I was never much for rhyming, myself," he said, because most of his magic was executed with a mere wave of his hand, such was the benefit of being a fae.

"One who knows your worth? Are we searching for romance?" he said, a bit jokingly, but who knows. There probably really was a spell for that, he wouldn't be surprised if this was it.

[acrookedchild]

Abigail jumped a little, putting her hand over her chest from the way she started. Still, she breathed after a moment and bowed her head politely. It still took her a few seconds before she could speak properly.

"It's more ritual than spell, I suppose," she admitted. "There's no safe spell for love."

There wasn't any shame in admitting that she was searching for love. After all, she was more than aware of the ticking clock and how little time she might have left to continue her family line.

[entitles]

"I have to admit, a dangerous spell for love sounds quite interesting. Not that I'd try it myself," he said, because he didn't really believe in love anymore.

"Why so eager for love? There are more important matters now, are there not?"

He was...sometimes just a little insensitive to the issues mortals faced and the limited time they had to work with.

[acrookedchild]

"I'd prefer to have a child with someone I love," she replied. With someone else, she might have danced around the subject a bit. But for a fae... she would be direct. "And I'm the last of my line, so I have to have a child."

Because letting the line die because of something someone had done five hundred years ago wasn't going to happen.

4

[vampiracy]

He doesn't have much patience for most human sustenance. He will eat when out for dinner, yet when he's wandering around of his own possession he rarely cares for the hassle. It's more work than anything to eat something he doesn't need, even if it tastes good. The only exceptions seem to be alcohol and coffee — both of which help with his cravings, or at least, he pretends that they do.

Which explains what he's up to in the coffee shop, ordering an unholy amount of espresso, as much as he could get without the barista warning him about the possible health concerns involved. He's not expecting to spot someone familiar, and when he does... He doesn't miss the crutches, even though the bandaged leg is covered.

"I hate to trouble you when you're preoccupied, but the crutches have me a bit concerned," he interjected, and his expression says just that, though perhaps his head and his heart isn't quite in it. "You weren't sporting those when I saw you last. Are you quite well?"

[acrookedchild]

"Aside from a newfound dislike of dogs, I'm mostly okay." Abigail manages a smile as she looks up from where she's sitting. She'd prefer to laugh off the whole thing, but... Well. It ran deep. The wounds were bad enough, but the entire experience left her incredibly shaken, even if she wasn't keen on admitting that. "Got everything stitched and bound up. Doctor said there'll probably be a lot of scarring, though."

No more knee-length dresses or shorter. No more shorts in the summer. And it'd be a long time before she ever wanted to get into a swimsuit again. Still, it was better than being dead, even if every time she had to look at the mess she started crying again.

"I'm... learning... how to get around on these stupid things."

[vampiracy]

He's actually fond of dogs, at least in general. He's never had one yet he's always found the creatures quite charming, unless they'd been trained to be cruel. It must have been quite a beast to go after a human like that, he thinks grimly. It's impossible not to know the ill-fated history of her family, and it seemed that Abigail was no exception. His eyes narrowed for a moment as his mind wandered — could a family truly be so horribly unlucky? Or was it something deeper? "I can imagine," he noted quietly, imagining what sort of vehemence would have been required to make that sort of injury.

She mentioned she was learning her way around with crutches, and he made a sympathetic noise. "Must make transport dreadful." Mostly he avoided it, because of what he was. Too many smells, too many heartbeats. He may be older than most vampires, yes, that did not make his control of his hunger peerless. Avoiding temptation was quite vital, and there was no escaping a hunger pang that struck on the tube. "I don't suppose you need a ride. I drove here, I could give you a ride if you like."

[acrookedchild]

"I usually drive myself. I hate being at the mercy of the tube and buses." But with one leg mostly useless right now, driving wasn't exactly something she could do. Once she was a bit more healed up, then, yes. She'd be back to driving. But his offer. Oh. She can't help but smile.

"Would you?"

Dangerous? Perhaps. But Abigail trusted other people easily. Too much so, she knew, but it happened nonetheless. Especially someone who already seemed vouched for by his appearance at charity events and having invited her to a wonderful evening at the orchestra.

"I'd be grateful," she replied. "I'm staying at my home in Enfield rather than my flat, if it's not too much trouble."

4.

[specifiercity]

Arthur's been haunting this neighbourhood. He had taken Eames' suggestion to heart, surprisingly enough, so he did a little research and discovered that this was part of Abigail Widdowson's daily routine. He had already seen her pass by once today from the window of a restaurant between meetings, so he's not surprised when he sees the crutches as he wanders down the sidewalk in her direction.

He's already decided to approach her honestly about his intentions. She's young, and he can guess that she's probably got a healthy amount of paranoia given the position she's in. He goes into the coffee shop first, grabbing some caffeine for the rest of the walk home, and then he stops next to her table when he comes back outside.

"Miss Widdowson?" he says, with a kind smile. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows and his free hand is in the pocket of his slacks - his posture is casual but he'll never be able to lose the straight back the military gave him. "I'm sorry to bother you, but do you mind if I sit down?"

[acrookedchild]

"Sir." At first, she thinks it's a matter of simple recognition. She's gotten used to that. After all, the Widdowsons are old money, and they're known. Plus she's a regular here. But then he asks that question. Which means this is either going to be very bad or very awkward. Her mind is already coming up with polite, gentle ways to demur from giving him her number. "Please, have a seat."

Anything else would be rude, and she can always get up and leave if she has to. Plus Jake won't let anyone bother one of his regulars too much. If she needs him, he won't hesitate to come over.

[specifiercity]

"Thank you," he says as he pulls out the chair across from her and sits. He's friendly and relaxed, putting his coffee down and smiling as he scans the sidewalk around them. When he speaks, his tone is casual and light.

"I don't intend to take up much of your time, so I'll get straight to the point. My name is Arthur, and my work is in the field of security - a very specific type of security."

Arthur pauses almost long enough for her to respond, glancing down at his hands on the table where his fingers are laced together.

"There's been a... a shift in the paradigm lately. Everyone knows you're behind at least part of it and if you're smart you'll keep pushing, but I think you also know that puts you in harm's way. Now, I'm not saying you need someone like me, but I am saying that I have a set of skills that could be useful to you."

Moving fast is all part of his pitch. He glances down at her leg. "You look like you've already run into a bit of trouble."

Moved to the end of September!

[acrookedchild]

"We need all the help we can get."

She can't deny that. Her arms don't show the bruises of being held, thanks to a longer sleeved shirt, but there are marks on her face. Not obvious to what was done, but she won't forget. Her mouth forced open, a potion poured down her throat. She wouldn't forgive that.

"But you'll forgive Circle Midnight if we're slow to trust. The help is welcome, but we've cause to be on guard." The blood spilled in Barnet and the uneasy truce that had settled in its wake spoke to that.