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)
undergrounds2015-08-02 04:47 pm
acrookedchild) wrote in undergrounds2015-08-02 04:47 pm
Entry tags:
The Beginnings of the Harvest Season (OPEN)
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.
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.
no subject
He was an ancient wish-granter made partially of fire with a fondness for devouring souls...and yet he'd still get angry if anyone called him a demon.
no subject
There were details to figure out, a proper contract to make, but it could be done. Ought to be, she knew. Time was running out, and she needed to act quickly.
no subject
no subject
"So, we'll meet up soon to discuss the details?"
no subject