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)
undergrounds2015-06-01 08:03 pm
acrookedchild) wrote in undergrounds2015-06-01 08:03 pm
Entry tags:
Fires at Midnight
June 1st, night:
Abigail had never seen the Reds and Night Council in action before. She'd stayed tucked away in Geap Manor, learning about the Night Council and Institute and all those things she'd face in the real world, but she'd only heard of them. They existed only as an abstract concept. Being in Barnet was an entirely different situation.
On the surface, it seemed peaceful. Emissaries came from the Institute to the factions -- the vampies and the covens being the central focus, but there were others who looked for people who were different. The meta-humans. From what she could tell, they were simply being convinced to join the Institute.
But there were darker things at work, too.
Her attention was primarily on the covens. Most of them seemed to welcome the influence of Redbright, as it meant they were closer to the heart of Circle Daybreak. For a light witch, that was everything. But she saw what some of the others tried to hide because she was looking for it. One skittish girl had particularly caught her attention, so Abigail followed her, meaning to pull her aside when it was safe.
Someone else had been waiting to get her alone, too, though.
From where she'd stood, Abigail watched as the man -- a large one, all brawn but very quiet too -- grabbed the girl. None of her magic could protect either her or the victim, so Abigail had ducked down, hiding behind the large bin. She'd tried not to even breathe as she listened. The girl screamed, and the man threatened her. If she didn't give him the names of her fellow dark witches, he'd kill her.
Over and over, she'd said there weren't any others. She didn't know who they were. She didn't know where they were. He hadn't been satisfied. So, he stabbed her twice. As the girl slumped down against the brick wall, the man took her purse and ran. Anyone who found her would see a mugging gone bad.
She waited for some time, trying to make herself stop shaking, before she pulled herself to her feet and staggered away from the bin and scene, almost completely without thinking that the noise and smell of blood might easily have drawn others who weren't part of the engagement.
June 3rd, day:
Abigail kept to herself on the second. She'd always been taught to mind the phases of the moon, so she'd stayed in Geap Manor all that night, safely tucked away from anything that might want to hurt her. After that, though, she went back to Barnet.
The girl's face hadn't ever left her. She could still hear her screaming.
But it told Abigail what she had to do. There was still the official order that every dark witch who wouldn't renounce the magic she practiced had to leave Barnet. Those were the ones Abigail was trying to help now.
The cards she distributed (passed off to people she could recognize as witches who didn't seem to be violently opposed to dark witches) were simple:
Need to leave Barnet? Have nowhere to go?
Help is available.
020 7946 0660
Call or text. Any time day or night.
Dangerous? Possibly. But that was why she had a cheap burner phone for the calls and texts.
She had no solid plan as she went around the borough that day, handing a card or two where it seemed appropriate and leaving them tucked inside the right books in the right stores, places she knew they'd be found by the people who needed them.
June 6th, night:
The job was nearly done, and Abigail knew it. She had done almost everything she could, and she felt she'd helped at least some people. Others were dead, yes, and there were a few fools who thought they could continue to pass as Daybreak under the close scrutiny of the Redbright Institute and their people. Them, Abigail couldn't help, and she was afraid of them. After all, they knew her name, knew about her activity here. But she couldn't let fear stop her.
Still, she waited in a pub she'd been using as a waypoint. She'd made it clear she was leaving Barnet and not coming back at 22:00, period. Any last minute stragglers were welcome to come up until that point, which meant she still had an hour to wait. Just in case.
Abigail had never seen the Reds and Night Council in action before. She'd stayed tucked away in Geap Manor, learning about the Night Council and Institute and all those things she'd face in the real world, but she'd only heard of them. They existed only as an abstract concept. Being in Barnet was an entirely different situation.
On the surface, it seemed peaceful. Emissaries came from the Institute to the factions -- the vampies and the covens being the central focus, but there were others who looked for people who were different. The meta-humans. From what she could tell, they were simply being convinced to join the Institute.
But there were darker things at work, too.
Her attention was primarily on the covens. Most of them seemed to welcome the influence of Redbright, as it meant they were closer to the heart of Circle Daybreak. For a light witch, that was everything. But she saw what some of the others tried to hide because she was looking for it. One skittish girl had particularly caught her attention, so Abigail followed her, meaning to pull her aside when it was safe.
Someone else had been waiting to get her alone, too, though.
From where she'd stood, Abigail watched as the man -- a large one, all brawn but very quiet too -- grabbed the girl. None of her magic could protect either her or the victim, so Abigail had ducked down, hiding behind the large bin. She'd tried not to even breathe as she listened. The girl screamed, and the man threatened her. If she didn't give him the names of her fellow dark witches, he'd kill her.
Over and over, she'd said there weren't any others. She didn't know who they were. She didn't know where they were. He hadn't been satisfied. So, he stabbed her twice. As the girl slumped down against the brick wall, the man took her purse and ran. Anyone who found her would see a mugging gone bad.
She waited for some time, trying to make herself stop shaking, before she pulled herself to her feet and staggered away from the bin and scene, almost completely without thinking that the noise and smell of blood might easily have drawn others who weren't part of the engagement.
June 3rd, day:
Abigail kept to herself on the second. She'd always been taught to mind the phases of the moon, so she'd stayed in Geap Manor all that night, safely tucked away from anything that might want to hurt her. After that, though, she went back to Barnet.
The girl's face hadn't ever left her. She could still hear her screaming.
But it told Abigail what she had to do. There was still the official order that every dark witch who wouldn't renounce the magic she practiced had to leave Barnet. Those were the ones Abigail was trying to help now.
The cards she distributed (passed off to people she could recognize as witches who didn't seem to be violently opposed to dark witches) were simple:
Help is available.
020 7946 0660
Call or text. Any time day or night.
Dangerous? Possibly. But that was why she had a cheap burner phone for the calls and texts.
She had no solid plan as she went around the borough that day, handing a card or two where it seemed appropriate and leaving them tucked inside the right books in the right stores, places she knew they'd be found by the people who needed them.
June 6th, night:
The job was nearly done, and Abigail knew it. She had done almost everything she could, and she felt she'd helped at least some people. Others were dead, yes, and there were a few fools who thought they could continue to pass as Daybreak under the close scrutiny of the Redbright Institute and their people. Them, Abigail couldn't help, and she was afraid of them. After all, they knew her name, knew about her activity here. But she couldn't let fear stop her.
Still, she waited in a pub she'd been using as a waypoint. She'd made it clear she was leaving Barnet and not coming back at 22:00, period. Any last minute stragglers were welcome to come up until that point, which meant she still had an hour to wait. Just in case.
no subject
So if they needed help getting out, she'd get them out. It was dangerous, but it had to be done. She needed to be able to help. She'd want someone to do it for her.
no subject
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"The official position is 'get out,' I'm helping them do that." Unofficially, she knew no one cared about what happened to dark witches, as long as there was no panic outside the covens. But she's still a stupid teenager. "I won't be a problem unless they come to Enfield."
There was the Widdowson, dark and dangerous. Magic at her fingertips and a temper to be reckoned with. Something not quite the good little socialite, wanting to change the public image of her family.
no subject
"And yet I'm still worried. Consequences always seem as far away as the moon until they're right in front of you." He would've felt a lot better about the situation if he knew that Abigail had a coven to fall back on. They could protect their own, maybe make the argument she was young and stupid and make excuses for her if she got dragged in front of the Night Council. By herself, she wouldn't stand a snowball's chance in Hell if that happened.
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"They're my family," she says quietly.
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"You've picked your path." He looks back up, doing his best to sound old and wise. For all he knows, he's coming off as sounding over-dramatic and ridiculous. "Keep that loyalty for better or for worse. It'll serve you well."
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"Could I-- This is going to sound totally weird, but. Could I call you later? Do you have a mobile?"
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Because she has to tell someone. She has to admit to the things she's seen, the madness this has become. But not until she makes sure she's done for the night.
no subject
He walks off, a short figure whistling through the crowd of people.
no subject
That's going to help. She's sure of it. For now, she just watches him go and lets herself breathe.