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Harvest Festival

Harvest Festival, 19th September 2015
Welcome to the Ealing Harvest Festival! Sponsored by Sylvia Redbright, this event takes place on a bright autumn day in Elthorne Park, Hanwell.

(Images for reference: One. Two. Three.)

FESTIVAL
The park has been transformed into a hub of colourful tents and stalls, a country-style fair selling wood carvings, paintings, baubles, baskets, plant pots and flowers, pretty tin boxes and knick-knacks of all kinds. Of course, this is all to give it an air of legitimacy should the general public wander by. The real wares on offer are those sold by witches: stalls crowded with incense, candles, precious stones, herbs, good-luck charms, spelled trinkets and magical jewellery. Gain entry to one of the small tents and you may be able to buy yourself a low-level spell or potion. It's all there if you know where to look.

Meanwhile, the centrepiece of the festival is the harvest altar: five large bales of hay, stacked around each other, where the festival-goers are encouraged to donate food and other gifts in thanks for the harvest. Tinned food is typically offered. Children attending can make a corn dolly and offer it to the harvest altar. There's food and drink to buy too, of course: vegetable and pumpkin soup, baskets of fruit and seasonal vegetables, home-made bread and jam, tea cakes, fruit cakes, seed cakes, scones and apple pie. Drinks include coffee, tea, cider and fruit juice. In short, it's all very wholesome. And decidedly not vampire-friendly.

A COMMUNITY IN MOURNING
It's not all about giving thanks. Following the hostile takeover by the fae in Croydon and the hard-fought conflict in Barnet, many witches have been displaced and are in desperate need of aid. The poster by the harvest altar says that all donations will be given to the homeless and vulnerable communities in London.

Meanwhile the entrance to the summer house has been disguised by a glamour to prevent the general public from entering. Only supernatural types may climb the steps to pay their respects at the memorial that has been set up to mourn the Daybreak witches and their allies who have recently passed. There are candles, flowers, wreaths and cards jostling for space with pictures of the fallen witches.

RITUAL AT SUNSET
The general public have disappeared but the witches have an important ritual to perform. As the sun sets, they gather up all the donations from the harvest and join hands around the altar. One witch will light a flame. Sylvia herself will invite volunteers of different species to step forward and offer their blood, as a symbol of unity between supernatural communities.

As the hay burns, the witches dance around the altar, their last ritual of the evening.

NB. Sunset is at 18:51.

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Festival

Kenzi isn't working a stall in this festival - which she regrets every time she sees money exchange hangs - mostly in protest of Sylvia. Her workshop - her personal workshop - was completely burned to the ground during Barnet. Officially, a fire started in the factory above it and nearly took out the whole block. Nearly. There were very clean lines where the burned remains of the factory lay. Almost like magic.

With that taken from her, Kenzi's business has gone up in smoke (hah). Her bodyguard had been gone longer than this, so everyone she worked with or had as a client knew she wasn't safe to be around anymore. And her competitors made sure that knowledge spread quickly.

Kenzi was a survivor though. She'd make it.

She isn't looking to give out any notes either, she needs everything she can save for rent and bills, and is employing her five finger discount to feed herself for the evening.

She has a poppyseed cake and a cup of warm cider that she spiked with some Fireball whiskey she was hiding in a flask in her back pocket; after everything that happened with Barnet... Kenzi is happy to do everything she normally does in excess in a bid to feel like things are okay again.

They're not. But she can try.

Mourning

Normally Kenzi wouldn't give a crap about this memorial thing. But now? She can't help but watch the people paying their respects and quietly murmuring to each other solemnly and feel sick. She knows what the body count is. Plenty of Daybreak witches were lost and it's horrifying to think about it but the Midnight witches - her coven, the men and women she's come closer and closer to considering as friends and maybe even family - were almost wiped clean off the board. She didn't expect Barnet to be so bloody.

Kenzi watches the memorial carefully before sliding past the area filled with cards and pictures to toss a corn dolly onto the table with a note that looks like it was written with black eyeliner scribbled onto the body of it.

REMEMBER OUR MIDNIGHT SISTERS

With that act of rebellion done, she starts shuffling out of the summer house. She doesn't want Sylvia swooping down upon her and doing something evil to her for that.

Midnight Memorial

Kenzi texted her girls and the remains of their friends and allies to meet her at a small Russian tea room a friend of her family's ran for their own little 'memorial'.

'Russian tea room' was, of course, code for a vodka bar. And any likeness to the establishment in New York was very quickly and vehemently denied if anyone asked about it.

She had asked for the back room to be closed for the evening - the owner didn't so much as ask for her to pay for it before nodding and sending back plenty of food and alcohol - er, tea.

Kenzi doesn't know if anyone will show, but she at least made the effort.

Edited 2015-09-21 23:06 (UTC)

Nancy had arrived alongside Kenzi, having decided very early in the day that she needed a very large, very stiff drink.

Doffing her coat on one of the chairs, she immediately helped herself to a vodka martini or three. Then, and only then did she slide (third martini in hand, and an extra for Kenzi) into a booth next to her friend. Dropping her head on to her shoulder, she handed her the martini and gestured for a toast.

"Fuck Redbright."

She'll be among friends. That's what matters most to Abby as she enters the back room of the bar. She doesn't even say anything before she goes to a chair and slumps down. Her hands run through her hair, and she bows her head. It's an exhausted, defeated position she's been keeping herself away from ever since they had to retreat from Barnet.

But she's among friends. So, she can let their losses show.

She doesn't even have the spirit to have a drink in hand right now or to raise a glass to the toast. Instead, she just sits.

Kenzi nodded solemnly as she pets Nancy's hair while holding the martini in the other. She's looking to get well and truly fucked up tonight.

"Couldn't have said it better." The martini goes down smoothly and while that's nice enough on it's own, she wants to feel the alcohol tonight.

Kenzi pulls three glasses out of the ice cylinder at the center of the table and pours vodka into each. It looks like rubbing alcohol but there's little to no smell. Signs of a good bottle.

Kenzi doesn't wait for the others before she downs some motor-oil from the icy cold recesses of the enchanted glass in front of her and smacks the table loudly with it while making a puckered face.

"Piiiiz'dets, blyaaaa!"

It's a pretty sufficient summary of the evening.

Abby gets a glass raised to her as she arrives. Once Kenzi has her shot in hand, Nancy's taking the same one, following the same motions as her best friend.

"What does that bloody mean?" She has to ask, familiar with Kenzi's Drunk Russian. Drussian? Russian?

"Briefly? 'Fuck. This shit.'"

Kenzi intends to have her Drussian (Russian?) increase through the night and pours herself another shot and knocks it back before looking to Abby with a frown.

"Hey," Kenzi smacked the table softly with her hand before pushing a shot glass towards their silent leader. "Drink. It's not like it'll make thing worse at this point."

She's....she's not wrong at least?

Abigail looks up and takes the shot glass. She raises it and quickly knocks the entire thing back with only a slight cough. Not how she normally drinks, but she needs it. Something harsh down her throat to prepare her for what has to come out.

"Redbright has your names. She has the names of everyone in our coven."

It's then that she can't hold herself back. The tears that have been just behind her eyes for days start streaking her face, and she sinks down into her chair, almost onto herself.

Nancy nearly spits her drink out, which would have been a huge tragedy. Instead, she pales, looking at Abby. Abby's crying, she didn't want to do this, but-

"All of them?" she breathes, looking at Kenzi. Shit. they could show up at their door, kill them all in their sleep. Redbright was powerful enough she'd waltz through any preventative method.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." She was dead.

Abby ducks her head, both hands trying to comb through her hair, but they stop before they're even off her scalp and tighten, pulling the hair a little. Slowly, her head shakes in disbelief and in grief and in revulsion.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. You-- They-- Everyone counted on me. I'm supposed to protect them. Protect you."

Kenzi's only response was for her brow to tighten and pour another shot for herself to throw back. This is what happens when you try and make friends, try to take a stand, try to make things happen.

Shit gets thrown back in your face.

"Guess there's no point to those fancy codenames."

Beyond that...she's not reacting. Kenzi doesn't look as if she's even bothered, but with a girl like her - a non reaction is worse than screaming.

Alice herself doesn't drink, but makes a point to show and give her support to her fellow Midnight-ers. Tonight, she's been happy to rejoin her kind, but her mood has long since soured and turned into bitter cynicism towards some of the members of Circle Daybreak. Quietly, she emerges, a little bit bolder than she was before.

"They haven't changed much from when my father was alive. What a shame."

Kenzi looks to her side where Alice emerged and smirked bitterly at her observation.

"Yeah, welcome to the magical world of idiots."

She says it loud enough that a few of the mourners near her give her a nasty glare that Kenzi quickly returns before drinking Fireball straight from the flask and holding it out to Alice.

"Want some?"

Apt, Alice would say. As much as she tried to offer some respects here, after Slyvia's speech, much like the rest of the Midnight witches, Alice was left with a bitter taste in her mouth. Glares were met with a cautious look from Alice. Alice, who was smaller and much thinner than Kenzi, stepping to her side as if to take a protective stance.

Turning back to Kenzi, Alice watches her down the flask with a sour look on her face. "I'm not sure that would be a good idea," She's never really drank before and hasn't been that too curious about it. A few of the lectures given to her back in the hospital under group therapy still stick to her. Most of them discourage any drug use or alcohol, telling patients like Alice that it would make their symptoms worse.

Alice's symptoms are too much as it is. She tries to feign a laugh -- an attempt to be friendly, "I mean, it's not my thing. Sorry."

Kenzi doesn't know about Alice's hospitalization, and to her the girl just seems anxious and shy. She's known plenty of those!

"More for me," Kenzi chirps and guzzles from the flask more before closing it up tight. Tonight is a night for drinking, as far as she's concerned. It's the Russian way.

Russians are weird, Alice has decided, even if she's known one, technically. The whole atmosphere seems rather strange, even for a mourning crowd. She lets her slam it down as she bounces her feet nervously, fidgeting in her seat. "So," Alice starts off, realizing how pitiful she was at small talk.

"What will happen now?" She was turning to the other witches for guidance. Alice was almost like an over-eager puppy following them around. She didn't speak that much, she knew she came off as very anxious and shy. Alice also had a bad habit of really never questioning the others around her, she trusted them completely for their input. "I can come with all of you, right?"

Kenzi frowned in sympathy, fully familiar with being on your own and not having a lot of people to trust. She doesn't go to touch Alice, but she leans in close to convey as much sincerity as she can.

"We're not going anywhere, you'll be okay."

But the coven...the coven was hurting now. Who knows if they'll come back at all. They might just fade into obscurity like all the other small groups of startups.

"I'm not worried about myself."

Despite the burst of joy upon hearing that, yes, the coven was hurting deeply and the festival had become salt in the wounds for all of them. She knew from experience one's personal being came after the coven -- well, most times. She was eager, she wanted to help, because that sense of community was something Alice craved, as well. Kenzi, at least, was someone she felt comfortable enough approaching when most of the other witches made her feel very uncomfortable. "I'm worried for everyone else. Obviously this is no good and I want to do what I can to help."

Sylvia may not be swooping down on her, but Norrell is certainly lurking. He paces out not long after her, stands a short distance away managing an even mix of declining to even look upon her and shooting her the most disgusted looks possible. He clearly has something he wishes to say to her, something less than pleasant (which, of course, may not be a surprise given this is Gilbert Norrell -- a man known to have many strong opinions) but is declining to simply speak to her since he is above such things.

Above such things but dying to make his opinion known upon invitation.

He shoots her another look, one of puffed up superiority, then glances away again in disgust and takes a sip from his cup of tea. Midnight Sisters indeed.

Edited (spacing!) 2015-09-24 23:49 (UTC)

As a pickpocket and sneak-thief, Kenzi has learned to feel when people are watching her. She was in the middle of drinking more fireball than cider at this point when she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand and she whipped around looking for the culprit and found him in an old man.

Kenzi's brow twisted in a perfect question but, just in case he didn't speak facial signals -

"What?"

He sniffs at the prompt, flicks his eyes sideways to her again as he considers his answer. She is, of course, a lost cause in his opinion. Already likely as not deep in disreputable magic, strong-minded, likely as not misguided and ill informed. Ah, the youth of today! If only he could be allowed to censor libraries as he so wished, to stop people getting their hands on materials that would encourage such strains of thought! To keep the common people from attempting things and falling into radicalisation -- he sighs, closes his eyes and winces in a mock-defeated way.

"I am sorry for your loss," he begins, somewhat gently (if in a tone that seems to carry a but). "It is a great shame that so many had to die. Yet if you will insist on... meddling in things that should be left alone, dealing with fae..."

Well, that obviously that is a large part of to blame for why things go so poorly for them! If they could only see the Daybreak way of things!

Her eyes narrow at his apology and she already doesn't like him. Old people and their condescending bullshit. Why couldn't they just be straight with you? Not like Kenzi was a paragon of truthfulness herself, but she liked to think she didn't put on airs like this jerk.

~~That was far from the truth, but she didn't want to admit it.~~

"Yeah you sound real shook up about it, gramps."

'I'm sorry for your loss but you deserved it.' What sympathy, what care!

"Oh, but I am," he continues, either oblivious to or ignoring her tone. "It is a very great shame that so many witches had to die, when the pool of good talent is so limited. It is my belief, you see, that with a good education -- an education that teaches the right kind of magic, not dark magic -- such lives could have been saved. It is the spreading of ignorance, you see, the lack of information on the dangers of dark spells and fae magic that leads to these conflicts."

In this, at least, he certainly does sound earnest. Norrell believes very much that if everyone would only read the right books, well, then they would understand!

It is only a shame that the right books (right according to Norrell, that is) are sometimes difficult to find, because Norrell himself has bought them up and hoarded them in his library.

Listening to him, Kenzi was not impressed. He sounded like every teacher she had ever hated, every adult that had told her she didn't know what she was doing and every church pastor that thought they could help all rolled into one.

The way she regarded him would have told Norrell as much; with her cocked hip, crossed arms and unimpressed grimace she was clearly not having it.

"Yeah. Your way or the highway, right?"

Oh, no of course not! She figures is how his protests will start.

Few people, in truth, are quite as impressed by Gilbert Norrell as he is by himself.

Equally, it is perhaps to Kenzi's credit in some way that she expects him to be repentant -- to protest that this is not the case. In truth, he has no such qualms -- for he believes so very much in his incredible rightness that he sees no trouble admitting it.

"It would be better," he agrees, with at least a little grace to look faintly apologetic. "And if people so very much believe that education is not what they need -- well, it is my belief they would make poor witches to begin with and should pursue another craft."

Kenzi nods, as if considering his point. Truthfully she's fuming. In Kenzi's mindset, not everyone had access to education and even if they did, she was pretty sure he only meant his way of thinking as far as education goes.

It's enough to make her act out and a spark of fire puffs to life next to Norrell's feet. Hopefully it's not close enough to spark onto his clothing - but Kenzi thinks it'll suffice as a response. She has the grace to at least pretend to look alarmed by it.

"Oh my! I'm so sorry. I don't mean to be so uneducated."

Her smile said otherwise.

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hurtfew - 2015-10-20 11:10 (UTC) - Expand

i can't wait to thread with these two again!

kleptofaeniac - 2015-10-23 20:12 (UTC) - Expand

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Harvest Festival

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Midnight Memorial

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midnight memorial -- if not okay, lemme know

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lol sorry i am just now getting to this!

npnp~

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Mourning -- I'm sorry in advanced for this despicable man

No worries! I'm into it hehe

Good, good

i'm sorry about her

Don't be at all he deserves it

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i can't wait to thread with these two again!