Harvest Festival

[undergroundmods]

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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.

Comments

[knightscode]

A)

Lancelot loves the festival.

He loves this time of year, in truth. The mild weather, the colours in the leaves, the food and drink. Things like this. On top of that, he loves the community spirit inherent in this kind of thing. He walks through the stand, fluffy white Samoyed in tow. She shies from people around them, sticks close to Lancelot, but he is bright and friendly -- stopping to ask people on stalls about their wares and interested in everything. His curiosity is sparked by almost everything there, for Lancelot himself is not someone who has been exposed to magic much until recently, and he still has plenty enough to learn. That in mind, he fields questions both stall owners and other people who pause to look too: have they used these candles before? Which helped them sleep best? Have they tried using these charms? Which one is better for warding a home, protecting an animal (his dog, Lily!) or himself? If he were buying a gift, which one of these would they recommend?

Opinions, after all, are something he is very open to -- and Lancelot little trusts his own.

B)

Lancelot had been there in both Croydon and Barnet, and when he attends the memorial it is without a trace of any of the joy or good humour he displayed earlier. His face is ashen as he looks over the candles, the cards and pictures. He met some of these fallen witches, carried at least one in his arms, and he feels partially responsible for their deaths. For failure to protect them all.

He has always thought of himself as a protector, and loss of Croydon is bitter. A defeat he had tasted too soon, too strong.

He leaves a candle and some white flowers, quietly makes his way out and takes a moment to catch his breath. The moment he sees anyone else looking down, looking like they might give way to sadness, he pulls himself together and approaches -- hesitates a short distance away and offers them a concerned look.

"Can I get you something?"

His voice is low, not wanting to draw attention, but if it helps he might at least lead them somewhere quieter and offer them some tea.

C)

[ Anything else -- after the ritual, watching it, I'm open! ]


[ Note: Lancelot is a meta human but will feel like seelie/fae magic to anyone sensitive to such things, you are welcome to pick up on it or ignore. ]

C?

[reticence]

Faolan has spent most of the day wondering why he's there. And then, of course, being found and convinced into another festival enjoyment by a certain man and his certain white sammy dog. He can't say that he even minds, really. It keeps his head preoccupied with what he was working up to be a pretty unknown event. The ritual would be a new experience for him, after all. He hasn't been to any before, let alone participated as a subject. It frightens him somewhat -- what will they want from him? Can he give what they ask?

As it turns out, he doesn't ruin their ritual like he fears that he might. There isn't any great disappointment that he causes. In the name of peace and everything else that Lancelot convinced him into this for, Faolan sheds his blood and does his duty and while he may not be a true believer, he is at least loyal to his cause. Though he's grateful that the other man stuck around to watch, considering. Grateful that he doesn't have to stumble back to his sad little flat all on his own. Not yet anyway.

The ritual completed, his hand taken care of by the witches as well, Faolan steps out towards the other man. "You're still here," he points out, stating the obvious. As far as conversation goes, he knows that it's lacking. But he's tired, it's been a long day, and really even that much says a lot about him -- the fact that he's relieved to see that he had stayed first and foremost among the lot.

[knightscode]

Lancelot smiles brightly at Faolan, despite the man's exhaustion, and reaches out to clasp him by the arm as he approaches -- Lily swishing her tail at the sight of him too. She recognises him! She may be a little tired herself from all the people, but not too tired to step closer and lift her head expectantly. Hello, Faolan! Hello! Will they be friends today? Yes?

"Not as dire as you thought?" Lancelot prompts, and he pats his other hand against Faolan's shoulder encouragingly -- squeezes it a little before releasing him. He knows it wasn't, he was there. Nobody died, nobody was horrified by Faolan, it all went fine. "Come, let me get you a drink. You look as if the day has taken a lot out of you."

[reticence]

Faolan shakes his head at that, lifting his hand to look down at the cut on his palm. It isn't that deep, it isn't even bleeding that much anymore, he doubts it will scar, but he should probably at least cover it up for now. Maybe wherever they grab a drink from will have some napkins or something. All the same, he lifts it up, closing his fist around the wound and keeping it safely away from Lancelot's fluffy white dog. He bends to pet her with his other hand instead.

"This isn't exactly my sort of outing," he confesses, lifting his eyes up at the other man at the observation of himself. And it's true, he looks tired, and he is. In more ways than one. It's not like he doesn't spend a lot of his time out and about, in public. But not in a fixed setting like this. Not around all of this... This grief. Even despite the calm and peaceful surroundings, it's the memorials, the traditions, the remembering and honoring of the dead. It has weighed on him. It is. Uncomfortable. And he really doesn't want to talk about it. "Though I'd never say no to a drink," he continues on to say, as he straightens from his hello to Lily once more.

[knightscode]

Lily's paws move to rest on his knees as he leans down to her, tail swishing in excitement at having him down at her height. This is good, very good yes! She can give him a good sniff, and he can pet her properly!

"I saw a place selling cider," he offers, and reaches out to rest a hand at the small of Faolan's back -- gently turn him and guide him in the right direction. "There's also apple pie, cakes, scones... plenty of things with sugar in to wake you up, and soothe your soul."

His hand drops away once Faolan falls into step, pushes into his pocket while the other leads Lily along to join them. He's quiet a moment as they walk, then his eyes lift hesitantly to Faolan -- study him side on.

"Thank you. For coming. I know... this is not... 'your sort of outing', as you say, but..."

But Lancelot appreciates that he did come, all the same. Lancelot is not used to these things himself, and it feels good to have company in that.

[reticence]

Faolan glances aside at the other man, taking him in in much the same way as Lancelot had just done himself. He keeps his injured hand clutched up tight towards his chest for now, but the other one he too slides into the pocket of his jacket. He takes a moment to formulate a response, before he turns away, looking at the path ahead of them, shrugging slightly. "You're welcome," he says. Lancelot was the one to convince him into it, after all, and he's not going to even try and pretend otherwise.

"Wake me up and soothe my soul, huh," he repeats, as they continue down the line of tents and booths. "I suppose that's one way of putting it." He supposes he wouldn't say no to some apple pie, though, when it comes down to it. He wonders if the cider's at least hot, if not mulled. Warm cider and apple pie, it doesn't sound like all that bad an end to the day at all. He glances aside at Lancelot, raising his eyebrow slightly as he does. "Are you offering?"

[knightscode]

"I thought we'd established that was your motive for keeping me around, food and drink."

He flashes another smile at Faolan, bumps a shoulder against his playfully.

"Besides, it's barely past seven. We could both use a little cheer and waking up, unless you were thinking of calling it a night..." Lancelot gives a mock-helpless shrug at that, lips pressing together. "I understand, of course, if you feel that you may not keep up with the younger crowd..."

[reticence]

Faolan turns to give the other man a long, withering look. 'Keep up with the younger crowd'. "Ha ha," he says aloud, not laughing at all. "Just because I don't know how to enjoy myself at a festival, you're going to be poking fun at my age? For that, you do owe me a slice of pie then, I think..."

Truth be told, after all, Faolan was only 28. And while the last ten years of his life he would concede had been hard, Lancelot isn't the first one to imply, even in jest, that he had aged himself thus. He'd been mistaken for being in his 30's more times than he could count, and he hoped it was more for his demeanor than for the way that he looked. He thought he looked pretty good, until people made comments about it anyway.

[knightscode]

"I'll buy you two if it would make you smile."

Lancelot's eyes slide sideways to Faolan again, taking in his demeanour. The way he holds himself, the expression he wears. He lets his expression fade to something more serious a moment, looks back out at the path ahead as he thinks.

"I know it has not been an easy past few weeks," Lancelot offers, voice quiet enough to not carry much beyond Faolan. "Do not think me immune to it, Faolan. I remember carrying the body of one of those witches. I remember watching them weep for their sister. Yet... We cannot change the past. Our tears will not bring them back. We must focus on what we still have. We lost Croydon, but we defended Barnet. Redbright won control of Haringey. We have tasted hard won victories and defeat both, and we will learn from both. We will do better next time."

[reticence]

Faolan glances sideways at the other man as he sombers. Its sweet, in a way, for him to be concerned about him like this. Sweet to assume that Faolan is shaken up because of the skirmishes over the territories that have happened, in the recent weeks. He isn't about to correct the other man's assumptions -- he's not about to face his own demons in such a way, certainly not aloud in public, when he's buried them deep and locked them away tight for nearly a decade now.

"'We'," Faolan repeats, softly, watching the crowd around them for a long moment before he turns to look back at Lancelot himself once more. "Have you forgotten that I am Hillingdon? That I am human? Or is this a mark of my character in some way, that you assume I will be there in the other territorial disputes that are yet to arise." As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he knows that he's been too harsh, too bitter. Lancelot has been nothing if not kind to him, and if this is the way that he should return the favor. By letting his temper, his bitterness, get the better of him, by lashing out at the one person he knows that he can count on these days... He turns away, taking a deep breath in and letting it out in a sigh.

"Sorry," he apologizes awkwardly, "I. Didn't mean it like that." He steps forward, faster, trying to shake the moment off as best he can. "C'mon. Where did you say this stall was?"

[knightscode]

Lancelot slows a moment even as Faolan speeds up, frowns after him in thought. It's true, Faolan is Hillingdon. He's a hunter. He has no obligation to Daybreak, to Redbright. Yet he's a Night Council Guardian too. Lancelot supposes... well, he supposes he thought that might make him feel a part of things. Make him want to spread the safe zone too, to protect people. Perhaps not. Perhaps he feels tired of it, perhaps he never wanted to be drawn into the disputes and Lancelot has asked too much of him.

His eyes drop down to Lily, and Lancelot gently ruffles at her ears to distract himself before stepping after Faolan -- a little more subdued now.

"This way," he offers quietly, and moves to lead them over toward one of the rows of food stalls. There are tables and chairs scattered around the area, some still littered with empty cups and plates. The stalls sell a range of things -- home-made pies, soups, breads, freshly made pancakes and waffles, apple juices of various kinds. He pauses in front of one near the end that has apple pies with various additional spices (cinnamon, rum and raisin, caramel, walnut...) being served warm with ice cream and cream, digs absently for his wallet and flicks through it. "Have a preference?" he asks, although it's a little faux-light this time.

[reticence]

Faolan had known that he had misspoke, as soon as the words had come out of his mouth. And at the other mans reaction, he needed no further proof of that. He runs a hand through his hair, over his face, before continuing after the other man as he leads them to the food stalls and on to the one with the pies. And winces slightly, as he knows that the other man is forcing it, and that it's all his fault.

"Nothing fancy," he murmurs, gruffly. "Just plain apple, if it's an option. ...with the ice cream, if that's alright," he adds, his voice softer at the request, glancing to the other man again. Especially now that he's bungled things, it feels awkward, for him to pay for his food like this. "I can spot the change in price, if you like," he offers, hesitantly. Awkwardly. God, he's going to need to figure out how to fix this, but standing here at the stand for food is neither the time nor the place for it.

[knightscode]

"It's fine. Find us a table?"

Lancelot looks up long enough to flash a thin smile at Faolan, turns back to the stall-holder and picks out some cinnamon apple for himself -- hands over the money and waits with his hands pushed into his pockets. He hesitates as the man gives him an estimate, nods and fishes for his wallet as he moves down a few stalls to buy a bottle of cider -- balances clear plastic cups over the cap and comes back to retrieve the two neat boxes and cutlery. He balances them carefully, smiling a little at the smell of cinnamon, and takes a deep breath before looking up and around for Faolan. Hopefully he's found a reasonably clean table.

[falsify]

Eames would love-- love to say it's the aura of magic around Lancelot that draws his attention, but honestly it's the dog that makes him look over. You don't often see dogs like that in the city, especially not these days. It's not even until Lancelot's standing right next to him at this stall that he notices the magic about him. It's Fae-- Seelie magic at that, warm and bright like woven from a fragment of the sun, but the man himself isn't that.

How curious.

When Eames overhears him asking asking about various odds and ends, he picks up a charm from those out on display - seemingly at random - and turns his attention to address Lancelot. "This one's not bad for pets, it's the kind of thing you might put on a kid to stop them having a particularly bad accident." A simple luck charm for something 'small' essentially. Eames crouches where he is, careful not to get close to the dog with how sheepish she's looking around all these strangers, and holds out the charm for her to inspect if she's interested, "of course most animals are more sensitive to magic than your average child, so... Some might not like it."

[knightscode]

The dog shies slightly from Eames, as much for the proximity as for what he is: Lily can sense the fae magic and part of her is used to it from Lancelot, part of her is too nervous to growl and make a fuss, but part of her can also sense this isn't the same. Lancelot feels like warm, summery magic and Eames? Eames does not.

She glances away, up towards Lancelot for help then back at Eames curiously -- ears flicking uneasily. What is happening? Who is this man? What is he doing? She turns away a little, uncertain, then curiosity gets the better of her and she leans toward the pendant. Trying to sniff it by stretching forward rather than actually stepping closer to him.

"That's true," Lancelot allows, watching Lily interact with it curiously. He's assuming her hesitance is of the charm, of course, more than Eames. Why would he think otherwise? "I've seen her shy from things before. I've often wondered if it can be trained, the way they sense things. Then she might warn me if I'm about to do something dangerous. Which... I suppose I might do anyway, but a warning is nice."

[falsify]

It's hardly unexpected, especially from an animal that spends all her time around summer magic. Eames smiles at her anyway and keeps his hand steady for her to keep sniffing at the charm. "It'll help keep you safe," he says softly, tilting his head to try and gauge Lily's feelings on this situation beyond wondering what the deal with this strange man. "Assuming you like it, of course."

(Honestly if he comes away from this with the dog not regarding him as a freaky thing to be wary of, it'll be a net win.)

He looks up at Lancelot, giving the question some consideration. It is possible, of course, and it's a huge nuisance, but he wouldn't want to seem too knowing about this kind of thing. "Depends on how smart the animal is, I suppose," Eames says after some pause, "same as training a guide dog, right?"

[knightscode]

"Similar enough concept. Learning to detect and react to things."

Lily draws back and looks up at Lancelot again, unsure of herself -- wanting a cue of some sort but not getting it. What should she do? Should she take the thing from the man? Should she wait? She isn't sure. Cocking her head thoughtfully she waits a second longer before pinning Eames with dark eyes -- leaning for a fraction more confidently. His voice is calm, and that helps. Maybe it isn't dangerous? Even though he seems strange?

"Guide dogs take a very long time to train, and plenty of them fail. It's interesting, though. If nothing else just because sometimes I think Lily is a lot more aware of everything going on than I am."

[falsify]

"It might not take as much time as all that if all you want is for her to tell you when there's something strange about."

Eames tilts his head, considering Lily. "She's definitely aware though, and looks like a very smart dog." He grins at her, "aren't you, Lily?"

[knightscode]

She starts to wag her tail instinctively at the sound of her name, eyes lifting to Eames. Yes, she is very smart! Yes! The smartest dog! A very good dog. Can she have the thing? She does not know what it is, but she has decided she wants it. Can she? She leans forward to try and take it and Lancelot moves to stop her, a gentle ah as she picks it up in her mouth.

"I think I just bought that," he says ruefully, holding out his hand for her to drop it. He doubts the owner of the stall wants a dog-slobbered charm. Smiling at Eames he turns to dig out his wallet, checking the price. "Do you make charms too, then?"

Since he seems to know a little about that, it seems a safe enough assumption.

[falsify]

"I've been known to dabble," Eames says, laughing as he wipes off his hand on his trousers. Thankfully most of the slobber got on the amulet itself, his hand was just at the edge of it. "I don't have quite the knack for it that some people do, unfortunately."

[knightscode]

"I have none at all, so you already have one up on me."

He flashes Eames a grin, hands over the money to the stallholder and waves away the change before dropping to crouch by Lily -- gently threading the pendant onto her collar. She fidgets, squirms to try and see. What is he doing? Is he putting the thing on her? But she wanted to bite it! How can she bite it if it is there?!

"Do you have a stall here, or are you just browsing the competition?" Lancelot looks up, smirks at Eames a little as he tries to do Lily's collar back up. Why must she have it on! Why? He was taking it off! "I've never been to one of these things before, I admit. It's all a little new to me, forgive me if I ask anything foolish -- I'm afraid I'm still learning."

[falsify]

"Don't worry about it," Eames stands and gives Lancelot considering look. Does he not know what he is-- about the magic in him? Or is he only just finding out? It's not unusual for a changeling but... The explanation is probably shockingly mundane, but he doesn't have the explanation and that's gonna bug him. He smiles at Lancelot regardless of all that, a friendly smile, "you have to learn somehow."

He glances at the stall and adds, "I'm just here to browse, so I'm sure I can spare some time for your questions."

[knightscode]

"Ah, be careful what you say -- I will have you here for hours if you let me."

Lily fusses to try and get at her collar some more -- she cannot see what he put on it! What is it? It feels strange! She wants to see! Lancelot gently restrains her and shushes her as she fusses, smooths her fur until she gives up and becomes more interested in inspecting him now he's at her height.

"Perhaps I should be asking you to guide me to the best stalls, I fear I will not know what is a bargain and what is not. Lily, sit!"

Her ears flick back at the reprimand but she sits all the same, even if she does not like it.

[falsify]

Eames watches Lily with a smile, what a gorgeous dog. If only he had the time to dedicate to having one of his own, but there's too much happening right now for him to be responsible for a pet. What a shame.

"Well I don't know much about the stalls here, but I can certainly tell you when you're being ripped off." His tone is positively friendly, like he's just that much of a good samaritan.

[knightscode]

"That's better than nothing!" he answers brightly, and ruffles at her ears a little more before pushing to his feet. "Perhaps you can help me find some good gifts for people, too. I have a lot of people I'd like to thank for helping me learn things, and I would not wish to buy them something useless."

Lily stands as he does, begins fussing about his feet before looking over at Eames and swishing her tail questioningly. Is he going to come with them? Is he going to be a friend? She is not sure! Perhaps he will be! Her ears flick about as she considers this, tilts her head curiously before looking up at Lancelot as if for an answer. Well? What is it to be?