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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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Festival

[Nancy's been saddled playing babysitter today. If you want to find her, she's nearly surrounded by small NPCs, a collection of boys, ranging from about five, to fifteen. They weave in and out, laughing and shouting, occasionally stopping to harass Nancy for a bit of pocket money, or to ask a question or simply bother her. She's not harried at all about it, though. The boys are her brothers, for all intents and purposes, raised by the same man that raised her, and she was doing her part to get them out and functioning like standard children.

Standard children, however, don't pick pocket anyone unfortunate enough to wander by them.

When she's not herding kittens, Nancy can be seen actually shopping, or taking in some of the delicious autumnal treats.]

Mourning

[It's disgusting. It is so disgusting of Redbright to actually have done this. How could she have? It was a mockery made by this woman who refused to let Midnight witches exist. They'd nearly been slaughtered at the hand of the Redbright Institute. Nancy had seen friends and strangers die, and now here, Redbright was making a show of really caring.

If she cared at all, she would have made some sort of real effort. Maybe she would listen.

So all Nancy can do is stare bitterly at the memorial, like the flowers and wreathes won't be tossed out with tomorrow's trash.]

Ritual

[the boys are gone, back to Fagin's for the evening, leaving Nancy to participate in the ritual. She doesn't voulenteer her blood- it's marked with Kenzi and Abby's blood, and she could never put their blood into something without their express permission. And with Redbright overseeing it all, there's no way she's taking part.

She will, however, participate in the rest of the rituals, burning the hay and dancing.

But it wasn't for Redbright.]

[or create your own]

[Skip can't really say she's surprised to see Nancy in front of the memorial. Granted, most of the people here don't know what it's really for, but most of the supernatural community does. Which is why she approaches and bows her head in respect.]

If I'd known this was gonna be here, I'd've worn black.

[And she's not mocking anything. It's completely serious.

She smiles just a little. A sad, quiet smile. Her voice is low.]

You a witch?

I am. [She doesn't look at Skip, but she recognizes her voice. She can't really say much else- what else is there to say, anyway?

Redbright had caused the death of these people. Inadvertently, sure. But it was still Redbright's fault, and Nancy wouldn't forget it. Nor would she forgive.

She glanced up at Skip, eyes flashing.]

It's disgusting. This show. [She gestures]

What d'ya mean?

[Skip usually gives politics a wide berth. Lots of important people arguing while real problems get ignored. But this... This is a lot closer to home. Especially this month. Because she can't help but be scared of what's coming for her family.

Part of her wishes she was back in Munster, even if she knows her father and brothers can protect themselves. But she's supposed to be here, so she'll stay.]

All of this. [She gestures, her fingernails painted a dark navy. Midnight blue. A true midnight blue.] Redbright doesn't care. She doesn't care about Midnight witches. If she really bloody cared about us, she wouldn't have taken Barnet back from us in the first place.

[Here she was, being open about the fact that she was a Midnight witch. A rarity- she only told Lance because of that damned curse- but anger brought that out in her. Anger. No, no, it was something more than that, something far more complicated.]

I-- I'm sorry.

[She can't help but feel completely awkward. It makes her anxious, knowing so little about what she's talking about.]

I... don' usually get involved in politics too much. So... Guess I haven't been keepin' up.

It's alright- there's nothing for you to apologize for.

[She rolls her shoulders forward, crossing an arm over her chest to grab on to her opposite elbow.] I didn't ever think I'd be involved in them.

[And yet...]

Y' gotta protect your own. I get it.

[She doesn't care about her pack politically. Especially not East End. Not right now. She's a lot more concerned about her blood relations, the ones she's living with and who are close by.]

Some of these witches were my friends.

[And some of them...]

Regardless. It's awful. All of this.

I'm sorry for your loss.

[The best she can do is offer a little smile. One that says she knows there's nothing she can really offer.]

Next time y' come into the bar? Drinks're on me.

Thank you.

[It's such a typical thing to say. But that doesn't make it unimportant. In fact, it still matters. Nancy turns to Skip for a moment, with the ghost of a smile on her lips.]

You're too kind.

[Speaking of pick pocketing little boys, Fagin might be a good teacher, but they can't exactly hold up against centuries of experience with this shit. Eames assumes to begin with that it's just some kid separated from his parents trying his luck, which is why he's now walking around with a child slung over his shoulder, trying to find the nearest official type of person who can reunite this little ruffian with his family.]

[At some point though, the kid switches from yelling threats and protests to shouting Nancy's name, and Eames whips around - Too many coincidences for it to not be the Nancy he knows - looking for her. When he spots Nancy he walks over with the child, though he doesn't deposit him down. This is your life now, kid.]

One of Fagin's, I take it?

[Nancy doesn't even know how to respond at first, before looking up at the boy, hands on her hips and a frown on her red-painted lips.] Charley.

He got lucky, I promise, Nancy! Rough he was! [The offending boy says, trying to keep his hat on, despite his position over Eames' shoulder.]

That true, Eames? [She quirks an eyebrow at the fae, but it's clear she didn't care about the answer.] Yeah, he's one of his. And he's usually better at this. [Charley starts to protest.]

Picked the wrong target, didn't you Charley?

[Eames pats the poor boy on the back, but he's not being put down just yet.]

Honestly, kids these days. What's he teaching you lot?

He's teachin' us lots! More than you know! [Charley tried, and Nancy's in no hurry to ask Eames to put him down. He's really only prolonging this humiliation.]

I don't know, they like to think they're brilliant at the grift. But I was miles beyond them when I was their age. [She still was very good at picking pockets as well, though she made most of her money in other ways. Though, truth be told, Dodger was one of the best ones Fagin had taught in quite some time.]

Every kid does.

[Eames raises an eyebrow, thinking about some of the kids who've been under Fagin's "care". Almost every one, convinced they could slip a rat out of an owl's talons. Still. No need to focus on the poor souls who get trapped with the old miser on such a nice day. Eames tilts his head at Nancy, looking from her to the gaggle of boys around her.]

Enjoying the festival?

[There's a covert question as to how she's feeling in there, if one chooses to read it that way. It's a rough time for her and her coven after all.]

They've got a while till they can get to my level, [she confesses with the smallest of grins.]

As much as we can, [Is the response Eames gets. The boys were. It was great for them to run around and cause trouble. For Nancy... One look at the memorial had been enough to sour her mood.]

[Eames tilts his head, considering Nancy for a moment. Finally, he puts Charley down and pats him on the shoulder in an "off you pop" kind of fashion.]

Why don't you cause mischief somewhere else for a bit and let me talk to your sister?

[Oi, she ain't my sister! is what Charley says, before Nancy rolls her eyes and shoos him away. He jams his hat back on his head and runs off, casting a glance at the two as he goes.]

Charley Bates. [she shakes her head.] You can guess his nickname. [And it's kinda hilarious okay?] I'm really sorry about that.

Don't worry about it. [Eames watches the little scamp run off with a smile and a shake of his head. Kids these days. When he looks back at Nancy, his expression is a little more sombre.]

You holding up alright?

[Nancy tries to smile, but truthfully, her heart isn't in it. After not being able to lie for so long... Well, now she finds herself telling the truth willingly.]

No. I got off easy, but... [That didn't mean shit, really.]

[He doesn't really care much about Midnight beyond their ability to stand up to Daybreak, but he knows how much Nancy cares about the witches in her coven and despite himself he does care about her. Awful.]

This must be hard for you. [He frowns a little and glances around at the various things.] Why don't we find you a stall with some tea?

Yeah- well, Redbright's little shrine isn't making it easier. [She shakes her head. Tea may not actually help, not when she wants to be angry. Whatever, she's English, she'll make it work.]

Thank you.

[Well it's a bit early in the day to be hitting the booze. Eames is a respectable adult okay.]

Come on.

[He points out somewhere that looks like it does various hot drinks. Also baked goods. He could drink a coffee right now.]

[She is not. She's an alcoholic.

She follows him, moving in close to him as they walk up to the stand.] Oh- look! mulled wine! [She'll be having some of that, thank you. Hot and alcoholic.]

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