Harvest Festival

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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

[reticence]

Faolan is somewhat at a loss for words in response to the other man's words at first. It... Makes sense, in an odd sort of a way. And almost makes him feel better for it. Makes him feel more of a sense of camaraderie for the other man, in a way. A pair of misfits they are, Night Council Guardians both, trying their best to find their way in this world. Perhaps at times together, if circumstances allow.

Of course, then Lancelot continues to mention the pie and the dog and her vomiting it back up and the tentative moment between them is broken. Faolan lofts an eyebrow at the other man, shooting him something of a look as he does, but he also does as he's told and sections himself off a bite of pie to then shovel into his mouth. With a side of ice cream of course. And it is good. As he has said before, he has never been too difficult to please.

"You certainly know how to charm a man," he says, airily. Whether he means it about the previous comments or whether he's being sarcastic about the words about the dog though is up for Lancelot himself to decide.

[knightscode]

"If you have objections," he counters lightly, "I am happy to take that pie off you and send you on your way. I could eat more."

The smile he flashes Faolan is pleased, though, happy to have somehow broken the awkward tension between them and repaired the situation to... well, whatever it was before. Their version of friendship. Lily fusses between them, tail wagging as she stands looking at Faolan's plate then Lancelot's. Where is hers? Where is her apple pie? This is not at all right!

"Now, now, Faolan has decided to eat his. I'm afraid you're out of luck."

Her ears flick back and she glances over her shoulder at the stands. Perhaps there is something else for dogs? Perhaps someone else will feed her, since they will not!

[reticence]

"You're going to make me the villain in this because I've decided to eat the food given me," Faolan counters, raising an eyebrow at the other man over another careful bite. "I see how it is. You could have gotten her her own food, you're just in this to make me feel guilty. I'm on to you," Faolan warns. Although despite the nature of his words, they're considerably light. He doesn't mean anything by any of it. Grumpy is pretty much his default state, even when it comes to humor, it would seem.

He carries on eating his pie, feeling a bit less awkward about the whole thing now, before speaking up and asking the other man, over another bite, "How have you spent your day then? A man like you, you seem to fit right in to a gathering like this. I'm surprised that I've got you to myself again, for all I knew you could have found yourself a new...friend." He stumbles over the word slightly, the feel of it foreign to his vocabulary, all things considered.

[knightscode]

"How do you know I haven't? Perhaps I have, but they're busy now -- so I'm forced back into your company."

Lancelot widens his eyes playfully at Faolan, flicks another amused smile before gently nudging the man with his elbow.

"We've already established I'm not as at home as you might think. Any more of this and I might think you fishing for compliments, that is usually Lily's domain."

She swishes her tail a little more enthusiastically at the sound of her name. Yes! Yes she is a beautiful dog, a pretty girl, a fine lady! She is sweet! Yes! Which is why he should give her some of that apple pie!

[reticence]

"Forced?" Faolan echoes, raising his eyebrows at the other man and his playful glances, his amused smiles, before Lancelot elbows him in the side and he's forced to concede that he's actually not as hurt as he's pretending to be. Mostly he supposes because at the level that Lancelot's playing it up, he knows that he's only joking.

He isn't. Fishing for compliments. He doesn't speak up to say as much, but it's true. He's just feeling a little insecure, in. Well, everything at that moment, really. At least Lancelot's company doesn't make him uncomfortable, like the festival around them does. But then, he still isn't quite sure what to think of the other man and this friendship that they have. So he turns to eat for a few moments, falling quiet, since he can't seem to manage anything as light-hearted as the other man seems to want or require.

[knightscode]

Lancelot feeds himself some of his own pie in turn, Lily fussing between the two of them -- pacing and checking on them and then pacing again.

He isn't quite sure how to take the silence at first, although he doesn't think Faolan is reacting badly to the joke. He doesn't have that grumpy look about him any more. So what, then? Is he embarrassed by the remark? Just awkward, unsure what to say? Lancelot pauses to try and encourage Lily to sit, rubbing at her ears and under her collar once she relents.

"I could perhaps afford you one," he offers, eyebrow jerking. "If it would improve your mood."

[reticence]

Faolan glances sideways at the other man, half amused and half startled by the offer. Part of him is embarrassed by the offer, embarrassed by the fact that the other man has seen through him, seen that his mood isn't exactly light, but then again, he hasn't exactly made it less than obvious.

He glances down at his food again, pushing it around for a moment or two, before the next words out of his mouth are, "If you are about to poke fun at me, it's hardly going to have the affect you are after," he warns. Which perhaps isn't directly telling Lancelot off of the idea of such a thing, paying him a compliment. He hardly knows what the other man would say, perhaps that is why he's half intrigued to find out.

[knightscode]

"You're right, of course, it's worked terribly so far."

He lofts an eyebrow in amusement, lips curling as he tucks Lily closer to himself so he can keep an arm around her while eating.

"I was only going to say you do sulk very handsomely. I'm surprised I didn't come back to women circling the table with how well you pulled it off."

[reticence]

Faolan stares at the other man for a moment, incredulous. He had for a moment half believed that the other man might actually pay him a true complement, something that might embarrass him, something he might not know quite how to respond to. Far be it from him to assume anything about this man. It takes him a few moments to formulate a response, as thrown as he is.

...sulk?

"Now I know that you're just taking the piss," Faolan grumbles at him, frowning perhaps even harder than before. "Women circling my table," he repeats, incredulously. "The only person I see about here is you, I will point out." He pokes grumpily at his pie. "Perhaps you do have a taste for surly assholes after all. A point in my favor, I suppose."

[knightscode]

Lancelot laughs brightly at that, despite Faolan's grumbling -- offers the man a wolfish grin for a moment as he feeds himself apple pie.

"I suppose I must, since I constantly find myself in your company."

[reticence]

Faolan glances sideways at the other man, at the grin he has on his face and at the laugh that seems to echo through the darkest of the mood that he'd felt, washing it away to some extent. Damn the man, being so handsome and so bright and so full of life. Faolan can't help but feel drawn to him. Like a moth to a flame, he wonders, to some degree.

"You do," Faolan agrees. "And for all your fancy words about fate, I can't imagine anyone hanging around as much as you do without actually wanting to." He shovels another bite of food onto his fork (it's awkward, one-handed, but he manages it), eating it for a moment before commenting, around the food, "I suppose that I should be flattered. I should hope that you don't offer dessert to just anyone."

[knightscode]

"Not at all. I must know them at least a whole month -- longer if they want ice cream with it."

He lofts an eyebrow playfully, amusement still clear in his features.

"It is true, what you say. I wouldn't keep your company if I did not wish to, Faolan. Nor would Lily -- and Lily is quite a good judge of character."

Lily, expert judge of character that she is, is currently worming her face into Lancelot's lap -- nose tilted up just enough to hint that she is still interested more in what is on the table, rather than who sits at it.

[reticence]

Faolan continues eating as the other man talks, although he can't help the slight quirk of his lips as he does. Always the dog. Like she's almost some sort of security blanket for him, in a way. Perhaps she is, for that matter. He finishes his bite of pie -- ice cream included -- before looking up at the man, licking off his fork for a moment before he speaks up.

"She is, is she?" he asks, wryly. "What does she tell you about me, then? Since you speak dog as well as you do, that is." He takes another bite of his pie, watching the other man expectantly, waiting for his answer.

[knightscode]

It's rude to ignore a lady, Faolan! Why would he leave Lily out of this?

"I'm not about to spread her secrets," he protests, "what sort of man do you think I am?"

He looks scandalised for a moment, studies Faolan a second longer before grinning and eating the last of his own food -- dusting off his hands and pushing to his feet. Lily gets up immediatel, nearly tripping him in the process, and Lancelot holds up a hand for her to sit and wait.

Which she does, somewhat anxiously.

"I'll grab you something for the cut?" Lancelot offers, half as a question.

[reticence]

Perhaps it's for the fact that Lily is a dog and therefore cannot speak for herself, even if she did understand the questions he was asking. Which he's fairly certain that she doesn't, for the record.

Faolan's working on finishing his own food, but he's slower. Perhaps because he's only got the one good hand to eat with, perhaps because he's been a little otherwise preoccupied. Cutting himself off another bite, he glances up at Lancelot as the other man moves to stand, before nodding slightly.

"If you wouldn't mind. And if you'll take pity on me. It'll be difficult to do it on my own later on," he says, honestly. He doesn't even consider asking someone else to help him with it. He's not the sort of man to ask for help on much of anything. That Lancelot has managed this much with him really is an accomplishment, even if the other man may not realize it as such.

[knightscode]

"It isn't pity," he protests lightly, and gives Lily a last scritch of reassurance before setting off across the grass. She sits watching, tensed -- waiting for a sign to follow. Surely it will come! Should would not leave him! They should travel together, in a pack! That is safer! Why is he leaving? Will he be back soon? She looks over and up at Faolan for reassurance, twitches her ears at him before pinning her gaze back across the park. Lancelot tries a few stands before seeming to find one that has what he wants, gesturing expansively and digging a moment for his wallet. He ambles back a few moments later with a small paper bag (which contains cookies, which he bought as thanks for the borrowed bits) and his salvaged medical supplies.

Lily stands up immediately and fusses around his feet (he's back! He's back! She waited patiently! Is he pleased? She was good!) and Lancelot slides the bag onto the table, gently encourages her to sit again before sliding into the chair.

"Here we go, this should do it. Let me see it again?"

He holds out a hand, tilting his head a little questioningly. Faolan had said it would be difficult to do on his own, so he assumes he'd like the help.

[reticence]

Faolan holds his hand out towards the other man, at Lancelot's encouraging. He would like the help, it's true. It's a moment that's a bit reminiscent of their first meeting, but Faolan feels less hesitant now in his company here than he did on that first day. Perhaps it is because he is less injured and there is not the looming threat of hospital visit nor wolf attack in the air around them. Or perhaps it is because he is coming to trust this man, for better or worse. He does not know, and is not sure that he wants to analyze such things. Not now, at least.

"It isn't too bad," he hazards, softly. Although Faolan's definition of 'not too bad' could mean anything, really. It's only bleeding lightly now though, and probably would have stopped if it had been taken care of properly earlier.

[knightscode]

Lancelot studies it a moment to assess the truth of this, finally seems to decide he does indeed agree and twists open a tube of saline -- begins to dab the cut clean carefully with some tissue paper before drying it and fixing some gauze over it -- carefully taping it down.

"There you go. Forgive me, it's a little too big for plasters and I did not want to stick any over the cut."

Not that it would particularly bother Faolan, he's probably man enough to cope with peeling off something stuck onto a cut, but still -- it's the principle of the thing.

[reticence]

Faolan shakes his head slightly, bending his fingers carefully to test the limit of the movement of the bandage. "It's fine," he says, knowing that if Lancelot had gone for plasters he'd probably have them down the whole of his hand as well as over the cut. And while he could endure such a thing, he'd rather not, given the option. He'd have needed enough of them to end up looking rather ridiculous, anyway.

"Thanks," he says, raising the hand up slightly in something of a salute, before tucking it safely away, in his lap underneath the table. "I. I didn't know what to expect, of a ritual like that. It's just as well I'm used to getting myself beaten up, I suppose."

[knightscode]

"Well, I think you did very well. And I think you will recover to full health in no time."

He reaches out to pour a little more cider for both of them, taking a slow sip as he studies Faolan over the rim before offering him a smile.

"I suppose it might be a little too much to ask if you've enjoyed yourself."

[reticence]

Faolan can't help but let out something of a laugh at that, if a laugh is what it could be called. It is more the huffing release of air, and with it the release of some of his tensions. He can't tell for certain whether Lancelot is being facetious, whether he is poking fun a little, or whether he's truly asking the question, even if he knows something of the answer already. He supposes it's a little bit of several of the above, in the end.

He raises his eyebrows at the other man questioningly, in something of a look as if to say, 'Do you really want me to answer that?' But no, he supposes it isn't all that bad. It's just the atmosphere, that's getting to him. And the people. The way he doesn't feel as though he belongs there. Present company aside, of course.

So in the end Faolan shrugs slightly, and says, vaguely, "I suppose that today had its moments." He swirls his cider in his cup, raising it to take a sip, his eyes on the drink itself, as he goes on to continue, "At least I can say that it ended well." Was that a bit of flirtation there? Perhaps.

[knightscode]

"Good enough. That much I will agree with, and drink too."

He quirks a smile, lifts his drink in a toast and takes a sip himself. Lily swishes her tail a little, finally settles to stretch out on the ground between them and rest her head on her paws. No food is coming, so she may as well take a rest while they do and wait to see what happens.

[reticence]

Faolan turns his sipping into a toast as well, the expression on his face lightening slightly in response to the other man's smile. At least he hasn't been so miserable on that night that he's made the other man miserable as well. And truth be told, he does enjoy his company. Even after a very long and trying day, Faolan still finds himself enjoying Lancelot's company. Even his sense of humor, for that matter.

Setting his injured hand on the table in front of him again, Faolan leans forward on the table. "What about yourself?" he asks. "I have spent enough time whining about my own experiences of the day. What of yours? The festival, the ritual. This is a new world for you, after all. And yet it is not, at the same time," he posits gently, regarding the other man closely.

[knightscode]

"Well, this festival is definitely new. Or at least, I think it is."

He squints thoughtfully at Faolan, then around at the remains of the tents being packed up.

"Things are still... not entirely clear. Most of what I remember is the other realm, and even that is not so much. Perhaps I will never remember it all, but perhaps it will come back in drips."

Lancelot shrugs finally, takes another sip of his drink and flashes a more rueful smile.

"Either way, I enjoyed it. People were kind and I learnt a lot, and it was good to meet new people."

[reticence]

Comes back in drips. Like when he had shocked the memories back into him, getting him chased down by a werewolf. Faolan glances down at his hands, resting before him on the table, with something of a sardonic smile at the thought of it, as he says, "Well. Here's to hoping that the next time you are forced to remember such things, it will be in slightly better circumstances than those I had forced you into."

He sits back in his own seat, looking up to glance over at the people packing up around them. Is it really getting that late? He supposes he is going to have to go home, at some point. Although part of him really rather would not. "I cannot say for certain whether this particular festival is new or not," he says, honestly. "I've never attended it before, at least. But the holiday it honors is anything but new itself." He glances aside at Lancelot, before adding, "At least, that is my understanding anyway. I am no expert on witches."