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

[reticence]

Faolan doesn't speak up to try and tell Lancelot that yes, it is a little naive. It isn't his place to do so. And in theory, it is a good thing, what they're fighting for. Keeping the peace. Faolan's been through enough troubles to have his doubts, though time will tell he supposes, in the end. But in the face of the other man's hope, his smile... No, he will not be bitter in the face of such things.

"I suppose it cannot," he says, not able to help the corners of his mouth flicking up in return to the other man's smile. "You do not believe in coincidences after all, if memory serves. Perhaps we were both meant to be here. Both meant to be doing this..." he says, motioning around them generally.

[knightscode]

"I think so," Lancelot agrees lightly -- dropping a hand to gently soothe over Lily's soft ears. "Perhaps you were even meant to be rude to me, I can't be sure you weren't."

He widens his eyes a little in mock-surprise at this supposed revelation, expression melting into a slight smirk after a moment as he sips a little more cider.

"Either way, I don't think it has turned out too badly. We're a good balance. I think we'll be fine."

[reticence]

Faolan makes something of a face at the other man in response to his teasing, half-frown, half-scowl, but Lancelot has probably seen enough frowning and scowling from him to know that the expression is really just for show. He really is in a better mood now that he's been placated with pie, cider, and good company.

"A good balance," he repeats to the other man, taking a moment to sip his cider and let the thought sink in. "If you say so. Perhaps we are. You have certainly balanced me out enough, these last few meetings of ours." He glances sideways at the other man. "I have yet to determine how I might be making a positive impact for you in return, however."

[knightscode]

"You've taught me a lot, saved me from a werewolf, helped me home, tolerated my questions, tolerated my optimism..."

Lancelot quirks a smile, shrugs minutely.

"And been a good friend on top of that. I think that's a reasonably positive impact, don't you?"

[reticence]

Faolan takes in all of the other man's words, uncertain of what to do with the praise he's offered. Not really used to such treatment, all things considered. So of course he chooses the only route he knows, in the end.

"A good friend? Me? Hardly," he says, fidgeting with his cider. "You'd be better off with your dog here," he says, motioning to Lily. "At least she's not about to talk back, get into a mood, or drag you off into trouble -- not the trouble I seem to have a talent of finding myself in, at any rate."

[knightscode]

"Oh, Lily can get into some good trouble if she really wants to."

Her tail swishes a little faster at the sound of her name, and she pushes to sit up -- rests her head in Lancelot's lap to encourage more attention.

"Besides which, I'm afraid to say she isn't nearly so good at conversation as you are. She tries, but..."

Lancelot shrugs helplessly, ruffling at her fur as she lifts a paw to rest on the edge of his chair.

[reticence]

Faolan takes in a deep breath, steadying himself as he does. "It's probably for the best that she isn't," he says, glancing down at Lily as he does. "Then I suppose that I would really have competition. What would you need me around for, once she learned how to do a thing like that."

He cocks his head to the side. "Even if she did I suppose, I'd hope to be a little more engaging regardless." He glances up at Lancelot. "Perhaps that's my goal to aspire to, here. So long as my conversation is more entertaining than your dog's might be, I know there's still hope for me yet."

[knightscode]

"If that's your only goal, Faolan, you have long met it. Drink your cider."

Lancelot smiles at Faolan, something catlike to it -- pleased and a little smug.

"I will make it my goal to see you relax and enjoy yourself."