undergrounds | Game Opening: May Ball

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Game Opening: May Ball

LET'S GET THIS PARTY STARTED.

It had to be done.

Welcome all to the Redbright Institute's May Ball! This evening is a celebration of the Institute's achievements over the past year. Students aged 16 and above can attend on their own, while younger students must be accompanied by a parent or guardian. Meanwhile, friends and guests of the Institute are invited as a gesture of friendship and harmony between the various factions.

Rules and etiquette
• This is a black tie event. Formal attire is required.
• No weapons. This is a school, there are children present. Any weapons or objects that could be used as weapons will be confiscated.
• No drugs or alcohol. Obviously. Don't try to sneak any in.
• No violence.

There is security within the school and present at the event. (In fact, if your character is a member of the Redbright Institute, you could have them acting as security if you want.) They will respond to and put a stop to any trouble.

Places to go
The main action takes place in the large Assembly Hall. This is where the Chancellor Sylvia Redbright will give her address. It's also where you can party later on. The disco is family-friendly – not exactly a rave, but the kids will love it.

Drinks and snacks are available in the dining hall. The drinks are non-alcoholic. Vampires, no need to worry about your cravings: blood cocktails are provided! They're given in good faith on the assumption that you won't be snacking on anyone else tonight.

Just off the dining hall, one of the classrooms has been converted into a chill-out area. The lights are off, the desks and chairs have been replaced by beanbags and there's a table in the corner with a chocolate fountain, marshmallows and strawberries. A video of young witches taking part in various night-time rituals (they mostly seem to involve chanting and bonfires) plays silently on the screen.

One of the lecture theatres has been opened up to showcase students' work from the past year. On the screen you can watch a slideshow of notable events and achievements. Strangely enough there aren't many people in this room.

Outside, there is a giant chessboard on the lawn. The pieces are made of plastic and can easily be moved around. Why, you ask? Why not, is the answer.

Finally, a large marquee has been set up in the quad. This is the adults-only area, with wine and cocktails served at the bar, nibbles available at a few high tables dotted around and a sophisticated atmosphere. No children under 18 allowed. (Note that the legal drinking age is 18.)

Timeline of events
20:00 – Doors open.
20:57 – Sunset.
21:15 – Sylvia Redbright makes her address in the Assembly Hall.
22:00 – Disco in the Assembly Hall. The DJ has atrocious taste.
01:00 – Disco stops. The event officially ends.

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"Encouraging to her allies, worrying to her enemies."

Abby uses the same kind of easy, even tone. It's good for deciding who is on what side and where she can stand between them. She smiles the same, tilting her head to look at him, her eyes a bit more shrewd than her tone might otherwise indicate.

"If I may ask, what faction do you belong to?"

The sound of agreement, soft and low, may seem non-committal, but Derek agrees entirely. He simply isn't sure which side of that fence he's on right now, but experience and suspicion lead him to think the latter. Redbright - and the Night Council, perhaps by extension - have made both policies and biases clear as far as Derek is concerned, and that's difficult to stomach.

Her question earns a measuring look, quick and calculating as though he's weighing up the pros and cons of answering. Those biases aside, there is no real reason not to; Derek is proud of what he is and it shows, shows in the way his constructed veneer slips into something more earnest.

"East End. I'm the alpha." Were there a point for concern, surely it was that - his sudden rise through the ranks after two conveniently placed deaths. The thought of being suspected in that makes him feel sick, but still the title, the role feels important, necessary, something to make right.

"Hale." She gives a nod of acknowledgement. Now, she knows who she's talking to. "Werewolves."

It's not insulting, not in the least. Just a statement of fact to set everything in the right place in her mind. But, well, that was interesting. Because the werewolves were in a difficult position right now, though slightly better than hers. Therefore, it might not be a bad idea to mention it.

"I'm technically affiliated with Circle Midnight." Her voice is lower, hushed. Because, well, that's a dangerous thing to admit, especially inside Redbright.

When she makes the connection, his head inclines, not that she needs the confirmation. It's said, notably, without accusation, and even if that's just her good manners at work Derek appreciates it. He faces her admission with the same kind of acceptance, nodding once and then stepping aside to start walking, jerking his chin in a gesture for her to accompany him. It is, he thinks, a little more difficult to be listened in on like that, and while he doubts there'll be much more divulged, he's always erring on the side of caution.

That Circle Midnight is dangerous is unavoidable, but through Kenzi, and perhaps through a simple kind of underdog (ha) camaraderie, Derek feels - well, at least a little understanding.

"There seem to be a few of you here tonight."

Abigail follows smoothly, smiling at him when he makes that gesture. Because, well. That way it looks more like a young man taking a young woman to somewhere more private, rather than a werewolf and a dark witch going to discuss matters. Once they were away from the others, she looked at him closely.

"Are there? Who else?"

She was used to hiding, skulking about to keep herself under the radar of anyone looking for her. But if there were other dark witches around... others who might be able to help her... It was an insane idea, but it might be worth it. If she even dared.

Once again, he seems to assess, his eyes narrowing sceptically. While he doesn't really find himself doubting what she told him - it's inline with some rumours about her family, and there was no trace of a lie - he still has to wonder about the wisdom of sharing such information, even if he's surprised that she even needs it. But there's an earnestness in how careful she seems now, something like hope in her keenness.

It does not occur to Derek that Abigail might be so removed from a coven - his knowledge of witches is limited enough that it doesn't strike him as an option. Witches, like werewolves, work in packs.

"That's asking a lot."

Almost immediately, Abigail shakes her head. "Right. Stupid question, really. Sorry."

Because if he has friends among Circle Midnight, they're hidden. Even the Widdowsons don't usually announce what they are. Everyone just knows already, and, if they know enough, they know the Widdowsons don't have much choice. Which is what makes what Slyvia asked of her hard. Joining a Daybreak coven... could go so wrong for so many people.

"Just... My name's known. Even if they haven't heard it, I'm easy to find. Give them my name, won't you?"

It would still be dangerous. She knew it might sound like she was setting a trap. But she had to hope. Had to try.

What follows is silence, rendered heavy by Derek's pointed gaze. That she has been willing to reveal what she is, and that she's been willing to reveal how removed she is, speaks volumes to him. His reluctance comes purely from bitter experience, but Derek's always been more trusting than he wants to be, tries to be.

Eventually, he nods. Just once - the gesture is sharp, decisive.

"I will." The words are weighted with sincerity. His mouth twists, uncertain - almost, he tells her that he doesn't exactly have a lot of people he can pass her name on to, because the idea of disappointing expectation rankles, but Derek keeps himself solid, unapologetic. "They'll know how to get in touch, I guess."

"Thank you." She can't be sure what she'll do with the contacts. If she joins Daybreak, she'll forget them. She won't drag anyone with her who doesn't want to go. However, if she doesn't join, then there's something she might do.

"I don't intend to make any decision until I see what happens in Barnet."

Because that will tell her a lot. She needs to understand how Redbright works, what the Night Council actually does in regards to dark witches and their summoning magic.

The curl of his mouth at that says he doesn't like the idea, but even so he understands. With no great link to any faction, it doesn't make sense for her to throw her lot in anywhere. Still, it reassures him that he made the right choice in telling her nothing.

curious, his eyebrow arches.

"What do you think will happen?"

"I don't know," she admits.

It's easy to move a little closer, sipping her wine. It looks like she's flirting, which means people are less likely to watch and listen. That much, her mother had taught her young. Even though she was only thirteen, she'd learned about the power of it all.

"I think Redbright and the Night Council will show their colours, and I want to see them in action before I ally myself with Daybreak." Because, ultimately, she is already part of Midnight. She practices summoning magic, which makes her a dark witch. "I'm worried, honestly, about what this expansion means for the rest of London."

And Derek, according to the image she's projecting for everyone else, leans down a little, reciprocating the shrinking distance. He has not had her extensive training, but he has sound instincts, experience, and a manipulative, scheming uncle that he inadvertently picked up a thing or two from. If she's leading the dance, Derek is keeping up step for step.

"We all should be." Even if Derek can acknowledge the pros, it's nothing to ignore. "But that speech didn't cover long term."

That's the crux of the concern, as Derek sees it - the idea of this as a beginning to more, a grasping hand opening to take. Derek has no interest whatsoever in throwing his pack against the Night Council and all it entails.

"Yes, it did," Abigail murmurs under her breath, taking another sip of her wine. "The implication of it, at least."

Then again, that was what her family was all about. Widdowsons had never thought 'short term.' Their lives would be over, their name would be lost, and everything they stood for would crumble if they thought about the short term.

Everything was long term. Every spell, every conversation, every machination. She wasn't the best at it yet, but she understood the basics, the way she had to think and look at things. Which was why she saw the long-term plan, or, at least, what she thought was the plan.

"If they aren't successful, they'll regroup. Try somewhere else then return to Barnet. If they are successful, then there will be more expansion."

Considering, he tilts his head, regarding her through eyes narrowed in scrutiny. She's not wrong - they had not been direct as Derek would prefer (in principle at least, in practice it's harder to say) but the very proposition of taking more territory has foundations. Implications, as Abigail said. Slowly, he nods.

"More expansion might be inevitable, whatever they start with. But Barnet's not about to put up a strong fight."

What resistance there will be - a thing Derek considers inevitable in turn - would likely be scattered, disorganized. Derek was expecting an outcome in Redbright's favour.

"It isn't likely," Abigail replies, giving a small nod. She hasn't been out in the world much, but she knows what the politics look like on paper. "Just like there probably won't be much of a fuss about Redbright expanding. Yet."

No one would care, likely, until it was too late. Or maybe it really was a good thing. Maybe there was a way for all of them to fit together under the Council's protection. She wanted to believe it, but part of her, schooled by Unthank, was very uncertain. That was why she would have to see Barnet for herself during the expansion, get a feel for what was really going on.

"Yet," he agrees, flat tone stirred by the beginnings of a sigh. Barnet is tucked away in the north of the city, bordering only Redbright, Night Council, and more neutral territory - there is no-one that it immediately seems to push. But when that changes, when they start moving, stretching out a little further, opinion will shift all the more steeply. Derek knows already that he doesn't want them coming too far east. He imagines their borders getting closer and closer, drawing in like a leash.

"But you haven't made your mind up." There's a question in there, more curious than accusatory.

"I haven't," she admits. Because it's too much in her head. There are a hundred things she wants, and she doesn't have the information to fill in the blanks. But, well, there's enough to be said.

"I came here to apply for admission to Redbright. But I don't know."

A mild surprise flits across his expression - he hadn't expected that, hadn't thought that a Widdowson would need any kind of extra tuition. Still, he knows little enough about the ways of witches, and assumes that this is simply a hole in his knowledge on the subject.

He shrugs, the movement small, just a roll of his shoulder. The corner of his mouth quirks.

"Tuition programme doesn't suit you?"

"I'm not welcome unless I have a coven to speak for me."

Her voice is a little short, but it's the truth. Much as it stings. She's been away from the world for too long, and she knows it. But she stands alone for now, and, thus, cannot prove herself as capable of joining Redbright's students.

If she even wants to. Barnet has her cautious, at least.

Eyebrow raising, Derek looks between her and the nearby crowd. The notion doesn't make sense to him - he'd have thought that a witch without a coven would be welcomed, not ostracized.

Once again, he feels a sharp pang of emotion. He wouldn't call it pity, has never thought he has much of that to spare.

"Well," he allows, and the rare softness in his voice turns it rougher, lower. "I hope Barnet gives you your answer, at least."

"Widdowsons have been dark witches since the Tudor era. Possibly before." She offers the words when she sees him looking at the others. She knows the question there. "I'm as much of a stranger among them as a vampire would be among your pack."

But she can't argue. She has to hope Barnet will give her what she needs, will answer the questions she still has. At least a little.

Once again, he shrugs. If anything, Derek thinks that might make it all the more important. With Redbright having the crystal clear upper hand, not bringing her in seems questionable, especially with that name. Ultimately, however, it hardly matters - and what does he know about it anyway?

"You always seem a little less clear than that." Witches, that is. The line between vampires and werewolves is far wider, at least from his perspective. He looks her over.

"I'll pass your name on, whatever the outcome. Don't make me regret that." Although firm, it lacks the sharp edges to make it a real threat. A gesture of goodwill he's hoping for, perhaps, which might be stupid, but she seems reasonable if nothing else.

"Thank you," she replies. Then, she offers her hand again.

It's time, she thinks, to go. Mingle with the others. Spread her prospective network further. Still, this has been good. It's a start, having someone else on the outside of things to talk to.

"It was a pleasure talking to you, Mister Hale."

Although Derek doesn't return the sentiment aloud, he does incline his head, offering her a nod that's curt but respectful. He takes her hand, hesitates a moment before shaking it.

"Miss Widdowson."

His goodbye is, perhaps, a little informal for her tastes, but he has a feeling that it's going to prove very true.

"See you around."

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Game Opening: May Ball

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