undergrounds | We're on a Boat

This event takes place on the night of 23rd January 2016.

The River Thames is a defining part of the London cityscape. Tonight the leaders of the Night Council are making their annual introduction to the supernatural community – aboard a cruise ship on the river. They will invite a select group of VIPs from various factions to join them on board the ship (level 3 and above characters only).

Each faction is invited to send their own boat and join the fleet. Except the Seelie/Unseelie Court, because you guys suck.

The journey begins at 21:00 near Wandsworth Bridge in the borough of Hammersmith and Fulham, continues on to Tower Bridge and then turns back on itself to head towards Westminster. The total journey time is somewhere around two and a half hours. The fleet will moor at Westminster Pier near Big Ben for another hour or so as celebrations continue into the night. Will you join?

Prompts

1) EVERYBODY WANTS TO RULE THE WORLD. But only a few do. They're right there, on the river, but out of reach. Unless of course you were lucky enough to be invited to mingle with the elite on the Night Council ship. If so, enjoy your champagne and truffles.

2) WOULD YOU LIKE A TRUFFLE? Ah, so you did get on the cruise ship. But as staff only, which means you're practically invisible to the VIPs on board. Keep your head down and the champagne flowing, and you'll get through the night. Man, they really should pay more than minimum wage for this...

3) WE'RE ON A BOAT. Enjoy the view as you travel along the river. Of course, the fact that you're stuck for several hours in close quarters with others in your faction has no chance of causing any tensions to boil over, right? Have a great time!

4) NOT THOSE GUYS. Your sworn enemies are in the boat next to you. You could do the mature thing and let them go by. Or...

5) LIGHT SHOW. At the stroke of midnight, magical lights flare up around every ship like a flurry of fireworks. It's awesome. Watch.

6) STRANDED. But you said you knew how to drive the boat! That's why we didn't hire a professional!

7) CRASHING THE PARTY. What, so you weren't invited? How rude! Tear up the rule book and join anyway, but do it quietly or the Guardians will throw you in the river.

8) POWER TO THE PEOPLE. Boo to the Night Council! The Night Council sucks! Set up your picket line along the edge of the river, and stage a protest.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[A]

Elizabeth feels like she's about to heave over the side. She's never, in her entire life, been to a party where so many people seemed interested in talking to her. Or taking pictures with her-- which she still didn't know how to politely decline. So there were dozens of photos of her at a party in London going who knew where. This is something straight out of her nightmares. Full exposure with no confidence she could hide from the Fitzroy Clan after all this was said and done with. But she still smiled politely, made small talk, balked at questions about politics and kept on emphasizing how strongly she felt about 'balance' and other vague and non-committal things.

Eventually she pries herself away and goes below deck with the caterers and waiters and the rest of the staff. She fits better there, anyway. Not with all of those people talking about territory and law and whatever else.

...there's no way in hell she can be Maiden. No way at all, she thinks as she covers her face and hides behind boxes of champagne flutes. Just for a few minutes.

[B]

At midnight, Elizabeth finds herself at the railing of the ship, watching the lights dancing over the water in a spectacular display. It's so beautiful, she can't help but grin and appreciate that, at least, she had the opportunity to see this.

[C]

"No, really, I saw the lights and they were very pretty-- weren't they pretty?"

This witch is literally backing Elizabeth into a corner. Older, gentlemanly type, trim beard, graying at his temples, paisley brocade jacket-- and really wants to 'help' her see the lights on the bank better.

He picks her up at her waist and Elizabeth has to dig her nails into her palms in an effort not to hit him. If she punched someone at this function, she would be out of Daybreak for sure, not to mention everyone now knew her name and would know exactly who had caused the ruckus.

The man ignores her protests and lifts her onto the railing. Is it better? She really can't say, her skin is crawling as his hand slides along the silk of her dress--

Natural instinct to lean back does succeed in getting her away from the creep, but it also causes her to lose her balance and topple over the side. Her heel catches the witch's jaw as she goes down with a gasp and a scream.

She's never had to swim before.

"One of the ladies of the hour," Abigail says with a little chuckle at seeing the girl ducked behind the boxes. It, really, reminds her of herself when she used to hide from her parents' parties and all of the noise before she'd grown into them.

She'd come a long way from stumbling around a train station, after all.

"How're you doing?" Like all of this is totally normal.

The recognition is there, of course. The woman who taught her how to walk in a train station-- she's never forgotten it. Obviously Elizabeth hadn't realized it at the time, that Abigail must also be part of the supernatural community, that much is evident from the shock on her face.

But she recovers and frowns a little. "Feeling like if I smile one more time, my face will get stuck that way."

"It must be quite an honour to be considered for the position of Maiden."

Of course, she's... Well. She knows enough about the goings on of it to know that there is no choosing. Not as it seems, at least. Prophecy, fate, all of that. But that doesn't mean she'll leave it all to that. No. Far better to just... keep up.

"Oh I'm very honored," Elizabeth mutters with an agitated sigh. "They must be insane to consider me-- have you ever heard my name before? Probably not, because I'm nobody. I can barely do anything that doesn't involve healing magic, why on earth would anyone think I could mentor anybody?"

Staying in hiding aside, Elizabeth believes herself to, indeed, be the least qualified person to mentor anybody outside of maybe personal library upkeep, mechanical and chemical engineering, and healing magic.

"But I can't exactly say that to anyone upstairs, can I?"

"Only one person can make you Maiden," Abigail murmurs with a small smile. It, really, makes it strange. All this insanity about it, these candidates and this grand show. But she knows better than to dismiss it entirely. "She'll announce it when the time comes. And whatever Redbright wants or doesn't want?"

She chuckles ever so slightly.

"It won't matter. She doesn't get the final say."

"Doggy paddling" is a generous term.

Simon has not been the best waiter tonight. Honestly, the fact that he's managed to stay upright at all, much less serve drinks, is something of a miracle. He's been sneaking a lot of the champagne for himself, figuring that the Night Council can afford better vintages than he can and that he's entitled to some modicum of reimbursement for being strong-armed into serving people he either doesn't know or doesn't care to know.

He's standing not far from the pretty American girl, sneaking another drink, when he watches her go over the side of the rail almost in slow motion.

"Shit."

He clumsily removes his jacket and his shoes (with enough forethought to ensure his iPhone ends up inside one of them, rather than in the Thames) and then jumps in after her.

It's around that time he remembers he doesn't swim that well.

Elizabeth flails and claws at the water, trying to get back to the surface while fighting the layers of silk floating around her arms and legs. Even if she knew how to swim, it would be a difficult fight, but she's just making it up as she goes and not getting anywhere. She's going to sink if she doesn't get help of some kind.

Or she makes her own help. Elizabeth pulls her legs to her chest and extends her hands down, chanting quietly with the last of her air. The water under her palms starts to freeze and create a sheet of ice-- her own flotation device. She hears something hit the surface of the water near her and she looks up. Someone's jumped in after her?

The cold water helps sober Simon up pretty effectively. He gasps and ends up taking in a mouthful of the disgusting brackish stuff. He gags and splutters, losing some of the contents of his stomach along the way.

Dogs have a swimming instinct in water, though, and surprisingly Simon manages to stay afloat. He tries to make it over to the girl, but the current and the wakes from their little magical flotilla make that difficult.

"Are you all right?" he calls, getting another mouthful of the disgusting water.

We're on a Boat

Elizabeth DeWitt

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