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Bríd Bríd, come in; thy bed is ready

Thig an nathair as an toll

Seven Sisters, Imbolc

The shop itself has been closed for the day. Still, invitations have gone out to everyone in the supernatural community but especially to the covens of both Circle Midnight and Circle Daybreak. Imbolc is a time for new beginnings, and Abigail Widdowson intends to make it one worth remembering.

(Headers for Imbolc here.)

Là donn Brìde,

Geap Manor, all February

Abigail Widdowson is now the Maiden of Witches.

It is a role, she is well aware, many would not see go to a Circle Midnight witch, especially not a Widdowson. But just as Sylvia is supposed to represent both Circles as the Mother, so is she as the Maiden.

So, letters have been sent.

Letters of welcome to every witch she knows of and every coven she's aware of. They demand nothing; there is no expectation of tribute or the like. Though she's sure that's happened in the past. Instead, it is a letter of invitation to call upon her at Geap Manor.

To meet her.

Ged robh trì troighean dhen t-sneachd

Westminster, mid February

"I placed my order ten minutes ago!"

It's a small inconvenience, really, and Abigail knows it, but it's just one of the many, many things that have been going wrong lately. Especially since she just got blown off for a meeting because 'an urget matter' had 'come up.'

But it's to be expected. Even with her new title, of course the Night Council really doesn't want to see her. They probably know what she's planning. What little idea has seized in the back of her mind. The less attention they pay to her, the harder it'll be, they know. But, well. She knows that the only way to get attention when someone is trying to ignore you is to get louder.

Right now, though, she's trying very, very hard not to take it out on the barista.

"Okay. Again. All I want is a hot chocolate. Shot of espresso. Shot of vanilla. Whipped cream. Please."

She even hands over her card again. Because if she has to pay twice? That's just fine.

Air leac an làir.

Enfield, late February

"Who's there?"

She can't avoid going outside, even after dark. As much as Abigail would like to just shut herself up in Geap Manor forever given everything happening, it's just not plausible. But her recent status of Maiden has made her a little more paranoid when out of the house.

Before, it was just the universe out to get her.

Now? She has actual enemies. Even if she's determined not to let them make her change her life. She hasn't forgotten that vampire Sylvia set on her. Sure, it had been in a controlled environment and just meant to scare her, but... It had done its job. And she didn't know how many more there were.

She needs to get silver, no matter what Unthank thinks about that. A small witch's amulet isn't much to really protect her, and she knows it.

All she has for protection is the phone in her pocket, and there's not much 999 can do about the supernatural.

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"The invitation doesn't have a time limit," Abigail says with a small wave of her hand, "nor is it a one-time use. Please. Feel free to come by any time."

It's all she can do. It isn't really against Sylvia, but it offers an alternative. The Daybreak Mother and the Midnight Maiden. Because she has to change the perception before she can really make a difference. So, as much as they can be, the doors to Geap Manor have to be open, and she has to be available.

"Let me take you to the sitting room. Then I'll fix some tea. Do you prefer black, red, or green?"

"Great, sure...!" She's being so incredibly awkward, but it's hard for her to know what to do in these situations. Yes, Elizabeth is asking for help and guidance from the person she knows is supposed to guide someone like her, but it also feels like this could backfire severely. Still, all she was doing was voicing concern at this point. There isn't a need to be so nervous just yet.

And maybe her nerves really are a product of politicking and Norrell's constant chatter about the evils of dark magic and Circle Midnight-- a hard to escape, and nearly constant, warning. She imagines he'd be losing his mind if he knew where she was.

"Uh, black." Black was the 'normal' kind, right?

"Of course," Abigail replies. Once they're in the sitting room, she gestures to the chairs and divan. "Please, have a seat. I'll be right back."

Sure enough, in a few moments, she returns with a kettle, two steepers with dry leaves in them, milk, lemon slices, and sugar all on the tray.

"I'm not sure how you take it. So, I brought everything."

After hers has steeped to her liking, Abby removes the ball and thin chain from the cup and sets it on her saucer, applying a bit of milk and a hint of sugar.

"Thank you, by the way, for stopping by."

Elizabeth has a seat on the edge of one of the chairs, looking around at the sitting room too. Her entire dorm room would fit in the entryway, she's pretty sure, and yet the only person she's seen so far is Abigail. It's big, but a little quiet.

The tray is impressive too, Elizabeth isn't sure how all of it is fitting on one tray easily carried by Abigail, but there it is. Must be a British thing.

"Ah, thank you," Elizabeth smiles and awkwardly navigates through the fancy tea setup. She's used to a bag in a paper cup, or a bag in the same mug over and over again. But in the end she manages to both steep her tea and put some milk in it through careful observation of what Abigail does.

"Oh-- well, I thought I should," she says, very seriously. "I think you understood how I felt about everything when we talked on the ship, but I wanted to be sure that you knew I still feel that way. I'm very glad it didn't end up being me-- no matter what... Norrell or anybody else says."

"There are no hard feelings. There wouldn't be even if our places were reversed."

She'd never really looked at being Maiden, but she could use the position. Make a place for Midnight. For everyone. Because her sisters needed a place to go. They needed to practice what they believed in.

"I heard about what happened during the cruise. I'm sorry."

"Oh believe me, there would have been plenty of feelings if our places were reversed. Mostly terror on my part," she laughs, blowing on her tea to cool it down.

Elizabeth is a little startled to hear that Abigail knows what happened at the end of the cruise. So far, most everyone she's spoken too had no idea and needed her to relate the events. For a moment, she's unsure of what to say to Abigail.

"...not one of my finer moments," she says with a small smile. "But not exactly one for anybody on that ship aside from Simon."

"I'm sorry." Because even if she wasn't near enough to do anything, she owed Elizabeth that apology. She now stood, same as Redbright, as someone who had to stand for all witches. And she would do it. She'd try to do better than their 'Mother,' at least.

"I should have helped."

"No, no..." Elizabeth shakes her head and waves the apology off. "You were hiding from everyone on that boat, I wouldn't have wanted you to expose yourself to help me."

She looks down at her tea and frowns. "Norrell should have though. He brought me into that mess, the least he could have done was give me a hand out of it."

"Redbright, too." She shouldn't say it, but it comes nonetheless. "She's supposed to be the Mother of all witches. Daybreak and Midnight alike. Yet she turns a blind eye to even a Daybreak witch in distress."

There were a great many things she needed to draw attention to about Redbright. But Norrell... He was another dangerous one. One she was watching carefully.

"But Redbright isn't in my damn coven," Elizabeth points out with a wry smile. "I can't even imagine performing magic with him anymore-- that idea of trust between three is just gone. I don't know what to do."

She bites her lip, looking troubled. "This... is what I wanted to come to you for guidance on. I feel lost, I feel used, I don't feel connected to magic anymore."

"And I'm not in your Circle," she points out softly. Still, she understands. All too well.

"But no one can take the magic from you."

Easier said than felt, she knows. So, she moves to put out a candle and then pushes it across the table. Easy enough for any witch who knows fire magic. Which most do. If she's picked wrong, she'll use another example.

"Light the candle. Don't think about Circles or covens or the rule of three. Or anything. Just close your eyes and feel everything around you. And light the candle."

No, Elizabeth is very familiar with fire magic. She'd started setting things on fire when she was three. That had been the beginning of her isolation, and her magic had only grown exponentially with no training on control or anything. She smiles weakly at Abigail and nods-- she's got this.

Sort of.

Elizabeth exhales and closes her eyes, breathing. It's still hard to not be afraid of embarrassing herself, and so when she waves her hand the entire candle bursts into flame. She jerks back with a little startled sound.

"I'm sorry-- I'm so sorry--!"

Abigail gives a start and hurriedly gets up to use some of the water still in the teapot to douse the candle. Once that's thoroughly taken care of, though, she flashes a grin at Elizabeth.

"Bit overzealous," she says with a small chuckle. "But that's... all there is to it, in a way. To remember that your magic doesn't come from a coven or a Circle. It comes from you."

Elizabeth takes a deep breath and fans her face, trying to calm down. "My feelings have always affected my magic, and all the reading in the world isn't helping me fix that. The more anxious I get, the less control I have, the less control I have... the more my nose bleeds when I try to fix a little scrape."

"You're right. Books won't help with that."

Abby, though, can understand. She'd spent a lot of years fighting against what it meant to be a Widdowson, what that legacy entailed, and fear that any little thing she did could hurt a lot of people.

"Nothing will. Except putting the books aside and relying on only the magic. Feeling it every time. Understanding how much of it is in you and how much of you is in it."

"Hard to do when your mentor does nothing but rely on books," she says with a sigh. "Hard when I'm used to learning everything from books. When I'm afraid of how much I can do when I'm afraid."

"My mentor was fae, a completely different style of magic."

He knew witch magic, of course. Had raised a dozen generations of Widdowsons to do it. And Abigail smiles at the thought of it.

"Eventually, you have to learn to do. Not read to do."

Elizabeth can't help but think that's the last thing she needs-- a fae mentor that just told her to let everything loose. Half of London would be on fire before she could rein it back in.

"...I think I have to move away from Norrell. He's too concerned with the reading and the studying, the only time he's ever taught me anything practical was part of an exchange--"

...maybe that was too much to say this quickly. It didn't make it any less true, though.

"Mister Norrell is... certainly devoted to his books."

She'd liked to believe it's not an intentional ignorance of the real workings of things. She doesn't much care, really. His way of thinking is dangerous, and it cannot be allowed to be the only voice for witches where the Council is concerned.

"And he's old enough to be so. He's done, so, now, he can read."

Or so she'll give him the benefit of the doubt.

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Bríd Bríd, come in; thy bed is ready

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