The Maiden Anointed [semi-closed] [majorly backdated to March 1]

[acrookedchild]

"For five years, I have been the Maiden of Witches," Katherine Terrance, the former holder of the title, said with a soft smile. There might even have been some pride in it, though she was trying to hide that. After all, no one was supposed to be pleased that someone from Circle Midnight had been meant for this position. "Now, the time has come to step down and let another take my place."

Beside her stood Abigail Widdowson, dressed in a modest white dress that made her look remarkably more pale, almost like she was dressed for her own burial. The impression wasn't lost on her, either.

They were deep in Daybreak territory, overlooking the Thames from Wandsworth. The building was meant for ceremonies like this and large gatherings of a group of covens. Now, it was for this, with all witches invited to witness the making of a new Maiden, as she was to serve both Circles. To stand for all of them.

"I was told when I took the role that I would know when the time had come to step down, and I was told that I would know who to hand this mantle to. You are never given more than you can bear, the Maiden before me said. Now, I pass those words on to you."

Abigail knelt down on a pale blue pillow and bowed her head politely.

"I ask three questions of you," Katherine said with all due solemnity.

"I will answer," replied Abigail.

"Will you serve as the Maiden of Circle Midnight?"

"I shall."

"Will you serve as the Maiden of Circle Daybreak?"

"I shall."

"Will you serve as the Maiden of all Witches?"

"I shall."

"Then let it be known, that you, Abigail Widdowson, stand as Maiden of Witches. Part of the trinity that holds together all our sisters: the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone. From this day on, you are an example to us all. And you will be watched."

Katherine picked up a small silver urn and poured a few drops of the scented oil onto Abigail's forehead. She bowed her head, then, and rose of her own power. Katherine offered no hand, and Abigail sought none. She stood straight, took a deep breath, then nodded to Katherine. The former Maiden responded by bowing her head to kiss the spot on Abigail's head where the oil was placed before she stepped away. Then, Abigail took the few steps down from the dais.

Under her own volition, she'd have scurried away. But she had cause to mingle. So, she would.


(Open to all witches!)

Comments

[brightwitch]

Sylvia was first to greet Katherine after the ceremony, stepping forward to offer a hug to the former Maiden. They had been friends and colleagues for a long time, even if they had seen less of each other in the past year. She had not expected Katherine to twist the knife in her back at the last minute with her choice of successor, but here they were.

"What a pretty pickle you've landed us in," she murmured.

Katherine stepped back from her embrace, clasping her hands. "Spring is a time of change for all of us. Perhaps for you too, Mother?"

Sylvia gave a tight smile. "Not just yet."

She had one more year as Mother left ahead of her before she too would have to pass on the title. No doubt Katherine was hoping to step in sooner rather than later, but there was no guarantee that she would receive it. Certainly, Sylvia wasn't feeling inclined to bestow the title on her at this point in time.

Katherine moved on, and Sylvia looked around for the new, younger model. She would congratulate Abigail, of course, and meet and greet any other witches who wished to talk to her.

[hurtfew]

Norrell lurks like a discontent shadow, regarding the proceedings with barely concealed unhappiness -- a fake smile flashing every time he perceives himself being watched.

Yet when he finally spots Sylvia alone he moves close enough to lower his voice, barely above a whisper.

"This," he says quietly, "should not have been allowed."

[brightwitch]

Sylvia is drinking champagne by this point, and she raises a glass to Norrell when he comes over, leaning in when he whispers to her.

"I know," she murmurs. "Don't frighten the girl, Norrell. We must play softly."

No more threats. They haven't worked, and Sylvia wonders if a more gentle approach might yield better results. What she wants, ideally, is to convert the girl to Circle Daybreak. That would salvage this entire situation.

[hurtfew]

Play softly, she says! Norrell shoots her a sideways look that tells her he has a poor opinion of this before looking away, taking a glass of champagne from a passing tray and thinning his lips.

"She came to me only last week," he goes on, "wishing to discuss the definition of dark magic. What do you think she brought up as soon as she could? Fae!"

[stauncherhearted]

This was it. The dawning of a new era, and Nancy was there to witness it. In a powder blue dress, she shouldn't have been out of the hospital yet. But what the nurses and doctors didn't know wouldn't hurt them, and she'd scurry back in a matter of time. She needed to be here for Abby, even if she felt awful. Even if she looked awful.

Her hair, limp from hospital shampoos, was parted differently, to cover up the stitches on her skull, and copious amounts of magic and makeup were used to cover up her bruises and black eyes. She still looked an awful sort, wrist bandaged. She knew it wasn't good, that she'd escaped from the hospital, but she had to. For Abby, because the girl needed someone in her corner on a day like today.

In flats rather than heels, Nancy made polite conversation when it was required. She knows she looks out of sorts, the longer she keeps magic makeup on, the more exhausting it is for her, especially given her current condition, so by the time the ceremony is over, all that's hiding her bruises is makeup. But the moment the ceremony was over, she was waiting by Abby's side, hoping for the perfect moment to step in. Which happened to take a while given she was the maiden of honor.

"Abby," she said at long last, reaching out to take her friend's wrist. She gave her a tired smile. "Congratulations, love. I'm so proud of you." Please don't lecture her for breaking out of the hospital, especially when she's going back in later.

---

[and ota!]

Before and after the ceremony, Nancy's on the fringes, studying more than she is interacting. She didn't know most of the people here, but occasionally spotted a Midnight witch. There was so much hardship they'd faced. But going forward, they'd make the most of it. They'd rise to the occasion, as they had before.

Now someone get her a drink, please.

[acrookedchild]

"Nancy!"

Abby is careful in embracing her friend, but she does it nonetheless. After all, she still doesn't look too good. But the sight of her? Does Abby good. A lot of good. Seeing a purely friendly face? Lets her know for sure that she's not alone. After all, most Midnight witches wouldn't even dream of coming to this place, even for one of their own.

"What are you doing here?" But she's smiling as she says it. "You should still be resting."

[stauncherhearted]

"I came to see you, of course!" She says, thankful for the way Abby gently hugs her.

"I couldn't let you go through this all alone. What the hospital doesn't know won't hurt them. If anyone asks, I was at the chapel." She winks at her. "You look beautiful."

[acrookedchild]

Abby smiles wider and has to force herself not to cry. After all, it's welcome. So, so welcome. Because she needs this. Needs someone in her corner.

"It's great to see you. Thank you. Thank you for being here."

[knowstheworld]

Nancy isn't the only one who's more comfortable hanging about on the fringes of the gathering, although perhaps for different reasons. It's easier for Childermass to catch hold of snippets of conversation this way, easier to spy on the social comings and goings of the other witches if he doesn't have to worry about any social interactings on his part.

That is not to say that he doesn't participate in any conversations at all. He is there when Norrell needs him. And as he spots a familiar face in the crowd, he cannot help but sidle over towards her, even if perhaps she is one of the last people she would care to see there. "I suspect you have seen better days, miss," he remarks to her, offhandedly.

[stauncherhearted]

She had the worst luck in all of London. It was official.

Trying not to sigh out-loud and failing miserably, Nancy turns towards Childermass with a tight smile. "And aren't you lucky the bruises you gave me aren't adding to this look?" Yeah, from the way he'd grabbed her he'd left a lovely mark on her pale skin.

[knowstheworld]

Childermass shrugs. He doesn't much care whether he'd left marks on her or not. He hadn't had it out to cause her harm. If she had cooperated with him, she would have gotten out easier after all. He doesn't particularly care what happened to her, especially knowing that she's not going to tell him one way or the other. But she does make a sight like that, to be true.

"I hardly think that lucky would be the word I'd choose to describe it," he drawls.

[aglaochartos]

Well, it was certainly his first time seeing something like this. New to the London society, but no stranger to ritual, the ceremony had something of a calming effect... not least of all because the new swear-in wasn't a slave to light magic and its pedantic teachings.

He'd come to view it less because he believed in authority, and more because he believed in symbolic power, and the effect that could have on hearts and minds. To that end, he was very curious about the new Maiden; Abigail, was it?

He'd wait in the wings, mostly to watch her behaviour and that of those around her, introducing himself to anyone who stopped to stare for long enough, or whom he'd accidentally make eye contact with. And certainly to congratulate Abigail, if the chance presented itself quietly enough.

[tearmeanewone]

Elizabeth stands and watches the proceedings amidst a clutch of Daybreak witches, their expressions ranging from stony-faced to outright sour in some cases. She, however, appears to be one of the only Daybreak witches who seems satisfied and respectful of what's happening. She could hardly call Abigail a friend yet, but while they didn't see eye-to-eye on certain things her guidance was what the community would look to her for. That's what Elizabeth is holding onto, at least.

She looks away briefly from the ceremony, and meets eyes with a witch she hasn't seen before. Elizabeth smiles at him, wondering if they had met on that whirlwind boat trip when she was still just a candidate for Maiden, or if he could be new to London.

[aglaochartos]

When their eyes met, he'd be sure to cant his head after an awkward moment of staring (his eyesight being such that it required an extra beat to be sure that she had caught his glance), in a calm greeting. He preferred, certainly, not to make too much noise about which side of the controversy he stood on... but there was no use in having moved to London to study if he planned on refusing any sort of guidance or camaraderie.

To that end, he reached back into those old world manners of growing up and made his way over, half-bowing in hello once he was close enough.

"...Did you enjoy the ceremony?"

[tearmeanewone]

Elizabeth's smile grows a little wider in recognition of the greeting, but then her focus goes back to the ceremony before Norrell or Childermass can snap at her for letting her attention wander-- not that they cared for Abigail, but it was probably the principle of the thing or something aggravating and pompous.

Once it's over, Elizabeth is, again, on the fringes of the Daybreak crowd, obviously watching to see when it would be a good time to give Abigail a brief congratulations and then flee the scene. Plenty of time for her to be approached, given Abigail was predictably swarmed after the rite was over.

"I liked that it was straightforward, not a whole lot of gesturing and pontificating?" Elizabeth offers with a grin. "But I suppose we as a collective are all for getting straight to the point, streamlining these kinds of rituals, right?" At least, her experience had been that there wasn't a lot of flourish going on. Practical magic, so to speak.

[acrookedchild]

"Good afternoon," Abigail said when he drew near enough. Whether he'd been intending on greeting her or not, she will happily take advantage of the opportunity. After all, the entire reason for her doing this was to meet more of the community. It was a matter of opportunity, making herself available and trying to gain a little more influence. Even if she had to be careful about showing the latter.

"Abigail Widdowson. A pleasure to meet you."

[aglaochartos]

He'd place a hand out at her greeting, giving a single, slow respectful nod of hello. The catchphrase around here seemed to indeed be 'community', but as far as he had always been concerned, hierarchies existed for a reason-- and ought to be treated with respect, if not care.

"Henry Winter. A pleasure. Congratulations on your new post." A somewhat stilted look around the room, with its generous atmosphere; half the onlookers smug, the other half stewing. "You showed grace in the face of adversity.

[acrookedchild]

"Adversity?" Abgiail offers with a smile. "I don't know what you mean. Everyone here is perfectly friendly."

Her lips quirk a little more, and her eyes flicker just a bit. Because they both know just what most of the people in this room think about her. But, then again, she's a Widdowson. She's used to being watched. Constantly.

[hurtfew]

Gilbert Norrell does not want to be here.

Gilbert Norrell does not want to be here because this ceremony, in his mind, represents a defeat of sorts. He had felt so in control, so at the top of his game until recently. Finally becoming High Priest, finally achieving a position on the Night Council! The recognition he deserves!

Yet now he can feel it all beginning to slide. It only makes him want to grip on harder.

Abigail has made her attempts to be polite, but he knows they are not truly friends. He knows they disagree and that, whatever assurances Coward gave him, she would be rid of him. She has her own priorities and they do not align with his. Had it been his own choice he might even have attended, much the same as Abigail would have fled, yet he has elections coming up and it would be wise to show willing. To be present. To smile, even if it is forced.

So he stands and watches as Abigail is anointed Maiden, tries to ignoring the curling knot of resentment and steps forward to congratulate her once she comes near.

She may be Maiden now, but he is still a member of the Night Council and she is not. He will hold on to that.

[acrookedchild]

"Mister Norrell. Thank you for coming."

She says it with as much sweetness and sincerity as she can truly muster. It might well sound a little lacking and more than a bit unsure, but it's offered nonetheless and offered willingly. She offers her hands to take one or both of his, as appropriate.

She's watched Katherine, after all, and that's how she always does it. So, she will try to adopt the mannerism.

[hurtfew]

He looks faintly uncomfortable as she offers him her hands. By and large witch communities are an entirely feminine thing of late, and Gilbert Norrell is a man not comfortable enough with himself to handle such things easily. That, and the gesture -- and sweetness -- is not something he at all associates with Abigail Widdowson.

They are both playing a part now, he supposes. How things can change!

"Miss Widdowson," he says simply in answer, and takes her hands for a half second to clasp. He was tempted not to -- he dislikes all this touching! -- but felt oddly conspicuous doing so. "Congratulations on your appointment."

That is the thing to say, he thinks, even if one is not pleased by it. Childermass would tell him to say it.

[acrookedchild]

"Thank you," she replies with a gracious bow of her head. After all, she has a part to play as well, and she can almost feel Unthank watching her. In fact, she even tries to steal a glance around, expecting to see--

What? He might not have even been able to come. There might be wards to keep any and all who aren't witches away. But she can almost feel his hand on her shoulder.

Which sends a chill rushing down her spine the moment she thinks it. For all Unthank is a protector, she knows something of the sinister side, too. After all, even after Sir Roderick, the house's bloody history didn't stop. Not until that sort of thing went well out fo fashion. Which was far too long.

"I hope to serve all aspects of our community to the best of my abilities."

[stauncherhearted]

Oh. Hell no. Not today, no no no. But of course he would have been here. He was the High Priest of Daybreak, so Norrell was going to be here. Right when Nancy was at her physical weakest. She's far from the sultry woman who'd walked into his office many months ago, and further still from the girl who'd cried over her mother's wand. Injured, weak, by the time she finds herself remotely near Norrell, the magic keeping her bruises from showing is fading.

But it's clear she can't avoid him, and honestly, part of her wants to see the reaction. And to lord over how her dear friend was now officially the maiden. Much to his obvious chagrin. At least, she assumes he is- given how much he hated dark magic...

"Mr. Norrell," she says, holding her chin up despite her visible injuries. "Isn't the new Maiden just lovely?" She has no idea what information Norrell has on her, from his spies.

[hurtfew]

Norrell is all prepared to say something faintly snide about how lovely she looks, or perhaps a veiled comment about her leanings, when he glances sideways at the speaker. Then does a double take of sort, frowning at her properly this time to take in her appearance. The girl -- he does recognise her, but good lord.

"What on earth happened to you?" he prompts.

[stauncherhearted]

That was not the reaction she was expecting from him.

However, she was not disappointed by it, not in the least. The tinniest smile spread across her battered features. "Far cry from the girl you had bent over your desk, yeah?" Okay, so Nancy had done it herself, to get closer to him, and to give Childermass a good view. But the point stood. Gosh, how would everyone react to hearing that his manservant had hired him a prostitute?

That would be a very fun experiment one day, if need-be. Until then...

"Not that it's any of your business or anything. I hit an ice patch on some stairs." So she'd been telling everyone. She would not let him think he was proving his point about the fae.