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]

She didn't imagine he would approve of that, but they have no other choice. Sylvia's eyes sharpen at the mention of fae.

"What did she say?"

[hurtfew]

The look he shoots her sideways suggests she should know what Abigail Widdowson said about the fae.

"She clearly wanted fae magic re-classified, her own situation must be what drives her. She even went so far as to mention--"

Norrell cuts off, pauses and lowers his glass a fraction as he thinks before focusing on Sylvia.

"She mentioned John Dee's Treatise on Acceptable Magic. Dee has some good ideas, of course, but he is mystical and romantic -- relies too much on fae. She mentioned owning a copy. If... she owns books which exalt the use of fae magic..."

[brightwitch]

"They will reinforce an opinion she already holds. I don't think her reading material is going to be a deciding factor. As you said, it's a personal matter." Sylvia taps her mouth, thinking. The problem with personal circumstances is that they are unique and important to that individual. Born and brought up as she has been, it's no surprise that Abigail is in favour of fae magic. It's practically in her blood. "So what will it take to change her mind?"

She looks at Norrell, posing the question for him. Sylvia has her own ideas, of course, but she'd like to know if Norrell is on the same wavelength.

[hurtfew]

"If enough of her reading material is illegal it may buy us time," he notes, but still. That is only an if. He thins his lips again, unhappy. "I have tried to persuade her other routes are available, yet she is young... and stubborn. She will not listen. She beliefs she knows better. We must show her she does not. Shake her belief that she can handle them, and that the benefits outweigh the risk. Perhaps then we can time another offer to her as charity."

[brightwitch]

She frowns, thinking. It's true, Abigail has proven to be stubborn and unwilling to listen in the past. They can tell her how dangerous it is to use fae magic as often as they like, but if the girl has yet to experience the consequences for herself, she won't feel the weight of their argument. There's nothing quite like personal experience to harden the heart.

Sylvia sips her champagne. "I think we should have another chat about this in private. I will talk to her and see what support I can offer as Mother of Witches. If that proves fruitless... We'll pick up this conversation later."

What he's suggesting is dangerous. It means letting Abigail get herself into trouble with the fae, or even creating that trouble for her. Sylvia won't consider that until she's sure that the more civilised avenues have been exhausted.

[hurtfew]

He nods minutely in acceptance, takes another sip of his champagne.

"Enjoy the celebrations," he says, and even though he certainly isn't, and picks his way through the crowd toward a handful of waiting Norrellite supporters. Their echo-chamber agreements, at least, will help soothe his soul a little.