Abigail Widdowson (
acrookedchild) wrote in
undergrounds2016-03-25 11:19 pm
The Maiden Anointed [semi-closed] [majorly backdated to March 1]
"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!)
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!)

no subject
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.
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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.
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"I hardly think that lucky would be the word I'd choose to describe it," he drawls.
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"what would would you use? Barring the fact I look like I've been over by the Circle line."
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"Well, I suppose that you could be lucky. If you really had been hit by a train and this is all you have to say for it, then I would say that you're in fact lucky indeed."
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"There we have it. If it were a train and not a particularly nasty staircase, this time." And not a man at all. And you're both jerks.
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Childermass huffs out a breath that might be a laugh at that. He really could get on with her, if not for Norrell. If not for Abby. If not for the appearances they probably need to keep up, for the sake of their allegiances. It isn't as though they are that different, he thinks to himself. They certainly have not come from that different a place, at least.
"You'd take care to watch your step next time."
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"There won't be a next time," she promises him.
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If they were friends, he would pipe up to say that more likely than not her attitude was bound to get her in trouble again sooner rather than later, whether it was with a staircase or otherwise, but he wisely keeps his mouth shut for now, instead turning out over the crowd.
"Are you here to support your friend, then?" he asks. "It's a big title to fill. Maiden of the Witches."
[ooc: please excuse the icon i'm replying from email from work and not choosing one is just a lot easier lmao...]
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She doesn't' try to pretend she doesn't know Abby. Childermass knows where her allegiance is. "I am. The hospital couldn't keep me away from this today." They'll realize she's missing soon enough.
[ooc: no worries! if I ever go all default, I tend to be replying mobiley. So I don't judge.]
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He lets out the huff of a laugh, suggesting he realizes what she's getting at -- it makes sense, considering her appearance. "I'd imagine that nothing short of death itself would have done the trick."
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"She's a good friend and I'm proud of her." Friend, not necessarily coven member. But at this point, she supposed, it hardly mattered. What did Childermass know, anyway? "She needs someone on her team here- the rest of you just waiting to destroy her."
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Childermass shrugs a little. Let her think what she likes of him, he doesn't particularly care one way or the other. If she should like to include him in 'the rest of you', then let her. He had tried the help Abigail, on more than one occasion. Just because he is Norrell's man does not mean that he cannot think for himself.
"It is true. The Midnight witches have very few allies, with the current state of things. It will be difficult for her, in such a position as this," he points out.
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"Something we're both all to well aware of." She wanted a drink so badly right now, and she didn't care how it mixed with her medications.
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No, today is probably not that day. For Childermass is here with Norrell, even if Norrell is not there speaking with them. And even though Norrell could care less what Childermass does with his time. Suppose someone else saw, suppose someone else were to get the word back to him. He'd never hear the end of it.
He raises an eyebrow at her steely response, though he supposes he can't blame her for it. Though he merely continues on besides. "How do you think she will handle herself?" he asks. Because why not -- even if he's not certain whether she'll answer or not.
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"With all the grace and diplomacy of a Widdowson," is Nancy's cool response. She knows she'll do well. Abby was the sort of girl born for this thing. Nancy, on the other hand, couldn't have been more the opposite.
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"A Widdowson," he echoes. "Is it the family name that has her seeking out such a position then? Or are they all really so ambitious as that."
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"I couldn't tell you. I'm not acquainted with the rest of her family." All of them, living on borrowed time...