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

[tearmeanewone]

"...Ahh," Elizabeth tilts her head and smirks knowingly. "You're in the Wouldn't Hit a Girl Club." A good club to be in, probably, but in her opinion it's cute more than it is reassuring. From what she's experienced, if someone wanted to hurt a woman, wanted to hurt her in particular, they would (and had). Being female never created a protective shroud around her, and she imagines it never will. She has her own abilities for that, now.

This entire conversation has taken a bit of a dark turn, though. Elizabeth never thought of Comstock's circle as being included in what she'd blanket-referred to as 'American circles'. It had been somewhat comforting to think of him as a deranged outlier and his followers as deluded beyond all hope but small in number. But Henry made a good point-- power. That had been the motivation for her imprisonment, it was the motivator at this particular gathering, and across the sea it's the same if not less... careful.

She manages to respond with a huffed laugh of her own and a shrug. "Honestly I think I prefer the rabble."

[aglaochartos]

"I suppose it depends on what the girl or woman was doing, but, no." Agreed, with a slight quirk of his head sideways. "I don't see the chivalry in hitting women. Not because they are weak... but because it marks that the man who does so is." To give into violent urges over civilisation... well, he'd been guilty, of course, but he agreed that those urges ought to be largely dictated and controlled by civilisation. It was what made the Greeks so interesting to him, the blend of both. Women, as he had known them, had largely been more attuned and intelligent than men; he spared a thought for Camilla, here; and men violent towards them were merely pitifully trying to subjugate that intelligence.

Sparing another pause here, before agreeing, "Sometimes, so do I." It felt freeing, to be among 'rabble'. It was like peering in through a window to a more colourful world.

[tearmeanewone]

"I don't see the smarts in it, because in some cases the lady has no compunctions about hitting back." Or setting them on fire, in her case, but she probably wouldn't do that again. If she could help it. ...Control is hard sometimes, alright. "But yes, you're right. Anybody who feels they can attack someone in a seemingly weaker position than them is asking for trouble."

Are her eyes drifting to Norrell? Maybe.

"But mostly you stick to the intellectual, soft-spoken crowd? Like this one?" Elizabeth smiles-- nothing wrong with either of them. She herself tended to lean towards the rabble side, mostly because of Booker, maybe because she's just naturally outspoken and emotionally inclined. But there have been many evenings where she'd been content to sit with her books and read quietly.