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.

[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.

[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.

[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.

[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!"

[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?"

[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.

[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]

"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."

[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.

[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."

[stauncherhearted]

"I couldn't let anything stop me." She reaches out and gingerly takes Abby's hand in her uninjured one. "I'm in this as much as you are." And after all of their conversations, she had such newfound respect for the young woman in front of her.

"We're sisters, after all."

[acrookedchild]

"Sisters," she replies as she gives a small squeeze to Abby's hand. "In magic and blood."

Because their blood has mixed together. Did on that first night they all agreed to do this. To stand as a coven, to be seen. Something that set them apart and made her a target. But gave others to look at, too. Maybe gave someone hope.

"I couldn't have done this without both of you."

Even if their third couldn't be here.

[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.

[stauncherhearted]

"We're here for you no matter what. None of us would be here if it weren't for you." If it weren't for Abby and her fury and desire to do something. They'd already made such a change in their small world.

"Let me get you some champagne. I think we need a small toast." Yes, let's get drunk on top of our meds, Nancy. You can't get drunk at the chapel.

[acrookedchild]

"Just a small glass. For each of us."

It's almost motherly, she knows, but she offers it all the same. Because she knows at least part of what Nancy is on, and combining it with any alcohol is bad. But a little... she can let her friend -- her sister -- slide on that.

[stauncherhearted]

"Right," she promises, and leaves to make quick work of the champagne. She may or may not have a sip of hers before she actually gets to Abby, but each glass is no more than half-empty when she arrives back.

"Alright, here we are. There's yours, and mine." She raises her glass. "To a brand new era with a brand new Maiden! And, of course, the shadows." Shadow Coven. She couldn't be too loud about it, even here. She didn't want Redbright or Norrell knowing more about her than they had to.

Never mind that both Redbright and Norrell knew more about her than even she thought.

[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..."

[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.

[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.

[hurtfew]

"A patch of ice on some stairs!" he echoes, the mild disbelief clear on his face. Then again, what with the way she had dressed before perhaps she had been wearing particularly ludicrous footwear. He jogs an eyebrow, looks away from her again. The comment about his desk he is choosing to ignore. "You would do well to be more careful. Such clumsiness may cost you more dearly next time."

She might break her neck, he thinks absently.