undergrounds | [ SEMI-OPEN ] MEDIUM, LIVE!

Date: 17th to 31st of October, inclusive!
Plot: Medium, Live!
Areas: Manchester for the pre-London show, then Greenwich

Worldwide phenomenon Sarah Silverton is coming to London. The British Born psychic, medium and all round lady of the supernatural is doing a special tour ending with a Halloween show in the enormous setting of the O2 arena.

She's booked out the placed, too, tickets are sold out. They weren't exactly cheap, either.

Silverton has plenty of critics, but nobody can deny that she does put on a good show. Some put it down to publicity stunts, but every time she takes over a stage there always seem to be mysterious problems. Lights flickering, sound problems, all sorts of spooky goings on while stage hands swear blind they didn't touch anything. There have even been some who quit because they couldn't take it any more, claiming members of Sarah's team must have been deliberating interfering to draw crowds.

It's no surprise, then, that the Night Council has taken any interest. With the reports of strange goings on escalating (including a falling piece of set in one show that caused injury to one unsuspecting audience member) they've launched a full investigation. While most believe Silverton to be a fraud simply putting together elaborate stunts to sell tickets, any chance that she's a real member of the community flagrantly breaking the Statute of Secrecy must be addressed. Lancelot is charged with putting together a team and investigating carefully. Sarah Silverton is a celebrity, and they can't risk drawing attention to themselves in the process or causing any kind of public scandal. They have just over two weeks until her live show in London, and a lot of work to get done....

[ ooc; Post for the medium, live! plot. Still time to sign up if you want! Spooky content likely, in the spirit of Halloween. ]

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Liadan is very ill at ease in the crowd, though she is able to maintain a calm exteriour. And as her dress is dark blue and fairly simple, she is able to fade into the background without too much trouble.

While she keeps an eye out for Ms Silverton, she is also listening to the conversation. From what she can tell, most of the audience is very enamoured of the medium and believes every word she said.

Liadan shakes her head sadly. She is still not sure if they are right to believe but she suspects that they would be taken in by anyone who had enough special effects.

She spots a woman who appears to be part of the show and walks over to her. "Do you know when we should be expecting the guest of honour?" she asks.

Guinevere shakes her head, offering a weary but sympathetic smile.

“No, sorry, I don’t.”

She checks her watch, grateful to have worn one tonight, which she so rarely does these days.

“I do hope it will be soon.”

Liadan quickly realizes her mistake, but thankfully she seems to be the only one aware of it. "Soon would be nice," she agrees. "Long day?"

“Oh god yes! I thought that show would never end!”

The words come out in an uncensored rush, and she regrets them immediately. Most people here, she assumes, are devotees of Ms. Silverton and probably wouldn’t take kindly to Gwen’s lack of enthusiasm.

“Not that it didn’t meet my expectations,” she adds hastily. “It was definitely…memorable.”

"Memorable is one word for it," Liadan says with a smile, glad to know she is not alone in being less than enthralled by it all. "I suppose now she wants to make a fashionably late entrance, completely with lighting and sound effects."

Gwen chuckles, no longer afraid to show her true feelings.

“She is quite the performer. It’s almost convincing, really. I’ll give her that.”

She raises her glass briefly in a mock toast.

“I’m Gwen, by the way. It’s nice to meet someone else who isn’t completely enraptured by our host.”

"Yes, it certainly is," Liadan agrees. She moves to stand nearer to Gwen, then gives her a closer look, now that she realizes the other woman isn't part of the show or one of the enraptured audience members.

Getting closer highlights the first thing she noticed, which is how tall Gwen is - though to be fair, she is wearing heels, while Liadan is in a presentable but practical pair of flats. The accent too is different, Welsh she thinks. But after those superficial things are accounted for, there is still something that Liadan can sense but not understand. Something different about Gwen.

"Are you from the area, or did you travel here for the show?"

Guinevere often stands out in a crowd (literally) because of her above average height, especially when wearing heels of any sort. While growing up she was sometimes mocked for being a tall beanpole, but as an adult her long legs tend to elicit praise instead of derision. Usually, she doesn't give her height much thought. It is what it is. Right now, however, being in such close proximity to the diminutive Liadan makes her feel a bit like a giantess.

The urge to downplay her height by slouching is strong. As is the desire to simply kick off her heels, not only to lose a few inches but also to give her aching feet a break. Unfortunately, she doesn't think the assembled crowd would tolerate a guest going barefoot. So, she sucks up her discomfort and tries to concentrate on the conversation instead.

"No and yes: I come from Cardiff originally, but I've been in London for a little over a year now."

Getting to Manchester with Agnes had been no treat. When this is done, she'll have to choose between returning to London tomorrow after sharing a hotel room with the old woman or using her Anytime Return ticket to catch a late train alone tonight. A trip to visit family in Wales would have been less of a hassle and far more pleasurable.

"What about you? That's not a local accent you're sporting. But I can't imagine you'd travel far to see this particular show."

Liadan has gotten used to being the smallest in the room. It often has been to her advantage, especially in situations like these when she does not want to draw too much attention to herself.

"I grew up in Northern Ireland but recently moved to London myself. This is my first time in Manchester, though I don't know if I'll get a chance to see much of the city." She intended to return to the city first thing tomorrow morning, to get some quality time in with her brother and his family before they went back home.

"It's funny. Recently, no matter where I go, I keep encountering people from outside of England who are newly settled in London. I wonder why that is? I mean, what are the odds of us meeting in Manchester at a Sarah Silverton show of all places?!"

In answer to her own question, she lifts her free hand to wiggle her fingers as though performing magic and says, "Perhaps we can sense each other somehow." With her voice lowered, she adds in a slightly mocking tone, "Given where we are, I supposed I should be wondering about fate."

Of course, she is aware that some in the supernatural community have the ability to sense other members. However, she doubts many (if any, aside from herself) have gone out of their way to be here tonight. Given that no one she knows from their community believes that Ms. Silverton is truly gifted in any supernatural way, few would have reason to make the long trip up here simply to watch a fabricated performance meant to trick the gullible.

"London has always been quite the metropolis," Liadan replied. "I suppose people are constantly moving to it from all the world."

She frowned slightly at what Guinevere said next. Given the strange feeling Liadan had from her, it sounded like they might both be here for the same reason. "Are you familiar with Lancelot du Lac?" she asked, looking for confirmation of her theory.

"True," she admits.

Although, it feels like there must be something more to it than that. She's been living in London for over a year. Until recently, with the exception of a few coworkers, she'd only encountered people who were long-time residents, whether originally from abroad or not. And yet now, she keeps running into new arrivals.

Perhaps, these things go in cycles...

While thinking on that, Guinevere takes a sip of what remains of her drink. Her second glass of champagne is almost gone. Being a lightweight where alcohol is concerned, she's already feeling rather tipsy.

It's while in this vulnerable state that Liadan's question hits her. Her eyes widen before she begins to cough as her mouth full of champagne tries to go down wrong. Thankfully, she manages to regain control, preserving some dignity.

"Sorry." She clears her throat. "Uh, yes. We've...met."

A flush rises to her cheeks as she flashes back to their brief encounter. It hadn't been one of her better moments, and she doubts his impression of her is all that flattering.

"Why do you ask?"

As far she's concerned, this question has come out of nowhere. Through a haze of alcohol, Gwen focuses on Liadan, wondering from which world and in what capacity she knows Lancelot.

Liadan hadn't anticipated such a reaction to a something she'd intended to be fairly innocent, even if it was a leading question. It does make her rather curious about how Guinevere and Lancelot met and she raises an eyebrow before responding.

"I've been doing some work with him recently. I thought perhaps you might be doing the same."

[ SEMI-OPEN ] MEDIUM, LIVE!

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