[ SEMI-OPEN ] MEDIUM, LIVE!

[knightscode]

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. ]

Comments

[goodgraces]

While waiting for Sarah Silverton to make her grand entrance, Guinevere slowly wanders through the crowd. In these heels, she can easily see over the heads of almost everyone in attendance. She’s confident that when the medium arrives, she’ll spot her right away.

The drink in Gwen’s hand is her second of the night. The first she’d downed right away. This one she intends to nurse for a while. Not being much of a drinker, these bubbles could easily go to her head if she isn’t careful.

While scanning the crowd, Gwen recognizes one of the attendees: Faolan O’Neill, the newly crowned Head of Hillingdon. She doesn’t know him personally, but thanks to his election bid and the scandal that accompanied it, his face is a familiar one. Though, it is a bit odd to see him here. This doesn’t seem like it would be his sort of scene. Then again, what does she know? Perhaps it is.

Since Ms. Silverton is currently a no-show, Gwen decides to occupy her time by chatting with O’Neill, who is clearly an ambitious man and yet at the same time remains a bit of a reclusive enigma within the community despite his position.

“Mr. O’Neill. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” She offers him her free hand. “I’m Guinevere Leodegrance, a member of the Redbright Institute,” she says by way of introduction. “I’m surprised to see you here tonight. Are you a fan of Ms. Silverton?”

[reticence]

Faolan glances up at the other woman as she approaches and holds out a hand to greet him. (Literally up, at only 5'6", she towers over him, especially in those heels of hers.) Glancing warily at the hand held out to him, Faolan accepts it in turn. A member of the Redbright Institute, their groups have something of an alliance at the moment, and he should really play nice, even if he's feeling a bit on edge, firstly because of the thought of having to confront this medium and now thanks to this new woman reminding him of his own less than impressive stature.

"It's nice to meet you," he replies, which is as polite as he can be, in the circumstances, shaking her hand before retracting his own. "I can't say that I am, though, no. I suppose you could say that I've been assigned here." His position as a Guardian in the Night Council is no secret at this point, even though it makes him wary to admit to it at certain times.

[goodgraces]

Gwen starts to slouch, unconsciously closing the gap between her and Faolan. Had she come on her own, the difference between them would have been slightly less. (She’s the sort who generally prefers to wear low heels or even flats.) Unfortunately, attending as Agnes’ guest also meant abiding by her sartorial rules, and the older woman is of the firm opinion that a proper lady should always wear heels of exactly two inches. Disagreeing with that hadn’t seemed worth the hassle before now.

Thankfully, his reason for being here tonight is interesting enough to temporarily distract Guinevere from the awkward height differential (and the growing pain in her feet from the unaccustomed heels).

“Assigned? Oh!”

She has been thinking of Faolan only in terms of Hillingdon. Being assigned here seems more in line with his role as a Night Council guardian, a position that had been exposed during the election. That realization makes Gwen immediately smarten (and straighten) up. A lifetime spent as part of a police family has left her with a deep sense of respect for anyone filling a similar role (at least until said person proves to be unworthy of it).

“Am I intruding? I don’t want to get in your way.”

Guinevere’s father would read her the riot act if she compromised an operation by being chatty.

[reticence]

Faolan raises his eyebrows slightly, before shaking his head. "No, no, it's. It's fine," he reassures her, awkwardly. "I'm not. I'm waiting to be able to get a feel for Silverton, there's not..." He trails off, shrugging. "There's nothing really to be intruding on at the moment."

He glances up at her, flashing an awkward smile. "You'd be saving me conversation with another in the crowd here, so please. Don't let me scare you off." He knows that he has that effect on people, but he tries to be better, when he can. God, he really needs to get better at this whole business of talking to people, he thinks to himself, sighing inwardly.