undergrounds | The Mother of Witches retires tonight

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The Mother of Witches retires tonight

Today is a big day for the witch community. On 4th December, Sylvia Redbright turns 60 and her reign as Mother of Witches officially comes to an end. To celebrate this momentous occasion, Sylvia is hosting a retirement party at the Redbright Institute. The school will be open to all friendly guests who wish to celebrate with Circle Daybreak or hear about Sylvia's many achievements as Mother of Witches. There will also be a more private gathering during the event for Sylvia's closest friends and allies.

The party takes place from 7pm-12 midnight Sunday 4th December.

Rules of entry
• No weapons. Any weapons or objects that could be used as weapons will be confiscated.
• No drugs or alcohol except that provided at the event. Don't try to sneak any in.
• No violence.

There is security within the school and present during the event. (In fact, if your character is a member of the Redbright Institute, you could have them acting as security if you want.) They will respond to and put a stop to any trouble.

Places to go
The main location open for the public is the large Assembly Hall where a live band plays folk music throughout the evening. There are waiters serving champagne and canapés or if you prefer you can go straight to the buffet table yourself. At 8pm, there will be a series of speeches by various high-ranking witches singing Sylvia's praises before Sylvia herself will step up to be presented with a large bouquet of flowers and gifts from the witch community. Her thanks will of course be gracious. After 9pm, there will be a show of magic from some of the most promising young witches in London. It's a music and dance performance that features a dazzling display of colour, light and fire plus other spectacular tricks including levitation, illusory rain and lightning and finally a giant ash tree that grows in the middle of the room to represent the Mother's protection. (None of it is real, of course. It's essentially magical special effects.) In the last two hours of the night, the witches will invite everyone to let loose and dance around the tree. It's probably a good idea to be quite drunk by this point.

If you'd prefer to go somewhere a little quieter, two of the lecture halls are open, each featuring a different video playing on a loop. The first video is a potted history of the tradition of the Mother, Maiden and Crone, describing how they are chosen and what purpose they each serve in the witch community, with a particular focus on Sylvia becoming the Mother. (It does not feature or mention Abigail Widdowson.) In the second lecture hall there is a video telling the story of Sylvia's many achievements as Mother of Witches over the past thirty years, including her efforts to bring peace in London, to unite the witch communities across the UK and to foster a culture of magic that helps rather than hurts people.

Elsewhere, the dining hall is closed to the public because from 9pm there is a private party hosted here consisting of a three-course meal followed by drinks. This is where Sylvia and her closest allies will be for most of the night. Entry is restricted to a select guest list.

Sylvia will reappear in the reception area from just after 11pm to say goodbye to the guests and give her final blessings as Mother of Witches. After today, there will be a transition period until the new Mother is selected, but this will be the last time she hosts any kind of official event in her capacity as Mother of Witches.

[OOC: If you are a high-ranking ally or potential ally of Sylvia's (level 4 or above), you may be invited to her private party! Please check with me if you're not sure. Otherwise, there are opportunities to catch Sylvia and other NPCs during the event. Or just enjoy the free champagne, it's up to you.]

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Micheletto has some gall, Cesare will give him that, and it makes him grit his teeth and grimace. He gives Micheletto another shove before letting him go, quickly rubbing his hand over his mouth, a nervous habit of his.

"No. Stay. I don't need to wait another five hundred years." Yes. Cesare is still bitter about that.

He gives Micheletto a serious look. "My sister, have you...?" he doesn't finish his sentence. He can't quite manage it, but the implication is there: have you seen her? Do you know where she is?. He knows that Micheletto and Lucrezia were close, in a way. After looking for her so ardently, it would be foolish of Cesare not at least to ask.

Micheletto rubs his shoulder, briefly, but otherwise stands up straight. Old habits are hard to break, and he finds himself clutching the seam of his shirt between the torso and sleeve with his fingertips. "Then I will stay. But I confess I did not think you had need of me, 'til now, though you certainly had the want."

In response to Cesare's question, Micheletto somberly shakes his head. "If I had seen or heard of my lady, I would be guarding her now. I swear on my mother's grave I have not."

"So you thought it best to ignore me for half a millennium," Cesare responds with a roll of his eyes, entirely unsympathetic. To be honest, Cesare doubts that there is any excuse that would make Micheletto's absence seem acceptable to him.

He grimaces when he hears that Micheletto has not seen Lucrezia. He had some hope that he might know where she is, albeit a small one.

"She remains a phantom then." He's angry again, his temper flaring. "So then why are you here, Micheletto? What made you think that suddenly now I was worthy of your presence?"

"Not ignore, your Eminence," Micheletto corrects, carefully. "I did not respond for security's sake. You must have noticed your letters were never returned."

His stare is, as always, unwavering. But the assassin's fingers clench tighter into fists, his posture stiffening, at Cesare's stream of snappish questions. "My lord," he answers quietly, "you have never been unworthy of my presence. If anything, I am unworthy of yours."

The assassin shifts as a couple comes giggling out of the lecture hall, turning his back and taking a few steps away. He only turns back to Cesare when they have gone. A fortnight without a single word is unlike you. I was..."

Micheletto pauses, his emotions still difficult to express. "I was worried something had happened."

That catches Cesare off guard and he laughs, loud and wry at the absurdity of it all, though he really doesn't find it very funny. After all his attempts to reach Micheletto, to get him to return, it took Cesare not trying to manage it.

"I should have given up on you sooner. And I am not eminent. I haven't been that for a long time. Nor a lord. If you had been reading my letters, you would know that." His letters had become a diary of sorts, an update on his affairs to a man he didn't even know was there. It felt as though he might as well have sent them out into the ether and so confessions had a habit of making their way into his written notes.

"I have been reading them. I have read every word, my lord, and committed them to memory. Every one I have received has been destroyed. Discretion is still of the utmost importance between us." For a moment, Micheletto almost seems insulted.

He only pauses a beat, advancing until he is almost chest to chest with the Cesare, to speak quietly into his ear. "You left behind a lot of enemies in Italy. Many of them have met their end by my blade, but many more remain. Who was it you thought was keeping them at bay?"

Cesare doesn't back away from Micheletto. He never has. Instead he stands his ground calmly, listening carefully.

"I have enemies across all of Europe, Micheletto. If I were nervous about keeping them at bay I would sit paranoid in a locked room for all eternity." He appreciates Micheletto's help but really it was unnecessary.

His voice lowers. "You should have come home." That would have been much better. Apparently, for Cesare, when it comes to Micheletto, home is where your Borgia is.

"Then perhaps the bout of... turbulence on my flight is not worth mentioning."

Murder. He means murder. But they can't go talking about that in public. It would be rude.

"I have not known you to dwell on the past much." Micheletto cocks his head, curiously, drawing back from Cesare. "What shall I do now that I've come 'home'?"

Cesare understands Micheletto's hints but ignores them. He doesn't want to talk about it now. He's cushy here, comfortable, complacent, and he's busy sulking right now.

"You have not been here for most of my life, Micheletto." Another jab. "But you should also know I don't forgive easily." He pauses for a second, his shoulders stiff. "Witches? The Orisinis?" Are the people who are after him witches? They're always witches. Witches, Orisinis or witchy Orsinis.

"Now that I know, even with my absence from your unlife. That is why I did not expect to find forgiveness here. Only proof of you continuing to walk this earth." He does not often riposte to Cesare's verbal jabs at him, but in this case he really wants to drive home his point.

The closest thing Micheletto has had to a friend, dead? Truly dead? Even taking into account the circumstances of their parting, that would be too much.

"You may threaten me, condemn me, and toss me into walls all you like, sire. But will you answer my question when you are done?"

Only now does Micheletto truly pull away from the vampire, leaning against the wall which Cesare first pushed him up against. "The former, naturally aligned with the Sforza. The Orsini have been wise to remain in hiding." He pauses a beat, then adds as an afterthought, "She missed her connecting flight."

Cesare pauses for a moment, staring at Micheletto, trying to wrap his head around everything. He understands what Micheletto is telling him: the Sforza witch had been given a sticky end. But Cesare is trying to cope with a mixture of emotions. He's angry and happy all at once. To be honest, he doesn't quite know how to feel. Seriously. A card or a phonecall would have been appreciated.

Eventually he rolls his eyes, tired.

"Have a drink with me." He needs something to cope with this. "Sit there." He points to a table that he can see in another room and disappears, eventually returning with two glasses and a bottle of scotch. He doesn't think about it, but this is probably the first time Cesare has brought Micheletto a drink. Though he pours considerably more scotch in his own glass than he does his friend.

Wordlessly, Micheletto nods, and moves to sit at the table assigned to him. Having some sense of direction soothes him, so that when Cesare comes back, Micheletto is less irritable and more pensive, lost in thought. The instant he spots movement in the doorway, however, Micheletto's eyes are on Cesare like a hawk. It seems his instincts are still sharp.

He lets Cesare pour both drinks, picking up his glass and holding it out in front of him for a toast. "To your health, Cesare Borgia," Micheletto comments, before raising the glass to his lips.

Cesare rolls his eyes as he sits down before downing the drink in one hit, already moving to pour himself another glass.

"A lot has happened while you've been gone," he explains. He's not entirely sure how much Micheletto knows. Lucrezia has vanished, Cesare has had a string of affairs and political dealings and now he's some sort of a mob boss under the pretense of a hotel. He yearns for more, in truth. Sneaking around like this with so little political power is...embarrassing.

"What have you been doing? Something important, I hope." Something to warrant him being gone for so long, though Cesare doubts nothing ever will.

Micheletto downs his at the same time, shuffling his glass across the table to allow Cesare to pour him another, if he's feeling particularly gracious with his alcohol.

"Indeed it has. But what of the coup on Halloween Night? You mentioned Raymond Harris was no more, and there would be a great change coming to the supernatural politics of London... but then I heard no more."

There is a pause at Cesare's question, as Micheletto turns the scotch glass in his weathered hands. "I mentioned that I had done little important, until late. Mostly, I have been biding my time. Perfecting my craft. Rooting out those who once opposed us. And... reflecting."

"Reflecting," Cesare repeats with a scoff. It's still ridiculous to him, a weak excuse based on one mistake that now seems minor. It was an overreaction to say the least.

"Harris was replaced with Jean-Claude," Cesare explains. His eyes flicker up to Micheletto's as if to say, yes, that Jean-Claude. No, it's not exactly ideal. And don't you dare sass about it.

"On how to approach you. What to say. When and where to say it." His hand tightens around the glass. "Yet when I did not hear back..." The statement is left open, for now, as Micheletto leans in and reaches for the scotch bottle, his hand briefly ghosting against Cesare's before sliding the bottle away. He pours himself another, setting the bottle back down on the table.

His eyes flick up in the same instant, a glimmer of surprise hidden behind his gaze. But he says nothing demeaning about the situation, only a soft hum of interest. "Is Harris still among us? Or did Jean-Claude see to that, too?"

"Removed the same night Jean-Claude came into power. It somewhat a package deal. Fun to watch though, I must admit." Cesare had missed bloodshed, the thrill of ending the life of a man who was just as intent on ending yours. Cesare has always enjoyed winning.

"I think I was one of the few people in the nest who actually got along with Harris. He was a mad man, but he was interesting."

"As such peaceful transitions of power usually go," Micheletto scoffs, his mind drawing parallels to their time, when assassination was the easiest way to gain land, gain the throne, gain the papacy...

"But it seems, despite the unfortunate departure of Mister Harris, things are going well for you."

Cesare shrugs.

"Not as well as I would hope. I got this position through...persuasion. That has never been my forte." He had earned his position by trading for it with his support for Jean-Claude. It's...weak. He knows it is. He doesn't like it.

"That has always been my sister's skillset, not my own." He's more of a take what he wants kinda guy. If only he could do that right now.

"Our way never was persuasion," Micheletto agrees, this time taking his scotch more in sips than all at once. A clear head is still needed right now, if anything can help save this situation he's found himself in.

But with his attention fixed on Cesare, it is almost required of Micheletto to pour Cesare another drink when his glass grows empty.

"You have been in such positions before. Positions granted to you by those with more power. And you have found a way to make it your own way, regardless. That is the one thing I most admire about you." He sets the bottle back down, going back to sipping his drink.

Cesare rolls his eyes and pulls a wry smile just before taking another swig of the drink that Micheletto has poured for him.

"You mean it's not my charming personality?" It's a joke. Not exactly a good one. He leans in a little.

"I would have this fixed by the time the year is up," he says seriously. It's a bit odd, his use of "fixed". It implies that something' broken, but for him it is. He's caught in a position he doesn't like, one where he doesn't have enough swing and weight. He would like to correct that and he'll need Micheletto to help him do it.

"Perhaps a bit of that, too, sire," he answers truthfully. Micheletto leans in, too, out of instinct, and listens very carefully to Cesare's words.

"And I would follow orders, if you'll give them. I believe the masterless dog finds himself in want of a master once again."

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The Mother of Witches retires tonight

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