undergrounds | The Mother of Witches retires tonight

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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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Faolan shakes his head slightly -- like hell he'd turn down feee food after all. He turns his gaze back up to Lancelot, shifting slightly in place, flicking a smile at him as he talks. Somehow, despite or perhaps even more likely due to his odd sense of humor, he always knows how to lighten Faolan's mood.

"She might ask you to dance," he corrects the other man. "I can't see her asking me, I'm pretty sure she hates me at this point. I'm the thorn in her side that keeps digging itself further in, causing her grief. No, I'm quite content to stay far out of her way in such a night as this. You make for much better company anyway," he adds, with another flick of a smile in Lancelot's direction before turning his gaze back to the room before them.

"The music's fine," Faolan says, before he continues to add, "I just. I suppose it just reminds me of home." The words are out before he realizes what he's saying and he stiffens slightly, glancing aside at Lancelot with the flick of his eyes before back away again.

Reminds him of home? Of Ireland, not of Shepherd's Bush he supposes -- although the music isn't particularly Irish either. So what about it? He squints over at the band, then back at Faolan and shrugs.

"I'd offer your earplugs but I'm not in the habit of carrying them around. It'll be muffled in the dining room I should think? Unless they follow us in. You could do a security lap of it, just to be sure it's safe. Get you away from the sound of it for a bit. I can make it an order, if you'd prefer."

He flicks a smile, one that says he doesn't much mind either way but whatever Faolan wants to do is fine. The hows and whys of what bothers Faolan is beyond him, but if there's something he can do to alleviate it he will.

Faolan glances aside at the other man, grateful for his suggestions and his presence in general. A security lap of the dining room should be enough time away for him to gather himself enough to be able to literally face the music as it were. Still.

"I'd welcome the company on that, if I might be able to pry you away." He hazards a soft smile at the other man as he continues, "Who knows what sort of trouble I might fall into, on my own." There are other Guardians there, to keep an eye on the Assembly Room in their absence. None of them as high a rank as Lancelot himself of course, but that's no reason that he shouldn't be allowed a moments respite, is it?

"Sure you're not just trying to get me alone in an empty room?"

Lancelot tilts his head in the direction of the dining hall regardless of his words, turns to begin threading his way through the crowd toward it.

Faolan flicks the other man a smile and trails out through the crowd after him. It's not worth trying to start a conversation, not with this many people to have to speak up to be overheard over. Faolan waits until they've made it to the dining hall, shutting the doors behind them and gratefully soaking in the silence that follows.

He leans back against the door for a moment, before glancing to Lancelot with a grateful smile. "Maybe I am grateful to have you to myself for the moment. Though I'm certain you are about to remind me that we are on duty." He flicks his smile wider. "You are my acting superior officer, after all."

Lancelot turns toward Faolan as he finally speaks, twitching an amused smile at the comment.

"I am," Lancelot agrees. "I'm also technically a guest. We both are. We could claim in this room, we're dinner guests. Think that gets us off the hook?"

Faolan's smile widens at the other man's good humor, tilting his head as if considering the logic before stepping forward to close some of the distance between them.

"I certainly wouldn't argue against the point myself," he replies. It's easier to feel more like himself, away from the music and the rest of the party guests. And easier to forget where they are, when Lancelot starts to make suggestions like that.

"Then I think it stands."

He smiles and reaches out a hand to push a curl back from Faolan's face, amused for a moment before his hands push back into his pockets and he tilts his head away down the dining hall -- starting a slow, ambling lap of it. That is what he said they'd do, after all. A security lap. May as well at least look like they're trying.

"I think the last dinner I went to anything like this was Gilbert Norrell's. Do you remember that?"

Lancelot looks over sideways at Faolan again, smiles after a moment. He isn't sure it's easy to forget, in truth, as extravagant and full of arguing as it was.

Faolan flushes slightly at the other man's easy show of affection in what might be considered a public area, though he finds himself smiling in response to it as well. Ducking his head slightly as he finds himself slipping into step beside the other man as they start to make their loop of the room.

"I do," he answers, knowing that Lancelot is smiling at him even without having to look. He chews his lip slightly, sticking his own hands into his pockets as he tilts his head back to glance up at the ceiling. Deliberately avoiding having to look at the other man directly as he admits, "I remember how good you looked in the suit you were wearing. I was under cover, and I wasn't allowed to talk to you. It made me so mad, that all I could do was watch from across the room while the rest of the party flirted with you..." He flicks the other man a sheepish sideways smile.

"That's flattering, but I'm not so sure you were very deep under cover since there was nobody there from Midnight to see you."

Although he supposes he might have been worried someone from Hillingdon might mention it. Then again, he'd thought all of them already knew they were friends. Principle of the thing, maybe? Like method actors. He shrugs, pausing to check some of the doors outside to the patio are locked. It is meant to be a security perimeter check, after all.

"I'm starting to think you enjoy a little frustration."

Faolan lets Lancelot do all of the work as far as maintaining the image of checking the room is concerned. Really all he wants is some private time with Lancelot, away from the masses in the other room, which is exactly what he's getting.

"I was supposed to be under cover," he corrects the other man. "If either of us were to let it slip who I was really, or that we knew each other beyond meeting at the party, it would have blown the whole thing."

He watches the other man carefully, contemplating his suggestion before shrugging slightly in turn. "Maybe I do," he concludes after a moment's thought, the quirk of a smile turning the corner of his lips up at him. "Maybe just a little, at least."

He turns and wrinkles his nose at Faolan, carrying on testing the other side of doors and the windows.

"Does that mean I'm frustrating? If we're saving you enjoy frustration, and you seem to enjoy my company."

Would that be good, he wonders, in the sense that it means Faolan enjoys something about him -- or bad because that thing is frustration.

Faolan offers the other man something of a sheepish shrug of his shoulders.

"I... Wouldn't say that you were specifically," he elaborates carefully, offering a sheepish smile in turn. Wondering whether in such a situation it's better to elaborate on the point or to just let it stand at that. Maybe it's better to wait until Lancelot asks him to elaborate, he thinks. It's the sort of subject where it would be really easy to put his foot in it, if he took a misstep.

The Mother of Witches retires tonight

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