kleptofaeniac: (1090219 (9))
[personal profile] kleptofaeniac
Some witch holidays were meant to be enjoyed by all, regardless of species, alliances or preference to magic. Holidays like Lammas! Think of it as witch Thanksgiving.

An old woman by the name of Agatha Chapman was of the personal opinion that there was just too much infighting between her fellow witches this year. Those Circle Midnight witches were practically children! Agatha had raised enough children to know they were just going through some rebellious phase. It would pass. But this wasn't the time for expressing such things. This was a time of togetherness! Which was why Agatha had, through her daughters and granddaughters, sent a very public invitation to the supernatural community:

~Lammas Day Celebration~

Come celebrate the great tradition of the first harvest and shorter days with a beach party and bonfire!
Food, fun, and sun! No limits on guests, bring your friends!

AUGUST 1st 2015
12 PM - 2 AM
(public rituals @ 10 PM)

KINGSGATE CASTLE, JOSS GAP ROAD.
BROADSTAIRS.
KENT.

Transportation from the city will be provided from Victoria Station. Present this invitation at the ticket office.


You totally want to go right?

Party time! )
detectiveofthewest: (Default)
[personal profile] detectiveofthewest
A: After the full moon
Heiji had been lucky to walk away from his run-in with Tal as well as he had -- a werewolf during this particular time of year was even more dangerous than usual. But he was still badly hurting, and he did not yet want to return to the Other Realm, where one of his own kind might see an excellent opportunity to take advantage of his wounds. Nor could he wander the streets as a human slowly bleeding through his clothing.

So instead he limped along quietly in the early hours of the morning in the least energy-intensive form he could. A small black fox, looking for a burrow to hole up in and lick his wounds.

B: You are cordially invited (July 7)
In light of his new title as well as his decision to stay in London for the foreseeable future, Heiji had had a home constructed for himself in Faery -- a little out of the way for his non-fae acquaintances to come visit him, but much less likely to arouse undue interest from any neighbors. It was a Japanese-style house, of course, with a small pond and cherry trees outside the windows.

Now he sat out the steps, sipping at his sake and waiting for company.

C: Fox hunt (Evening in Richmond Park, July 11th-ish)
Hoofbeats sounded in the distance, accompanied by the distant baying of hounds. A flit of red fur through the grass, and then the sounds of the dogs took on a new, excited cast. Panicked and frightened, the young fox ran blindly through the trees. The paths looked the same, the woods were unfamiliar. Meanwhile, the sounds of her pursuit was getting closer...

Heiji ran through the park, looking for any sign, but he'd lost sight of the hunting party. All he had to go on now was the baying of the hounds. There were thousands of foxes in London, and why hadn't she listened to him?

He grimaced as he charged through the grass. "Of all the rotten luck...!"

D: Choose your own adventure :')
acrookedchild: (He found a crooked sixpence)
[personal profile] acrookedchild
Miss Abigail Widdowson cordially invites you to Geap Manor on Wednesday, July 1st at 19:00.

Food, drinks, and music will be provided.

All are welcome, but individuals are to be aware that any hostilities during the evening's festivities will not be tolerated.


It is the first time in at least a generation that the doors of Geap Manor have been opened to the general population. Or, at least, as general as the supernatural community could be considered. Some invitiations were made personally, but most were formally sent to the higher ranking members of the various factions.

Dinner is announced precisely at 19:30. The small, intimate eating area for the family has been turned into a buffet room. The caterers Abigail hired have obviously been paid well to make sure there is something for everyone. Rich meat dishes, hearty vegetarian dishes, light fish dishes, plenty of accompaniments and finger food. There is also plenty of fairly fresh blood for vampires. For the others, there are wines, water, and tea available.

The grand dining room has had its large table removed, replaced, instead, by small tables that can comfortably hold four. They can, of course, be pushed together to allow for more room.

The ballroom is open to the guests, and the DJ has also been highly paid to make sure the music played is precisely to the hostess's tastes. There is plenty of modern music, good for dancing, as well as older classics. However, interspersed are classical pieces meant for waltzes and foxtrots and other such ballroom dances.

In the sitting room is a drink cart with wine, tea, water, and blood. Chairs and divans are available, as the room is a quiet place, a little away from the ballroom, so conversation can be had with ease. There is an unlit fireplace, and a portrait of Abigail a few years younger than she is now hangs above it.

Most of the rest of the house is locked. One can wander the hallways, but it may prove ultimately fruitless. One who simply walks up the stairways will find the walls of each lined with the Widdowson family portraits of every generation, starting with one of a ten-year-old Abby, her parents, and her six-year-old brother. As one takes in all the paintings, a pattern presents itself. Every Widdowson woman featured is pale, thin, and blonde.

The grounds are beautifully maintained and fenced in by wrought iron on top of stone. A very traditional look for such an imposing manor. On the path from the street to the house, there's little remarkable, save the knocker on the door. Behind the house, however, if one ventures away, one might get the keen sense of something from inside the house watching, waiting, and hungering. On the ground floor, the locked rooms are mostly unremarkable, save for the study at the back of the house. Linger too long near there, and one might hear a sound coming in a pattering set. It isn't a knock against the door, no. Instead, it is the sound of something hitting the wall. If someone were to force their way into the nursery on the second floor or the attic several stories up... Well. They likely won't be coming back to the party. Or to anything.

Wandering, of course, isn't a suggested enterprise. The old house doesn't like people poking around and trying to find its secrets.


(Everyone who has at least a familiarity with the supernatural is welcome, as the invitations were distributed widely. Mingle, make your own top comments, enjoy the food, etc!)
tippytoes: (h1H1UmY)
[personal profile] tippytoes
dirty paws and furry coat; (a)
Read more... )


she ran down the forest slope; (b)
Read more... )


the forest of the talking trees; (closed to derek hale)
Read more... )


( brackets or prose is fine, and if you have a different idea for a thread you'd like to use, feel free to leave it as a starter!! )
viduation: (Default)
[personal profile] viduation
A. DAY:
[ creature of the night he may be, Derek's life is far from nocturnal. admittedly, this is partially because he sleeps less than he probably ought to, especially these days. however, it's also because even in London, there are places that aren't 24/7. yet. a bank. a decent mechanic. somewhere that sells smores flavoured pop tarts. combined with his own restlessness, and a sense that he still doesn't quite belong, Derek is unable to hang around at the den all day.

when he's out, he's watchful. even on the streets of the city centre, Derek has come to learn that he can't afford to overlook anything. perhaps it's an inhuman kind of scent that has his gaze catching, lingering, or perhaps a face he recognizes from the Redbright ball has him staring in heavy, curious scrutiny. maybe he simply has to squeeze past the same PETA collector on the street, muttering something about no goddamn escape. ]
B. NIGHT:
[ after the sun sets, Derek retreats to his own territory. generally speaking, he's not looking for a fight, and lurking around other areas of London at night is sometimes as much a provocation as is necessary. he keeps to the east end, hemming along every county line like a sentry, watching - waiting, maybe - for any suggestion that things are not as they should be on his turf. his. he'd never considered it in those terms when he'd been following Laura's lead, when there had been another alpha running things. aside from an inherent wolfish sense of territory, he'd felt little investment. now, his position has changed, but the disconnect here lingers. in the wake of his own hasty decision making, he still feels like he's standing in. that only makes him all the more tense.

and all the more eager to work. he covers a surprising amount of distance on foot, keeps his ear to the ground to keep track of what's going on. maybe it's quiet. maybe it's not. but he stays out late.

if, on his unofficial patrol, he comes across something or someone that seems like they shouldn't be here - well, Derek follows. ]
C. CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE!
( catch all! feel free to tag in with your own starter - just give me a heads up if you're looking for anything in particular - or let me know if you'd like a specific heading! 8] )

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