#monstrousevent

The energy flowing through the city had nearly soured with the continuation of the murders happening. With no suspects in sight, and what seemed to be no leads, the fear that had begun to grip the city was nearly tangible, thickening the very air surrounding the once lively place. Though they came every year, the holidays truly could not have made an appearance at a better time. The allowance to focus on something other than the vile mystery seemed to have breathed a new life into things, people smiling, daring to laugh for what felt like the first time in a long while. 

The winter crops were hardly easy and rarely kind, though the Earth had provided as she always did, allowing Genevieve and her mother a harvest which would carry them through the most difficult of months. Atop the table before her sat a spread of winter vegetables- beets, cabbage, carrots, onions, and peas shone beautifully against the wood of the tabletop, flanked on their sides by sealed glass jars containing canned asparagus, beans, peppers, and okra, an array that was sure to draw a multitude of customers. 

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Genevieve called to a passerby, one she’d noticed had slowed slightly to take in the produce. “Winter is never a friend in a business such as this, though we have remained blessed with a gorgeous harvest this season.” A small smile played upon her lips. “There are many lovely dishes one can elevate with such additions. If you have yet to complete your shopping for your holiday dishes, you have certainly come to the right place. Even if you have, I am certain we can provide something you shall enjoy. After all, who can resist the draw of succulent summer okra, most especially during this cold and bitter winter?” 

Though Verona had visited London before in her long life, her visits had never coincided with Christmas. She found the season uncharacteristically tolerable -- the frigid air and thick snow reminded her of home, and that humans were more inclined to partake in wine and beer made their blood all the more sweet.

And so, as unusual as it was for her to leave Highgate Cemetery before the late afternoon, she found herself standing beside a stall selling hot apple cider, the tangy scent of it wafting pleasantly through the air. In her gloved hand, she held an empty glass, for appearance’s sake, and her small sunglasses remained perched on the bridge of her nose, as always when she went outside on bright days. Despite the merriment of the occasion, she could not shake memories of the Count, as if he were standing right beside her, as he had done for centuries.

Verona knew that her youngest sister found the market almost intolerable. Marishka did not have the temperament for spending extended amounts of time among humans -- she was far too fiery for that -- and the only way she could do so was if she was distracted from the tangy, metallic, scent of blood with the promise of a later hunt. Of the three sisters, Marishka was by far the most violent and volatile, completely the opposite of Verona, who had, over the years, rather perfected her mask of ice and the appearance of upper class poise. Unlike the Count, and even unlike the reclusive Countess Dolingen von Gratz, the three so-called “brides of Dracula” had never been granted titles, but Verona carried herself, even now, as a voivode’s daughter would -- gracefully, carefully, and with dignity.

And so, she and her younger, wilder, sister were walking through the market, arm in arm, looking for potential meals to see them through tonight. Verona’s dark glasses were perched on the bridge of her nose to protect her eyes from the worst of the sun’s white glare, and her hands were covered in purple gloves to hide her sharp nails. It was easier to bear being out during the daytime in the winter months, as the sun was weaker.

As much as she was enjoying the sights and sounds of the marketplace, only for its complete difference to the peace and quiet of Highgate Cemetery, there was only so much mingling with humans that Verona could bear before she got irritated. She had not felt strong emotions for centuries, but she couldn’t stand another moment in the busy crowds of Oxford Street, so she had slipped away to wander down one of the quieter side streets. All the shops were shut, of course, for the market, and she walked at a leisurely pace towards the more suburban heart of the city, before realising that she had walked this very same path just under half a century ago, when the Count and her sisters had visited London.

Wondering if her old acquaintance was still local, she continued with purpose until she reached a dilapidated old mansion which smelt of must and decay, even from the doorstep. Unlike the other houses on this street, this one had long-since fallen into disrepair, and Verona tutted to see what had become of it. Though, to the less knowledgeable person, it would appear uninhabited, she rang the doorbell, which made a shrill sound, and the door was opened cautiously by a servant in dark attire, blinking like a rat in the sunlight.

Merry Christmas 1899 and happy opening day everyone! Welcome to the bustling lamplit streets of Victorian London! The winter this year is the most severe it has been in since the last Frost Fair of 1814, but the Thames, unfortunately, has not frozen solid, dashing any hopes of another Frost Fair for the first Christmas of the new century. But still, market stalls have been set up, selling mulled wine and mince pies and clockwork toys galore! Everywhere one looks, one can see women selling handmade wares, men hawking freshly roasted chestnuts and warm cocoa in mugs. It is hard to believe, with snow thick on the ground, that another body was discovered merely three days ago, almost frozen solid in a dimly-lit alleyway in Whitechapel.

Still, the people are not letting the morbid circumstances ruin their Christmas cheer. This is the end of an old century, after all, and people are excited as they climb of the coal-fogged darkness of the 19th century and into the 20th! Even with the death of the great Sherlock Holmes a few years previously, and the worrisome murders that plague the streets of London, taking folk back to the dark reign of Jack the Ripper, people are determined to enjoy themselves. So, why not have a sleigh ride through the snow-covered Hyde Park? Have a mug of warm apple cider and a gingerbread biscuit, and catch up with old friends? Just enjoy the merriment and festivity of the season. Do be sure to wrap up warm, as it’s going to be very cold!

ADMIN NOTE: Hello everyone! I’m so excited to get this group off the ground! I thought it was a sweet opening event, given the season, and it will hopefully give everyone a chance to get to know one another. Basically, imagine a typical Victorian Christmas market, and you’re all set. Ice skating? Ice sculptures? Women selling flowers? It’s all here, from one end of Oxford Street to the other, stretching through the very heart of the city. Break the ice with your muses, and see how they fair and a Victorian fayre!