Antediluvian Dreams [Rated R | Open]
Ok, this is now open, and I am still cool with people just commenting. There will definitely be more later, including the full introduction of who/what James is. There are several potent secrets that exist around him, but for now, you will simply have to guess.
Also, rules for play: I am acting storyteller, at least in this thread. Eveything that happens here is under my direct control, and as I have some very specific plans for what I want to do with James, I'm going to enforce it. If you try and pull the game in another direction, you will find yourself pulling only yourself. I will not allow this thread to be derailed and pulled in a direction I do not wish it to go.
That is final.
To carry on, yes, I am an elder player here, and this is something I've wanted to do for a while now. However, I'm not going to tell you who I am, and no asking the mods for an IP check.
Furthermore, this is a tale of incredible violence. I am certain that there will be things that some people with weak stomachs may not appriciate. However, I am playing this as I believe it aught to be played, and my character has lived a long and horribly violent life. So, read on, if you desire, but do note that if violence and torture are offensive, close this thread and walk away.
He hungered... The centuries had passed, and the time of awakening had come, but he was not prepared for the incredible thirst that permeated his entire being.
He glances across the street, his dark eyes fairly gleeming in the still night. Thrice he had gorged himself, and still the cravings tore at his insides. His skin was flushed with the warmth of the most precious of liquids, the amaranth, the Dark Kiss.
A smile curves across his lips, and he moves through the crowds like a wraith. Occasionally, a whisp of his cloak brushes across the face of one of the milling crowds, and they shudder in momentary and unexplainable fear. The figure merely continues, simply not caring about his frigid passage, and its affect on the people around him. His thoughts were on his next feeding, the next surge of pleasure as fresh vitae surges through his body.
He was a creature of darkness, one with the shadows about him, a denizen of the city warrens. A nightmare in almost-human form.
Lady Amanda walked the streets. She saw them all bundled up in coaks and cloaks and fur. She walked in her silver thin dress. The elements did not harm her, they had no effect on her at all. She was used to the looks, not because of the way she dressed, but how her beauty captured their hearts and only the reason they went on was because sometimes the light just hurt. The light was of her and she was of it. She smiled at each one she made eye contact with. She saw into their souls and most of the time was pleased. The city life can take a toll of people and yet they still strived. She stopped and cocked her head. She saw the dark and the hair on her neck stood up. Not because of the chill night air, but her instincts told her elsewise. The wind picked up about her and played with her dress and hair. Her hair was a caramel,chocolate brown and was long. It went down her back. She also wore a blue crystal on her neck. (From the thread New Beginnings will tell that story, but it is long). She saw the dark aura and how it spread around the gentleman. She gasped, she had not seen this in a long time. She narrowed her eyes and wondered what she should do next. She smiled and stopped the man infront of her. "Can I ask you what you think you are doing here?" Her smile was still on her face and her eyes twinkled with light. Her eyes were the color of light blue with flecks off white in them.
While I greatly appriciate the effort, I must ask you if you have trouble understanding what a "closed RP" is?
I do not mean to be insulting, but I am going to ignore that blurb for right now. If you want to jump in after I open the RP, please do.
Devras was no longer the city he remembered. Years ago, he had fallen asleep in a hamlet, totally safe in the knowledge that Devras would never amount to anything more than a fishing village. Even the fishermen would rather go to Lorence, but now... The figure shakes his head sadly as he strides purposefully through a garbage-strewn street. This place was in definite need of a shakedown.
He was not especially remarkable on first glance, merely a tall and thin man with wiry short hair and an emaciated bodystructure. He was dressed in a rather retro fashion, but late eighteenth century styles were experiencing a rebirth of late, and his old finery seemed to fit right in.
But, his clothing reminded him too much of a time that has very much passed, and he irked under the desire to change, to dress in something different, something that didn't remind him of that time, a time and a host of memories that he wished to keep far behind him.
You'll never forget... you can't forget... we won't let you!
The memory hits him like a jackhammer, physically knocking him against the side of a decrepit building.
"GO AWAY!" His voice carries across the garbage-strewn street, and his bony hands creep upwards to clutch at his head, his slender fingers digging into his wiry hair. "Not now! Not EVER!"
The voices in his head continue to mock him, their tormenting laughter echoing through his tortured mind. His cries of anguish disturbing several bums that edge away from him with worried looks in their eyes.
James stumbles into an allyway, unintentionally following one of them, his eyes not seeing the world around him, but rather seeing a world that has been dead for almost four thousand years. His mother, his brothers.... his father... All dead, all tormenting him through the centuries, all slain by his hand.
"Not now..." his voice is quieter now, the soft mumble of someone who has gone for too long with a torment that will not stop. Suddenly, he looks up with eyes filled with a burning hatred, and fixate upon the hapless vagrant cowering in the shadows of the alleyway.
"You will not torment me now... Not if I can help it!" The bum's face twists and warps in James' vision, alternating between the horrific faces of his long-dead kin. "Your voices cannot haunt me, if you lack the ability to use them..."
With unnatural speed, his clawlike hand darts out to encircle the bum's neck like an iron vice. He struggles in his captor's grip, his ratty booted feet lashing out again and again to strike James' hollow chest.
"NEVER!" with a scream of pure rage, James reaches up with his right hand and sinks his fingers into the man's jaw like it was soft putty. Skin, bone, muscle, and fat meld about his fingers, its consistancy changing with each stroke of James' diseased fingers.
The bum's screams of agony die before they even get a chance to escape from his mutilated throat, his fear-haunted eyes wide with incredible surprise and horrific disbelief. With an escaping sigh, he slumps into James' grip, consciousness leaving his body in a gust of foul air escaping from deflating lungs.
With a disgusted grunt, James tosses the bum against the wall, watching as he slides down the decaying bricks, a wet smear marking his descent. "Killing you is not enough..."
His mouth set in grim determination, James walks forward towards the fallen bum, his immaculate fingers twitching as his disease sends fleshsculpting power surging through them.
With surgical precision, he slowly begins to dissect the still-living bum's throat, easily seperating tendons, muscles, and veins, from skin and bone. He splays his throat outwards, using bone slivers from the bum's hands and feet as pins, carefully opening the man's throat without spilling a single drop of blood.
"How very decent of you."
The voice startles James from his delusion, and the bum's face contorts back into his own within James' warped vision, but the dispelling of his hallucinations have become quite commonplace for him, and James looks up with a snarl.
"What do you want from me?" His voice is sharp, rigid, filled with millenia of pain. "I was enjoying myself."
The gracefull figure, so out of place among the garbage, laughs softly as it glides forward through the piles of discarded waste. "I bet you were." He stops, pausing in between shadows to allow the light from the full moon to shine down upon him. He is tall, pale, with long blond hair and a delicate facial structure. He is dressed in a perfectly tailored white suit, with dainty white gloves, and almost-shiny white shoes.
"Now, if you are quite finished, I am certain that there is someone that would like to meet you..."
*sigh* not another one....
Go away Angelus. Bitch about vampires somewhere else.
The limo sped through town, the the brilliant lights of the neon-lit city flashing past outside of the window, and James stares entranced at the wonders of "modern" technology as it speeds past him.
His host sits comfortably in his seat, amusedly watching James watch the street. "So," his voice is dainty, effeminate, the voice of a social dandy, not the voice of someone who could ever be classified as a ruler of men. "What brings you to Devras? You definitely seem to have only just risen after quite a long sleep... but why Devras?"
James turns back to him, and almost relaxes back into his seat, his body rigid, tensed, but with the illusion of conformity to the soft leather of the limo's interior. "I slept here." His words are short, clipped, strained, as he tries to emulate the odd italian dialect. "A long time ago, it seems, this city was not worth anyone's attention."
The host raises an immaculate eyebrow. "You slept here? And how come none of Us knew this?"
His irksome guest laughs. "How the fúck should I know? When I fell asleep, the only "us" around here were piss-poor fishermen in dingeys. Now, I assme the "Us" is more of our kind. Or more pointedly, perhaps you refer to your pansy Toreador butt-buddies." James sneers openly at his host's surprise, and once more looks out of the window at the passing world.
"Now now, I'm trying to be nice here. No need to go about flinging insults like that." The Toreador smooths his already wrinkle-free pants, and attempts to control himself. "Ok, so perhaps you could answer some questions you DO know." At that, James turns to look back at him and rolls his eyes. "Ok, bugger, ask away."
"Well, you could start by telling me your name. I assume that you are either Gangrel or Brujah, but your stench and complete lack of social graces could also mark you as Malkavian. Care to elaborate?"
James laughs and crosses his legs, spreading his arms across the seat, causing his loose shirt to open and reveal the tattoo of the broken mirror emblazoned proudly on his his hairless chest. "Sergei. My name is Sergei Pietrov Drosdemenko, though I have grown tired of my slave name." He focuses for a moment, a quick scan of the much younger Kindred's mind reveals the name of a most hated, and now dead, rival. "So, you can call me James. James Starke."
The Toreador gasps at the touch of James' potent and chaotic mind, his already pale face going completely ashen as the shock of what he has in his limo shakes the vampire to the very core. An expression of pure horror passes across his face, and James continues to brutally rape the dandy's mind.
"So, Alexander. You are taking me to see your Prince, in the hopes that he will reward you for finding an undeclared Kindred running around in his streets, hmmm?" He laughs, cruelly and harshly as waves of debilitating mental energy pour from his mind into Alexander's. "You wished to use me for your own gain. How nice."
With a mental squeeze, Alexander's mind pops like an overripe melon, his sanity scattering like seeds across the now-destroyed room of his mind. "Thank you for the valuable information, Alex. You are no longer needed."
A few minutes later, James sits comfortably in the back seat, his new suit barely rumpled by the quick exchange, a single drop of crimon staining the corner of his lapel.
OOC: Sorry, I did not realize you did not want people to join and make it more interesting. I am still new at this all RP thing and give a girl a break. I just like to jump right in. I apologize for not reading closely into it. I thought it might be fun to put my character into this one. I suppose I shall await until that is made to happen. let me know, that is if you want me to join it.
OOC: Sorry, I did not realize you did not want people to join and make it more interesting. I am still new at this all RP thing and give a girl a break. I just like to jump right in. I apologize for not reading closely into it. I thought it might be fun to put my character into this one. I suppose I shall await until that is made to happen. let me know, that is if you want me to join it.
I am totally not adverse to you jumping in after I've defined the paremeters of the character. I just have a very specific place this is going, and deviating from my plan a this point is a big no-no for me. *smile*
Don't worry, you'll get a chance to interact with my baby, just not at this particular moment.
And, like I said, I REALLY appriciate your taking the initiative and jumping in on it. ::smile:: Any ooc comments on how I'm doing so far?
OOC: Well, so far it sounds good, but hurry up. :P I am impatient and I want to get in with this thread. Thanks. Keep up the good work though.
OOC: Well, so far it sounds good, but hurry up. :P I am impatient and I want to get in with this thread. Thanks. Keep up the good work though.
Righty-O, ma'am. :wink: I'll get right to it...
The limo pulls up next to an ultramodern building, the black-mirrored surface reflecting the lights of the city in a myriad of patterns. The massive structure was big and bulky, rising several hundred feet from the surrounding streets and waterways.
James steps out of the limo and looks up in an attempt to take in the site of the grandiose building extending to the sky above him. "Interesting. Pretty, in a over-industrialized sort of way..." He shrugs and straightens his tie, slipping into a mask as easily as it was to kill the owner of the face he is now wearing.
The guards at the doorway nod respectfully to him as he strides purposefully through the sliding doors, Alexander's memories preparing him for the surprise of the automatic doors, and giving him a sense of purpose for how he should move and act among these... pretty things.
He sneers to himself as he walks through the brightly-lit entry way, the marble floors reflecting the light back up to make the room almost garishly white. Several ghouls mill about the reception desk, but James' walks past them without a second thought.
"Hey! Stop!" The guards at the desk call to him and he turns on his heel in an almost-pirrouet. "Yes?" his voice is silky smooth, the traces of ancient accent far gone from his new visage. "Is there a problem?"
The guard looks slightly uncomfortable, and looks at the floor. "New policy. Please look into the camera and state your full name and clan. Something that Mr. High-and-mighty set up." The guard sighs and points towards a camera situated above the reception desk.
With a sigh, James glides over to it and looks directly into the lense. "I am Alexander Coralinni, Toreador." He rolls his eyes into the camera, and looks back to the guard. "Happy?" The guard merely nods, and James continues on to the elevator, a slight spring in his step as this proves to be entirely too easy...
The party upstairs was in full swing. Set up like a glittering club that only the best of the best were ever invited to, Leonardo Desario's elysium was more of a party than an actual meeting.
Of course, business did take place, and business was thriving! Devras was completely his. Even those horrendous Sabbat rats found other places to infect with their rancid tastes, and the Toreadors held absolute power in Devras.
Leonardo laughs softly as he watches the androgynous Gibson twins dance about a confused female socialite. She would be theirs tonight, and there was little she could do about it.
The lights danced and twirled across the walls, the permeating sense of green highlighting skin tones and glittering in the eyes. Green was in in Devras, and Leonardo Desario was on the cutting edge of fashion and style. He was the ultimate poseur, wonderful taste, but not a single iota of artistic talent.
But that didn't matter, not tonight, not at the hieght of his power. He grins and tosses some witty interjection into the conversations around him as he strides through the party, his laughter and gaity fitting in perfectly in the surroundings he has made.
James could hear the music from three floors down. The thump thump thumping of aweful music played at unholy volumes. "Well, this is certaintly different... I thought that Toreador's were supposed to be the epitome of style and beauty... This is aweful!"
"It most certaintly is..." The voice whispers from above him, and the elevator stops suddenly between floors. James immediately drops into a crouch, his disease suddenly springing to life within his body, his incredible array of mental powers preparing to lash out with devestating force against anyone that would be foolish enough to attack him.
"Oh calm down. I wouldn't even be able to dirty that pretty suit you're wearing, much less do anything to harm you." A sillouette drops from the cracks in the tiled ceiling, and slowly forms into a hideous mockery of a man.
A smile suddenly spreads across James' face as he looks at the rotting figure before him, the torn clothing, the stench, the matted hair, the diseased face. "Ahh, the smell of a freshly-opened grave. What can I do for you, Nosferatu?"
The creature looks up at him. "Dimitri Solovov at your service." He extends his hand, and James' takes it without flinching, the pallid and slightly-damp skin not even phasing him.
"I'm not here to ask anything of you, Ancient." Dimitri's voice is soft, garbled as if his throat was filled with phlegm. "There is a rumor that has circulated through our warrens for as long as Devras has been a city. They say that an Ancient sleeps beneath the waters, and that it is partly due to his dark power that this place is as it is."
James shrugs slightly, his dark eyes narrowing slightly at the figure. Dimitri ignores it, and continues. "We felt your resurgance, Ancient. We knew immediately that the rumors were true, and that an Ancient once again walked these lonely streets." He smiles, his ragged teeth a horrible reminder of his cursed condition.
"They sent me to cut you a deal. Too long have the Toreador bastards ruled the underworld in this city. We know of your hatred towards them, and we wish to help smooth your way." He smiles again, but a horrible coughing wheeze doubles the creature over for a moment. When the coughing has subsided, he looks back up at James, a line of greenish drool trailing down he side of his misshapen cheek.
"We also know of other things about you, James. We know we couldn't begin to stand in your way, and we knoww that you will not stop at the commanding line of the Traditions." His eyes twinkle in the harsh light of the elevator. "We don't want to be Prince, or the council. We just want this city, and the riches that would be available to us. Help us, and we'll help you."
James looks at him, his jaw set in a firm line. "You present an interesting position. I will think about it." With a dismissive wave, he restarts the elevator. "I suggest that you remove yourself from this elevator. IN a moment, it'll open into Leonardo's little gathering..."
But his words were spoken only to empty air.
Dread Lady Nathicana
ooc: Devras, is it? Interesting ... waterways ... old architecture ... sounds terribly familiar. I note this is rather well played so far. Actually caught my interest. I also note that if one is trying to hide, what better place than a nation who fervently does not believe in the supernatural? Intriguing. If you don't mind, I'll be tagging this for now. I'm certain the police would have more than a bit of interest at the creative murder there. *chuckles*
James steps through the opening elevator doors into a chaos of sound and color. Laserlights burst in geometricly perfect patterns across reveler and wall alike, the pounding music drowning out all but the closest yell, the fog machines filling the room with a chill mist.
James looks amused, but he holds tightly to his masquerade as Alexander, and he walks into the chaos, the elevator doors closing behind him.
Several people smile and yell greetings to him, which he acknowledges with a fake smile and a short nod. The strain of maintaining the illusion of social grace slowly begins to creep up on him, the objects of his hatred dancing so close an almost overpowering temptation. He grits his teath and moves onwards, his dark eyes scanning the crowd for the object of his quest.
There. Leonardo Desario. Toreador Prince, high in the social Toreador ladder. A fraud, a social butterfly, a shallow excuse for any Kindred. James almost growls with disdain as he watches the prince prattle and flirt with everything around him. Such flippantry, such a complete disregard for the power of his position.
To James, the Toreador were the ultimate stain on the beautiful tapestry of Kindred society.Their dainty ways simply did not fit into the dark power of the Gift. To waste their immortality on frivolous persuits? He couldn't understand it. The artistry he could understand, the whole concept of the tortured artist was not something new to him. But the social aspect of it?
He grimces in disgust and shakes his head to clear it of such thoughts. He would need his concentration to deal with Leonardo.
ooc: Devras, is it? Interesting ... waterways ... old architecture ... sounds terribly familiar. I note this is rather well played so far. Actually caught my interest.
I really should have asked you beforehand, but I loved what you had done with the pseudo-venetian aspect of Devras. I'm kind of filling in backstory for the kindred part of your city, I hope you do not mind....
If I do something that is not kosher, please let me know, K?
Desario noticed James before he had the chance to walk up onto him, and he turns to extend his arms to the not-quite-the-same Alex.
"Alexander! My good friend! Come, join us! We were just talking about your recent line of summer clothing!" The Prince clicks his tongue. and shakes his head in amazement. "People said that your releasing it in the middle of winter was a bad idea, but you fooled them all by releasing in Australia! Damn good show!"
James grits his teeth and smiles coquetishly at the dandy. "But of course! You did not truely expect me to release HERE now did you?" He attempts a flippant laugh, but it comes out more like a strangled guffaw, and Desario shoots him a look through narrowed eyes.
"No, I didn't. I knew you were more intelligent than that." He smiles at James-as-Alex and pats him on the back. "So tell me, my good man, what made you choose the Red patterns rather than the more stylish green ones?"
A cold feeling settles to the bottom of James' undead stomach, but he proceeds with an air of caution. "Well, I thought that the more crimson aspects of the red patterns would be a great way to kickstart a summer selection, and a great segue into a new fall lineup."
Suddenly, Desario pushes him away, and steps backwards. "Wrong. You DID use the green patterns, at MY suggestion no less. Using the green was the best thing that ever happened to you, there is no way you would forget that." The music stops, and dozens of eyes suddenly turn their inquisative glare upon James.
He shrugs, and releases the Mask, allowing his true identity to be revealed for visual scrutiny. "Good call. Since I'd only just met this Alexander fellow, I was surprised that I'd fooled all of you this long." He sighs. "Yet another prank I had not spent enough time on to be worth the time I did spend on it..."
He shrugs and looks about. "Well, now what?"
"I guess the most obvious question would be to ask what happened to the real Alexander?" Desario glares at James, knowing in his heart what the answer will be. "Surely you can tell us... We're all horribly curious."
A slight smile curves along James' lips, and a sudden fluttering fills the corners of his vision. Soft whisperings filter through his ears, and he cannot quite tell if it comes from around him, or within.
"Well, Alexander met with an unfortunate accident, I simply took advantage of the situation provided to me, and assumed his identity." He laughs suddenly, cruel and harsh. "I'm sure he doesn't mind."
"Soothsayer!" Desario calls, and a dark-haired woman dressed all in black, an oddity within a room full of birghtly-dressed canaries. "Tell me, is this... Creature telling the truth?" The girl, turns and looks at James, her eyeballs filled with blood.
She looks him up and down, and a tiny smile shows itself upon her face. She laughs suddenly, her voice sounding like the tinkling shattering of a fragile crystal glass.
When darkness walks upon this earth
Pretty things will cease to matter
A violent end will see it's birth
And a dandy's reign will be in tatters
An amused look shows on James' face, and he gives Desario a dark little grin. "Well, thank you Desario. That really was quite amusing. What is next? Are you going to have a string quartet come out and play a Requiem?"
For the first time in many years, Desario was afraid. This really wasn't going like he had first thought it would, and his valuable Tremere soothsayer had apparently betrayed him... Or was she merely speaking the truth as her blood-clotted eyes saw it?
But he was PRINCE! He would not let some arrogant creature walk into his party and ruin things. "Silence, you impetuous and presumptuous fool! You will not mock me in my own home!" His voice was edged in false steel, and James laughed off his feeble Command with barely any effort.
"You will have to do better than that, Monsignour... As you can see," James' spreads his hands and his fingers harden into needle-sharp spikes. "I'm completely unaffected by your attempt."
He laughs, and meets the Prince's stare with a steeled gaze. A single moment passes, and then suddenly the world shatters before them. A simple groan escapes from between the Prince's lips as he collapses to the floor, but the crowds barely notice, so intent were they upon the spectacle of James' writhing form.
A primal scream erupts from his tortured vocal cords, and he sways drunkenly, his hands clutching his head. "No... Not yet!" He grits his teeth, his words coming out in great gasps, and the guards that had stepped up at the Prince's unspoken command step back in fear.
A horrid transformation takes over him, and his face contorts in agony as the power of the disease running through his body takes over.
Flesh gives way to black and foul-smelling icor. Clothing rips and tears as his body lengthens and expands, deadly-looking bone spurs extending outwards from elbows, knees, shoulders, forearms. His hands stretch into hideous claws, his fingers spitting as his hands gain extra digits, and a long spiked tail grows from the end of his spine to plop with a sickoning squish onto the ground.
Screams erupt from around him, and suddenly his throaty roar adds to the chaos, a horrendous screatch of rage and hate. James leaps forward, a single swipe of his clawed left hand completely severing one of Desario's lackey's head from it's body. Blood fountains into the air, the splitsecond kill not even registering on the face of the green-swathed dandy to Desario's right before a spike fist sends him hurtling across the room to crash into a table full of Toreador ghouls.
Hahahaha! His mother's condeming voice echoes through his mind, and everywhere he sees her, her tormenting eyes, her cruel mouth, her accusing hands.
Her voice burns into his skull, her endless proclimations of guilt screaming in his ears as he kills. A Brujah guard steps in front of him only to be ripped limb from limb as James' succumbs to blind rage. The loud retort of a gun sounds in the room, bullets whizzing by James' form to slam into several other partygoers.
With that, the chaos simply descends, Kindred and Kine alike scrambling over each other to get to the doors as the rampaging moster rips through them like an avenging angel. James lashes out with his tail, spearing a Ventrue through the heart, instantly sending him into torpor, as he reaches over and lifts a huge table from its position near the dance floor.
With a scream of rage, he hurls it forward, sending it crashing into the mob crowding around the conjested doorway. he leaps after it, hot laughter bubbling up from within his chest as he rips his claws through another image of his father, his bony spurs tearing great gashes across a ghoul's lower jaw and throat. More blood spurts into the air, only adding to the icor coating James' twisted body.
Another Brujah guard runs towards him, a long katana held tightly within her hands. She swings at the back of James' neck, only to gape in horror as he spins and catches the blade in a horrific claw. He casually snaps the blade and hurls the razored tip into her chest, the steel exploding through her ribcage like a bullet. Her sternum shatters like glass, and the splinter bursts through her back, completely severing her spinal collumn. She colapses in a pool of blood, her unlife fading from her unseeing eyes.
James continues to kill, his crazed laughter cutting through the screams to send everyone gathered into paryoxms of fear. And he begins to feed. He reaches out and grabs another Toreador, dragging him within reach of his horridly-fanged mouth. His screams become a gurgle as his throat is torn open by James' ragged fangs, and great torrents of blood are sucked from his body within the span of a few dying heartbeats.
James casually tosses the now-crumbling husk from him, and suddenly stops as he looms over Desario's soothsayer.
None will escape... Your Nosferatu friends will see to that. Her voice is the same, a singsong shattering of glass.
Now calm down, I want to talk to you.
OOC: Excellant work, but when can I joun. Pouting. :(
OOC: Soon. If you want to show up at the Goth club, go right ahead. However, keep in mind that this is taking place in Devras, the capitol city of the Dominion of the Dread Lady, and I will not allow anything to cause me to deviate from my path until the time when I planned to allow interaction with others.
With a low growl, James allows the Horrid Form to slip away, and he stands naked before the small seeress. "Ok, you have my attention. Not sure how you got it, but you do." He glares at her, curious about her eyes, curious what she knows.
She merely shrugs and turns around, the oddity in her voice now gone. "You need new threads, and you need to wash up. Come with me." She starts walking off, daintilly stepping between the corpses, somehow avoiding the spreading pools of blood. As she leaves, he has no choice but to follow, and he hears her mutter something about how much of a mess the place was.
James looks over and notices the Toreador prince slowly getting to his knees. Another blast of mental energy sends him back into unconsciousness, and with a careless flick of his wrist, James rips his heart from his chest.
Her name was, and is, Talia Corleon, the daughter of a rich socialite from the turn of the century. Of course, he was long dead by now, and she had captured the attention of something James doubted her father would have approved of.
Now, she was a Lasombra Antitribu, gifted with incredible powers of forsight, and now no longer the lackey of the Toreador prince. She seemed to have acclimated to her darker nature quite well, and it amused James later (as he interacted more and more with the "gothic" subculture) that she was the epitome of what those poor souls were looking for, and they had no idea how aweful it truely was.
But at this point, he merely follows her through the destroyed club and out into the hallway. "Desario liked to keep me close, so I have a room nearby. I might even have something you could wear in there."
He doesn't argue with her, but follows her through the twisting hallways to her rooms on the same floor as the nightclub, and is mildly surprised at how incredibly neat the place actually was. Simplistic faux marble floors, blank white walls, the complete lack of mirrors. Of course, that was to be expecte, considering what she was, but still their absense was definitely noticable in her spotless suite of rooms.
"So, why are you helping me? I just destroyed your benefactor, and quite possibly dropped Devras' Kindred society into absolute Chaos." James sounds nonchalant as he follows her into the back room, stepping from little miss suzy homemaker into le dongeon gothique as he passes into what has to be her room.
The floor is covered in a smooth black substance, and the walls and ceiling have been painted matte black as well. The room is dimly illuminated by a single red-toned light bulb hanging from the ceiling. A large black coffin sits in the center of the spacious room, and various contraptions befitting a dungeon line the walls.
"Nice place. Descriptive." He chuckles slightly to himself, and watches as she shrugs daintily and walks over to push a switch situated into the far wall. "It suits my needs at times."
She turns and gives him a slight smile as a section of the wall slides up to reveal a large walk-in closet. A large assortment of outfits hang neatly from hangers alongside an equally impressive selection of midieval weapons, modern handgungs, and various devices for use within the dungeon.
"What kind of a soothsayer would I be if I did not know you were coming, my dear James?" She smiles at him, her unnatural eyes taking on an odd glint. "I was told to prepare the way of your coming, and thus I have. You will find everything you will need in here, and the entire room has been designed with your particular tastes in mind. My room is actually down the hall, next to the bathroom." She stretches slightly and motions towards the closet.
"Go ahead, peruse, enjoy. We have somplace else to go before the night is finished, so I suggest you hurry..."
James dressed himself quickly, selecting a pair of tight blackleather pants, a form-hugging black t-shirt, and a button/strap-down black leather jacket. He also chooses a pair of knee-high black boots, and begins the tedious task of bucking, lacing, and zipping the beautiful things to his feet.
Finally, James is dressed and ready, and he turns to look at Talia. She glances over him with a critical eye, and then nods. "It'll do. Of course, I'll have to do something about your makeup." She grins, and whirls on her toes to stride off towards the bathroom. James only has the briefest moment to mouth "Makeup?" before she calls demurely to him from the other room.
Cautiously, he enters the bathroom and walks over to where she is perched haphazardly on the edge of the counter. "Come here, and close your eyes." She smiles sweetly at him, and he complies with a sigh. "Why exactly am I allowing you to do this to me?" He asks, uncertainty creeping into his voice as she begins to cover the top of his face in black paint.
"Oh, I don't know. I'm not sure you should trust me at all, but at least let me finish your makeup before you start getting all paranoid." She chuckles again, and switches from the paint to a lip gloss. "Plus, I'm not one to mess up a perfectly good makeup job."
She looks at him with a critical eye, her bottom lip sucked contemplatively into her mouth. She tweaks a line or two, and then shrugs. "You need piercings. Hold on." With that, she scoots off of the countertop and disappears through the door, only to return a few moments later with several black studs in her hands.
"Yes, these will do nicely." She grins at him, and suddenly sinks two of the studs into his right ear. He grimces in surprise and catches her hand before she can do it again. "What are you doing, woman?" His voice is as cold as steel, and he eyes her with a blistering look.
"I'm piercing your ears. Relax, and just chill out long enough for me to finish." She smirks. "You're going to fit right in where we are going..."
Dread Lady Nathicana
There were many beautiful parts of Devras, their streets lined with buildings of varying architectural influences, local campos providing idylic places for the locals to gather.
This was not one of them.
Nicolo Capelli muttered imprecations under his breath as he made his way along the streets that were his to watch this night, one hand thrust into the pocket of his long, black trenchcoat, the other holding his cigarette. Taking a long drag, he scanned the street, as he always did, looking for trouble. The camera system that was so prevalent in other areas seemed to often break down here.
No doubt due to bribes by la famiglias at higher levels, he thought spitting off to the side. Bastards.
There was an understanding on the streets. Some things simply got overlooked. Unpleasantness generally followed when it wasn't, and not always from the direction one might think. He didn't have to like it though.
The night was cool. Unusually so. A chill that seemed to eventually sink into the bones. The storms earlier could, perhaps be attributed to it, and the breezes coming in off the ocean, but ... this felt different.
Nicolo snorted as his thoughts wandered. Letting your imagination get away with you. Cold nights hap--
Screams. Distant, muffled. Brief. He whips his hand out of his pocket, reaching inside his trench to grab his standard issue Beretta 92FS, feet pounding loudly against the inlaid brick of the roadway. The cigarette fell to the ground, glowing briefly in the damp.
Where did that come from?
He continued to run, making his way in the direction he thought he'd heard the noise. Too long ... taking too long ... His heart was pounding against his chest, breath ragged. Casting about desperately for any sign of trouble, he kept going, driven by a need to make some difference this night, for once, to not turn the other way.
The homeless man came out of nowhere, scrambling, nearly down on all fours from around the corner of a shadowed building, looking over his shoulder with an expression of sheer panic. He collided with Nicolo's knees, sending them both down in a tumble, curses filling the air.
"Il dio del diavolo... li conserva, le camminate del diavolo fra noi!" The frightened man whimpered, desperately disentangling himself from Nicolo and shrinking back against the wall, eyes wide and darting around.
"Run! Save yourself!"
As Nicolo struggled to his feet, the wiry little man shrieked, running with a speed born of terror across the street, disappearing into a dark alleyway. Torn between pursuit and what he was certain was clear direction, Nicolo swore vehemently, running down the side street in the direction the transient had come.
It was quiet here, his pounding steps echoing along the street. The hairs on the back of his neck standing up, a shiver running down his spine as an unexplained feeling of dread settled in the pit of his stomach.
He wasn't sure what made him turn down the alley. Instinct, perhaps. Years of knowing these burroughs maybe, sensing something was off. Whatever the reason, he slowed as his eyes came across the crumpled form barely lit by the ambient light of distant streetlamps and moonlight.
Something made him stop for a moment, the sound of his own beating heart loud in his ears, chest heaving from the exertion of his run. Reaching into his pocket, he drew out a small flashlight, directing the beam around the alleyway, following the line of it with his gun, searching.
Nothing was to be found. Nothing out of the ordinary, at least, other than the body lying scant yards ahead, amidst the trash and clutter that had accumulated here.
The body lay at an unusual angle - he was certain he was too late. Moving forward, he shone his light on the body, lighting up first the feet, then legs, then on up his body, the head laying furthest away.
Something seemed wrong, on several points, with the man's limbs, though Nicolo couldn't quite place it. He continued on, moving closer. As his light finally washed across the face, he froze, eyes wide.
Turning, he leaned against the wall, retching. His flashlight fell from numb fingers, temporarily forgotten, though his grip stayed tight 'round the grip of his gun.
Such things were not possible. Such things did not happen. Not even here. Not on the worst of nights. His stomach clenched again.
Tapping on his headset, he ran the back of his hand roughly across his mouth, coughing slightly.
"Nicolo Capelli, requesting additional officers to," he paused, trying to think. "Goddammit, to the Sauro district, alleyway off Ormesini between Cauro and Greci. Homicide," he rasped. "This isn't the usual. Victim has been ... mutilated."
Listening to confirmation, and the responses of those on the way absently, he picked up his flashlight, and began coldly, methodically searching the area for any clues, any signs. He avoided looking at the corpse at first, his stomach simply not allowing it.
Re/Work - "Perfect Day"
Rotersand - "Truth Is Fanatic"
Brummkreiselband - "Gay Alive (Haujobb)"
Covenant - "Luminal"
Clan Of Xymox - "There's No Tomorrow"
Suicide Commando - "Face Of Death"
Tactical Sekt - "Xfixation (SITD)"
Mlada Fronta - "Contrast"
L'ame Imortelle - "Forgive Me (2000)"
Tactical - "Sekt Soulless"
Gridlock - "Song 23"
Project - "Pitchfork Carrion"
Absurd - "Minds Captivated"
Informatik - "Entropy"
Mono - "Chrome This Life"
De/Vision - "I Regret (VNV Nation)"
The music pounded its way into James' skull the moment he stepped through the iron-and-steel door of the rather non-descript warehouse. Soundproofing must have been installed in the walls and doors, because outside, the building looked like any number of tightly-secured warehouses, and the heart pounding music was not even a whisper in the midnight air.
A huge number of people crammed inside the large empty space, a vast majority of them crushed together on the dancefloor, their sensual gyrations following the musical flow with perfect rhythm.
The interior was rather dark, red and blue laserlights flickering all throughout the broad space, dim lamps hung from the ceiling lightly illuminate the bar and seating areas, bathing those locations in a pale red or blue light. Everywhere, people were endulging in any number of vices, the intertwined forms of people not even bothering to hide their rampant sexuality a prime example of the incredible hedonism that fills their subculture.
James finds himself moving slightly along with the music, the heavy beat coursing through his body. He watches the writhing people with an acute sense of amusement as he follows Talia through the twisting morass towards a wall of crates across the way from the entranceway.
"Where are we going?" He almost yells to her to be heard over the din of the music. "We're going to meet with the Elder. I think you'll enjoy meeting him, but our time with Him will be brief." She grins to herself, not mentioning that though the Elder was ancient to her, he probably was younger still than the true Ancient she was guiding across a dancehall full of people.
OOC: You guys are doing a great job. I am not sure I will be that good. So, when can I try and come into this one. Member I am very anxious to join.
Jump in now, if you want. The club would be an ideal place to run into James, though not until after he meets with the Elder. I plan on being in the club for a little bit, and I wanted a good place to run into several other people that wanted to join in.
So, those of you that are watching and waiting to join in, now would be the time.
As a note, I have a very specific plan in mind, and I will not let it be derailed. At least not until certain events unfold. I apologize beforehand, but you are coming into my world, and if I am heavy-handed at first with the plotline, it is not because of my inexperience at play, or my attempting to godmode. I have a very specific reason for everything that James does.
OOC: Okay, I understand that, but I do not like to be ignored. I am used to the attention. So, please don't act as if I am not there. Thanks.
IC: Lady Amanda looked about the club. Why had she come here. She didn't know anyone. I suppose she didn't need anyone anyway, but this was out of her league. She didn't fit in at all, that she was used to, but the looks just got worse. She saw leather, whips, and chains and stares from this peirced demons. She tried to smile, but she stood out way to much. Like an white angel walking around in hell. It was hard for her not to get any attention displaced from her. She just shrugged the glares, smiles, and lookes away. A few of them approached her and she brushed the men away and the women away. They were attracked to her light. She was pure and of course you can't keep souls away from that. You especially can't keep the devilish away from corrupting. She wore a silver dress that flowed like liquid around her body. The light iluminated from her and more so when she smiled. Her hair was long and brown and flowed with the wind that followed her sometimes. She was called here for a certain reason and she wanted to know why such a place. She searched and looked confused. How odd. This place made the hairs on her neck rise, but she never got scared. She noticed a man dressed uncomfortable in leather and was freshly peirced. Hmmm. There was a connection there she felt it like a silver cord pulling at her. She stood up, but didn't move closer. She had zoned out the cryptic music and focused on the man. She took a step closer then stopped because she noticed a women follow him. Hmmm. She didn't trust that woman. A sense of dark surrounded. Granted it was all around, but the source came to her. She stood frozen, waiting for something to happen. She didn't know if anything would.
Cameron sways with the music, his eyes glittering as he watches the nubile young woman dancing in front of him. So far the night has gone well, and he's pretty sure he'll be able to get the girl alone. She claims her name to be "Raven," but he's equally positive it isn't her real name. However, it really doesn't matter. He only wants one thing from her, and he watches her body hungrily.
The music changes to something more subtle, something with a sultry backbeat, and Cameron moves in to step behind her and ever-so-lightly rub his body against hers. She moans with appreciation and writhes against him, sexual tension clearly radiating from every pore.
He has to control himself, but the need is rising. He's been working on this girl for over an hour, and she's been playing coy with him. He wants to drag her over to a dark corner and...but she might enjoy that. She might not. It's hard to tell with women these days. It doesn't help that the hunger is almost too great to control.
It's worse than crack ever was, a distant part of his mind observes.
Finally the song builds to an almost frenetic crescendo, and Cameron risks a bold move by placing his hands on her breasts and pulling her close. "Li desidero. Ora." he whispers urgently.
She turns and kisses him deeply, and he almost loses it. Then she breaks free and takes him by the hand to lead him to a dark corner. He pushes her into it roughly and embraces her, pulling at her skirts like a hormone-driven madman. She giggles and wraps her legs around his waist, her breathing intensifying as she anticipates his crude technique.
Finally, he can give in to his need. He descends on her neck and bites, eliciting a sharp gasp and moan of pleasure. His teeth puncture her jugular and he drinks deeply, the inner Beast howling with victory. She whispers something even his sensitive ears can't make out, and goes limp against him.
As he drinks his mind wars with his body over his need. The Hunger consumes him, but he must not let it kill the girl. He can only take so much, no more. But she tastes so sweet, and it's so hard. She's high on something; he thinks it's cocaine but it's hard to tell anymore, and the euphoria sweeps over him. He thought he'd never be able to experience that rush again when he became...a monster.
Her whimpers begin to die down, and it ocurrs to him that he may have killed her. He pulls away sharply and lifts her face. Other than the blood trickling down her neck, she doesn't move. Then her eyelids flutter, and she smiles weakly. She mumbles something about the best sex in her life, and he heaves a sigh in relief. He helps her over to a chair and promises to bring her a drink before disappearing into the crowd.
It isn't until later that night that he remembers he forgot to heal the puncture wounds on her neck. By then it's too late; he has no hope of finding her again. He can only hope it'll be passed off as more goth craziness. He's had to run from more than one city because of carelessness like that. He hopes he won't have to run from Devras as well.
Lady Amanda glanced at the man as he helped her to a chair. Again they were becoming more careless. She watched him walk away. She walked over to the woman. She was out of it. Obviously, from the blood lost. She was anemic now. Hopefully, she was early enough. She placed her hands on the girls pale neck about the red marks. Her hand glowed and soon the red marks turned pure white. Lady Amanda brought her hands back and the neck was unblimished now. She handed the woman the glass of OJ she got from the bar. This would help if she was hypoglycemic. She should be okay now. Lady Amanda looked about for the man. She heard the music pick up with her anxiousness. Adrenaline ran through her body.
Amanda, you are far outclassed by the roleplayers assembled here. I am willing to play with you, because I am all about fairness and opening myself up for new RP experiences, but any attitude coming from someone that does not play up to par with those already invited will not be tolerated.
Furthermore, James is an incredibly volatile creature, and very minute things can set him into his "torture, maim, and kill" mode. One of the things that sets him off are goody-goody people that presume to be better than everyone around them.
So, if you continue playing here, which you are more than welcome to do, I suggest that you remember those two very important points.
As for my IC post, it'll come later tonight.
OOC: Hmm. Are you saying I should change my character. I like her. I don't want her to be a goody goody, but she has a good heart and some qualities that can help her help others. Yet, she has some qualities of a human and can be strayed. I think that is why she is there. I don't know what will stray her from her pureness, but it is possible. I do not want anyone to feel she is superior to them. That is not how I want her to come across. Yes, she may seem it, but she doesn't want to make people feel like that. She just wants to help out. I think I want her here though to see the reaction James gives her and how she reacts to him. Maybe she will change for the bad or for the better. I thought opposing characters would be interesting. Ya know opposites attrack to one another. What do you say, this is yours. You still want me to stay?
OOC: Hmm. Are you saying I should change my character. I like her. I don't want her to be a goody goody, but she has a good heart and some qualities that can help her help others. Yet, she has some qualities of a human and can be strayed. I think that is why she is there. I don't know what will stray her from her pureness, but it is possible.
OOC: Amanda: welcome to the World of Darkness, not the World of Dimness. This is a world created by White Wolf where Vampires are Damned creatures. Not misunderstood, just Damned. They're twisted, evil monsters who generally have their humanity torn from them and can only regain a dim semblance of it through lots of bloodshed and heartache. Vampires with "good hearts" and purity are few and far between, and tend to die very fast. Drinking blood and consorting with other Vampires tends to weed them out.
Are you sure you want to continue playing in this thread?
tag for reading...although I normally don't do vampires...it would be interesting to see your vampires along side someone like Rave Shentavo's different kind.
OOC: I love a challenge. I do have two vampires, one is in a thread, but my other one might work. I don't know though. I think my personality is just too kind. I don't think i am capable of personally being mean, let alone act that I am. I think I shall go with the challenge besides my character is not known to die and is very ancient. She was in James's Dream (Iuthia's thread) and my own (New Beginnings), but I am fairly new to RPing. Therefore, I will take any advice I can get. If you do not want my pure character in this thread I will respect that and mod another one. I just thought we need opposing characters and my can give these creatures something to think of. I did in one thread change Kain's ideas. Besides I am not the kind of person to give up, but I suppose it is the person who it running the thread's decision to make. I promise I won't be offended. Just let me know soon. Thanks.
OOC: Well, Mr. Starke has authorised me to tell you you're welcome to play, just bear in mind his warning from before.
This is not Vampires like Kain or Shentavo play. This is Vampires the way White Wolf writes them. It's dark, angsty, very adult and very much not light reading. People do very mean and nasty things to each other while attempting to claw their way to the top over the bodies of their competitors (sometimes enemies and sometimes friends). People can and will die, including your characters. If you don't think your characters are capable of being killed, don't play.
Having a sweetness and light character like Amanda might make a good foil for Starke's dark classic WW world. Anything is possible. Personally, I think it more likely that she'll just end up annoying a lot of old, dangerous Vampires and end up becoming somebody's lunch. Good role-playing isn't about how powerful you are (hence Cameron's little oversight), it's about how well you can work with the situation set up for you by the Storyteller (Mr. Starke, in this case). I suggest you re-think your character concepts before leaping into this; nobody wants a thread where various Vampires of extreme age and power attempt to demonstrate how truly dangerous and unkillable they are.
OOC: I think you might underestimate me, or my character. I will inform you that she cannot die. She has too much in her that won't allow any thing done to her to effect her. She is much of a goddess,but much more. She is considered an angel, a muse, a witch, a human, and well a goddess. But what would you suggest me do? I thought that not everyone always wants to hear about the negative. They like positive. I thought maybe my character could bounce things around. I do hope you will help me along I guess. I am not worried about mature content. I am off age to handle this. I am probably older than most here, but that is just an assumption. I am 20 and in nursing school. This is just a stress releasor for me. I hope you do assist me and maybe allow my character to interact and I suppose I can allow some damage to her and maybe you will allow her to put some good impact on your characters even if it is for a millisecond. I do appreciate you talking about this with me, at least you do not ignore.
Amanda, I don't care how unkillable your characters are, they can, and they would die in any confrontation with James. I'm not saying that James is unkillable, far far from it. However, it would take a lot more than I believe you are capable of to do it.
Furthermore, Ancient Vampires all have SERIOUS problems. Their mental states are so questionable that oftentimes they sleep only to prevent themselves from totally losing it. I think that we, as normal humans, can only begin to imagine what it must be like to live forever. That in and of itself would be more than enough to be a curse. The fact that you are eternally cut off from whatever god/dess you believed in would make it even worse.
Finally, Vampires know that they are damned. They know that if they die they will burn forever in eternal hellfire. They have comitted an unforgivable sin, even if they did not mean to do it in the first place. They will cling to their unlife with everything they can, and they will fight tooth and claw to stay away from their curse.
So, in closing, I do not think you understand what it means to play in World of Darkness. Furthermore, even if you begin to understand it, you do not have what it takes at ALL to play here.
As stated earlier, this is World of Darkness, not world of twilight, world of dimness, or world of not-so-bad. This place is every do-gooder christian's nightmare, a place where good exists in fairytales and dreams. This is a world of demons and the damned. This is a place of black and white, of good and evil. Also, as much as I hate it, this is a Christian universe. Catholic, but Christian nonetheless. That means that your character is most certaintly NOT a goddess, she doesn't have Deific powers, and if you f*ck with James, he WILL kill you.
Now, please, continue playing, but realize that your character may very well not survive, and there is a good chance that James will hate you.
OOC: Starke, I've already created this character for something else, and thought I could use him here. I hope that there is no issue with dropping a rather young 12th gen in here? If so, I'll clear him out. I can accept him dying.
Andy hung out by the side of the club, dancing a little bit, though not very well. Despite the fact that he is not especially tall, he manages to stand out a bit from the crowd. There is a slight feeling of 'other when then now' about him as his eyes glint over, and at times slightly off the press of humanity surrounding him. Though dressed for the club, he's slightly sloppy as if not quite used to the scene, nor expecting to be there, and probably hasn't seen himself in the mirror recently. He chats with a young lady for a bit in a corner, their voices swallowed by the music, leans over and kisses her upon the neck. The only evidence of his actions was the look of orgasmic pleasure upon her face. She then wandered away, obviously out of it, not from lack of blood, but pleasure, and quickly became lost in the crowd. Andy returned to a side bench, seeming to wish that he were somewhere else.
Upon Starke's entrance, Andy sat bolt upright, and started scanning the crowd. His eyes fell upon Starke's form from across the room, though he was but a small dot in the immense multitude. Andy's jaw visibly dropped, and he was shaken for a few seconds as he saw Starke make his way through the crowd, for he knew exactly what Starke was. But Meyer just sat, waiting. He might not know the ultimate purpose of his presence, but he knew its agent.
They passed through an opening in the wall of crates, two largish ghouls standing to either side of the opening, their hawkish and unblinking eyes following James as he glides past.
Talia leads them through a maze of twisting tunnels created by the massive crates, until finally she stops in a small "clearing" of sorts. A large manhole, covered by an equally-large hatch, is situated in the middle of the room, and a single vampire stands guard over it. As they approach, he swallows in fear and glances down momentarily.
"Ssss...st....stop!" He calls, his voice stumbling through the single syllable. "Y....you...you'll come no further!" He seems to gain courage as his words go unchallenged, but James slowly raises an eyebrow.
Talia looks amused, and she steps daintily out of James' way, a slight smile curving her lips. "Now really, knowing who and what my guest is, do you really think you could stop him?" She laughs at that, as if it were her own private joke. "Go ahead, try."
The guard looks a little quesy, but puts forth the valiant effort to at least try to draw his weapon... Unfortunately, he did not even get that far...
In a heartbeat, James leaps through the air, his right hand dropping to his boot to retrieve the long stiletto hidden there. A single blinding movement, and a sudden fountain of blood erupts from the poor guard's chest, spraying the spot where James was just standing.
Again, James' weapon hand moves faster than thought, and the guard crumples to the floor, this time the quickly expanding pool of blood is added to by a clean puncture wound located on the lower right-hand side of his back. A dark smile spreads itself across James' face, and he kneels down to place his finger against the back of the feebly struggling guard. He leans forward, his lips inches from the poor Kindred's ear.
"You pathetic waste of time. Your entire existance has been wasted here, tonight. Your miserable little life ends now, and your soul will give up its stranglehold on your wasted corpse." He chuckles, an insane little giggle that gurgles deep from within his throat.
With a slight flick of his wrist, he instantly fuses all of the bones in the guard's neck, sending a sharp wave of pain blistering down his spinal column. James smiles slightly, and passes his hands across his shoulders his fingers dragging painfully through his muscles and tendons, destroying all hope of their future work.
"Yes, your soul is giving up now..." The guard's body spasms and jerks as adrenaline and shock spread through his body. "Yes... give in to the pain..." Again, James' hand moves across his body, fusing ribs together, and ruining tissue and flesh beyond repair.
A single, spasmatic jerk twists the guard's body, and James leans down to rip his fangs from his mouth. At the same moment, he forces his way into the snivvling creature's mind, destroying memories, hopes, dreams, ambitions with mental bursts of pure insanity. When he has finished, there is nothing left but a broken shell of a man, tortured and destroyed...
OOC: Starke, I've already created this character for something else, and thought I could use him here. I hope that there is no issue with dropping a rather young 12th gen in here? If so, I'll clear him out. I can accept him dying.
No need for him to die. *grin* We'll see what will happen. It could be interesting.... as long as you don't make a fool of yourself...
Like I said, I'm open to playing with new people, with fresh ideas, but not bad attitudes.
((OOC: *pins a little tag to the thread*))
She sat, perched on a barstool near the back of the room, watching. Waiting. The usual feel of the area had changed tonight. She could sense it. Delicately sniffing the air, her amber eyes scanned the crowd of writhing flesh, kine and kindred. Though her appearance was nonchalant, she was tense with expectation.
Her people had raided and plundered these lands in an age seemingly forgotten by the masses that crowded the streets today. They had come, and she had come with them. And when they left, she had stayed. The rich countryside around the sprawling capitol still offered what she needed. But now, she felt that threatened.
Her mind reached out to the local denziens, other, smaller creatures of the night, searching for clues, probing for what information could be gained. Killings tonight. No different, really. There were killings every night in Devras. But one ... one seemed to stand out. There was a residue of something decidedly unclean there. Barely perceptible. Enough to raise her hackles.
Enough to confirm suspicions.
There was a new predator in the area, Areagne was certain of it. All the signs pointed to his awakening. She had felt it while feeding earlier. And there was something else ... a shift. A change in the existing balance. Little minds fed back images of a room in ruin, soaked in tainted blood. Growling softly at the back of her throat, she shifted her attention to the door.
He was coming.
The door opened. Two figures walked in. And she shivered.
He is here.
Ignoring all else around her, she watched the pair wend their way through the crowd, often losing sight of them, never losing track. She tasted the air again, her tongue running idly over her lips.
And she takes him to see the Elder ... let us see what we can see.
Directing three of the rats that haunted the corners of the place to go, seek, and keep quietly out of sight, she settled in, eyes riveted on the wall of crates.
Lady Amanda gasps at such a display. She had to marvel at his speed and technique. She, herself, had studied various methods of defense and was amazed by his demonstration. She did pity the victum, but there was nothing she could do more. She saw the look of horror on the face when he finally died and she knew it was lost. She stood still, she did not want to draw any attention. She felt herself being pulled to this man though. She had no idea. She just knew it wasn't safe, but she didn't care. Her logical side told her to investigate this gentleman. She was sure he was no gentleman though. She walked over to the bar and ordered a drink. Nothing to intense, not sense disrupting her feelings with alcohol. She really wasn't thirsty, but wanted to busy herself. Take her mind of the terrific ideas running through her mind. She sat at the bar and gazed about. She took in a deep breathe, but knew it could be toxic. She wanted to be able to use all her senses in this environment. She had to figure out how she could get to know this man, without actually conversing with him. She knew that would be devastating. Why were things so complex in this foresaken town. She licked her parched lips and took a sip. "I guess I was thirsty," she mumbled. She played with her strands of hair, waiting for the next thing to happen. She could feel the energy pick up. Something is always bound to happen.
"Well then," Talia looks at him with a poised attitude, but her eyes shining with a hint of fear and respect, "Now that you've gone and ruined the Elder's Guard, shall we enter?"
James shrugs, and whipes the blade of his stiletto on a clean part of the stil-twitching guard's jacket. "The man was an imbicile. He was a disgrace to the Kindred, and was a mockery of his post as a guard. He failed, and I would think that the Elder would be glad to know that I have disposed of a useless piece of garbage for him."
Talia snorts derisively and reaches down to yank open the hatch. "Well, thank you for the speach, but save it for the Elder." She motions for him to go first. "I really don't care enough."
He smiles slightly at her and drops through the manhole and into the rather warm tunnel underneath the warehouse. The air is moist and hot, and moves steadily against him from underneath the dancefloor, and the walls are damp from the heavy moisture in the air.
"Nice place." James smirks as Talia drops through behind him. "Reminds me of the sewers, but without the stink." Talia grins slightly. "Just wait, it'll come. I suggest you don't inhale around the Elder... He's slightly... moldy." She chuckles at her joke, and moves off in the direction of the dancefloor, walking steadily against the oncoming air.
Finally, they exit out into a rather large area, directly underneath the teaming dancefloor. The ceiling is low, and is supported by several iron bars, and the floor is covered in strange fungus and other subterranean plants. The lighting is rather dim, merely evenly spaced dull red bulbs that create a dark crimson ambiance. That added to the thick air and heat makes it almost seem as if they are swimming in blood.
"Yes, really nice place... I should vacation here." The sarcasm drips from James' voice like honey, and Talia ignores him as she leads him through the maze of massive mushrooms and bizarre-looking ferns. A small pathway leads through the organic soup, finally leading to a largish clearing within the strange fungi.
A small creature is situated in the middle of the fungus, more comical in appearance than horrific. His skin is smooth, almost plastic-like, and large ears sprout from the sides of his flattened head. His eyes are large, and spaced well apart above a long thin nose, and a tiny mouth. His head, as flattened as it is, is very large in proportion with his thin and small body, and it almost seems as if his fragile neck is about to break with every tiny movement.
"Greetings, Ancient. I've been waiting for you..."
James looks at the little creature with an odd smile, and suddenly focuses his thoughts on the Network. I know you, little man. The message broadcasts through the Network, slicing like a diamond-tipped blade through several meaningless rants, cutting straight towards the receptors that the Elder had their.
A blank look passes across the Elder's face, and his eyes seem to glow in the unnatural light. "Yes, Ancient... You do. I was at Carpathia and Caeserea Phillipi with you. Well..." He pauses, looking towards the floor. "Well, not with you... I was around, however." He looks back up at James, a smile on his face. "I was there in Caeserea when you were captured by Mischa."
James suddenly takes a step back, a horrified expression flashing across his face. He grits his teath, and his words across the Network are like shards of glass. NEVER mention that name again. If you do, I'll make sure what I did to it PALES before what I'll do to you.
The Elder waves a hand dismissively. "Don't worry, James, I'll not mention it again. I merely wanted you to know where I was when last we met. Of course," He smiles, a look of longing passing across his misshapen face. "I was very different then... Not nearly as I am now."
He laughs. "Seems like I have waited my entire life to meet you again, like my entire existence was built around becoming what you so casually are." He shakes his head. "I am half of the creature you are, James... And yet, you know so little of what you are truely capable of."
Talia looks up, her blood-filled eyes like black spots in her moon-pale face.
The Creature walks among Kindred and Kine,
His senses crushed, eating ash and drinking brine
The world is His, and he does not know it
A glimmer given, but he will not find it.
Her voice once again takes on the charictaristics of breaking glass, the shrieking crunch of her voice a sound that no mortal voice box could ever hope to emulate.
Elsewhere, a dark shadow flits between the crowds, following as straight a line as possible towards the power perched on a barstool. As he nears her, the shadow coalesces into a tall man dressed in black leather pants, and a black leather chest harness. His bald head gleams in the flashing lights of the club, and he leans forward to whisper in her ear.
A moment passes, and he looks across the dance floor and points at the standout.
"The Elder told me to make sure you knew about her. Also to alert you to her apparent interest in the Ancient... He said that you would know what to do."
Lady Amanda watched the two walk away. She wanted to get up and follow, but knew better to. Better just leave it alone. These things come and go. It was just like this ions ago. That was just a different time and a different place. She did miss that time though. The Greeks were so wonderful, yet were corrupted in their little ways. She changed her mind she didn't regret leaving. Maybe she would stick around this place for a bit and move on later. There was a reason she was here, she would find out sooner or later. She decided not to worry about that man with the technique that she has never seen. Why bother about things she could not foresee herself changing. She took another drink. She felt the liquor flow down her throat and into her stomach. She felt it tingle all the way down. She smiled. Thinking of the past always did that to her. Alcohol always did that to her. She actually started listening to the music. This song was alittle more upbeat, but not much and have a rythmatic beat to it. She swayed her body to it.
Andrew returned to scanning the room. He was so rarely in place such as this, and it was swarming, with both kine and kindred alike. Something looked wrong (though everything always did to him), and he looked closer to see something drinking liquor. He could not tell what it was, for its shape was wrong and warped, and seemed to be neither kindred, nor kine. The most curious thing about it was that it had no eyes. Far more than anything else in the room, even the rats that scurried by, this thing was blind.
Cameron looks around nervously, wondering what to do next. The euphoria he imbibed with Raven's blood has started to relent, and his mind has cleared enough to remember he hadn't licked the wounds he'd inflicted on her neck to heal them. He's been searching for her for the past five minutes, but she's not where he left her and he doesn't see her anywhere. He's worried that another Kindred has seen her and taken care of it.
Should I run now? He doesn't know. His instinct for trouble is usually so reliable, but tonight it fluctuates between a dull ache and bursts of panic. He can't tell if he's in trouble or just stoned out of his gourd. This feels like a bad trip more than anything.
Jamael, the Toreador Whip had told him to be here this evening for an Elysium hosted by the Elder. Cameron doesn't know what an Elysium was, but he understands that he's to be presented tonight. He runs through the Traditions in his mind, trying to get them straight so he won't get Hunted like the first time.
Thou shall not reveal thy nature to those not of the Blood.
Thy domain is thine own concern. All others owe thee respect while in it. None may challenge...uh...shit. I'm doomed.
He looks around again, hoping he blends in with the crowd well enough to go unnoticed. Maybe he can find someone willing to tell him when and where this Elysium is supposed to happen.
James casts Talia an odd look, the tension in the room shifting and changing with her cold words. For a moment, all are silent, the only sound in the room an odd breathing noise coming from the fragrant mushrooms.
Finally, James stirs and coughs uncomfortably into his hand. "What does all of this mean, Elder? Why have you bidden Talia to bring me here?"
The Elder smiles slightly and motions towards a clump of mushrooms. "The balance of power within Devras has just shifted dramatically with your entrance. The Toreador rule which has long held the city in it's lethargic grip has been broken, and the awakening of a new Power has brought unnatural attention to our fair city."
A soft stirring sounds in the clump of giant mushrooms, and James catches a quick glimpse of several skulking figures glide away from their meeting.
The Elder continues. "We can be of immense assistance to each other. I control a vast network of informants and spies, while you are newly-awakened and fresh from centuries of slumber. You, on the other hand, can provide security like we have never known, as you can well understand how some would not be too happy with Nosferatu owning this fair city."
He grins slightly. "There are whispers that the Sabbat wishes to run wild through the city, the Ventrue want another jewel in their studded crown, and the Tremere want yet another Venice. This is not even going into the ancestrally Italian Giovanni, or the recently dethroned Toreador. We have many enemies, James, but so do you."
A calm look crosses the Elder's face. "Just as Talia forsaw your arrival, so did she forsee your downfall. It was her advice that led us to bring you here, not merely murder you in your slumber."
James glares at him, slight pangs of anger spiking through his body. "Well, thank you for letting me live, Elder." His tone almost makes the word an insult. "What keeps me from killing you now?"
The Elder sighs, and looks towards Talia. "Nothing. You could slaughter me and everyone here, and there would be little to stop you. Except yourself." He shrugs. "Even now, you have no idea where you are. You are lost in an era where you have never existed. The World is a different place, James, and Kindred Society has changed with it. In a way, you need us as much as we need you."
His voice trails away, and James stands there, a thoughtfull look flickering across his face. "I'll think about it... I'll give you an answer later tonight."
The Elder simply nods, and motions towards Talia. "She will lead you back upstairs, and will remain with you until Elysium. We have many things to discuss tonight, and your position will make this gathering quite pivotal."
James shrugs, and follows Talia back out to the tunnel, and then up to the clearing. The guard's body had been removed, and a new, steely-eyed Kindred of a lower generation had been put in his place. He nods slightly at James as he walks by, and James merely ignores him as he continues back through the maze into the club proper.
When Starke reemerged from the wall of crates, Andrew stood and began to make his way through the crowd to intercept him. At last his tortured path took him to a point in space diectly blockingn Starke's forward progression. Andy's eyes took in the shape before him. It was twisted and broken beyond any he had seen before. Faces tried to call out their torment to him, but they were voiceless, for they were not alive, but drained by pipes into the flesh of the one before him. The shards of a broken mirror reflected the clubs lights out from deep within.
"My lord; I was called here to meet you, and I came."
As James and the Elder converse, a group of Nosferatu calmly move through the crowds above them, their Masks firmly in place. They stop at each Kindred they meet, and a few words are exchanged before they move on to the next.
Finally, a Nosfer in the guise of a tall, rather bland-looking woman, glides up to Cameron and nods sagely towards him.
"Elysium will begin in fifteen minutes. Go through the opening in the Wall, and follow the glowing lines up the stairs to the top of the crates. The Rules are as always, no Disciplines of any kind, and no violence towards any protected by Elysium. Feeding is, of course, allowed down here, but not up Above."
With that, she simply moves on, expecting only to be obeyed.
Amanda, as you are not Kindred, at least not by White Wolf terms, you are not among the invited.
(OOC)wahey get yer kit off woman!
This is what happens in an R thread isn't it?
....sorry I'll leave now
The music continued its sensual pulse, drawing out images of pulse and prey from her already stimulated mind. As always, she can feel the hunger deep down in her gut. It leaps up on occasion, nearly raging as certain people walk by, painted lips flashing quick knowing smiles, bodies taut with sexual tension, many filled with chemicals that make their scent strange and intoxicating. A dusting of cheap cologne often mixes with the salty scent of skin. She breathes in, tasting the air as they walk by, licking her lower lip. With many, she can smell the scents of others on their clothes, their skin, down below. And deeper still, beneath it all, the sweet, hot smell of their blood. She can feel the pulse of it, throbbing just out of her reach. There, at the hollow of their throats ...
She senses him before he speaks, and her eyes flash red for a moment, a deep growl building at the back of her throat. With effort, she stops herself, shaking out her mane of dark auburn hair, her unnaturally sharp teeth clenched, her face relaxing back from a snarl, muscles twitching. Nodding curtly, she calmed her mind, running through a dozen silent mantras.
Elysium. Sanctuary. Goddamn their rules, their petty games and politics. The woods, the hillsides, the moonlit beaches ... and to have all these things, to keep them, rules must be observed.
Stretching langorously, Areagne slid from the barstool with an uncanny grace, her lean form, clad in tight faded jeans and black tank top over which a short sleeveless mail shirt was worn. Tribal tattos encircled both of her biceps, and could be glimpsed at the back of her neck, disappearing beneath her shirt. Soft leather boots that reached her knees covered feet that deftly avoided the revelers as she seemed to pass like smoke through the crowd.
The woman sat at the bar, quiet, and alone. And alone she is, shining like the glitter of gold in the mud to Areagne's heightened senses. She slips in quietly next to her, battling her inner Beast at the anticipation of forbidden fruits. Meeting the pale Lady's eyes, she speaks.
"I've not seen you here before," she says in a voice still carrying the heavy accent of her visigoth heritage, abrupty sending out her mind with the force of a whip-crack, demanding she be heard and obeyed. "Come with me, pretty pretty. There is someone I wish you to meet."
Yes ... an offering. A recognition. He is not of my pack, but he is without question the Power here now.
She holds out her hand to Amanda, intent on leading her to the dark stranger who so recently arrived. She acknowledges the invitation as it is delivered, nodding without breaking eye contact with the woman, so oddly out of place.
After. First ... him.
"My lord; I was called here to meet you, and I came."
James glances at Andrew, his dark eyes piercing straight through to Andrew's core. Hello, Andrew...
His eyes lock onto Andrew's, and never waver as his left hand moves out to turn Andrew's hand palm up. For a brief moment, everything around them drops away, and James' fingers touch Andrew's Tattoo.
Suddenly, the world drops away from them, and James is in Andrew's mind, creating a dull gunmetal room with no doors, no ceiling, and no windows.
"I mark you as one of my own. I will guide you, and keep you, and protect you always. When I pass, a portion of my soul will always reside within you, and you will always be able to speak with me..."
At that, the room vanishes, and once more the music slams into them with full force.
He had first spotted her as she walked by through the city streets. Even without the aura-detection abilities of some of his elders, he could tell that there was something... special about her. She was involved. There was no question about that.
Waiting until the footsteps grew further away, he turned to follow. In a few minutes she had reached her destination. It looked like a warehouse of sorts, but as soon as she opened the door he could hear the music coming from within. "Great," he thought to himself, "another Goth club."
He stood on the pavement for a few more seconds, then casually walked into the club. As with most of the Goth clubs he'd entered before, this one had a decent mix of kine and kindred, and as with all those others, neither group seemed to take much notice of his entry. That was fine with him. The trench coat didn't quite fit in, but no one would notice. They never did.
A bit of scanning told him where she was. She was strange, this one. Her power was such that he could detect her from across the crowded dance floor. She was touching a girl, doing something to her neck that didn't quite look like feeding. A closer inspection would be needed. He tried to weave his way through the crowd, but the dancers kept getting in the way, only seeing him when they were about to collide. By the time he reached the girl, she was lying in a slumber, two small white marks on her neck. The target had moved to the bar.
The way the kine and kindred reacted differently to her was noteworthy. Mortals seemed enchanted by her presence; any who glanced in her direction were transfixed for a good long while. The bartender, whose face had previously projected an air of assumed callousness, seemed completely unable to deny any request she made. The kindred were a different matter. Their looks were of contempt rather than enchantment. It seemed they too could tell she was different, but how much did they know? He would have to find out. It would not be pleasant to learn that kindred were behind all this, but as they had unwittingly provided the information to start it all anyway, it would not be too surprising. Not that many things were surprising anymore. Not to him at least.
The kindred were leaving now. Several True Ones had informed them all of something, and they were gathering around an entrance at the far edge of the club. The True Ones had also told her something, which seemed to have left her a bit unpleased. Where to go? To her, or to them? He had not received the invitation the others had, but that was the small price he payed for not being seen. Who to talk to now? Who was it safe to talk to? He watched, and thought it over.
*gone.... misunderstandings suck.*
Cameron makes his way to the place he hopes is the Wall, looking around anxiously. It doesn't look any different from any other part of the club. He pauses a moment to focus his eyes and curses as a random strobe light passes too close by. Now blind, he gives an unconscious hiss of irritation before he reigns in his instincts and retracts his fangs. He backs into a corner and waits until the blindness passes.
Several minutes later he finds his vision returning, and he looks around more cautiously. He spots the glowing lines and the stairs described to him on the other side of the room. He gives a profound curse and struggles to make his way over to it. This time he makes sure to relax his enhanced vision before venturing into the morass of writhing bodies.
Aw man, I'm gonna be late! I hope they don't Blood Hunt me for it.
OOC: Wow, that was interesting.
Lady Amanda took the woman's hand. It was cold, but an underneath warmth ran through her veins and arteries with each pulsation. "It is nice to meet you. I haven't talked to one person here as of yet. I am to meet someone. Who? People call me Lady Amanda, and yours would be?" She continued to walk along side the woman, as they walked by people would stare at them, but continued back to their erotic behavior and interior motives.
She was talking to that girl again. The girl must be involved as well, and she seemed to be kine, which would make it a lot easier for him to talk to her later. She obviously knew something he needed to.
He had to be careful where he let his thoughts run. He had noticed in similar situations in the past that he was easier to spot when he got excited, and it took a good deal of control to stay calm when he was close to a catch like this one. It was annoying; he could render others around him completely apathetic just by willing it, but he still had trouble controlling his own emotions sometimes.
He moved back into a corner where he could lean against the wall for a while and still keep his eyes on the two of them. Not that he was about to stop watching the rest; the other kindred may have left the room for now, but he had learned long ago that they were rarely the biggest threat. The bartender had gone back to his callous facade - harmless. The man dancing over near the speakers kept looking in his direction - he might suspect something, but it was uncertain. Maybe it would be best to keep moving, maybe it would be best to keep absolutely still. Yes, it was harder to be spotted when he stood still. The DJ? No, just doing his job - this kind of music was too simple for any kind of message. The girl with the fake vampire teeth could be another one, but the way she laughed meant she was either oblivious to the truth of the situation, or was way too good at pretending to be. Better to err on the side of caution...
The strange one was still talking to that other girl. Even with his acute senses, it was impossible to hear them from this distance over the din of the club. Slowly, always making sure no one saw him move, he inched closer to them.
OOC: Mesh, please accept my apologies... I'd completely forgotten Andrew's asking if it'd be cool for someone else to join... *eats his own words* You are, of course, welcome to play here.*
Also, if you're Kindred, you'd be invited to Elysium. There is almost no way to hide being a vampire here, especially with the Elder, James, Areagne, and Talia all able to sense vampires as keenly as they can.*
If you refuse the invite, I'm cool with it, just wanted you to know that if your char is Kin, one of the Nosferatu messangers spoke with you.
OOC: And those who are not of kindred what do they do? It is not nice to exclude others. I suppose I could just sit around til the end. Oh well, patient is a virtue.
OOC: And those who are not of kindred what do they do? It is not nice to exclude others. I suppose I could just sit around til the end. Oh well, patient is a virtue.*
OOC: You have Areagne to deal with. Just wait, your time is coming.
OOC: apology accepted. as far as the elysium invitation, i'll work that back in next time i write something IC (a little later today); sorry about the misunderstanding with that.
OOC: Okay, hey, that almost sounded cryptic. :twisted: What do you have planned?
"A pleasure, sweet one," she replied, leading Amanda through the press of bodies, not bothering yet with her own name in return. Her path led them to a particularly dark corner, away from the crowd. At a snarl from Areagne, the young pup who already cowered there looked up with fright from his plaything, holding her limp form close to him, posessively.
"Out of my sight," she hissed between clenched teeth, the Beast rising up once again in her as her eyes flashed red, and her hands shifted form to wicked dark-nailed claws. Confronted with her quickly unveiling power, the youngling yelped as if bitten, unceremoniously dragging his prey with him as he scrambled away, casting a hateful, impotent glare at the back of his elder kin.
Areagne closed her eyes for a moment, her body shaking as she fought again to master herself. Her jaw clenched, lips twitched as she let go of her dark gift, allowing herself to regain her usual form. Clenching and unclenching her fists at her side. All this contact, the lure of the crowds easy prey, had been taking its toll. She was certain she'd need to feed again. Soon enough. Perhaps her little outbreak had been enough to attract His attention. Perhaps.
Once more shaking out her long mane of auburn hair, she turned back to Amanda, offering her a close-lipped smile, again extending her hand, watching the pale woman closely.
"I am Areagne," she said. "And I wish to know what you are, and why you are here, in my city, mia bellezza pallida."
Something tickled at the edge of her senses. She tested the air, eyes narrowing slightly. So many ... so many in one place ... Sensing no immediate danger, her eyes shifted back to Amanda, awaiting her response.
"Excuse me, sir."
He spun around, both hands darting to the pockets on his coat, then saw who it was that addressed him. A True One. In disguise, yes, but still a True One. Or perhaps just a childe of one. Nevertheless...
"You can let go of those. I mean you no harm, I am only here to invite you to the Elysian delights now beginning in the other room."
"Is that where all the other kindred went before?" he asked.
"Yes. I am sorry you were not invited at the same time as the others, but I must have overlooked your presence, Signor, um..."
"Smith," he answered. "Winston Smith. And I accept your apology. It is a situation I am rather used to. As for these Elysian delights you speak of, would that be hosted by one of your kind?"
"My kind? Nosferatu, you mean?" Smith nodded. "Yes, and an old one at that. He would be most disappointed if you failed to join him for at least a little while."
"I am most honored by your invitation, but..." Smith glanced around as he spoke. Shit he thought to himself. She's gone. While speaking to the True One (or childe, more likely), he had lost track of the radiant young woman he was supposed to be following. This was not good, and if she had had any indication before that he was onto her, this was going to cost him. "Yes, I will come join your elder in his Elysium."
With that, Smith followed the True One to the wall where he had seen the other kindred congregating earlier. He scanned the room as he walked. The bartender was busy pouring drinks, the DJ was focusing on his music, and the dancing man had joined the oblivious girl with the plastic fangs and seemed to be having a great time with her. Careful thought Smith. If either of them knew anything before, they're sharing it now. Don't come back up here alone if you can avoid it, and have your hands on your guns if you can't.
Lady Amanda looked curiously over the woman. She reaches up and puts her hand on the woman's arm, "Are you okay? You look alittle flushed." Lady Amanda smiles aware that it has passed. "Well, Areagne, I thought maybe you would already know that. That is why you have brought me here. Yet, I do not know your intentions on meeting someone."Lady Amanda bends closer to Areagne and whispers, "I will not quench the need and I would be toxic so do not think of that. If you do not understand why I am here I will explain, but I think you know. I want to know why you would pull me back here." Lady Amanda continued to smile at the lady waiting for her answer.
Cameron finally breaks through the crowd and glances around to see if anyone is watching. Then he mounts the stairs with casual grace, trying to look for all the world like he belongs there. He follows the directions carefully, trying to quell the elusive feelings of doubt and panic that ebb and surge within him. He feels as though he's balancing precariously atop a house of cards; one breath will bring everything tumbling down.
Finally he reaches the guardpost, and his nose wrinkles at the foul stench the wind carries. A bored guard, Mask in place, gazes on him uncuriously.
"You're late." The voice is androgynous, giving no clues as to age or gender. Then again, with the Nos, it never really matters, does it?
Cameron lifts his nose in the air. "Of course I am."
The guard smirks. "Goddamned Degenerates. You've never been in a city ruled by the Nosferatu before, Childe, so here's some free advice. Watch your mouth."
Cameron stops in his tracks, panic welling inside him. "How...how do you know where I've been? Maybe I know more than you think."
The guard laughs outright. "You are a Childe. I don't know why your Sire let you out on your own. Go on, Degenerate. The Elder is waiting for you."
"Do we have a deal then?"
The woman looked up from her place at the table. Her violet eyes took in the vampire as he leaned across the table to slide a small piece of paper dangerously close to her grasp yet still far enough away that she would have to answer before seeking it. Her eyes casually strolled from his icy blue ones to the inhabitants of the club. Most of them paid no attention to the pair since they kept out of the way in the back of the club.
A small smile passed over the woman's ruby painted lips as she returned her glance to his. With gracefully slow movements, she twisted her wrist and fingers into a circle before holding out her palm upwards. A small vial of black liquid contrasted sharply with her pale skin, and she nodded, "Aye, we have a deal. Be certain that the package does not slip out of your grasp next time."
The vampire peered seriously at her for a moment from under his dark locks before cracking a grin and laughing. The woman smiled and also started as she passed the vial, the skillful fingers of her other hand prying the paper from his. Shaking his head, he whispered, reaching down to scoop up her hand. He lowered his head, kissing the back of her hand lightly, "As always, it is an extreme pleasure to work with you, my dear Adelaide."
When his chilling grip relaxed on her hand, she pulled it away, resting it, fingers splayed, upon her collar, just above the opening of her black corset. "As it is a pleasure to work with you, William." The corner of her lips turned upwards in one of her coy little smiles. Pleasure in work clearly wasn't the only thing William had in mind this evening. She nodded to some unspoken question and then motioned out at the crowd with her eyes, casually brushing a carefully arranged black tendril from her own face, "It seems there is something amiss tonight... I believe I shall stay a while longer, and I have a few other matters to which I must tend. You will not want to wait."
William nodded and stood, giving her a slight bow, "I look forward to seeing you soon. Enjoy your dinner, lady."
She watched him gather his dark leather coat around him before he walked out into the crowd. It did not take him long to disappear, and after waiting a few minutes, she shifted back in her seat. Her hands ran down the lavender silk skirt that slitted up her thighs, slightly exposing the tops of her gartered black stockings and leather, thigh-length boots.
She leaned back in her chair, casting emotionless looks at the crowd, not seeking to draw attention to herself tonight. In truth, she sometimes wondered if she was losing her appetite for such things. How many nights had she sat like this, waiting for something worthy of her attention? Worthy of the hunt?
A man walked by, pleasing to the eye. She offered a demure smile, knowing that he would notice. She watched his brown eyes fall upon her, raking over her lithe form and finding it wanting. Tilting her head to the side, she bit at her lip in an expression that bordered between lust and the aching need to be consoled. The tilt caused the tendril to once again fall nearly over her eyes, so she brushed it back with the rest of her carefully arranged coiffe. Those fingers then lingered down the side of her neck to the silver choker adorned with amethysts.
She smirked, seeing his steps falter. Holding down her laughter, she watched him stumble right into one of the locals. The man noticed only too late into whom it was he had bumped, and was promptly escorted out of sight.
Adelaide sighed softly, somewhat saddened that her fun had been prematurely spoiled. Finally, she turned her attention to the paper still in her hand. She flipped it over and read the tiny, scrawled print:
"He is here."
She frowned for a moment; her gaze turning inward. For a moment, her eyes almost seemed to flash with a peculiar light as she looked back at the paper. From her seat, she looked around her, peering into the darker recesses. But whom was the "He" to which William had referred?
Causeways and boards criscross the tops of the crates, linking vast combination surfaces with individual cratetops into an intricate platform upon which over fifty of the Kindred have gathered for the proclemation from the Elder.*
James stands silently against the far wall, his dark eyes alternately passing over the gathered Kindred and then to the mammoth crowd below. The interaction between everyone within the two different groupings amused the more sociable and curious side of him, while the darker and more violent side was merely annoyed by their presence.
He thought it interesting that so many of the worthless shits below him were so enamored with the darker side of life, so in love with their "vampires" and "werewolves"... Stupid children, if they only knew how horrific it really was.*James shakes his head, and his eyes once more sweep the teaming dancefloor, until something catches his attention... Was it her? He couldn't quite tell... Maybe it was, but as he focuses to look more intently at the crowd, the brief glimpse given was all that remained...
An intense desire wells up within him, a tremendous outpouring of emotion he has not felt in centuries... an outpouring from a source he did not even know existed. It was almost like... love.
At last, enough had gathered that the meeting could begin, and The Elder ascends a set of stairs opposite the ones leading down into the club proper, flanked by two of his Childer. All three of them were very nonchalant, and an air of relaxed power permeated the atmosphere about them.
Strangely enough, as the trio glides from cratetop to cratetop, the pounding music seems to fade almost to nothing, and a near-silence seems to reign over the assembly. A few of the younger Kindred look startled, confused by the sudden drop, and more than one of the older ancillae looked slightly uneasy by the casual display of power.*
Finally, the Elder stood at the head of the assembly, calmly sitting childlike on the edge of a crate raised slightly higher than the rest. He casts a snaggle-toothed smile about at the others, and begins to speak, his voice soft, and yet still retaining that nasal squeak that had so annoyed James in their earlier meeting.
"Thank you all for coming.*The fact that you are all here is amusing to me, after the closed debacle of earlier this evening. I greatly appriciate your attendance, and I'm sure that you will find what I have to say interesting at the least." He pauses, letting his words sink in, letting the crowd get used to his voice.
"Though it would appear to be glaringly obvious, there has been a very abrupt shift in the power cycles in Devras. The old regime has ended quite Finally, and a new one is seeing its genesis with its hands clean of blood. Ours were not the hands that so readily ended the rule of that dandy, but rather, the hands of another..."* *
At this, the Elder motions towards James, and several of the Kindred that had been at Desario's party shie away from him in terror. The crowd came alive with whispers, wild speculations flying through the assembly like lightning, with only the Nosferatu and Malkavians remaining above the startled exclimations.*
James looks slightly annoyed at being so singularly picked out, and he scowls in acknowledgement to several proclimations of fealty and respect. This was not his bag, the pathetic mewlings of little children, all clamoring for voice among their betters. It was... sickening.*
Yes.... sickening.... they are a waste of your time... they will destroy you... you must...
With a growl, James shoves the voices deep within his mind, his eyes blinking to rid him of the nightmare hallucinations of his mutilated family. His facial muscles ripple under the strain, and he focuses his entire being on shutting the insanity out.
Talia looks up at him, and gently lays her hand upon his arm.
The insanity runs rampant in your mind*
A violent reminder of loss and murder*
The eternal damnation of our kind
Your insanity takes one step further.
Calm now, let your thoughts be
Focus on infinite possibility*
Awaken to your innermost places*
Use my calm to erase their mocking faces*
At the touch of the pale woman's hand, Areagne tensed, eyes widening in disbelief. No one laid a hand on her and expected to keep it. The condescending words and tone did nothing to improve her mood.
"You arrogant bitch," she hissed in her ancient dialect. Without warning, she thrust out a once again clawed hand, pinning Amanda up against the wall, her eyes burning red and angry. "You'd quench my thirst well enough would I choose to sate it so, pretty. Mince words if you will - it merely costs you that which you desire. You may slyly claim kinship, but the look," here she sniffed, face twisted in a feral snarl, "the very smell of you is wrong. I should rip out your throat right here and now just to stop your miserable squeaking, and rid myself of your stench."
Areagne looked the pale woman over disdainfully, her claws stretching and tracing lightly over her soft throat. So easy ... so easy ...
With obvious effort, she drew back, eyes still glowing red. "You will leave this place, now. I will not sense your presence within the bounds of my territory, nor will my minions," she said, making it clear this was not a request. "Should you choose otherwise, know that you shall indeed 'meet' He whom I had thought to direct you to, though it be only your head I bring him. I trust we understand one another, my pretty pretender ... false angel ... Leave here, or die."
Her eyes never left Amanda's as she slowly moved back from her, the edges of her form blurring, becoming indistinct, the rest soon following as she became but a ghostly image of herself. Without another word, she slipped back through the crates that shadowed this small nook, then deftly made her way towards her kindred, not wishing to miss the happenings going on this night. She slipped in at the back of the gathering, quietly resuming her form just as the Elder began to speak. Sending out again, she directed several of the vermn inhabiting the dark cracks and crevices to watch the pale woman as she turned her attention forward.
And for the first time clearly saw Him.
The elder seemed to have been waiting specifically for Smith to arrive before entering the meeting himself. He must be powerful, this one - ancient, probably an original, and showing his true form in a manner suggesting a disdain for those who would not (or could not).
Smith settled himself against a wall, watching the room for any connections with the events downstairs. He had never liked being around so many kindred at once; it was strange to make eye contact with so many faces and know that almost every one of them could see him clearly. Smith didn't like being seen when he didn't have to; it made him too easy a target to any who wanted to use him as such. No luck finding anything useful here. Most of the vampires who looked at him gave a glance of greeting, or unamused nonchalance. There was one though, a bit overweight, with a very strange look in his eyes, like he not only saw Smith, but saw everything Smith needed to that might not even be here. It was hard to describe, but the look was compelling. Furthermore, the face looked a bit familiar, but for all his skill at matching faces, Smith couldn't place it.
The ancient True One was talking now. For all the respect he merited, and all the information he might possess about the home world, he was stuck on local vampire politics. Smith had never cared much about the Byzantine politics of the kindred; it was the kine governments he was more concerned with. Something about a power shift. Wait, this bit was interesting. Apparently a single vampire had staged a rather bloody coup earlier this evening, and was now here for all to admire. This one must be immensely powerful. He would make a great ally, provided he was on the right side of things; Smith would have to find a good way to test that. It would be difficult though, this one being what he was. Not a True One apparently, or at least not brave enough to throw off the disguise, but he must be at least as strong as one.
Smith scanned the room again. Something was different. Someone new had entered since he last checked. Standing only about ten or fifteen feet from him. A familiar looking vampiric woman, she had done something downstairs that Smith had deemed worthy of remembering. That was it! This was the woman who had been talking to her!! He had to talk to this woman; she could hold the information he needed. He had to be extemely cautious though. It was hard enough snooping around with only mortals to get suspicious; trying to get anything useful in a room full of kindred, including quite a few True Ones, would be exceedingly difficult. Smith moved a little further along the wall, trying to get to where he could pretend to watch the elder while keeping an eye on the newcomer. He had lost his mark once already tonight; he could not afford to do so again.
Lady Amanda did not react to such a scene of uncontrolled emotions. She continued to smile. "I do not know what she means of kine, obviously I missed the memo on that one." Lady Amanda did not back away or flinch at the women's throw of angry words. She did not expect less of the women. Things just weren't right with that one. She would not leave even if it cost her the life she had, but it would take a lot to stop her. She glared as the woman walked away, the woman called Areagne. Lady Amanda had grown prone to people like her. People that could not control their inner demons. We all have demons it is just a matter of having the power over them, but maybe she should play it safe and just leave. She did feel the eyes on her as they peirced at her soul. She meet it with her own glare. A stare that would not be met easily. She began to walk for the door and stopped to think. Maybe there was really no reason to stay. Or was there. The thoughts mixed and melted in her mind. She took a deep breath and walked outside. The fog was low and thick it did not help much to ease the aura of the place. She looked to the sky, not a single star shone through the dense fog. What should she do now? She could just change her cothing attire, but these people are stupid. There was one thing, but would she allow herself to do that.
The Elder looked around at the assembly, his bulging eyes emotionless, and yet backlit by a sparkle of... something.
"So, now the city is no longer under Toreador control. But rather, under mine."
He smiles, a wicked little grin full of teeth, and spreads his hands. "I do not give a single piece of shit about the Camarilla or the Sabbat. Their petty fighting does nothing. Their control is an illusion, propogated by the truely powerful. This, Jyhad, is a waste of time and resources, an endless war that serves no other purpose than to weed out those weaklings created as a result of this war."
He shakes his head. "The Traditions will be observed. They, at least, were thought out before decided upon, and are thusly well-suited for the world in which we live." He looks out across the crowd, almost daring anyone to question his authority.
"So, that taken care of, I proceed." He gives James a long look, as if asking him a question. A brief moment passes, and James returns the look with a slow nod, prompting a broad smile to spread across the Elder's face.
"It has been decided. James Starke is acting as Sheriff, until he decides to move on. Alexis Montedivido will be Senschal, and my Council will consist of the clan Primogens... Including the Tzimisce and the Lasombra."
At that announcement, a sudden gasp rolled through the crowd as several dozen other Kindred climb onto the platform from various locations. Quite a few of them are adorned in the bizarre manner of the Tzimisce bodytwisters, their bodies changed and shaped into forms both beautiful and horrific.
Others still moved with a feline grace that bespoke an arrogance born from years of aristocratic training, and yet still serving as merely a facade for something truely dangerous lurking beneath their calm surfaces.
Two individuals step forward, one tall and thin, his body almost appearing stretched. Intricate bone ridges grow across his forehead and cheeks, resembling some bizarre tribal tattoo. The other is considerably shorter, but far more elegant in a straight black dress cut dangerously low in front, and a black fur boa wrapped loosely about her shoulders.
"May I present to you Lord Sergei Dorminkof, and Senorita Freya Cortana, the Primogen of the Devras Tzimisce and Lasombra, respectfully. Furthermore, I'd like to introduce Seignor Emilliano Giovanni, Lord Makesh Al-faqhed, and Lady Ocksana Cortichinko, Primogen of the Giovanni, Assamite, and Ravnos."
At this, another large group of Kindred move up onto the platform, swelling the ranks of Kindred to well over a hundred. So many clans, so many rivalries... All brought together by the twisted genius of a brilliant tunnel rat, and kept in peace under the watchful eyes of James and Alexis.
James, you have a particular flair for storytelling, yet your RP seems one-sided thus far...will others be allowed to join or is this a one man show?
More vampiric politics. Smith drifted in and out of listening while his mind raced through the questions he needed to ask that woman as soon as he got a chance. Wait, something important, judging by the commotion...
"... Including the Tzimisce and the Lasombra." He had just suspended the Jyhad. This was certainly something. Smith had never cared much for the Jyhad, as it tended to accomplish nothing while keeping him away from potentially valuable information, if that information happened to be in Sabbat territory. Who knew what kind of dangers had been perpetuated by his inability to enter this city or that one, all because of some meaningless feud from the home world?
In any case, Smith took this as good news. He did not know how far this elder's influence spread, but given his age and clan it was probably quite far. He was grateful for the declaration. His work would be much easier now. He would have to thank the elder at some point, when there were less immediate concerns. Speaking of which, it was getting crowded now. Smith shifted along the wall, trying to get a bit closer to that woman who'd come in after him. He could not afford to lose track of her now.
Dread Lady Nathicana
There was nothing of real evidence to be found at the scene. For all they knew, the man could have killed himself - if not for the gruesome way he'd died. Even hardened veterans like Capelli were sickened at the sight. It didn't make sense.
And worse, there was no blood.
"How the fuck can there be no blood?" asked one of the medics, standing nearby, face pale as he looked down at the corpse he and his partner were zipping up in a bodybag.
Capelli said nothing, having gone over the scene in detail himself. His eyes tightened as he glanced at the corpse, the area by now secure, and as yet, he had little hope for witnesses. If he could find the street vermin that tumbled into him earlier, perhaps ... He shook his head. In these warrens he'd have an easier time tracking down one of the rats that frequented the alleways as that man.
The victim had no ID on him. Just another transient on the streets, as far too many were in these darker areas. Over a million and a half people officially made their homes in the capitol. Sprawl eventually happened, and over the years, especially in the more modern areas on the mainland, twisted warrens of dark streets, disreputable businesses, and poorer neighborhoods.
He knew there were illegal chop shops that operated in the city - not for cars as one might suspect, but for the harvesting of organs, and blood and the like. Such commodities were always for sale to those who could pay the price. If not for the manner of death, he'd have said that was the case here. The government tended to turn a blind eye, so long as the deaths were quiet, and persons of little interest to the rest of the world. The delicate unofficial relationship with la Famiglias was another reason they continued to be tolerated.
But there is no fucking way you can do that to a man ... no way. Especially without blood loss. Not even extreme plastic surgery could do that. He'd never live. And why, if someone worked that ard on a person, would they then just dump him in the street?
None of it added up.
Capelli watched as the body was carted off into the waiting ambluance. He'd be seeing the autopsy reports soon enough, he knew.
Just as he knew somehow he wasn't going to like the results.
As each new revelation was brought forward, Areagne tensed. She watched the proceedings with hard, glittering eyes, her senses straining to catch the mood of those around her, carefully testing the air. She had expected change. That was the way of things. But this ...
He is bringing them all in. All into the fold, to shelter beneath his withered hand.
She watched as one by one the others took the stage, the very image of a wolf with its hackles raised. Though she cared nothing for the petty intrigue and the power plays that seemed to run like a plague through the city, she knew well enough that one stayed abreast of the shifts of power if one were wise. Areagne had no wish to rule over this rabble. If the Elder wanted to play his games from the shadows, so be it. Let him do so. She would not stand in his way.
That the Traditions would still be upheld was a slight relief. Among the host the Elder had now brought together, some semblance of order would have to be maintained. There was bad blood between more than one faction here, and he had just given equal standing to many whom others would prefer remain unrecognized.
And then there was James. That he had agreed to take a position surprised her. Boredom? Surely not a sense of duty, nor in any way coerced. He was a power unto himself. What point serving another? What gain?
She tested the air again, fingers twitching at her side. The same scent from earlier. Closer now.
Without taking her eyes from the stage, and the introductions, and alarmingly swelling numbers, she spoke softly to her 'shadow', her accent still thick.
"What do you want of me?"
OOC: Say goodbye to Lady Amanda. She is living this thread before she gets killed. I just don't want her to die under these circumstances.
IC: This was it she would just leave. She was not going to be able to help these tormented creatures. The only thing that would happen would be her corruption, which was not worth it to her. She walked down the street and just past the dim street light she faded away. The wind picked up a bit and seemed to cry, but then all was silent again.
Cameron looks around in confusion. His understanding of Camarilla politics is spotty at best, although he comprehends he's landed in the middle of a power struggle for control of the city. It would seem that the Clan he claims membership in has lost.
No wonder I've been feeling so edgy.
But from the reactions of those around him, the Elder's announcements suggest that he's deviating from the norm. Cameron understands the word "Primogen" well enough, but he doesn't know the Clans being introduced. He's never seen them in other cities, and he doesn't know what the Elder means by the Jyhad or some war or another. He can only assume that the strange Clans were on the other side. Now, for the first time, they're invited to participate in the Camarilla.
Except he doesn't much like the look of them. Most vampires make Cameron nervous, but these have more of the feel of monsters to them than even the Nosferatu. Especially the Tzimisce. He finds them equally engrossing and repellant, and he's unable to stop himself from staring at them.
A few moments later he comes out of a fugue, uncomfortably aware that he's missed some vital information. He refocuses his attention on the Elder, hoping he can fake it well enough to pass.
OOC: I decided, thanks to others wise words, that I would just have a new character, fit for the part, come into this thread. If that is not deemed okay let me know and maybe I will just observe, which I would rather participate in.
IC: She looked at her watch. It was getting late, but she wasn't tired. In fact she was wild at this moment. She was bored and needed to do something. She got up from the chair at the little coffee shop she had stopped to look at the local newspaper. She had just finished reading an article on strange deaths that were occuring of the late. She smiled, a smile that had given some humans night terrors for the rest of their short lifes. She had figured it out from the beginning. Maybe she could find a place for her here. She had grown tired of her hometown and wanted to get away. The elders did not like it, but she could never be stopped when she wanted to do something. They frowned upon her leaving, but would take her back anytime.
She looked up and caught a man staring at her. She connected with his eyes and soon the man was next to her. He stuttered a hello. "My bame, I mean ahha name is is is...Jim. Yours?" She played with her hair. This would be just to easy and then she saw his vein pump with nervousness and the craving took over her body. She had small tremors and she calmed herself down saying soon. "Well, it is nice to meet you. Walk with me." She commanded and not giving her name. She walked into a alley and he followed. Her senses said not a single species was around at this moment. He looked a bit more nervous and was sweating perfusely. His adam's apple moved slowly as he forced himself to swallow. "What are we doing back here." Before he could continue anymore. She was next to his ear and said,"Hush, little one." She kissed his forehead and before he could react she was on his next in one swift fluid movement. She felt him panic and new the visions he would see. The adrenaline picked up and she smiled. With all her sensations she felt the blood, it metallic rust taste and felt it flow in her and give her the energy. Yet, the energy wanted more and she tried to calm it down. She found herself taking more and more. He was beginning to slow down. His parasympathetic system was going into effect and if she continued to take any more his heart would stop completely because she would have drained him bone dry. She tore away from him and he flopped to the ground. She fought herself internally to pick him up again and take another bite that would end his miserable existance, but she didn't need to be bothered by the annoying cops. She was new here and wanted to remain invisible until the time was right. She saw her small puncture holes pale and his skin enclose. There was no mark to be seen. She smiled and licked her lips. The taste was still there. It would always be there as a reminder of her hungry that could not be fullfilled. She walked away from the alley and down the street.
Most of the building were run down and completely black. She continued to walk. A few people were still out. The typical bums and girls that worked. A small minority were just going home from their jobs and were rushing trying to get home. She got looks from all of them as she passed them. She was sure they would have twisted horrific dreams tonight and she smiled at that. It was not if she was ugly because she was far from it, but her beauty can be manipulated to be terrific and awesome at the same time. I guess her heritage would play a part in that. She felt a familar feeling. It had been awhile, well, since she left her home, but she was sure it was her kindred. As she approached the building she heard the cry of the wind and then it was gone. Strange. She followed the insistant calling and went into a door. She wasn't surprised to find herself in a club filled with her kindred, kine and gothics. She felt at home at once, but hesitant because this was not her territory. She was glad with what she decided to travel in.
She fit in perfectly, but would still attrack attention that was deserved. She wore black leather pants with boots that tied up to her knees. Inside was a small silver knife with an encasement of wood that was a weapon itself. She wasn't very trusting. She wore a very low cut black tank top of which she could nearly fall out of. On her neck was a necklace with a black stone. She was tall and slim. Yet, she still has a woman's figure and her curves were defined. She had pale creamy skin. Her eyes were a dark blue, which at moments appeared black. Her checkbones were dominant and her lips were a crimson red. They were thin, but looked as if she was smirking. She had a small upturned nose with a small crstal piercing in her left nostril. Her eyebrows were thin and curved up. Her hair was vibrant red and wavy. She wore it down and was to the small of her back.
She walked over to the bartender. "May, I have a bloody mary?" She glanced over to the nearby human who was drowing in her liquor. She looked up and was frightened. "My name is Mary."
"Yes I know." The human's eyes widened and she passed out. The bartender gave her the drink and said,"What your name? You're new here." He grunted the last part out as he noticed the girl that passed out. "I knew she had drank too much." He winked at her.
She smiled and said smoothly,"How did you ever guess. Yeah, I am new here. My name is Celeste Deamore. I am sure you do not know me so do not look at me as if you do. "
She hands him the money for the drink and he taps her on the shoulder,"Sure, I do. I know of you kindred. Not a lot of people around here will recognise the name, but they know you are a childe. The drink is on me Celeste."
She mumbled a thanks and turned back around. He asked,"So, why aren't you at the assembly?"
"Assembly? Didn't get the message. I suppose if I were to be there they would come and find me."
She looked over in the corner. She saw yellow eyes in the black. Oh so they were here to. She laughed silently. I guess they let about anything in here, well, there are humans in here. She glared at that thought, but smiled again.
"What do you want of me?"
Smith glanced about quickly, making sure he wasn't being watched, then crept closer to her. As he moved, he dropped his hands into his coat pockets. Finally he was close enough. Things were about to happen. He knew it.
Watching her face for the slightest reaction (with the occasional glance to the hands), he whispered to her in flawless Latin, so softly that even with the enhanced senses of the kindred, no one but the two of them could hear it:
"Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name."
He tensed a bit, and awaited her response.
"Sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum, fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo, et in terra," she responds in a flat voice, returning quickly to the ghost form she entered with.
She had been tense before. She was even moreso now. Slowly circling Smith, her eyes never leaving his form, never blinking, she hisses softly.
Areagne was quite on edge that she could not see what his hands are doing.
"I asked what you want of me, damn your eyes. I've precious little patience for your games."
Smith was annoyed with this sudden loss of corporeality. Still, he'd gotten a response he could work with.
"Alright, no more games. I need to ask you a few questions. However, I must ask first that we move to a more private location - this crowd is hardly the ideal atmosphere for our conversation. Oh, and don't worry too much about these," he added, withdrawing his empty hands from his pockets and grinning inwardly at her obvious discomfort.
Andrew mutters to himself,
"Hmm, so the Jyhad has been suspended. Pity, it was a fun prank while it lasted."
The Elder looks out across the sea of Kindred with a sly smile curving the corners of his lips. Assembled here was the culmination of years of work, a shining example of something that no one else had been able to do... Stop the Jyhad.*
There would be problems, he wasn't stupid, but with James' help, peace was almost a certainty. The elders of the other clans werent stupid either, and they knew that crossing James was suicide. So maybe his plan would ultimately fail, maybe it wouldn't, but at least for now, there would be peace.*
"I ask the Primogen to acknowledge my rule."*
One by one, the Primogen of the other clans, save for James, Areagne, and the Toreador elder (who was noticably absent), stride forward and bow before the Elder, leaving a small token as a show of respect.
Finally, James steps forward and smiles at the Elder, and removes two plugs from his palms, leaving perfectly circular holes in his hands, and places them before him. "When I was Imprisoned, I recieved these." He hold up his hands, openly showing the perfect holes. "My Token is the items that hide the holes, as they are as much a part of me as anything I was born with."
With that, he offers a short bow, and moves back to his original position.
Her eyes narrowed, lips twitching on the verge of a snarl. Games ... more games. Bloody damned tricksters.
As the Elder made his request, she tried to catch his eye, nodding her head in acknowledgement and ... acceptance, though her expression carried a clear warning.
It's a dangerous game you play, oh Prince. Take care it doesn't swallow you up. Her eyes flickered first to James, then to Cortichinko, narrowing as they looked over the Ravnos Primogen.
Or spill over into my haunts.
"Outside, when finished here" she said to Smith, walking right through him without blinking, then reassuming her corporeal form. She strode through the crowd with her head high, eyes on the platform, watching those already assembled there.
Walking straight to the Elder, she bowed at the waist, never taking her amber eyes from his. Upon rising, she slowly reached up to take hold of the runestone on a leather thong at her neck. Snapping it off with a sharp tug, she offered it to the new Prince.
"For strength," she said simply, her thumb rubbing lightly over the well-worn, hand-carved bit of elk horn as she handed it over. With the events you've set in motion, you shall need it.
She stepped back and to the side, ending up not far from James, whom she continued to observe quietly, her senses twitching.
What is your game, Ancient One? Why have you woken? And why do you choose to serve?
What is your game, Ancient One? Why have you woken? And why do you choose to serve?*
A slight smile spreads across James' lips and he turns slightly to look straight into Areagne's eyes.*
Do you honestly believe that I would serve this... cretin? Do you think that I would debase myself so much for servitude to a creature like that?
He shakes his head, a dark look gleaming in his eyes. No, my lady. I would serve YOU before I bent knee to that rancid sack of flesh... However, he has access to things that I do not. I've been asleep for centuries, I need his knowledge, I need his contacts. And he needs me to survive. He's placed too much trust in me, and one day, I'll betray that trust... Besides...*
The hard gleam in his eyes gains an amused and infinitely dangerous edge. I'm a Seraph of the Black Hand. Why should I support the ending of the Jyhad?
"So, when is this little meeting getting over? I would like to meet this people. I am new here and want to know if I can get involved with anything."
The bartender smiled and said,"Patient my dear. It will happen very shortly."
"Blah, patient is a virtue. I know. I just regret to use it."
A drunk male was walking, well falling and tripping on his way to the bar. He winked at Celeste. Celeste rolled her eyes. He asked the bartender, "May I have two shots of so co?" His words were slurred and slow. He took one shot. He looked at her and put his arm around her and ended up spilling his drink all over her front. She jumped up and hissed. "You fool. I should squeeze the very juice out of you make you take shots of that." Her eyes were turning red and she was getting tense. "Hey, I was just joking." The drunk said. She took a deep breath and calmed her nerves down. "Okay. Just get out of my face." With that the man walked away. She sat and sulked.
Areagne did not bat an eye, though such talk and Starke's penetrating gaze certainly put her hackles up, and had her feeling as though . That he would 'speak' so plainly said much, and confirmed her initial suspicions. His coming heralded change.
She hated change.
His admissions sent a wave of fear through her, instincts pushing her towards the 'fight or flight' reactions she had honed to a keen edge. This was dangerous talk. Areagne wished she'd never heard it.
It mattered not who ruled here, so long as the Traditions were upheld and the kindred remained undiscovered by the local cattle. But suspending the Jyhad, openly courting both Camarilla and Sabbat ... and Him.
Jaw clenched tightly shut, she managed to surpress most of the growl working its way through her throat, ending up coming out as a barely heard, low rumble.
Amuse yourself as you will. We seek no trouble.
With a final, careful glance at the Elder, she again assumed her ghostly form, sinking into the crates and making her way through them to a secluded corner of the room where she let go of the gift, becoming solid again. She stalked from the darkened space, paying little attention to those around her, making her way towards the door, needing to be outside regardless of her earlier agreement to meet there.
Duty done, displeasure shown, support still given. Why would he tell me that? Shit, I don't want to be involved. Arrogant bastard's going to bring it all crashing down on our heads trying to use Him.
Her mind filled with conflicting thoughts, she paced, glancing up occasionally at the clear night sky, taking note of the stars, the moon, and the unusual chill in the air.
Whatever the coming days would bring, she would see her clan survive it.
The Elder nods to each of the Primogen in turn, and then turns to address the full crowd.*
"I know many of you are thinking this is a bad idea, and I am fully aware of how dangerous this is... However, keep in mind that the Traditions are still in affect, and any breech will be met with instant retribution.
These are trying times, and with the openness that so many Kindred have been using these days, the Hunters are out in force. In order for us to survive, we must learn to work together. Hide our weaknesses, and let our strengths meld together in a union that will present the Hunters with a near-impossible task of finding us all."
He looks around once more at his handiwork, and with a short nod, excuses everyone from the meeting.*
James sighs to himself, already sensing the challenge coming from many in the room. His job was not going to be easy, but definitely not impossible. If the Prince wanted peace, he'd have it.*
So funny... You offering peace to others, when you do not even have it yourself... You are nothing, how can you keep the peace? Sheriff indeed... Such a pitiful position... You will falter, even in this, you pathetic excuse for a VAMPIRE!*
He grunts with the sudden explosion of force from his insanities, and for a moment, everything drops from him like a shroud, and the images of his slain family dance about him, their haughty faces twisted with pretentious derision.
"No." His voice is a croak within his clenched throat, not even a whisper, but more like unto a gutteral gasp of pain. "Not now... not here." He drops to his knees, his head clasped tightly between his hands. "You. Do. Not. Control. ME!"
With a groan, he pulls himself to his feet, his incredible willpower pushing his insanity back until only their laughter plays in his ears...
"You need to dance, James. Get rid of some of this energy. The night is almost over... Better make use of what is left." Talia stands near him, her comforting hand resting lightly on his shoulder. "Come with me, I'll show you how."*
Her voice is calm, inviting, and James allows himself to be led off of the platform, down the stairs, and into the twisting morass of people still dancing vigorously on the floor, completely oblivious to the happenings so nearby.
A few minutes later, and he is moving within the sultry patterns taught to him by his beautiful partner, his slender hands moving in concert with hers, an intricate dance of touch and movement... The seduction of their bodies causing many to simply gasp and watch breathlessly as their dance takes them slowly through the crowd.
It's colder than before
The seasons took all they had come for
Now winter dances here
It seems so fitting don't you think?
Dress the ground in white
It's so quiet I can hear
My thoughts touching every second I spent
Waiting for you
Circumstances affords me
No second chance
To tell you
How much I've missed you
My beloved do you know
When the warm wind comes again
Another year will start to pass
And please don't ask me why I'm here
Something deeper brought me
That I need to remember
We were once young and blessed with wings
No heights could keeps us from their reach
No sacred place we did not soar
Still greater things burned within us
I don't regret the choices that I've made
I know you feel the same
My beloved do you know
How many times I stared at clouds
Thinking that I saw you there
These are feelings that do not pass so easily
I can't forget what we claimed was ours
Moments lost though time remains
I am so proud of what we were
No pain remains
Grant me wings that I might fly
My restless soul is longing
No pain remains
Moments lost though time remains
I am so proud of what we were
No pain remains
Grant me wings that I might fly
My restless soul is longing
No pain remains
Lyrics by VNV Nation, from their single "Beloved"
This is out of timeline. I just wanted to go ahead and post it.
A muffled scream sounds from James' laboratory, and James emerges a few moments later with a disgusted look on his face. He heads to the kitchen and begins washing his hands in the sink.
Talia looks up at him from the bar, a goblet filled with deep crimson liquid situated to her right, and a thick book splayed open before her. "Rough night?"
James grunts, still angrily washing his hands and arms, the steel sink already splashed with crimson. "Yeah... The f.ucker is hanging on to life with a tenacity that annoys me. Normally, extending the life of my patients is a good thing, but this one refuses to give me any satisfactory signs of pain."
He shakes his head, and proceeds to dry his hands off on a towel. "I'm not going for the Martyr Hunters anymore. They are already too f.ucked up to provide any real enjoyment, and they are all "dying for the Cause." Their propoganda just gets horribly annoying."
With a sigh, he tosses the towel onto the counter near the sink, and he walks over to lean against the other side of the bar from where Talia is sitting. "So, what are you studying now?"
She smiles slightly, and lifts the book for him to see the words "Disertation on the Ancient Greeks" by Frankiefer Gortalz, and James snorts in response. "The Greeks were interesting people, but Gortalz hasn't a clue. He's got his head so far up his own ass that he wouldn't see true genius if it stepped up and slugged him. Furthermore, he's the current darling child among the intellectual Elite, so no one acknowledges the fact that he's full of shit."
Talia gives him a look, and shuts the book with a snap. "Well, thank you for your opinion, asshole." She stands and shakes her head. "You really know how to ruin a good book..."
She gives him a withering glare, and then lets it fade away with a slight smile. "Doesn't matter, don't bother apologizing. I've wanted to give you something all night anyway..." With that, she turns on her heel and strides out of the door.
Mumbling something under his breath, James hurries after her, finally catching up with her as she waits for the elevator. "So, where are we going?"
She looks at him with a sort of half-smile. "To the garage. I've got something for you." He gives her a cockeyed glance, and then shrugs a little. "Interesting. I always like new things..."
That illicits a grin from Talia as she leads him into the elevator and presses the button for the bottom floor. "Well, I have a feeling you are really going to like this new thing."
Neither of them talked for the remainder of their descent, and James wordlessly follows her out into the underground garage, his dark eyes sweeping the parkinglot for anything out of the ordinary. Finally, his eyes settle on what looks like a bike covered in a tarp. "That was not there before, Talia..."
A soft giggle escapes her lips, and she motions forward. "Go ahead, unveil it."
Without revealing any excitement, James steps forward and pulls the tarp off of the bike.
Smith saw her walking to the stairs and leaving. He knew that he should follow her, but he was also uncertain about how the True Ones would react if he walked out in the middle of what was supposed to be an important speech by their elder. Luckily, the elder dismissed the whole crowd just as Areagne descended from view, and Smith rushed after her.
With decades of practice behind him, Smith had no problem following his target without looking obvious about it. She probably wouldn't have noticed if she had stopped to look for him. She just rushed across the club floor, looking as cross as when he had first approached her upstairs, and out the door. Smith caught up in a few seconds, startling her with his sudden presence as the door shut.
So, it was to begin. He could finally get some answers...
"So, I see we're on the same side."
Areagne spun at his words, eyes flashing, hand reaching for his throat ... and seeing him, forced herself to let it pass. "Side? I don't know what 'side' you're talking about. What is it you wanted in speaking with me, boy?"
"You seemed to take quite a bit of interest in that young woman earlier, the one in the silver dress. She's obviously a powerful one, but I don't know what kind of power. So I want to know what you know."
"Bah ... a pretender, enamoured with her own imagined importance, caught up in an ideal that does not fit here. No more than that. She's gone. I wouldn't concern yourself with her. Is that all you brought me out here to ask?" she said, the hint of a growl in her voice at his audacity.
"She seemed more than that. A threat, perhaps. After all, we do require stability, and she was not strike me as one who would maintain it."
"More a liability than a threat, I think."
"And where is she now?"
She scoffed. "So long as she remains outside my bounds, I care not."
"And how far do your bounds stretch?" he asked, persisting.
"Seek her yourself if you're so inclined." She gestured around with an outstretched hand. "This. The outlying lands. The hillsides and forrests, farmlands beyond. We range rather far, little man. As well you should know."
"Having worked in many other locations, I am well aware of how far we range. I was merely asking about your personal territory."
"As was I. Here in the city, you're bound to their rules and observances. Out there ... you're bound to mine. More to the point, in your worries, I think you'd be better served paying attention to those newcomers who've stayed, rather than she who's left."
"Wise words indeed. In any case, it is good to hear that the 'liability,' as you called her, has been gotten rid of. And what can you tell me of those who have stayed?"
Areagne nods quietly, her eyes narrowing. "She would not survive an attempt to return. As for the others, have you been taught nothing?"
"I have been taught much in my time, and first and foremost to always be aware of those around me. I have been aware of their presence, but I am unfortunately unfamiliar with many of their histories and motives. You, on the other hand, seem to be quite familiar with those."
He pauses for a moment, then continues. "Particularly the new sherriff."
"Even you should have the sense to note the power in that one. Steer clear if you value what 'life' you have," she says in a cold voice.
"The power is obvious. What concerns me more is how he intends to use it."
Areagne laughs, seeming wildly amused. "And how should I know that? Go ask him yourself if you're so curious. See what his answer is."
"Very well. I thank you humbly for your time and patience."
"Watch yourself, boy ... there are far more machinations at work than simply our new Sherriff and Prince."
"As always," he says, though pressing again for more. "But I don't suppose you would divulge what you know of those?"
Soaking in the night air, she replies with wry grin. "What care I of the petty politics and concerns here, so long as my own run remains clear of it? What I know I use for myself and my pack. Use your gifts, your wits, what contacts you have to gain the knowledge you seek. It's easy enough to see the Jyhad has been suspended here. That alone should cause you to think."
"I fear there is more than just thinking to be done, but that shall come in its own time. Anyway, I thank you again for your answers."
"As you see fit. Happy hunting."
"To you as well." With that, Smith turned and walked back into the club, his mind running feverishly over all he had just heard.
Areagne watches him go, her eyes narrowed, pondering. Silly boy, speaking to me of 'decades' of experience. Damned trickster ... going to get himself into more trouble than his hide is worth. The audacity, questioning me as if I were some damned informant. Still, she chuckles, oddly amused.
"The boy has balls, I'll give him that."
She glances around again, then quietly walks back into the building to observe, and hopefully, to feed.
(ooc: worked out over AIM)
Slowly, the last song winds to a close, and a soft chime reverberates through the club. All of a sudden it seems as if the vendors were simply not there, and the only thing the bartender was doing was calmly whiping down the already-pristine bartop.
As effeciently as clockwork, the people begin to filter out, some grumbling about the "elite" that get to stay behind, others finding out for the first night that being "elite" was not all that it was cracked up to be...
And then, only the Damned remain, and James finds himself walking alone atop the warehouse, the setting moon huge and brilliant in the sky above him. He places a cigarette between his lips and flicks his lighter, momentarily filled with a sense of fear.
"Ya know, I love this new 'habit', but I'll never know if I'll get used to the flare..." He shrugs, and extends the pack of Camel Filters to the ghostly form rising into being. "Like guns. I love what I know about 'em... But I get the feeling they would do little more than put a Kin into Torpor..."*
((Conversation will continue on IRC, and will be posted later))
Celeste walked out of the bathroom, trying to get the alcohol off of her body. She saw the two dancing. "Hmmm, now isn't that interesting." She placed her hand on her hip and was contemplating something. She looked over at the drunk kine that had spilled the drink at her and smiled. A smile like a cat knowing that it would get the mouse.
She walked over the man. He started to tremble. "Hey, I just came over here to ask you for a dance with me. So, would you?" She wasn't about to apologize this was the closest she would get.
He shrugged his shoulders. Then put his arms around her. He was sweaty and hot, she tried to brush off the feeling of nausea she was experiencing. She moved with the music. She had always felt the music within her and it pulled her like a toymaker does with one of his string toys, but she was more fluid. The man couldn't keep up and he stopped and watched her. She didn't want to take the attention away from the couple that was dancing, so she moved alittle more sloppy than usual. She didn't want to stand out at this moment, she wanted to blend in. A few people around her stopped and watched, but the majority either were dancing or they were watching the other couple. She danced alone and closed her eyes to let the song take control. This would be the only time she would ever allow something to take control of her. She would fight the urges, but never this. The song changed and she decided to stop. She opened her eyes. The room changed slightly, not noticable to the kine, but noticable to her. The colors were more brillant in a deery sort of way. She never thought that that was possible. She walked back to the bartender and asked for a water. No sense in losing her sense. She was not sure of what would happen tonight. "Here ya go Celeste. Are you enjoying yourself?"
"Sure." She meant it, but her voice was distant.
"I think you might have had an affect on that man."
"What would you ever mean by that?"
"Oh, don't play dumb. Look he is over in the corner trying to pry off that gold knob of the wall."
Celeste began to laugh.
"Well, Celeste, I am closing up here. You are welcome to stay a bit."
"Might just do that. I don't know where I am going to go. I need to make some phone calls and see if I can crash somewhere. I didn't get to the bank in time to get some money. Might just spend the whole night on the street and find an dark corner."
"Don't be silly. YOu can stay at my place. I am good friends with your folks. That is it can be the last resort if you feel uncomfortable."
"Thanks." She picked up her silver cell phone and began to dial a number.
Adelaide stepped quietly out of the shadows near the stairwell, sighing softly as she did so. Her face bore a small frown as she walked, her mind still running over the knowledge she had gained. The knowledge, coupled with a rather mediocre meal, had done little to ease her brooding.
Still, she licked her lips and glanced around, somewhat satisfied. Apparently, her absence had gone unnoticed by the denizens of the club, and so she walked without worry to the entrance. Her mind still puzzled over William's riddle of a note, but in the end, she shrugged it off as she left the building. Whoever "He" was would make himself known in time.
Gathering her coat around her, she then turned to entwining the scarf around her neck. There was a small walk to her car, but her keys were in hand. On nights like these, she preferred to drive herself.
As she walked down the sidewalk, her scarf snagged against one of the coat's buttons, pulling the scarf tighter around her night. She stopped momentarily to readjust it, looking up as she did so.
Her violet eyes caught only a faint impression of something on the roof. She arched an eyebrow, at first mistaking it for some sort of fixture. But a feeling started to creep up inside of her, forcing her to look longer. She saw a faint glow, and tilting her head to the side, made out the shape of a person... someone who certainly felt familiar. Her eyes widened as she spoke a name softly, but as soon as her voice spilled forth, the person was gone.
Adelaide blinked, frowning again as her eyes scanned the area. It couldn't have been dream. It couldn't have been wishful thinking. She remained for a moment more, and then reluctantly began walking to her car. She whispered to herself, "William and his incessant riddles... his incessant conspiracies... Now he's even gotten me seeing things." She glanced again at the building before shaking her head and getting into the car.
Celeste slammed her cell phone against the counter top. The bartender looked up at her. "Something wrong, Celeste?"
"Nah." She began to gnaw on her finger nails. She saw that a lot of the people that were previously there were stumbling out the door. She sighed. What am I going to do.
James lights his cigarette, momentarily startled by the all-too-unfamilliar flare of the lighter, and sighs softly before taking a deep drag. He smiles to himself, and then offers the pack of camels to the figure fading in from the shadows. "I'm growing to like this "habit"... though I don't think I'll ever get used to the lighters...
Areagne shys away slightly, eyes glittering. "Thank you, no," she says
quietly, watching him closely.
He shrugs, placing the pack in a deep outer pocket. "Ah... Some take to
it, some don't." He shrugs again and takes another long drag. A few moments pass, and another cloud of smoke wafts away from him before he finally breaks the silence. "You don't like me very much, do you?"
Areagne smiles, and moves over to lean against one of the air
conditioning units dotting the top of the warehouse. "I don't like not knowing where things stand, lets say."
He snorts in response to that, and expels a lengthy puff of smoke. "Well... How can I clear things up a bit for you?"
Areagne stretches, taking a moment to shake out her thick auburn hair. "Quite the ... revelation you made back there, James. Not something most would metion lightly. Things have gone into a spin since you woke. Itseems nothing has escaped being changed, whether coincidence or no. It makes those of us accustomed to our patterns ... edgy."
He shakes his head in exasperation and takes another drag off of his quickly dying cigarette before responding. "Revelation?" He laughs suddenly. "I couldn't give two shits about the Black Hand right now, just as they don't give two shits about me. Do you really think that if they cared so much about our relationship, they would have let me sleep so long?"
Areagne shakes her head, unconvinced. "That's the problem with kindred politics. Hard to judge. I daresay when they catch wind of your waking, they'll damn well take notice."
That elicits another laugh from James, and he continues. "Kindred
politics are a joke. Everyone is simply out for number one, unless they are so enamored with being member of "clan X" that they strive for the betterment of that. Let's just say I've become... disillusioned with both the Camarilla and the Sabbat.
She shrugs, and crosses her legs at the ankles, leaning further back
against the unit. "I can understand that, all in all. Too often a petty mob of
those scrambling for power. Still, it's unwise to dismiss them all so
lightly. Even for one such as yourself. And with the current change in policies here, I fear we're going to attract attention from both sides.
James smirks at that, and moves over to perch on the side of the air
conditioning unit. "Correction: The Elder is going to attract attention. Remember, Kindred politics focus on the leaders. Who commanded what." He laughs. "The Elder just made himself a huge target, and whenever the shit falls, he's the one that will get all the blame."
Areagne gives him a look, her tone taking on a sarcastic tone. "Aye, and in
such, often those close to them, 'Sherriff'."
James simply shrugs in response. "For now, I keep the peace, that is my
sole duty, same as any Justicar, Cardinal, Archon, or Prisci. Furthermore, I
have little to fear from the Sabbat side of things..."
With a growl, Areagne pushes herself away from the unit and whirls to look at him, fire in her eyes. "I won't pretend to like it. The last Prince was a joke, but it was a peaceable enough area. I sense too much chaos in the future. Well and fine for yourself, I suppose. Still... what's on your mind, James? Surely more than idle talk of politics and ideology."
James pulls his legs up onto the unit, and holds his knees. "I'm not sure, actually... I don't know what drove me to awaken. I sense a purpose, an incredible longing." He shrugs and shakes his head. "Perhaps I was lonely, lying there in the dirt.... I have no desire for power, leadership, control. I want to amuse myself, and to try and keep away from the demons that haunt me all too frequently."
Areagne arches a brow, looking at James differently than she had previously. "Purpose. I suppose we all need that after a while. Perhaps, given the latter there, you feel a need to share this ... purpose?" She seems to shiver slightly at the mention of demons, thinking back over the night and her own struggles to maintain control.
James sighs, and flicks his burnt-out cigarette out over the road. "I guess... But as I sit here and think about it, I do have one purpose..."
Areagne tenses slightly, watching James warily. "And that would be ..."
He smiles, and lights another cigarette, once again flinching at the flare of the flame. "My Children. For too long have the Children of Malkav been opressed, ignored, laughed at." He clenches his jaw. "No longer."
"Power," Areagne replies, "for your progeny rather than yourself, is it?" she says, eyes narrowing slightly.
He laughs sourly. "No. None of us want power. None of us want our faces rubbed in the dirt either."
A little further away, Cameron peeks around the corner, trying to remain Hidden while he eavesdrops.
Oblivious, James continues, his words quickly growing into a rant. "Do you even know what it is like to be mocked by EVERYBODY? Even yourself, with your animalistic tendancies, you know nothing of what we've been through. Not only do we have to deal with our own inner problems, but we are the fucking scapegoat for the totality of Kindred society." He pauses for a moment, and then his voice turns cold and bitter. "We are the unwashed toilet, the despoiled red-headed stepchild that no one wants, and no one understands."
Areagne shrugs, chuckling softly. "Perhaps ... perhaps not. Especially with the last reign, we were less than popular here. Not 'civilized' enough for the pretties. I've found, however, that you needn't accept what others dole out, James. No one can make you what you are not without your permission."
James laughs, mercilessly. "Which is why I say no longer, Areagne. I will not allow my Children to be mistreated."
Interrupting before he can continue his ranting, Areagne's voice is soft, cautious. "Going to start your own private Jyhad against the kindred, James?"
He makes a short wave of dismissal and glares at her, his face wreathed in smoke. "Why does everyone assume that? I merely wish to be the instrument of causality.
Areagne looks him over, then looks away, staring out over the city. "It had to be asked. Clarity is never a bad thing to have." She pauses, testing the air as the wind shifts, then looks around suspiciously.
Around the corner of one of the large exhaust vents, Cameron catches his breath, always forgetting he doesn't need to breathe.
James notices her sudden apprehension and casts his senses about the top as Areagne growls, low and threatening, ears pricking towards the faint sound. "Someone is here." Her voice is barely distinguishable from her low growl, and James instantly turns to look at the direction her posture indicates.
Cameron whimpers and turns to flee, burning Blood for speed, and James flickers into motion, his eyes darting past Areagne towards Cameron as he blurs past moments after as he shoots across the top of the warehouse, his entire body suddenly catapulted into inhuman speed.
He hurtles foward, yanking Cameron off of his feet and hurling him bodily to the floor. He yelps in surprise and panic, his arms yanking up to cover his face. "Don't kill me, please!" He wriggles, his supernatural camouflage twisting eerily in the darkness.
Areagne straightens somewhat, her eyes flickering to the pup writhing on the ground, lips pulled back in a snarl. "You know this whelp?"
James stands above Cameron, the blessing of his chaotic mind allowing him to see straight through Cameron's camoflage. "No, but he's obviously either very stupid, or too damn young to know better." He crouches low, his face inches from Cameron's. "Why were you watching us?"
"I...I...you...I don't know." Cameron whimpers, his protests ending in a whisper, as he shivers uncontrollably.
Areagne snorts derisively at the show of cowardice. "Kill him," she says, waving a clawed hand dismissively. "No... Something interests me..." He stands and looks down at the prone neonate, his eyes narrowing. With a snarl, he reaches down and jerks the erstwhile Cameron to his feet. "Who are you." His voice ringing with command. "And no whining."
"I'm Cameron, I...just...I don't know how I got here." He pauses, wringing his hands as he peers at James. "You remind me of...them."
Smith walked back into the club, somewhat disappointed with his conversation. He knew now that Areagne was working for the bad guys, though he had no idea in what capacity. Given her power, probably something high up in the chain of command; hell, they could even be working for her. In any case, she wouldn't talk about it, and she was far too powerful for the usual methods to work on her.
But what of this James Starke who had entered the picture tonight? Areagne's words had suggested that he was not yet claimed by any particular organization, other than the local kindred. Not that this meant much - given where in the world they were, the local kindred could prove to be very significant outside the world of mere vampire politics. It made even more sense considering that the True Ones were now in charge. Shit. This was just not going well. For all the practice he'd gotten since his embrace, Smith's job just wasn't getting any easier. He had to see what Starke was up to, what this new arrival wanted with the kindred and everyone else involved. Maybe it would be possible to bring him over...
As Smith leaned against the wall, absorbed in thought, he spotted Areagne hurrying across the floor and up the stairs. He moved swiftly to follow her, and reached the second floor just in time to see her climb out onto the roof. It would be dangerous to follow her there; he would be too easy to spot, and it was unlikely that she was there alone. Smith wondered what he could do about this, until he spotted another vampire clumsily climbing into an air duct. This one was younger, although Smith couldn't tell by how much. He had a somewhat nervous but excided look about him. He was careless though; his actions would have been ridiculously apparent had there been anyone else up here. Good thing Smith could stay hidden. Perhaps he could talk to this younger one later, find out what was going on up there. After all, that one was already risking his life sneaking up to the roof; there was no need for Smith to join him when he could find out everything he needed to know afterward.
Hiding in the corner, Smith listened carefully for any sign of people coming back down. After several minutes, he heard what sounded like shouting, reverberating through the air duct. Starke. He was up there. Smith's hands dropped back into his pockets, then withdrew. This would be a lot less dangerous if he looked less suspicious. He stayed in his corner a moment longer, waiting...
Celeste stood up. That was it. She was just going to go to some hotel and spend the night until more money arrived and she could finally get into that flat she intended on staying. Money can be so slow these days. She was used to going to a place and it would all be ready for her. I suppose this is fine because this trip wasn't planned, those were. "Thanks for the drinks. Maybe I will stop back the next night I can, which could be tomorrow. Have a good night." She waved goodbye as she walked out of the door. The air was brisk and thin. The fog must have risen already. She didn't hear a sound, which was odd she always would hear something. She reached into her purse and grabbed a cigerette. She had to stop this nasty habit. She hated the smelland that was about it. She lit it and took a drag. She blew the smoke into the air and watched it spread out and finally disappear. She took another and heard a scream. What the hell was that? It sounded like it came from the air ducts. She followed the direction of the sound and went around the corner and noticed a man standing in the shadow. he was darker than the shadow. She asked, but sounded more like a growl,"What the hell do you think you are doing back there? Did you cause that sound?"
Waiting for Cameron to post... Will post my charsheet while waiting.*
Name: James Starke / Jaime Mclellen / Petr Vlodostic*
Clan: Malkavian *
Sire: The Dionysian*
Concept: Dark Killer*
Physical: Str 5 (Iron Grip), Dex 6 (Lightning Reflexes), Sta 4
Social: Cha 2, Man 5 (Persuasive), App 3*
Mental: Per 4, Int 4, Wit 4*
Talents: Alertness 3, Athletics 5* (Sidestep), Brawl 6 (Killing Blow), Dodge 4, Empathy 2, Intimidation 4, Leadership 3, Streetwise 2, Subterfuge 2, Throwing 3, Scan 3
Abilities: Firearms 6 (Pistols), Melee 6 (Knives), Stealth 3, Survival 3, Torture 5 (Prolonging Life), Meditation 2, Heavy Weapons 3, Fast-draw 4, Demolitions 1
Knowledges: Linguistics 3, Medicine 4, Occult 5 (Rituals), Kuldunic Sorcery 5, Bodycrafts 5 (Pain)
Backgrounds: Resources 2, Generation 3, Age 6, Contacts 4, Allies 5*
Virtues: Conscience 1, Self-Control 5, Courage 4, Willpower 10, Path of Pain 6
Disciplines: Auspex 3, Dementate 8, Obsfucate 6, Celerity 4, Potence 5, Vicissitude 8
Derangements: Paranoid Schitzophrenia, Hallucinations (Somatic, Auditory, Visual), Obsessive (Weapons, Killing, Torture), Pure Hate (Toreador)
Merits: Concentration (-1), Acute Vision (-1), Iron Will (-3), Ambidextrous (-1)
Flaws: Taint of Corruption (+1), Clan Enmity (+2), Permanent Wound (+3)*
OOC: Now that's we've established what James was waiting for, here's the next leg of that conversation.
IC: James releases Cameron and steps backwards, his dark eyes peering intently into the erstwhile Kindred's face. "Them?"
"The...the others...the strange ones...so beautiful. Horrible. Their bodies..." He stops and shudders.
James raises an eyebrow, instant curiousity filtering into his mind. "The Nosferatu?" He smirks slightly... "I'd hardly call them beautiful."
Cameron shakes his head violently. "No! Not those. The others, the new ones. The ones who twisted THEMSELVES."
The expression hits him in the face almost like a physical blow, and paranoia spreads where curiousity once held solid control. His now-burning eyes shift towards Areagne, and then back to Cameron. A momentary pause of indescision stays James' hand, and then he lifts his right arm and focuses the Disease.
Cameron flinches in anticipation of a blow.
James' hand twists and remolds itself, the bones and flesh reknitting itself into an elongated and slender version of its original form. The perfectly round hole in the centre of his hand warps and twists with the Transformation, but remains essentially unchanged.
His voice is quiet, almost sacrosanct in tone... "The Tzimisce."
Cameron's eyes widen, and he nods vigorously. "Yes! Them."
He shakes his head and pulls his hand away, hiding both of them behind his back as if ashamed of their existance. "What do you know of them... of me?" His voice is still quiet, and his eyes no longer hold the cold fire of absolute control. "What do you see... in me?"
"You're...beautiful..." Cameron breathes.
"Beautiful?" He laughs scornfully, his tone absolutely bitter. "Attaining this 'beauty mark' was far from beautiful, childe.
"Who are you? What are you?"
James rolls his eyes, already reigniting as his anger begins to grow. "I know that, dipshit. I meant, who ARE you? What is your purpose? Are you a messanger? A test? What?"
Cameron blinks in confusion and cowers. "I don't know! I don't understand! I'm just me!" He sinks to the floor and shakes. "Who...who are you? Please don't hurt me!"
James sighs and looks down at the crumpled man. "I am James. The bastard childe of a forgotten Sire. The victim, the experiment, the torturetoy of Sascha Vykos."
He pauses for a moment, then adds, "I am NOT beautiful."
Cameron frowns and peers up at James. "If you say so. Who said you were?"
He looks a little closer and begins to laugh, a deep wellspring flowing from inside of him... "You truely don't know who/what you are aside from being Cameron? Do you even know of the Curse?"
Cameron frowns, relaxing slightly. "Cameron. My name is Cameron? What curse do I have? Why do you know my name, and I don't? What have you done with me? What do you want with me?"
With a growl, James moves forward and grabs Cameron by the head, his long fingers reaching nearly all the way about it. "REMEMBER!" He focuses, and then fills Cameron's mind with a highly-tailored hallucination, detailing the past ten minutes. "REMEMBER, Damnit!"
Suddenly, he sees a face in Cameron's subconscious, and he falls away from him, jerking his arms back in rage and sudden fear. "Sascha..."
Cameron collapses to the floor, his face a blank as he struggles to register the new information. He huddles up in a ball and rocks back and forth, whimpering.
Suddenly, something catches his attention, and James glances over the side of the roof towards the car now slowly driving away. Something grabs him, drawing him away. The sudden revelation from Cameron snags at him as well, and the horrible feeling of being twisted in two.
He growls and looks to Areagne. "This creature is a descendant of mine. Watch him, keep him safe... I'll return in a moment..." With a last glance at Cameron, he suddenly transforms, massive black wings sprouting from a back suddenly monsterous and covered in black pus He howls in a strange mixture of pleasure and pain, and then suddenly leaps into the air, his massive wings aiding his leap with a powerful downwards stroke. For a moment, he hangs in the air above them, and then rockets towards the rapidly departing car.
Adelaide's car raced down the less frequented parts of the highway, her road running parallel with the river. Only as a sidenote did the lights from the city even enter her notice. Instead, her mind still focused upon what she thought she had seen upon that warehouse building.
"I should go back," she murmured. "What if it was him? What if he's still there?"
Yet somehow, she couldn't force herself to go back. Thoughts of it having been some hallucination or something worse kept stumbling around in the back of her mind. And what were the chances that if it was real, that he'd still be there?
She sighed, ending her strange little monologue as her car slid under the stone arch of the gates. With a frown, she looked at the mansion that stood quietly before her. The place had been her late husband's, and even though it was a dreary thing to look at, it still provided what comforts could be afforded given her situation. A few lights were lit, clearly meant to welcome her home, but, remembering that she had told the staff to retire early for the evening, she knew that no one would be there to greet her.
She parked the car near the side entrance and got out beneath the stone portico. She started walking away from the car when she felt that familiar prickle at the back of her neck, like a cold breath against the tender flesh of her neck that made her stop immediately. She stood frozen for a moment, before a smile crept slowly over her face.
It HAD to be him.
Knowing that she was still within sight of the street, she turned back towards the car. Adelaide leisurely moved passed it and continued on to the gardens behind the house. As she walked she whispered, knowing that he'd hear her, "Come to bring some excitement back into my life, hmm? The world WAS getting dull without you."
Introspection does not allow for much inspiration in the mind of a Malkavian, and as James soars through the darkness, that fact becomes all too clear. Who was this woman, and why was he chasing after her? Why did she mean so much to him, the Killer, the Assassin?
His thoughts tumbled through his mind in a jumbled whirl, and yet he still follows her car with dogged persistance. Twice, he passes above her like a shadow, seeking clues in her destination, his mind always one step behind the answer. Ever elusive, and yet so close to his grasping thoughts.
Finally,*her car turns into a massive mansion, and he senses the wards and incantations building up around the beautiful building. And just as he senses them, burning words float to the surface of his mind, only to disappear as he whispers them into the wind.
Curling tendrils of incredible magic unfurl about him as his words open doorways that only he could pass through, and he drifts downwards on warm currents of air to land quietly in the garden. He shifts back into his normal form, and the black pus receed from his torn clothing.
Then her words waft across the garden, and suddenly memories begin to flood through his mind as if a dam had broken loose in his mind... and suddenly, he remembered.
The moment he steps through the wards and makes landfall in her yard, she knows. That smile upon her face deepens as she turns to him, hearing her name upon his lips. For a moment, she simply stands before him like a child caught misbehaving who knows, with pleasure, that there will be no punishment for her actions.
Her coy smirk remains as she slowly walks forward, examining him in great detail. As she walks around him, she hides her smiles at the rents in his clothing. Delicious thoughts of him following her all this way and in a hurry made her chuckle softly to herself. Her violet eyes locked upon his as she finally turned to meet him. Her hand reached up to caress his cheek, as if in final test to see if he really stood before her. Satsified with her verdict, she leaned forward with a kiss that betrayed an ancient passion that still burned with intensity.
"Hello Lameth," she whispered after a time. She grinned much more naturally and took his hand, leading him to the back entrance of the mansion. "Come, you must tell me everything. If you're awake, you must be up to something."
OOC: New conversation being worked on as we speak. Will be added shortly.
Her kiss enfolded him with a most wonderful sense of delight, and as his arms encircle her, it is almost as if he is merely watching as something else took control of his body. Gently at first, their kiss slowly grows in passion until it almost seems as if nothing else in the entire universe mattered, only her lips and his, locked in a passion that only the truely long-lived can know. *
Finally, regretably, the kiss comes to an end, and James steps back to regain his sense of bearing, to try and understand the almost-forgotten sensations coursing through his body. Was it love? Was it lust? What was it that caused his long-dead heart to quivver within his chest, and set his every extremity tingling with an excitement not felt since he was alive?
"Hello, Lameth." She whispered after a time...
There it was, that name... The name that haunted his torpic dreams, the name that brought him to conciousness. Was that him? Who else? And even as he wondered, he begins to speak, once again with the feeling that his body was no longer his own. "Well, the same can be said of you, my dear."
She laughed softly, her voice offering a slightly musical sound to her laughter. She gave his hand a faint tug. "Then I suppose we'll just have to start conspiring together again. Now, come inside; there will be no one to disturb us in our little plots."
James snorts, and allows himself to be led into her home, his dark eyes glancing around at the ornamentation, a sort of half-smile curling his lips. "Nice place, though I would have decorated a little differently..." His smile becomes a full grin. "Plus, your wards are weak, a fool with half a brain stem could wander in and you'd be at his mercy."
Her eyes dart back to his, that all too playful smirk upon her lips, "Or he'd be at mine."
She sighed softly, motioning around, "I do think you are right though. This place does need quite a bit of renovating. Yet, it was suited for other tastes, namely my late husband's who died ever so tragically." She cast him a naughty little look that left no doubt about the absence of guilt or grief.
He snorts at her comment and shakes his head in a mockery of indignation. "I swear!" He laughs suddenly with her, and takes an offered seat near the grated fire in the library. "So, my dear... Since you asked first, I will tell you." He sighs, and then begins. "There seems to be quite the influx, as of late, of horribly open breaches of this Masquerade business. Normally, I wouldn't bother with such pishposh, but this time..." He shrugs, and crosses his legs, internally surprised at both the strange language he is speaking, and the rather formal usage.
"These breeches have awakened the interest of the Society of Leopold, and more importantly, the Church of Endless Regrets."
She sheds her coat and scarf, setting them upon an armchair close by as she listens to him. She glides softly into her seat across from him and frowns at his mention of whom might be interested in the breech. She leaned forward, placing her hands in her lap, "Do you have any idea as to what or who is causing these breeches?"
"Actually, that was the easy part. There is a brood of Kindred, though I am not sure which lineage, that are calling themselves by the surname "Shentavo". These rather inept fools are going about preaching some gospel of Vampire Redemntion beyond Golconda... Intrigued at first, I looked into it, and to tell you the truth, I am not at all impressed."
One of her delicate eyebrows arched in curiosity, "And the hard part, my love?"
He sighs and leans his head back in his chair. "Finding these bastards without attracting undu attention. They've spread like the plague, and the totality of the Hunter community is in an uproar. The Society has gone so far as to begin contracting entire national militaries in search for the Kindred, and thousands of 'innocent' Kindred and non-kindred have already been killed." He shakes his head sadly. "Did none of these people learn ANYTHING during the Inquisition?"
For a moment, she looked down at her hands, frowning in memory. She recalled with clarity what living in those times had forced her to do. As she focused upon those memories, she made a slight shudder before looking up. She reached her hand out to clasp and hold his, drawing closer to him, "How may I help?"*
He sighs, and gently squeezes her hand. "You're so warm..." He looks up into her eyes, an intense wave of sadness boiling over him. "I..."*
He shakes his head, and forces himself back into focus... She could take care of herself. The mere fact that she was still here while so many were not, was the ultimate testamony to that. "You've got a Human Avatar... That could prove extremely useful in the months ahead. I could use a pair of eyes during the sunlit hours."*
She squeezed his hand softly, "Over the years, I have found that it sometimes helps to possess one. However, it does make other things dangerous. The others are still drawn to the scent of a human without fully comprehending the consequences." She shrugged lightly, eyeing him slowly, "There are several advantages to an avatar regardless..." She drew his hand to her lips, turning it over so that his palm faced her. Her eyes were still upon him as she let her heated breath spill over his palm before she left a lingering kiss upon it.*
Another smile curls the edges of James' lips, and he stands to step over to her. "That isn't the only benefit..." He gently draws her to her feet, and begins to slowly undress her...
(End of the night for James, FINALLY. If you people wish to interact with the Elder, or any of the others at the club that I control, feel free. Otherwise, please bring your first night's revelries to a close so I can start up at the evening of the next.)
Areagne growls softly at the back of her throat, though she keeps her teeth behind her lips, glaring at James as he casually hands off Cameron to her care. She watches him transform and leave with narrowed eyes, one clawed hand reaching out to hold Cameron still, in case he's inclined to bolt.
She didn't like it. Not a bit of it. And bidding her babysit this Childe for him? True, he was powerful, and she was wary of it, but she had her pride.
Even the mightiest prey can be brought down when the pack works in harmony ... there are those who do well to watch themselves.
Turning back to Cameron, she looks down at him with cool disdain, one brow arched. "Well, pick yourself up, boy. I'm sure as hell not camping it out up here tonight. If I have to babysit, we're doing it my way."
Listening through the vents, Smith was a little displeased to hear Areagne's voice coming from up above. He would get no more information out of her tonight, and having her guard Cameron meant that the younger vampire would likely be inaccessible as well. Given that Cameron had seen (and likely heard) the conversation between the two elders, it would be vital to talk to him at some point, away from Areagne's supervision. Smith was not at all happy with the alliances that seemed to be forming here tonight. Whatever was going on here, he had to make sure it didn't get out of control. It was bad enough that he was among the youngest of the vampires; being completely out of the loop was not going to help.
As soon as he heard movement from the roof, Smith bolted down to the main floor and toward the door, trying to keep an eye on too much at once. On his way out, he heard someone muttering nearby. It was the one he had seen during the meeting, the strangely familiar one with the look of simultaneous omniscience and obliviousness.
"And from his hands and side did ooze his essence, collected by the slaves in great rivers of power that climbed up his tree into the heavens themselves..."
Shit, thought Smith. Another one. On the other hand, maybe he'll have something worth telling me. Continuing out the door to where he could watch the roof, he invited the stranger to join him in the cool night air.
Adelaide awakens slowly in the darkness of the room. Stretching slightly under the weight of James's arm, her yawn comes across more as a seductive purr. She smiles soflyt, reaching up to clasp his arm and offers a kiss to the top of his shoulder.
She glances around the darkened room, letting her eyes adjust to make out the faint shapes of the furniture. Out of strange habit, she had kept this room as a bedroom, knowing that it would never catch the rays of sunlight. Or at least, her house staff thought it strange. Why not make it into a storage, a study, something more useful? She smiled, remembering their questions days after her husband had died and she went on a tiny redecorating spree. She had even convinced them that her "grief" was the cause of all those changes.
She chuckled lightly and then shifted out from under James's sleeping form. She stood up slowly and donned a simple, black house robe. She walked over to the console by the door and pushed a button, drowsily whispering into it, "Andrew, what time is it?"
A man's voice crackled back, "Four o'clock in the afternoon, Madam."
She nodded, as if he could see her, and then spoke again, "Bring up some breakfast, and tell the others that I'm not to be disturbed. I am unwell this morning and need the rest. Also, cancel all appointments for the day."
"Yes Madam. Shall I send for a doctor?"
She grinned. Andrew... He always was so blatantly concerned about her health... amid other things. She spoke again, "No thank you, Andrew. Just some breakfast."
While she waited, her mind traveled back with a joyful smirk to the events of last night. Her eyes glanced upon James as he rested, not even making a sound or movement. She had forgotten how quiet the undead were when they slept. She chaclked it up to the fact that she had spent the last fifty years among humanity, perfecting her abilities at becoming incognito.
A knock at the door disturbed her ruminations, so she quickly opened it, playing the part of a sickly creature, took the tray with thanks, and then closed the door again.
She sat the tray down next to the bed. Keeping an eye on him, she ate quitely, picking at her food. It was such a tedious chore to have to eat constantly or else cause the alarm of the staff. The late nights and sleepy mornings, they could cope with, but the absence of food was something different.
Finally, she pushed away the tray and entered the adjoining bathroom to clean herself up. She took her time, knowing that sunset was less than two hours away. When she emerged from the bathroom, Adelaide carried the robe and draped it over the chest at the foot of the bed. She smiled softly as she saw him still sleeping.
Curling back up into the bed, she snuggled back down against his side, shivering for a moment at how cold he had become. She wrapped her arms around him, wondering if the heat from her flesh would do much to warm him. She leaned forward, kissing just below his jaw before her hands ran through his hair and down to massage his back. She spent her time watching him as he slept, her lips curled, recognizing patterns -- the way he rested his head, or an arm, even the way he held her. Even after millenia, those things had not changed.
She smiled contentedly and rested her cheek against his shoulder. He would be awake soon and find her there in his arms, happy to help him dispel the effects of his slumber.
James mumbles in his sleep, and suddenly finds himself in the grip of something... something vastly more powerful than he. He jerks awake with a start, something pulling him out of his unnatural sleep... into silence.
The voices that had haunted him for millenia were gone. The accusing faces with their mocking laughter... were gone.* As if someone had reached into his head and flipped a switch, shutting off the chaos that had tormented him for so long... and yet, he knew, somehow, that this was only temporary.
"Annis..." his voice was soft, calm in the stillness of the room. He turns his head, and looks into the face of the woman that he had just met, but had known his entire life... and he suddenly knew. Images flow through his mind, flashes of two figures standing alone in a candlelit cave, a male and a female, the male's hands raised in benediction over an altar smeared with blood.
"I know now... who I am, what I am host to... I know what I am here to do, why I have been gifted with the powers I have. Even my imprisonment in Vykos' dungeons, the murders, the endless killings... all were contrived, manipulated, positioned. I am... a tool in the hands of an Ancient... as are you."*
He shakes his head and sits up. "At least, however, I know now what my purpose is... and I am happy with my lot in life." He smiles. "I wouldn't trade all of my derangements for one moment to have been denied this..."
He sighs softly. "Lameth loves the real you... the Ancient lying in her crypt, the raven-haired goddess that he has loved since the dawn of time." He smiles, and something strange wells up in the corners of his eyes. "And through that love, I have grown to love you..."*
Adelaide remained silent while James awakened with a start. Her violet eyes held a mixture of love and concern as she watched him, her eyebrows furrowing all the more as he spoke. When he finally finished, she sat beside him, speechless for a moment. She even opened her mouth, but found that the words were difficult to gather together, much less speak aloud.
She took his hand in hers and kissed it softly before her eyes went to his. Reaching up to brush the black locks from his eyes, she finally smiled, leaning forward to kiss the backs of his eyelids when she noticed what was forming there. Her arms encircled his shoulders before her hands moved delicately to cradle the back of his head. She whispered softly as she held him, her voice barely audible as though her touch, her presence, was more important than anything she could have said, "And I have grown to love you."
Adelaide smiled, curling her arms around his neck and pulling him back down upon the bed. She rested his head upon her breast, her fingers toying lightly with his hair. She smiled down at him, kissing the crown of his head before speaking, "Indeed you have come to bring some excitement back into this wretched place." She gave him one of those mischievous looks, "And apart from seducing a human avatar, what are your plans for this evening, James?"
Celeste found herself waking up to the sound of her phone ringing. She pulled back the covers of the hotel bed sheets and walked over to where her phone was located. She flipped it up and answered, "Ello?" Static on the other side. She wasn't going to deal with that this morning. She hung up and stretched. She went to the bathroom and started the water and began to fill the bath tub. She added honey smelling liquid and the suds began to rise. She undressed and slipped into the warm water. The suds surrrounded her and she sighed. So far, this place was boring. She might just have to pack up and go to a smaller town and stir up problems before returning to a busier city. She yawned and let the water crept up to her chin. She began to wonder what she would do tonight. Go back to that same bar. She knew the bartender, but that was about it. She could go to a different club and maybe have a snack on a human on X. The blood that ran her was always excited when she ate them. But the afteraffect was the same as withdrawel. She heard a knock on the door and grabbed the towel to wrap around her. She opened the door slightly.