Milo (Malkavian) - In the streets.
 

#19 [Fourth Night - Blood Hunt]

Milo kept walking, like he had somewhere to be at a certain time. All the lights in the city was showing him the way. Red entwined with yellow, blue and green. All the colours of the rainbow mixed and danced around him. Sometimes it annoyed him, sometimes it made him happy. Like he didn't have a care in the world. He even thought the hunt for him could be a dream, from the past night. Maybe no one was looking for him. However, the sceptic inside Milo begged to differ.

And when he saw her, he came to a sudden halt. Vevila. She reminded him, of beauty and death to come. The dream within a dream. What was she doing there. She was not safe with him, and although he thought he heard her say his name, he turned to walk a different street than the one he was on. He had really missed her, he could feel it to the core. Those few precious minutes with her had been the best thing in his life, and unlife. There was no way he could stay. He could be or do many horrendous things, but he would never endager the single beautiful creature that had ever cared about him.

The noises from the cars and pedestrians were left behind, it took a while for Milo to notice. He had chosen a abandoned street, with puddles of water reflecting the red lights on the buildings that were surrounding him. The most apparent sound was coming from his own fotsteps, and all he really had in mind was to vanish from Vevila's sight. She deserved a happy life, something he could never be a part of. And above all, she deserved a life. His was not even a life at this point, still walking around and watching the humans as if they we're a freak show, he felt deadened. His senses were shot to hell, his sanity was a cosmic joke.

Then he heard additional fotsteps. He looked down on his feet, wondering how they could multiply themselves in the world of sounds. But when he stopped, the other fotsteps kept going, before they too came to a pause. She had of course followed him. It was not like he had been running to avoid her. He closed his eyes, feeling like the dumbest man in the universe, and turned around. His awareness picked up several impressions, but none were like he expected from such a enticing being. Milo opened his eyes, one at a time. Indeed, there was a woman infront of him. But it was not Vevila, and judging from her apperance she had little in common with someone like his Galadriel.

Her feet were covered in worn out leather boots, her legs in torn blue jeans and to that a purple top and a black leather jacket. On her head she had a black bandana, with a red pattern over the forhead. A burgundy mane cascading over her shoulders, ending by her bare hips in untamed curls, gave Milo the thought of something barbaric.
Yet, he didn't understand what she was doing there. He was thinking of Vevila. Another gag on his behalf, a cruel play in wich he portrayed the fool.

Then something incredible happened, in a split second. She disappeared, into a blur of colours around him, and then reappeared infront of him. To Milo, it was like a child's game, he smiled like he couldn't believe his eyes. And he couldn't. This was magic. He reached out, as if he was to touch her, to see if she was real. A slight, acid smile slid across her lips, as she too reached out and their fingertips met. The next thing that happened was a bit of a shock, an almost electric pulse came as a forceful blow through her fingers and into his, making him shoot back as if he had let out a paraschute. He didn't even get a chance to land, hard core to the asphalt. Instead, the woman was as suddenly as the jolt beside him and gave him a malice thrust straight into the brick wall. Milo crashed down into steel debris scattered on the ground. He didn't even make a sound. It was just like he imploded. But he was still alive. Or undead and moving. He got up and looked at the woman as if he tried to decode the situation.

All Milo could find in his haze of a mind was one word, derived from his Sire; Brujah.

This thought lasted the scarce seconds he had to recover from the initial attack, before she came at him again. This time Milo was prepared, and he move to the side, and ran into the middle of the road. But he didn't really know what he could do. She was so fast and strong it was ridiculous. This time she wasn't using her speed though, there was something else she was after. She simply walked towards him, looking deep into his gaze, while her arms moved a little backwards. Soon there after, Milo felt a dread so severe instilled in him, that he fell to his knees with bloody tears flooding his face.

The woman looked pleased, and walked away a short distance, as if she was a boxer waiting for her opponent to catch a breath. If he had one, that was. But Milo seemed down for the count, quite a while. The woman wasn't the patient one, kicking him when he was on the ground. But it was more of a check to see if he was to stand up, than to actually hurt him while he was down.
When Milo came to, he slowly stood up, only to have the next violent experience as the woman hit him real hard. Although she had a body of a normal build, her fist felt like a big rock had just been thrown right into him. Again, when he was about to slow down and bang into the ground, she was right there to strike him once more. This was repeated three or four times, Milo lost count as he felt his second life was sucked out of him. Everything felt far away, the pain was so intense he couldn't even scream in agony.

The Brujah woman waited anew, until Milo seemed conscious, and alert enough to stand up once again. Then she went in for the finale, simply ripping his head of his body, and even tearing away one of his arms as she was so enraged. The last thing Milo heard was her growl, but his last thought went to Vevila. He could not choose his final night, but he could choose his final memory.

The Brujah stood with closed eyes, as the ashes swirled around her like autumn leafs, accompanied by the everyday sounds in the far distance.






__________________________________________________

((( ooc: Everyone - I am sorry, but I had to use an NPC. This due to the fact that none of the killers could perform the hunt, for personal reasons. There have been quite some time since the hunt was announced by the Prince, and I just felt there was no use in waiting any longer. The hunt is supposed to be fun. This is the reason for the post above, and I hope you all understand. Using an NPC has been approved by Atropa. )))

Damian w/ Carmilla (& Seath)
 

With Carmilla having left the room, Damian took a moment to sit back and ponder her words while waiting for Seath. She and Mina had left him with quite a dilemma. Because, the truth of the matter was that he didn't have much to go by. So far, it was all hearsay. No matter how much he wanted to believe that they wouldn't lie to him, he couldn't be sure. The Tremere were a clever clan, with skillfully hidden agendas. What guarantee did he have that they weren't just trying to make him a pawn in their own little games? Other than his instinct and exceptional ability to read people, of course.
But then again, he really didn't need anything else, did he? His intuition had rarely lead him down the wrong path, and he prided himself with thinking he could smell a lie miles away. And to him, Mina and Carmilla both seemed genuine.

His reasoning was soon interrupted, however, as it didn't take long before the elder Tremere entered, and upon reaching Damian's desk he was invited to once again take the seat he had left earlier. He seemed rather anxious, and would surely have asked what had transpired between his progeny and the Prince, if he'd thought there was the slightest chance Damian would tell him, and not frown upon such an audacious question.

Just like he'd done with Carmilla, the Prince didn't waste time on polite small talk. After taking a moment to study Seath's face, he got down to business, asking Seath if what he had heard had been correct, and if so, why Seath had chosen to keep Carmilla locked away.
Hardly surprising, Seath must've anticipated those questions, as he didn't hesitate for more than a second or two before confirming that it was indeed true. He then went on to explain that he felt Carmilla wasn't ready to face the world outside of their abode on her own, that he was afraid that she would bring shame to his name, and the entire clan. And since he was her Sire, it was his responsibility to not unleash on the world a childe that was not yet ready, as was it his duty to protect her, from the various dangers in Kindred society, and from herself. Quite frankly, he stated, she should be grateful.

Damian listened patiently while he tried to justify his actions, and once he had finished that minor monologue, Damian asked his next question.
When faced by Carmilla's accusation that he had struck her, and within a Tremere Elysium too, Seath seemed a bit taken aback. Apparently, that was one question he hadn't prepared an answer for. Perhaps had he trusted that Carmilla would say nothing, that she would not be so desperate to get away from him as to 'betray' him like that?
The accusation seemed to be a wake up call. Carmilla really meant business.
At first, it seemed he was about to deny ever laying a hand on her, but when he opened his mouth to utter the words, his eyes met Damian's, and he immediately closed it again. The look in Damian's eyes told him Damian had spotted the lie even before it had made it's way past Seath's lips. The Prince was no fool.
Thus, Seath reluctantly admitted he had indeed struck his childe, but quickly added that it was only because she had defied him in his own home.

That was an excuse to which Damian gave no response. He simply let Seath talk, and when it seemed he was finished, offered him the same chance to add anything further he might deem important, as he had done with Carmilla.
Much like his progeny, Seath shook his head, after which Damian leaned across the desk to ask his secretary to allow Carmilla back in.
He had listen carefully to the both of them, and was ready to rule.

Once Carmilla too had been seated, Damian looked at them both while going over his verdict in his mind one more time. He wanted to be sure it sounded logical and diplomatic, as word would soon get out that he had meddled in Tremere affairs. With such a rumour floating around, he had to make sure there would be as little reason as possible to question his judgement, and his impartiality. Whether or not he really was impartial, well, that was a different story.

"I have listened to both your views on the matter," he started. "And I have reached a decision."

He kept his gaze shifting from one to the other, as a sign that he was addressing them both.

"I myself have sired, and understand the affection one might feel towards one's progeny. Thus I understand Mr Cunningham's wish to protect and care for his childe. However, I cannot justify locking her away against her will as a method of doing so. A childe cannot be expected to learn, to grow, and to prosper if not given the opportunity to stand on her own. It is essential to our survival that our young learn by doing, as well as being taught our ways by their elder. I have no doubt that your teachings have been more than sufficent, Mr Cunningham, and thus I trust that Miss Le Fanu will be quite capable of making you and your clan proud of her, as well as you making your clan proud of yourself in turn, for siring her."

There was a paus, as Damian allowed a moment of silence for his words to sink in, before officially announcing his decision.

"Upon leaving this office, Carmilla Le Fanu shall be granted the same freedom as any Tremere. This includes roaming freely wherever she wishes, seeing whomever she pleases, and making her home in whatever place she finds suitable. Should she falter, you, Mr Cunningham, will not be held responsible."

With that, he waved his hand dismissively at the both of them, caring little about any objections either of them might have. He had now fulfilled his part of the deal, he had delivered his ruling in a way that hopefully wouldn't offend anyone or raise too many question, and so he was now done with it.
He could only hope Mina knew what she'd been talking about.

"You are both excused," he finished. "My people will be around tomorrow night to confirm that my verdict has been properly carried out."

It is now night #5
 

Application for Archon DeWinter - Ventrue Primogen
 

Clan: Ventrue

Name: Lord Archon DeWinter, Primogen of the Ventrue Clan

Age: 508 years old Elder (Sired in 1499, when he was 35 years old.)

Disciplines: Dominate - Level 5 (Mass Suicide)

Fortitude - Level 4 (You can withstand a great deal of damage.)

Presence - Level 4 (Mesmerizing targets)



Biography:

Many battles were fought in the year of his birth, making sure Archon would have the blood of both a warrior and a nobleman. The Battle of Hedgeley Moor shed blood on his very birthday, taking the life of his father on the Yorkist side. Some used to say that is why baby Archon screamed on the top of his lounges.
Being from a powerful family, adressed as a Lord, the sky was the only limit. In his fathers absence, Archon grew up in great haste and became a intolerable youth, soon to take over his heritage. Archon lived with kine for 35 years, demanding aristocratic rank and had control over a portion of land and the produce of labor.

1499 would be the Julian calender year Archon drew his last human breaths. This was the year Perkin Warbeck and Edward Plantaganet were executed for treason against the English trone, and for attempting to excape the Tower of London. To Archon, these two men were examples for everyone who thought they could just rise up and overthrough the nobility. If you had it in you, you were either born with the heritage or you took it on the tip of a sword. You took it successfully, you didn't fail. Failure is not an option, and if it occures men are defined by their actions to redeem themselves. It was notions like this that made Archon enticing for the Ventrue clan, and the vampire that was about to sire him had followed him for weeks to make sure he was a appropriate specimen. She also believed in being thorough, and wouldn't dream of seeking audience with the London Prince, also a Ventrue, based on a whim.

The blood of the Ventrue clan was the last piece of the puzzle. Archon had just the right constellation for a aspiring Kindred, and one bite from a undead perfected it. Most newborns found the transition difficult and often horrible. But Archon was only too delighted to learn that he would live for ever, having the world at his feet. It was becoming of a true Ventrue. The only imperfection was the vampiric nutrition. "Blood?" Archon would utter the word as if it was the first time he tasted it on his tounge. He said it with contempt, as if his beautiful Sire asked him to conduct himself in a shameful manner.
Archon had never loved anyone, although 35 years at that time was almost a whole life. But when he met his Sire to be, he felt for her. It might just have been the lust of the human flesh, aching only to be touched by her, but to Archon this was sufficient to make his sharp business intellect scatter. And he had been around beautiful women before, surronded by them actually as his outlook on the world made for a charming gentleman in some women's eyes. But he had never deviated from his goal before. When he learnt of what she was, what he would become, that offer became bigger that his passion for her.

Archon lived through the ages, seeing more than his share of historical events. His nature prevented him from sharing the fate of others. Be it natural causes as well as sickness and additional quirks of life. He might take part in their demise, being both a highbrow illuminato and a man of sometimes vast antipathy, but he would never breake the Masquerade. Archon's Sire walked beside him from time to time, making sure he blossomed into a spectacular vampire leader some day. Altough the leaders of man are great, the leaders of vampire's are even greater. This was all most welcomed by Archon, as his taste for excellent distinction had no end to it. And the Ventrue blood would in time only make it stronger.

Even though Archon raised his brow now and then, wondering what on earth made some clans tick, he did in fact appreciate the contrast between the clans. Because if they were all Ventrue, who would the Ventrue lead? In his book Nosferatu were information, Tremere mystery, Gangrels integrity, Malkavians well disguised wisdom, and Toreador beauty. The Brujah added anarchy to the mix, being the nemesis of the business men and women of the Ventrue clan.
Above all, Archon appreciated something being well done, regardless of lineage. Being excellent was clanless, no matter how he sometimes flattered himself and his brethren with thinking no other clan held a candle to the Ventrue.

Archon sometimes enjoy himself with giving humans vampire characteristics. He would simply point out to himself who would go with what clan. It was like playing a puppeteer, a vampire master. Not many would be given the honour of even the mere thought of belonging to the Ventrue. Historical landmarks were one of his favourites, like the Gunpowder Plot in 1605, instigated by Guy Fawkes. It was such Brujah behaviour. Trying to blow up the House of Parliament - what a discgrace! It was an oxymoron to say the least. They wanted to overthrow leaders, but of course the anarchy scum couldn't organize themselves in order to choose the perfect plan, stick to it and execute it flawlessly. Archon had a good laugh at that, and when the Guy Fawkes Night passed by each year he remembered the unsuccessful assassination attempt with a smile.

Although he travell throughout the world, his main residence now resides in L.A. He still adores London, where he was first made Primogen. They had been waiting for him to turn from Ancilla to Elder, in order to lead the Ventrue of London. This pleased Archon for a great deal of time, but he was still not entirely content. Being a member of the supreme clan, he had to choose his Prince carefully. Damian Alexander III was an excellent choice, making it not only tempting but an offer he couldn't refuse when crowned Primogen of the L.A. Ventrue. Besides being Prince no other title in the world, kine and Kindred alike, is as dignified, chivalrous and aristocratic as the Primogen title - of the Ventrue clan. Archon believe he is put on this earth for no other reason.

Zillah with Bee: The Haven - tying up the night
 

"You want to know why I come to you. No it isnt to stoke your ego. You have enough women to do the for you. You amuse me. That is all. You radiat more then an average man does. I cant help but but interested in the mystery that surrounds you." Bee looked him over once again. Sly smile plasterd to her lips. " You know how to caputure my attension and it hasnt failed. Now tell me why you try to keep my attension if you have no interst in me? Surely you have better things to do with your time?"

Amuse her? Zillah played Bee's words through his head like a broken record. With radiance and mystery? So she denied his seductive charms prefering once again to voice more platonic delights motivated her actions. But still he was flattered. A woman as beautiful as Bee would suffer the charms of many men, yet his brought her some delight. The sly smile which danced its way other her full red lips held testimont to that. Yet she was one of the few women he danced around with no ulturiar motive, purely to revel in their gorgous company for a while. Enjoying the play of words, another's prescence to hold the loileness of the morn at bay. And he couldn't deny that as much as some of her words infuriated him, he liked her. An aquintence he would value, both for what knowledge he might tease out of the sweet lips and the grace of her prescence which brightened the dark night.

Zillah's teasing smile grew deeper turning to one of mocking delight. "Dearest Bee, whatever gave you the impression I have no interest in you? Do I sense a little insecurity behind those words." He chuckled indicating he was only joking, he did not believe that a woman as captivatting as Bee ever held any insecurity around men.

The fire still dancing through the jade orbs Zillah bent low from the waist, a jesting bow as his arm swept before him. Straightening his hand grasped her own and brought her pale hand to his mouth. His warm lips skimmed briefly across her cool skin as he bestowed a kiss upon it. "Duty calls, but do not fear, we will meet again. How could I ever resist such sweet delight of amusing one such as you."

Zillah's genuine smile spread across his mouth, one of warmth and friendship before it once again distorted into a rascal's grin. The long golden lashes descending in a flash to close one eye into a mischevious wink. "Farewell, Bee" He laughed as he turned instantly from her, pushing his way through the crowd, fallowing the path broken by the enticing Vevilla. His hips swaying with a grace more bestowing a cat than a man as he exited the club.

Greeted by the cold thrill of the air Zillah leapt onto his motorbike, kicking it into motion. Fingers nimbly twisting it free of the chains as the black helmet decended over his head. Letting its loud gutteral roar break loose, drowning away all thoughts and the linger of the clubs music as he sped away from the pavement. A demon on a mission to conquer the open road.

Mina: Waiting outside Prince's Office
 

Mina slipped out of the midst of night into the lavish interior with a purposeful step. A steady aim in her mind. She wished to learn of Carmilla's fate. Yet she could not approach Carmilla or venture near Seath's home in case the decision had been unfavourable to her wishes. The masquerade of innocence she portrayed over any suspicion she might meddle in another elder Tremere's affairs vanquished by a show of interest. Likewise sending a messenger was risky buisness. They were prone to leaks, of bribary and manipulation. Whereas her own tounge was firmly controlled with an air of sophistication that confirmed nothing and alluded to everything.

As a Primogen, turning up herself at Damian's office was not a novel affair. There were countless reasons why Mina might desire an audience or indeed to have been summoned before him. Though the reason she held in the front of her head was partly an excuse. For Carmilla's fate gave her a reason to once again make her presence known before Damian.

Mina was not sure what outcome to expect. Aware the reasoning she had given Damian was vague, that she had pushed what sway she had to indicate the outcome she expected. But still the result was not written in stone. Seath had the devils tounge and Carmilla a loyalty to her Sire most understandable for a Tremere. Damian was also a man of intelligence, who trusted his own judgements and who would have ultimatly drawn his own conclusions as to the matter before him.

"Tell the Prince, I'm here to see him." Mina informed the secretary with politeness yet the authority behind her words implied that she was expected.

Mina took a seat upon the sofa outside, legs gracefully folding as her hands patiently slid the laptop from within the folds of her clothing. Expecting a wait of at least a few minutes she had come prepared. Her fingers worked against the silver pad, eyes scrolling across the screen as she summoned up articals from deep within the Tremere archives. A little light study to calm the questions that raged within her mind.

((I'm going to RP the rest of that night, since it's a relatively important to Vevila. I'll then start up night five. I'll miss Milo Psyche! That last post was really heart-rendering... but your new character looks truly amazing! ))

There wasn't a shadow of a doubt in her mind; the man she saw skirting along the pavement in the dark distance was Milo. The broken steps, the shallow bend of his shoulders and back, the skittish jerks of his limbs. Unmistakable. Vevila didn't falter, and her steps were brisk long strides that sent her pursuing the dark shape. He seemed equally determined, however, to lose her in the labyrinth of dark side-streets, and his movements were far harder to track than she had anticipated. Not before long, she had lost him in the flurry of traffic and bodies meandering aimlessly down the cryptic paths that obscured her from the one person she truly needed to see.

Vevila paused beneath a street lamp, the soft diffused light settled over her form and gave her an eerie and ethereal look, like some dark angel just dropped onto the earthly plane. Milo had purposely avoided her when they had caught each other's gazes, and that meant only one thing-- the hunt was firmly underway, and just as she pursued him, so did another. But their intentions were polar opposites. Vevila could feel it in her very core; the tense forboding and ominous churning, flipping, grinding of her intestines. Somewhere, another vampire was preparing for an execution. The sacrificial lamb was fleeing feebly from an overpowering lion. There was no hope for Milo now.

She focused her attentions on the sounds that echoed around her, a cacophonous symphony of life intermingling with death. For the briefest of seconds she picked up on the clattering, smashing sounds of bones colliding with pavement and metal. It was enough. Vevila took off at a slow run; enough that she would only look hurried, not panicked. Although her mental state would say otherwise, she knew she couldn't disturb the humans still parading along the streets. More crashes. It had begun. There were intermittent pauses in the horrendous, sickening sounds, where Vevila found herself doing something she hadn't done since her embrace: praying. She knew nothing would come of praying for Milo's salvation from his fate, so instead, her thoughts turned to his comfort. Please, she pleaded within her mind, Let it end quickly. Let him find peace. Lead him to something better than this wretched life...let him be happy. Something of her normal self wrinkled its nose at the sentimentality, but smiled at the same time. Her thoughts could not have been any more sincere. If Milo couldn't be saved, at least some part of him could be preserved.

The terrifying thuds had disappeared from her range of hearing, leaving her with silence, save for the everyday sounds that cluttered the air. Vevila rounded a corner and her whole body convulsed at the sight.

There, shrouded in a cloud of fluttering ash, was the image of death.
Curving maliciously over her dark lips was a cheshire-cat-like smile, hidden by billowing wisps of red wine colored hair. There was a raw power that she exuded that sent a shiver rifling along Vevila's spine. Wrapped around her head was a black bandana with a red pattern--one that would be burned into Vevila's memory for all of time, she was certain.

The air was putrid, filled with the rare stench of fresh death. Vevila knew what the gust of ashes was, and it made her sick to her stomach. She gagged and brought a hand to her lips, eyes raging wildly over the figure of the female grim-reaper standing before her.

"Yes?"

Her voice was jeering, but with a holier-than-thou intonation. Everything about her was jagged, fierce, and rebellious. Brujah.

"Milo."

Vevila nearly imploded as the words passed through her lips. The sorrow, rage, confusion, struggle that festered in her was threatening to burst out. The woman shot her a quizzical look, as if uncertain at first why Vevila knew the condemned one's name. But then, as quickly as the look had come, realization dawned upon her features. Piece by piece, she understood, and the words came in succession. Vampire, Toreador, Aid. Her wicked smile twisted into more of a smirk as she stalked closer to Vevila, bearing down on her with snarled teeth exposed.

"You're the one who was with him last night, hm? You know his name, so you're a vampire, and yet you didn't kill him off? Yes, we know. Listen, if I were you, little Toreador-darling, I'd scamper home as quickly as my stilettos could carry me. This is taken care of, and by the looks of it, you weren't following him for the same reason as me. Wouldn't want others to know that."

With a fierce, gutteral, and animalistic growl the woman pushed past Vevila. Her shoulder crashed into the fragile side of Vevila's frame, nearly knocking her over in her frozen state of shock.

"Run along."

The woman was already moving down the street, past Vevila who still stood in the same spot. Numb; she felt numbed, chilled to her very bones. Milo was dead, and if she wasn't careful, the others would know that she had tried to shield him from the Blood Hunt. Vevila let her knees buckle as she crouched to the cold pavement, eyes transfixed on one of the few ashes that had avoided the wind.

“Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection into eternal life...”

She extended an alabaster finger to touch the fragile ash and watched it disintegrate under her touch and sweep away with the wind. With that, she stood and brushed away the crimson liquid collecting at her eyes, and hugged her arms closer to her body. As the moon illuminated the night sky above her, Vevila turned away from the street where Milo died and dragged her corpse back to the tiny apartment across town that she called home.


((night 5 coming later. :] ))

Gemma : Night 5
 

Gemma left the Haven the night before, new painting with her. She was so grateful to Valerian for his gift that before she left she could barely contain herself from jumping up and down. She just hoped he knew how much she loved it.

She didn't know whether it would be considered narcissistic to hang a portrait of one's self in one's own home, but she didn't care; she loved the painting so much that she hung it up anyway. Now, everytime she saw it she would think of Valerian and the good times they had had.

She went to bed in a good mood that morning, thinking about Valerian putting thought and his ability into the portrait of herself.

---

That next night, Gemma spent more time at Mina's museum after feeding on Delia. She informed Bo that she would be back that night, but somehow he didn't seem too pleased to see her when she arrived.

The library seemed immense, and almost endless. She searched through the shelves, with Bo's help, and picked out books he deemed important to any young Tremere. Bo was, in a way, an extension of Mina, and Mina being the Primogen, Gemma felt proud to be studying with someone so connected.

She spent even longer than the previous night slaving over large dusty volumes of books of all types. She thirsted for knowledge as she consumed volume after volume until her hunger was sasiated.

After a while, she decided she had studied enough for one night and went to the café. As she entered, she glanced around the room and saw no familiar faces. It was predictably very quiet compared to the Haven, which was a blessing.

Gemma smoothed her dark-washed jeans down as she sat at the table, telling the waiter what she wanted. He took her order obediantly and scuffled off to retrieve it. As she waited for her order, she relaxed and cleared her mind. She had been studying in that library for what seemed like an eternity!

She looked around at the people in the café. This place sure did draw in an assortment of people, Gemma thought, eyeing the patrons. She imitated a sigh as she crossed her legs and set her hands in her lap.

((OOC: Sorry I wasn't around when the night came to a close! I had internet problems. =( Gemma is approachable. =) ))

Archon DeWinter - Back in L.A.
 

# 1 [Fifth Night]

Before the sun rose the night before, an Elder had joined the Kindred in the City of Angels. This was a presence that caused both anticipation and annoyance. He had been gone for almost three months, now returning home. His absence had not been a vacation, but a trip to several places around the world to tend to business. He had to watch over his invested interests, meet with important members of the Kindred society, look into rumours that had crossed oceans and make sure no one fell asleep on their watch. He also met with his Sire, the ever captivating Victoria.
Although he was foremost a business man, he did have time for simple pleasures, and could even find it in him to enjoy them. The Toreador of Paris had such beauty to display, charming other vampires until they felt in a way they had not since their embrace. He was hard to enchant, one had to be satisfied if his smile ever reached his eyes.
He was even briefly allowed into one personal Tremere library. Very briefly. Although he had the ability to venture between the clans, as his personality as a mere human had been rather winning, everyone were on their guard. Trust was not easy to come by in the vampire world. Certainly not between the clans.

When Archon DeWinter sat foot on american soil, he felt serene. Although born in England, this was home. By his side, he had Roe, his henchman. Roe was a Gangrel, sprung from a broken past, saved from the flames by Archon himself. Archon was not the one to step into matters of other clans, but he found no pride in the suffering of the weak. Roe's Sire had gone mad, consumed by his inner beast. Although a blood hunt had not been called, Archon slayed him, as there was no time to waste. This meant he had to visit the prince of the city, explaining himself and his actions. Roe had been next in line in the Sire's rampage, and since he was just a newborn of almost 20 years, he had little to fight back with and no one else to turn to. The prince of the city wanted Roe's head as well, but Archon had other plans. No one could always get what they wanted, no matter who they were, but this time Archon prevailed. He took full responsibility for Roe's future, and even managed to command the Gangrel clan to educate the poor whelp. Then he waited until Roe grew stronger, learning the ways of his bretheren. The Gangrel didn't want him, but they agreed to teach him until he could make it on his own. Roe returned to Archon, devoting his loyalty and in need for a Sire, despite no blood bond. Their bond hade been forged by the sword used when Archon spilt the blood of Roe's Sire.
The debt to the prince of that particular city had been paied a long time ago, and Roe had remained Archon's close friend and now served as some kind of bodyguard and the caretaker of things no one handled better than a Gangrel. Some called him a tame wolf in Archon's leash, but never to his face.

As the chauffeur drove Archon through the city, towards his home, Roe sat in the passenger seat and Archon had the backseat to himself. Although this black mercedez was only a tad longer than a normal car, it had a partitioner much like in a limousine and dark windows. Archon wanted his privacy. He went through important papers, checked his laptop for new messages regarding Ventrue affairs and even took a few minutes now and then to fully appreciate being home. And he was not the only one who was pleased he was back. The word was already on the street, among the Kindred. Archon DeWinter had reunited with the Ventrue of L.A., and they needed a more approachable Primogen than the Prince had a chance to be for obvious reasons. And he was, after all, their assigned leader, to whome they looked for guidance. Even members from other clans could see the benefits of Archon's return, but many could care less or was antagonized. Archon did leave a lasting impression, not easy to forget.

Archon had also written a note, on a white card with elegant patterns of gold around the edges. His calligraphy had been perfected through the years, and he enjoyed having his notes look as grand as the meaning of the words. You have to present yourself with class, in all walks of life. No detail should be overlooked. Due to this, he applied a blood red wax seal to the envelope when finished and pressed a gold stamp into it, to have an "A" printed before it got cold. On the front he wrote a single letter; "D". This was for the Prince. Although he already knew of Archon's return, from his informers and Archon himself in advance, Archon used to show his respect this way. The informal greeting on the surface of the envelope had two reasons; discretion and the simple fact that he and the Prince knew each other well. He would not be offended.
When Roe took care of the letter, using his connections to have it delivered to the Prince before sunrise, Archon left the car and walked into a bar he knew was frequented by business men and women. He was going to put his hunger at ease. Although this was a business district, surprisingly few of the people in the bar were Ventrue material. But he would seek out just the right one, and have his first sip of L.A. blood for months.

The mansion built for Archon after his wishes was a large estate, very well guarded. The interior was decorated with clean taste, no clutter what so ever. He felt at home surrounded by ancient items; statues, paintings, carpets, furnitures - even the craftmanship of the house itself hailed to a time long gone. Archon needed the past in order to appreciate the present. He even dressed with details from the past, enough to make him feel noble, but not to stick out. He had dark suits, tailored especially for him of course, with white ruffle by the neck of the shirt and around the wrists. He even had an overcoat, that he sometimes used, when the occasion called for it.


When Archon woke up before the sun had really left this night to darkness, he took his time to get ready. He slept under ground, in the basement of the house. But it was not a storage for things he didn't know what to do with, there was in fact several rooms and one was actually decorated as a classical bedroom fit for a lord. It was not very aristocratic sleeping arrangements, but Archon needed the feel of the earth. Even though he could sleep well above ground, something below it made him fall into a deep sumber that enhanced his senses. This had become a habit for him.

He cleansed his alabaster skin in a shower of black marble stones, roughly cut out. The water submerged the long black hair, that ended shortly below his shoulders, and the coldness of his body was for a moment only implied. This was how he used to begin his nights. He collected his thoughts as the water drowned out the world.
Roe slept on the first floor, he had a need to be near his Sire. Sometimes he went away, to be by himself or take care of things of his or Archon's concern. Roe was a lone Gangrel, but in the same time he wanted a strong leader. Archon was the perfect one. He was not very warm at heart, and leading others was something he did naturally. Thus Roe could have his pack, is tribe, but not feel trapped.
The first to greet Archon this evning, was his two rottweilers, that had been over joyed when their master had returned.

Archon's word to the Prince was an inquiry for a meeting, when the Prince could find the time. Until then he headed for The Haven, bringing with him a gift, acquired in a far away land.
Archon handled others with precision. The doorman outside the club was always given a few extra minutes, and a handshake with a green bill enclosed. It was always wise to keep certain people on one's good side, this Archon knew only too well. 508 years of Kindred life had educated him accordingly in the manners of the undead. As well as their ill will.

Fortunate for Archon, he could close the door to some parts of his senses at will. The music that surrounded him and Roe when they entered was far from soothing, therefore he ignored the pulsating beat that tried to seduce him in a way he did not respond too. It had to be more inspiring to move him. Classical, opera - then he would listen. This was not dignified.
Of course, Archon's presence did not go unnoticed. It was subtile, yet noticable for a vampire, as the Kindred in the club learned, one by one, that he was indeed back.

As Archon made his way through the crowd, he held his head high, almost with a frown. He was not particularly fond of these types of gatherings. They were so... common. He did understand them, since he did look beyond his own preferences from time to time. But he would not take part in them. He was tolerant though, as he did use The Haven as an office outside the office. But then he sit at his usual table, in the corner of the club, and conduct business as if the environment around him was the proper place to to so.
When he reached the other side he nodded to the man by the stairs, getting the look of acknowledgement as he passed by. On the second floor, he got to the door to Valerians personal chambers and gave it a good knock.




__________________________________________

((( ooc: Trampledsneakers - I will miss him too! And thank you, I loved your post too. And I am glad you like my new character. )))

Sarah ~ Night 5
 

((*hits self in head* Sorry for my absence ))

Sarah layed on her new bed, in her new, single, dorm room. All her books, cd's and clothes were in place, and all that was left was a few electronics. Numerous Fiction books sat above her in alphabetical order by last name. Harry Potter, The Devil Wears Prada, The Twilight series, and numerous others, including Jane Austin. No wonder she was called a bookworm. Sarah jumped at the sudden start of punk rock music next door. There was no way she was going to get any reading done now. But she knew this great cafe. She gathered up the essentials. Cellphone, car keyes, wallet, and stuck them into her tote. As she walked to the door, she stopped to pick a book. The black, white and red cover of Twilight slipped out of the long row of books and was stuck in the tote. She walked out to the car and started it up, heat blaring. Feist played thriught the stereo and she drove to the cafe.
When she arrived, the was many empty tables and was peaceful, just like she wanted. She sat down and the waiter took her order.
"A Cafe au lait please." Sarah dug through her bag; first putting her phone on silent, then taking out her book. She turned to her favorite chapter, The Cullens, and began to read. When the waiter returned with her coffee. She couldn't help but notice a woman across the cafe from her, who somewhat resembled the description of Alice. She looked at her for a moment, just as intruiged as Bella, and returned to her book.

((The woman is Gemma. Is approachable))

Damian & Mina - penthouse office
 

Unless there was a pressing matter to be taken care of outside the office, the times that Damian was not found behind his desk within half an hour after nightfall, were rare and far apart.
This night, however, was one of those rare occasions. For once, he had allowed himself an early evening of leisure. Even the Prince needed to take a moment to relax every now and then.

He had awoken in his bed just as sun was setting, and instead of immediately standing to start his usual routine of getting ready, he had stayed right there, stealing a few moments from the busy night ahead of him to enjoy the silence, the serenity, and the sound of the calm and steady breathing from the mortal woman next to him. He had turned his head slightly to gaze down at her sleeping form. Her milky white arm lay across his bare chest, and the warmth of her breath caressed his neck in a slow, regular rhythm.
She had been brought to him by his sheriff late last night, or rather very early in the morning, to sate the hunger his business deals had left in him.
It was a redheaded beauty that fit many of his requirements. But not all. She was not untouched by a man, and she was not a stranger to lovemaking. However to Damian, that only meant she was more easily seduced. While he preferred challenges, as they provided constant affirmation that he was as strong and powerful as he considered himself to be, there were times when an easy task was a welcome one. With the hunger raging within him, it had been a pleasant surprise to find that she was only too eager to succumb to his kisses. Though unbeknownst to her, they had been kisses meant only to relax her and draw her in, and not the foreplay she had thought them to be.
Damian had no interest in sex with kine. He had taken nothing from her, besides her blood, and the sweet ecstacy of his bite had left her with little memory of what had really happened, but thinking that they must have shared quite a night of lovemaking, for her to feel so dazed and yet so invigorated.
He had then let her stay, to warm his bed as they both slept.

When they had both woken up this evening, he had spent a little while just laying there with her, listening to her fawn over how much she had enjoyed his "company". Though no matter how much he enjoyed her stroking his ego like that, he knew that he couldn't procrastinate his duty as Prince for very long, and so eventually, he had left the bed to start his nightly routine.

By the time he was done, having showered and gotten dressed, the redhead had been sent on her way after a quick, parting kiss. He would've muched preferred to be a gentleman and let her stay in his bed as long as she wanted, and ordered his servants to prepare a meal for her, but he was far too suspicious to leave someone he didn't trust unsupervised in his home.

Ten minutes after she had exited his luxurious apartment, so did he, and started down the hallway towards his office. Through the large glass doors, he could see that there was already someone in the outer office, besides his secretary. An elegant darkhaired woman, seated and waiting for him. Ah, Mina. What a pleasant surprise.
She didn't notice him at first, seemingly preoccupied reading whatever was on the screen of that small laptop. However, as he approached, she registered the movement out of the corner of her eyes, and looked up just as he pushed open the doors and entered the outer office.

"Mina", he said as her mere presence drew a smile from his lips, lighting up his usual pokerface of composed and stoical nonchalance, along with the good mood from his so far very pleasant "morning". "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company so soon?"

However, he didn't really expect her to present her business until they were alone, and so after giving his secretary a simple nod in greeting, he motioned for Mina towards his office.

"Come", he said as he walked over to the doors and pushed them open.

He then stood aside to let her pass and enter before him.

Bee woke up and got out of the bed. She was a bit groggy. It was still a little before sundown. She got up and showered and got dressed. Blow dried her curls and applied her makep. She decided to put her hair up tonight. It wasnt often she did so, but she wanted something different, so she twisted her hair into bun. She looked different but still she was stunning as always. She was also in a relatively in a good mood. Her conversation with Zillah was interesting. He did find her interesting, just in a different way. Which was the way Bee saw him too. It was kind of a relief but also a blow to her own ego. Why was Bee different from the rest of the women he saw? Was she not as beautiful as them? It didnt really hurt her that he didnt find her in his likeing, but she also accomplished something none of the other women had. She has befriended him. Instead of just taking her in his bed and dunping her, he would see her night after night. Zillah really stumbed her. He saught after women like they were prey, but he didnt see her as that.
She was a vampire and saw it hard to befriend a human, even though for some reason she found it easy to friends with Sarah. He wore some Khaki slacks tonights with a deep red shirt that ved at the neck. She put on her necklace that had a diamond in the shape of a tear drop. Her sire had given it to her only days before her immortality ended. It meant the world to Bee.
She grabbed her black leather jacket and headed out the door. She walked down the street the tiny strands of hair at her tickled. She looked int he window of the cafe that Mina owned. SHe saw Gemma in there. It wasnt a urprise. Her and Mina were close. She kept walking and then saw Sarah. Well wasnt that something. She looked deep reading in her book, so Bee kept walking. If she wanted Bee she would call her, or maybe they would bump into eachother again. She started heading to her destination. She stopped in front of The Haven letting the cool prickle her skin before she walked in. She opened the doors and nodded at the bouncer. He nodded back and she walked to the bar and sat. It was still a little early. It hadnt been dark for long.

Valerian & Archon - The Haven
 

Valerian had always been somewhat of a hedonist. There was no denying that. Though he was a laid back hedonist, who found his thrills and pleasure in simple things as well as in those born from effort. Lounging about in bed was one of his favorite activities (or lack thereof), even if he was alone. True, he preferred to have someone share his bed, but he enjoyed the luxury of simply sleeping in almost just as much.
Which was why when there was a knock on the door, he had yet to start his evening. He still hadn't gotten out of bed, let alone showered and gotten dressed. In fact, he was just barely awake.
Thus, when the firm knock sounded from the door, the unexpected noise stirred him to life. Groaning softly into his beloved pillow, he slowly raised his head and sleeply brushed his unruly raven tresses from his face, glaring at the door as though he could see the person behind it. Then he glanced over at the clock on his bedstand, and when seeing what time it really was, he did have to admit that it wasn't completely unjustified for whoever it was to come by and make him drag himself out of bed.

"Just a minute!" he meant to call out, but the last part of the sentence was drowned out by a big yawn.

He didn't bother repeating it. Whoever it was out there would know what he meant. Turning himself over onto his back, he slowly sat up while attempting to free himself of the sheets that had his ivory limbs entangled, trying to keep him from getting up, beckoning him to surrender to their restraining grip and remain a captive in their softness. No matter how peacefully he slept, it seemed he always had a habit of tossing and turning, making the bed look more like a battlefield than a place for resting.
After a minor struggle he was finally granted his freedom. Propelling himself off of the bed he stood, and grabbed the first suitable articles of clothing; a pair of black boxers, and his torn 'artist' jeans. Figuring he had kept his guest waiting long enough, he quickly slipped into them, and then padded over to the door, barefoot and with his messy hair tickling his shoulders and framing the clean-cut, delicate features of his handsome face.
As he was expecting Melody, or maybe even Claudia, imagine his surprise when instead of finding a gorgeous woman on his doorstep, he found a noble Ventrue. And not just any Ventrue, but the Ventrue Primogen.

"My Lord DeWinter!" Valerian chimed as a smile of reconition and delight parted his lips. "Whispers in my club told me tales of your return, but never did I think I would see you here so soon. Welcome back."

Mina with Prince: His office
 

A flicker of movement enticed Mina's attention away from the screen, her emerald gaze rising to fall upon Damien pushing open the door and entering the outer office. A small satisfied smile brushed across her lips at the sight of him. Unlike her, he apperaered to have recently fed by the almost warm glow to his skin which set the golden hair alight. His presence a commanding vibrancy which softened her usually hard smile.

"Mina", he said with a smile from upon his lips, lighting up his usual composed mask. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company so soon?"

Mina rose from the seat, one fluid motion shutting down the laptop and concealing it once again with a fold on the wide black leather belt which wound itself around her slim waist. The outfit of a severe pinstriped pencil dress which hugged her curves yet allowed only the briefest flash of flesh and the high stiletto boots had been carefully chosen, pushing the boundaries between buisness dress and clubwear, she could fit in anywhere. Her head bowed gracefully, dark lashes descending as her eyes brushed down to the floor before rising again to his face. The ancient show of respect was accompanied by words falling from her lips with the air of a preist giving a blessing. "My Prince."

"Come", Damian said as he walked over to the doors and pushed them open. He then stood aside to let her pass and enter before him.

Mina strolled into the room, her steps purposeful and elegant yet not a movement wasted. Her eyes surved the chairs lined before the desk for a brief moment but she did not sit. Instead choosing to stand beside the wall, with a view of the window and the dark night beyond. Only once she had heard the door to the office closing did she answer his question.

Her words as thoughtfully calm and composed as her stance. "I trust that Carmilla and Seath visited you last night." The words were given as a statement rather than a question. Mina knew fulll well that they had obeyed his summoning.

"I have an interest in the outcome, but did not wish to rely on the vagueness of second hand information. " Mina paused the slightest smile breaking the mask allowing Damian time to respond.

((OOC sorry, ran out of time, will add bold later. Hope its enough to allow you a response Atropa, if not let me know and I'll add more))

ATTENTION EVERYONE! / Application; Adrien de la Cour
 

(((ooc: ATTENTION EVERYONE!

After much consideration, I have decided to raise the character limit once again. 3 characters are now allowed.
HOWEVER, there are certain conditions;
* They can not be of the same clan as any of your other characters
* They will have to be very well thought through. Meaning, they need to have a purpose. Do not add a third character just because you feel like it, or think it would be fun. Have a plan.
* PM me first, with an introduction of your character and your plan. If it is well thought through, I will give you the go-ahead.
* You HAVE to have been regularly active with BOTH your previous characters for a considerable amount of time (say, a month), and thus shown that you are indeed capable of RPing three characters.

I know this may sound really stern, but I really don't want a new batch of characters that end up becoming inactive after a week.

Also, I will no longer physically remove any participants from the character list unless I recieve word that they are dropping out, or they have been inactive for over a month. What will happen is that if a character has not been RPed within two weeks, they will be labelled "inactive" (you'll have to check the site for an updated list). This will be a warning that your character has been inactive, and that we have our eye on you.

Having said that, please allow me to introduce my third character, here to spice things up (hopefully).)))


-------------------------------------

(sorry so long, but there was no way for me to shorten it without leaving out important info. )


Name: Adrien de la Cour
Clan: Tremere
Disciplines: Auspex (level 1), Dominate (level 1), Thaumaturgy (level 1)
Bio: Born a French nobleman in 1765, during the Enlightenment, Adrien was destined to have a talent for learning. At an early age he discovered the power of knowledge, and was taught a number of languages, sciences and arts. A romantic at heart, he found himself spending hours and hours playing and composing music. The harpsichord was his instrument of choice, and it was there he felt the most comfortable, and at peace.
However, late 18th century France was a turbulent time and place, and during the French revolution, Adrien's family were amongst the unfortunates that the people turned against. Both his parents and older siblings were arrested and executed.
Adrien himself, however, had caught someone's eye. And not just one person's. It was two people, who for different reasons desired him. Both of them vampires. One Toreador female, who had fallen in love with him while watching him perform one of his sonatas at a party. The other a man of the Tremere clan. Adrien's vast knowledge and hunger for learning tickled his interest.
But while the woman waited for just the right time to approach Adrien, the man wasted no time.
In a dirty back ally, attempting to escape from the angry mob, Adrien was embraced and quickly taken to a crypt at the cemetary. There he learned about his new nature, the Camarilla and the Masquerade, and he was delighted. He thouroughly enjoyed being a vampire. It opened up so many doors, so many new dimensions to life.
He's travelled the world, to study cultures and technology, and recently ended up in Los Angeles.


Yes. This was the story used to help decieve the Kindred of Los Angeles a long time ago, in the early light of the 20th century.
The truth of the matter was that Adrien was not born in 1765.
He did not experience the French revolution.
He was not a Tremere.
He hadn't even been Embraced.

Adrien de la Cour, was a vampire hunter.


Born the son of a mortal woman of the French court and a vampire, a so-called thin-blood, Adrien is a dhampir.
His real date of birth was in 1854. As a child he aged normally, but once he reached adulthood, the aging process started slowing down; with his body fully developed, his dhampir powers had kicked in.

Being the rare offspring of a vampire, Adrien was raised with tales of the Kindred, and to him, they were a natural part of life. Until they brought about an end to the (un)life of his thin-blood father. Only then did he see what they truely are (in his mind); monsters. Monsters that need to be exterminated. And he decided he would be the one to rid the world of them.
But in order to do that, he needed to learn more about them. With time being on his side, he began studying the Kindred, learning the basics of their society and their rules. Once that was done, he had to pick what clan he would pose as. He realized that killing Kindred would be easier if he managed to weasel his way into their society, as it would mean that he would be aquainted with his victims, instead of having to track them down from the shadows.
The Nosferatu would have been perfect, had they not been deformed to look on the outside what they truely were on the inside. All the information and knowledge they had would've made Adrien's mission alot easier. But they were simply impossible to imitate. And the same went for the Malkavians.
The nature of the Brujah and the Gangrel were both something Adrien couldn't relate to, and so trying to pose as either of them meant his cover would be easily blown. The Ventrue and the Toreador would be simple, and that was exactly why he dismissed them. If the Kindred started suspecting that they had a traitor among them, the Ventrue and the Toreador would be the first clans to be scrutinized.
But the Tremere, with their complex and mysterious ways, their strict hierachy and well guarded secrets... Even to the undead, they would be a challenge to imitate. And so they were the perfect clan. Adrien always did harbour an interest for the dark side of life, and actually fit the Tremere bill quite well.

Once he had learned what he needed to know in order to be able to present himself as a Tremere neonate, his vampire hunting days began.
This was in 1887. He had spent fifteen years studying, researching and perfecting his new persona, and was now 33 years old. Although his appearance and vitality was that of a man in his early 20's.
He spent a couple of months earning the trust of the Kindred around him, before he made his first kill. It was a Toreador neonate, so easily blinded by Adrien's good looks and charming ways that it took almost no effort at all.
After that, the number of Paris Kindred started rapidly decreasing. But before the risk of being found out got too big, Adrien bid his "fellow Tremere" farewell, telling them some excuse about wanting to leave Paris before he too suffered final death at the hands of this unknown vampire hunter.
However, unbeknownst to them, he stayed in secret to assasinate a few more Kindred. Because, if the killings ceased with his departure, it wouldn't take the survivors long to put two and two together.
And ironically, it was they who provided him with the perfect get-away. The turmoil caused by the many deaths had the same effect on Kindred as it would on humans; they started searching for a scapegoat, and even killed one of their own, a Brujah Ancilla, believing she was the traitor.
After she was dead, Adrien left Paris for real, leaving the remaining Kindred thinking they had indeed killed the hunter.

He repeated this pattern in various cities around Europe, before deciding the European Kindred had grown far too careful and suspicious for him to earn their trust. Instead, he crossed the Atlantic Ocean. The turn had now come to the Kindred of America.

By 1897, he had ended up in Los Angeles. There is where he met Mina; the first Kindred to ever spark an emotion in him. So much so that when came time to end her life, he hesitated ever so briefly. Not to take pleasure in the look on her face, not to savour the moment, but to apologize. If there had been one Kindred that could've made him think differently about their race, it would've been her.
But while it pained him to do this to her, he knew he had no choice. If he'd allow her to live, she surely wouldn't rest until she held in her hand his dying heart, ripped from his body by Mina herself. His betrayal had been too big for her to ever forgive him. She had confided in him, told him things she hadn't dared tell anyone else.

But, lady luck had been on Mina's side. Another Tremere interrupted just as Adrien was about to go in for the kill, and as it would've been impossible for him to take on two Tremere at once, he had to flee. Not just from the mansion they had been in, but from Los Angeles altogether. Staying would've been far too dangerous, as the Kindred now knew who he was and what he looked like.

Since that night, he roamed the various states of North America, tracking down Kindred and killing them when he got the chance. Though infiltrating the Tremere clan, or any clan, was no longer an option. He had long ago struck fear in Kindred society, as a nameless, unstoppable hunter. His anonymity had been his only protection. But with his appearance known, he would've roused suspicion the moment he waltzed into a Prince's domain, and so he'd had to settle for hiding in the shadows and striking when the right opportunity presented itself.

That was until three years ago.
In 2004, the Prince and the Primogen council of San Fransisco were informed that someone resembling Adrien had been spotted in their city. The Nosferatu were immediately sent to track him down. It took a while, even for these experts, but finally they found him.
Now, it was payback time.

Ambushed in a dirty back alley, to fit the story he had used to decieve so many of them throughout the years, Adrien was Embraced. And not just by any randomly chosen clan, but by the Tremere themselves.



Age: 150 dhampir years (appears to be in his mid/late 20's), three vampire years. Neonate.




Headshot



A little bit more sinister

(( so Atropa, does everyone know his story of a vampire hunter?))

Gemma : Mina's Cafe
 

The waiter scuffled back over to Gemma's table, her drink in hand. He smiled pleasently at Gemma as he sat the drink down in front of her. She returned the warm smile, watching him walk away and sliding the drink close to her.

A young woman sitting over in the corner caught Gemma's attention. She was almost positive that she felt her eyes on her, but when she looked the girl was absorbed in a book.

She smiled as pretended to drink of her coffee, raising the cup to her lips and letting the warm liquid graze them and then settly back into the cup. It was nice to see young people still interested in reading. With all the technology, video games, and the like out she was surprised to see any of this generation reading at all.

She sat absorbed in thought for a moment. Perhaps, later in the night, she would visit the Haven, just to let Valerian know how much she appreciated his art.

Gemma remembered an astrology magazine she had left in her purse. Wishing she had a book to read, she withdrew the magazine and began to thumb through the pages. Some of it seemed like nonsense, while some seemed highly plausible as she read paragraphs here and there.

She wondered why there weren't many people in the cafe. Last night when she left the museum, there were loads of people. Maybe, as the night went on, more people came. She might just stay to find out.

((OOC: Wow, your new character is going to be so much fun to read about and maybe even interact with, Atropa! Aella's RP may be coming later. Gemma is approachable.))

((ooc: Ok so we still think he is a vampire hunter. got it.))

(((ooc: -Isley- - *s* That's what I'm hoping for.
innoscent - Yes, but you don't necessarily know what he looks like.


Also, I forgot to mention this is my last post;
With the Ventrue Primogen back in town, the Prince would like to give him a proper welcome. And so;



The ball will be held on night #6 (meaning the night following this one), in the banqueting room in a hotel owned by Damian. The hotel itself will be closed to outsiders this evening, but all Kindred are welcome.
However, as Damian would never send out invitations with only one night's notice, let's assume the invitations were sent a week ago. That too is short notice, but Damian is too careful to want to give his enemies the opportunity to plan something.


Now, as this ball excludes all the human characters, we have decided that there will be opening night at a new club next to the hotel. That way, humans and Kindred can run into eachother outside (thanks to veldagia for the suggestion).




Though it is not required that your character shows up at either of these locations. All other hot spots will still be open to RPing, unless the owners post otherwise.)))

Archon DeWinter and Valerian - The Haven
 

# 2 [Fifth Night]

Since The Haven was the club that was most frequented by Kindred, and had a flow of information buzzing through it, Archon had picked up on this and decided to use it as a place to work. It was natural and easy to find information within these walls, and he did appreciate to be able to be present among L.A.'s unlife. When he was kine, he did not believe it was appropriate for him as a lord to consort with people who was not of his position. Although Primogen, they we're all of a higer race - developed kine if you please, and therefore Archon saw the benefits.
Connections is the Ventrue web, and Archon is a strong believer in taking care of his connections. Thus his relationship with Valerian. Besides being good business, Archon had long since discovered that Valerian was in fact an amenable and easy person to be around. Even though a great deal of time had passed since Archon first sat foot in The Haven and would not mind to be addressed with his first name only, Valerian himself always used some sort of title. It was a Toreador dance of the beauty in etiquettes. Archon could not help but appreciate it. To be greeted with a title, when it is not absolutly required, was rare indeed. Most would take the chance to level themselves equally with a Primogen. But not Valerian; and admiration did not come easily for Archon. As a Ventrue, he too saw the elegance in a title. That was, however, not the case with Valerian. His name alone was elegant enough.

The initial surprise when Valerian opened the door soon faded into a delighted smile, as he looked upon Archon's face in recognition. Even Archon smiled, genuinely, a scarce thing indeed. Valerians love for life was evident in his eyes, and Archon could not shield himself from this. The sensitive Toreador were masters at feeling and making others feel, but the cold heart in Archon's chest did not yield with ease. Though it was partly thawed in Valerians presence.

"My Lord DeWinter!" Valerian chimed with mirth. "Whispers in my club told me tales of your return, but never did I think I would see you here so soon. Welcome back."

The honesty in his words did not go unnoticed. The Primogen before him observed everything, every detail. He read people for a living, for his life indeed, and in order to remain head of the Ventrue. Nothing could be overlooked, when one was seated higher than the rest.

"Valerian", Archon spoke with uttermost respect for his name, for his authority as the host, and gave him a slight nod. "Thank you. I am most pleased to be back. Do forgive me if I have disrupted your sleep."

Not just anyone was addressed in this manner by Archon. He did truly have a soft spot for Valerian. But this was out of respect, and not because of the Toreador charm. Valerian provided him with important space, granted him the freedom to have his own little world within this Elysium. This was priceless, and delievered with a kind of friendship Archon had discovered he would miss if taken from him. It was not in his face, it was delicately presented. And this was the one person Archon suspected had no ulterior motive.

Damian & Mina - penthouse office
 

Had it been anyone else waiting for him, it was doubtful that Damian would've allowed them to enter along with him, let alone held the door open for them. Most likely, he would have asked them to wait a few minutes while he took care of an urgent phone call or some other pressing matter before seeing them. But with Mina... Well, it couldn't hurt to make her feel important and priviliged by seeing her straight away, could it? He did value her more than he did most of the other Primogen. And as he quite enjoyed her company, why make her wait?
Though none of that was the reason why he held the doors open for her. There was a far more simple explanation for that; he liked to watch her move. As she passed him by, his eyes travelled up and down her entire length, appreciatively but not shamefully. In fact, he watched her much like he would a work of art. She had such a smooth, effortless grace, a seductive yet unembellished sway to her hips that, had he been human, would've probably left him close to mesmerized.

Now, such thoughts rarely entered Damian's mind these days, as it was often preoccupied with various schemes, dilemmas and propositions. But the woman who just an hour ago had been whispering words of adoration in his ear had had an effect on him. Her words hadn't been meant for Damian Alexander the Prince, or the business tycoon. They had simply been meant for Damian Alexander, the man. It was something that had become nothing short of a rarity to him, which was why it had managed to actually stir something in him. For the first time in a very long time, he was feeling as much a man as he did a leader. And so Mina's presence and allure now held a stronger appeal to him than he usually allowed it to.

"I trust that Carmilla and Seath visited you last night", she said without turning to face him once the doors had drifted shut behind them. "I have an interest in the outcome, but did not wish to rely on the vagueness of second hand information."

Smiling to himself as he interpreted her words to mean just a little bit more than they let on, he followed her path towards the window, his stride slow but resolute, his posture relaxed but ever regal. He took his time deciding how to answer her indirect question. Not until he had joined her in overlooking the city did he speak.

"Frankly, I saw in Miss Le Fanu far too little of the qualities of which you spoke", he said, clasping his hands behind his back as he observed the traffic in the streets so far below. "I am not convinced she possesses the strength needed for her to break free."

He paused only briefly to glance at Mina's reflection in the window, to see the expression on her face - or rather, to see if there was one - before generously continuing;

"But, your knowledge of her goes far deeper than mine ever will, and so on this matter, I trust your judgement is better than mine. And while her personal traits left me unconvinced, her story did not. Whether or not she is as strong as you say, time will tell, but no woman should be made to suffer by the hands of any man."

Again he paused, and this time he turned to look at Mina directly. The conversation, the whole situation even, amused him greatly. Not the details as much as the fact that in a way, the two of them had conspired together. And Damien very much enjoyed conspiring. Especially with someone like Mina; intelligent, shrewd, beautiful. And deadly. It was a thrill in an existence that rarely held any fascination anymore.

"I decided to fully grant your request", he concluded, now keeping his eyes fixed on Mina as he intentionally made the matter be about her, since she interested him far more than Carmilla and Seath did. "If Mr Cunningham is as intelligent as he flatters himself with thinking, he will have released her already."

((Adrien's back!! Omigoodness! How exciting. I love the background for him, Atropa... all your characters are so marvelously unique and well thought out. :]
Psyche; it was hard to write, but neat! Glad you liked it.

Vevila coming later tonight. I have to go to a friend's birthday, but when I return I'll try to write something. ))

Aella
 

Aella returned home quite early the previous night, her inspiration to write taking over her body. She finished off another chapter in her novel, very satisfied with it's content.

She stayed up late working on the chapter; into the early hours of the morning. It was three in the afternoon by the time she woke up - four thirty by the time she really came around.

Her head pounded as though a million tiny drums were being beaten inside her brain. She took a long shower, alleviating some of the pain.

As she was doing her hair after she got out of the shower, she saw her cell phone vibrating. It was no doubt a missed call from her agent. She ran her straightening iron through her hair once more and walked over to where her phone sat, picking it up.

The vibrations sent tingles through her skin as she pressed a button to light up the screen. '1 Missed Call, 1 Voicemail' the screen read. Aella held down the '1' key on her phone and brought it to her ear.

"Aella, dear, It's Paulette. I'm just callin' to tell you that they passed you over for the 'Kill It Before It Dies' part. They said you didn't look innocent enough. We'll get 'em next time though!"

Aella sighed as she pressed the end key. The message was from her agent. Yet another rejection. Oh well, Aella thought. Her book was almost complete, she put so much into it, it was sure to sell well.

Deciding that she needed some livening up, she put on a skirt and a green top, so that she could go to the Haven once more. She didn't really care if Zillah was there; she'd just ignore him. What could he do to her?

¤¤¤

Aella didn't have trouble getting into the Haven; she only had to wait a few minutes. The quick change of atmosphere always amazed her as she entered clubs. While you couldn't exactly call Los Angeles calm, it was a lot quieter compared to the clubs.

She could get used to the noise though. She didn't really see many familiar faces from the previous night that stuck out in her mind; no sign of the Gia look-alike either.

She ran a hand through her long mane of straight red hair as she worked her way around the maze of people. Everyone's different smells combined to attack her nostrils, as she was forced to be a little closer than comfort to some people.

She found a comfortable spot on the dance floor and began to dance coyly; feigning a little more shy than she really was.

((OOC: Aella is approachable now. =) ))

Jessica ~ Night 5
 

A cool breeze ran through Jessica's apartment, accompanied by the sound of a piano. She was composing music. She never did this often. It was a soft sound, resembling chimes. She got up to get more staff paper when she noticed an invite to the ball welcoming Lord DeWinter back to LA. "S**t!" She hadn't even gone shopping for a dress yet! But nobody was probably open. She went into her closet. She knew there was something here. Nobody had a walk in closet and couldn't find something to wear. Then something struck her. Her favorite dress in the whole world. She picked up the hanger in which a sky blue, tulle like dress hung off of it, flowing gently to the floor. "Perfect." She tried it on. It fit perfectly, snug against her, showing off her nearly perfect curves. She took it off, and replaced it with her current outfit. The dress was hung up on a seperate hook in the closet, waiting for her tomorrow.

Jessica realized she had nothing planned tonight. Besides her composing, which could wait. The Haven would be a good choice. there was always something to do there. She closed the windows and locked up, leaving for the club. The Haven wasn't far from her apartment. It was only a 10 minute drive or so. the bouncer let her in, as always, and she started to dance.

((I used an actual picture for her dress from Vera Wang. Jessica's Dress It's under Full length on pg. 3.))

Adrien de la Cour - entering L.A.
 

It had been a long time since he last had set foot in Los Angeles. Since that fateful night over a hundred years ago, he had only been there a couple of times, and never longer than 24 hours. The risk of being discovered, tracked down, and killed had been too great for him to linger. He had only entered the city domains when in pursuit of the Kindred next on his list of targets. In his vampire hunting days, he had been careful and methodical, never striking at any random Kindred that had happened to cross his path. Like a professional, he had spent weeks observing, assessing and analysing his victims. Especially since his identity had been found out, and he had to operate lurking in the shadows. Being a dhampir, with minor supernatural powers of his own, it had been more difficult for the Kindred to sense his presence, than had he been fully human.

This time, however, his stay would last far longer than 24 hours. If he was lucky. After having been the scourge of Kindred society for over a century, there were few that wouldn't like the opportunity to show him what exactly they thought of him. And while the last three years had made him used to being a target himself, of violence, spite and hatred, there was always the nagging worry that one of these nights, he would come across someone who cared far too little about the Prince's approval, to not kill him on the spot. Though most did seem to appreciate the irony of his fate, and considered it a far better and more suitable punishment than final death could ever be.

There was one, however, that he feared might not see it that way, that might kill him as soon as she laid eyes on him. Because she would lay eyes on him. There was no avoiding it. Before this night was over, he would have to come face to face with her. It was the reason why he had been sent here in the first place; to face his ultimate punishment. It was a fate he could not escape. Sooner or later she would learn about his Embrace, and even if he tried to outrun his destiny this time, he would not succeed. For although it appeared he was alone, he knew better. He was being watched, and if he tried to run, he would surely fail.
But, Adrien would not run. He may have been made to suffer indignity and humiliation, but he still had his sense of pride. He would not be a coward. Even if it would cost him his exitence.
But they didn't know that. They knew he was strong-willed, stubborn even, but they didn't trust him. They never would. And they would be here to see to it that he went before his Primogen; the one whose hatred of him surpassed that of every other Kindred. And her being an Elder, there would be little he could do to defend or even protect himself from the vengeance she was sure to take.

But first, he had to go by the book, and present his presence in Los Angeles to the Prince. He already wasn't very popular in Kindred society. The last thing he needed to do was give the Prince of the city a reason to make his life more difficult than it already was.

Slowly, reluctantly, he stepped out of the car, the only sound heard being the hushed whisper of his black coat as the hem caught in the wind, and the frail jingling noise of the two charms he wore around his neck. Until he slammed the car door shut, thus brutally killing their secretive harmonies. He tilted his head back briefly to glance up at the impressive building infront of him.
The V.

Kira
 

Kira walked up to her studio. Creativety flowed from her. Ever since seeing looking at that women last night she had a picture in her head she wanted to draw. It had been aching to get out of her all day. She set up her canvas and threw on a apron. Her brushes were right beside her on the table ready for her to work. The paint smell filled the room as she poured it out. She picked up her brush and put it in the colors. the colors swireled together as the color she wanted formed. With long strokes, she started to paint. The deep green first, then she went for the lighter green. When it came time she started with her grays. The bolders in her picture coming to life. Next was the blues swarmed together to make the waters and Kira made waves crash onto the boulders. A fine mist in the air. The sky was a stormy day. It looked icy cold as the wind blew. A single girl ontop a huge rock over looking the ocean. Her face was full of tumoil. An anguished face. She saw in her mind the womens skin she had seen. She looked so much like porcelin. So white and fragile, but beautiful. She made her girl look just like that. Her burgendy dress flew against the harsh winds and her hair was scattered in the air around her. When her painting was finally finished. Kira stood back and sighed loudly. She studied the picture. It was remarlable. Just how she wanted it to be. A smile krept up on her lips. One of her very rare smiles. Kira felt, fulfilled. Just them Sam bursted threw the doors.
"Come on Kira! I have a surprise for you!"
For some reason Kira didnt oject. She let the girl fling her out of the apartment and walked down the street.

((ooc: Anyone can bump into her or catch her attension some how. ))

Sarah ~ Night 5 #2
 

Sarah took a sip of her coffee, and saw Bee walk by. She turned to look interested in her book so she didn't look anxious. Once she walked by, her eyes followed her. Sarah took out a 10 and set it on the table under her empty coffee cup. She opened the door, and started to follow her, leaving a good 30 feet between them. Bee ended up at The Haven. The one place Sarah thought was suspicious in the first place. Bee seemed to go there all the time. Then she began to think about what had happened to her the last few days. Maybe she should confront Bee about it, but she wasn't sure.

Valerian & Archon - The Haven
 

"Valerian", Archon greeted the half-dressed young man before him, and as formal as usual, he somehow managed to make the name sound noble and strong, simply by saying it.

When others pronounced it, it tended to sound as soft and gentle as the personality of it's owner. But not Archon. Sometimes Valerian wondered if there was anything at all, that wouldn't be made to sound different at the tip of Archon's tounge.

"Thank you", the Ventrue Primogen continued. "I am most pleased to be back. Do forgive me if I have disrupted your sleep."

At that, Valerian simply waved a hand dismissively in the air, as if telling him there was no need to apologize.

"I would have to get up sooner or later anyway", he smiled. "Might as well be sooner rather than later."

Pushing the door further open, he then took a step back and made a lavish sweeping motion with his arm, inviting Archon into his personal chambers.

"Do come in."



(((ooc: Sorry so short, but I didn't have all that much to go on. )))

((Atropa-- No worries! Like you said, the times wouldn't coincide, so it's okay. They'll just have to meet again. :] ))

Vevila stirred slightly beneath the silk sheets of her bed. The cool surface caressed her porcelain legs, like a thousand gentle touches of a familiar hand. With a quiet yawn, she brought herself into a seated position and gazed with dull eyes out her window. Nightfall, as always. It enveloped the world much like the blankets that swallowed her body. She sat there in quiet solitude like a marble statue, unmoving for the longest time. With a considerable amount of struggle and force, she lifted her heavy body from the bed and moved to her closet.

Looking beautiful was not her primary concern. Vevila merely desired comfort, and a feeling of safety and security. Such a feeling seemed unattainable at the moment, though. She pulled out a low-dipping blue cashmere sweater and a flowing black chiffon skirt. Vevila slumped into a large velvet chair and ran a brush through her tangled mass of raven hair. The knots were yanked out easily, but they caused much pain. With each tug of her wrist she winced slightly but pressed on. Soon a crown of glistening black silk topped her head like a curtain, cascading over her shoulders in loose waves and curls.

She was starting to feel weak; she had been so distracted with the Blood Hunt that she hadn't sought any nourishment in nearly a day. Simply moving her languid limbs was a struggle. As much as she simply wanted to remain within the suffocating walls of her home, wallowing in her sorrow and anger, Vevila fully recognized this wasn't an option. She had to make an appearance; any show of great remorse for the subject of the Blood Hunt would certainly appear somewhat suspicious.

Upon her table in fine cursive print and letterhead was a letter from the Prince and the whole of the Ventrue Clan. Her unearthly eyes skimmed over the words, finally drawing up a summary of its contents.

"The Ventrue Primogen is back?" Her words were a soft, airy whisper. "A ball to celebrate his arrival." She shook her head and tossed the letter back onto the table, letting a hiss-like sight perforate her lips. "Great." The dissatisfied grumble slipped past without her consent; a big party full of vampires wasn't exactly her idea of a good time at the moment. Luckily it wasn't until tomorrow.

With another deep, heaving sigh, Vevila tugged on her shoes and slipped out of her apartment. As she strode down the streets, little fazed her; eyes that clung to her, shoulders that brushed her...all were like ghosts in passing. She wasn't quite certain exactly where she was headed, and her movements mirrored that; her steps were anything but purposeful.

((Anyone on the streets is welcome to approach her. ))

Bee could feel the eyes on her. She didnt know who it was and wasnt going to startle the person. She had a feeling it was a human though. She order a flute of wine and put it to her lips, just to get a taste. God how she missed the drink.She was a bit worried but enthralled at the same time. With a letter arriving for a ball to honor the Ventrue Primogen coming back. He had been gone a while. She hoped everything went alright. Not all vampires actually get along. The Brujah clan for instance, they tended not to like many. Bee turned in her seat, scannning the crowd, She saw Sarah off in the distance. It was her eyes she felt on her the way over here. She must have seen her why walking by the cafe. She got up and went over to her.
"Sarah, what a surprise, how are you doing? I hope all went well with your argument with your friend." Bee had one of her friendly smiles on her face.

Mina with the Prince = his office
 

"Frankly, I saw in Miss Le Fanu far too little of the qualities of which you spoke", he said, joined her in overlooking the city. "I am not convinced she possesses the strength needed for her to break free."

Mina's brow furowed ever so slightly at his remark, a spiderweb line creasing across the pale skin but her vegue smile held steady. His words came as a dissapointment, that he found another of her clan lacking in the qualities she exalted. Still in turmolous times sometimes it is not always the best qualities which rise to the front. They could also be hidden by the cloak of shadow that veiled the Tremere nature. She did not doubt that Carmilla had the willpower of a seasoned Tremere and that posession alone would give her the strength needed to annihliate any barriers to her intent. Carmilla was in a difficult situation torn between loyalty to a sire and her own needs. A loyalty that their clan demanded, to maintain the structure of the pyramid. So perhaps she had not presented her finest hand called to answer before the dominating soverign.

"But, your knowledge of her goes far deeper than mine ever will, and so on this matter, I trust your judgement is better than mine. And while her personal traits left me unconvinced, her story did not. Whether or not she is as strong as you say, time will tell, but no woman should be made to suffer by the hands of any man" Damien continued.

These words caused the slight frown to vanish as though the lines were just an illusion cast upon Mina's mask by the play of light and shadow. Her steady emerald gaze meeting his fully as he conceded to giving her judgement more weight than his own. She took that responsibilty seriously. Carmilla's actions would now reflect directly upon her, but she trusted that Carmilla would not dissapoint.

"I decided to fully grant your request", he concluded, now keeping his eyes fixed on Mina. "If Mr Cunningham is as intelligent as he flatters himself with thinking, he will have released her already."

Mina noted his choice of words that implied he had granted her a personal favour. A small satisfied smile graced her lips, it appeared that the most powerful vampire in the city was cultivating her alliance. Which suited her own agenda. For although no Tremere blood graced his veins, Damien was a man she could respect, one who used intelligence in his dealings, a Lord of dusky intregue. Carefully anylysed thoughts governing his words and actions rather than the emotional scatterings some vampires were driven by. Daminen was certainly a fellow creature of the night that embraced the darkness with the same dynamic resolution she possessed.

As Mina stood with him overlooking the great city, his city, she felt the air of conspiricy hanging aroud them. The mutual trust of the collusion making her feel much closer to him than she had been to anyone in a long time. Seath would be foolish to disobey the Prince. So Carimilla's fate had surely been given the best grounding Mina could have achieved. Her own involvement hidden behind the face of Carmarilla authority. She only hoped the woman would use the opportunity to blossom like a blood red rose now the thorn of Seath had been removed from her side.

Mina's life that at times felt meaningless, dark night after night, was given a reason with the politics. The manipulation brought pleasure where beauty had lost all its vitality in this kingdom without light. Still she searchied for the gate to a better life, expanding her clans wealth, knowledge and power. A gate which Damien held the keys to, with his masterful control of the city. There was something in his eyes that made the eternal existance more bareable. A chance to be rewarded by an approving smile, to know that what she fought for, the Carmariila, her clan, held a meaning beyond that in her own head.

"I can only assure you that Carmilla will follow her own destiny. The door has been opened for her, the circle broken, Seath's influancial power discharged. We can do no more, without forcing our own influence upon her foreordination. I can offer no more to her than a guiding light." A small sigh escaped her lips, however much she would love to take the woman under her wing. She could not remove the pain for her, it was a battle she had to fight herself. Mina knew that her own demanding nature was a damnation much like Seath's. The years having left her cold and heartless with all the blood she had seen flowing, the death, the despair, the secrets she had to bare.

The warmth that melted Mina's icy orbs expressed a silent thank you, Damien's assistance in the matter would not be forgotten, should he have anything he needed from her in the eternity that loomed before them. "You have my gratidude for your involvement in the matter, if ever...." Mina's voice trailed off as her emerald eyes wandered away from him to stare contemplatevly out of the window, over the lights that danced across the city. Expressing her appreciation in words was difficult for her, to open up and be honest. Her shrewed nature prevented her from committing into words something she could later be held to. Though her sentiment meant she would do almost anything for the proficent, masterful vampire before her.

((OOC sorry again for the delay Atropa
And if anything about Damien you feel is incorrect just let me know and I'll alter))

Archon DeWinter and Valerian - The Haven
 

# 3 [Fifth Night]

The invitation brought an aerial smile upon Archon's face, so subtle it would have been almost nothing to anyone, but a Toreador. Archon was all but an open book, even the Toreador could have a hard time reading him. But he did let Valerian come closer than most, giving him tools to use when they interacted. Archon did have a vigilant mind, always reading the faces and actions of others. But he did not read something into nothing, he was far from paranoid. It was the belief in him, the Ventrue way, that what they had was appealing to everyone else. And those that did not want it, they wanted something else, and that was Archon's concern. Call it his need to know. Knowing could be the difference between victory and failure. The smallest knowledge about someone, could make the scale tip in a whole different matter. Nothing was trivial.
The pieces of the puzzle that amounted to the world was elaborate, one could not get too comfortable, and miss the perfect piece. This was nothing short of the truth with the Kindred society as well. Their Masquerade and the clans co-existance with each other had the same constellation, the same elaborate design. Archon was almost never comfortable among others, not to the full extent of the word. Valerian had a way about him that put the Primogen at ease, but the Toreador also picked up on the unsleeping mind within that sovereign head of his. No matter how relaxed Archon seemed, he never let his guard down, although many around him thought he did. And that was, of course, his intention.

"Thank you", Archon said unto the proposal.

But he did not enter the chambers immediately, first he turned to Roe that was standing a little further away, so that Valerian's gaze did not include him at once. Roe handed a black box to Archon, and exchanged a slight nod with Valerian before he headed down the stairs with Archon's briefcase. Then Archon entered Valerian's personal quarters. Although almost completley hidden in darkness, his eyes dealt with the dark like an animals would. The light from the club did sneak it's way inside, before the door closed, but Archon already knew the content of the apartment; the dark decor of it all. Even the papers laying around, with sketches and other signs of Valerian's artistic inspiration, seemed dark. And the paintings on the walls had something sinister about them when interpreted in scarce light. The art studio, the part where they had walked in, gave Archon the strongest feeling of being inside a Toreador domain. When content with his observation of the surroundings, he turned to Valerian.

"You are the essence of your clan, Valerian", he said with a minor tilt to his head. "I have met many Toreador, these past months alone, but no other is as eternal in the present moment as you, my friend. I find most of them buried in the past, in need of a quickening. Maybe it is your tender age, but never the less, I believe I will find you ageless in the centuries to come. I am sure, as your chambers concludes this."

He did indeed observe many things, details, in a short amount of time. The room communicated with Archon's senses, telling him the legend that was Valerian. A young vampire, already so well known and cherished by fellow Kindred that he himself had become some kind of undead statue. Enchanting vampires around him, making them forget the sadness enclosed in the vast endless time that was their destiny. His legacy was already in the world, ever changing, with a promise to woo others until the end of time. This was nothing new, it was all familiar to Archon. These thoughts had been his since he had gotten to know the young man. But this was the first time he spoke of them, letting Valerian in on his view of him. Archon was not the one to speak his mind in haste, and he was also determined to have a clear reason as to why he would utter certain words.
Although it was a Toreador trait to be captivated by beauty, this Toreador made beautiful things that had such eclectic fascination about them, that even the cold hearted Ventrue Primogen could feel himself coming to a halt when looking at them. This time it only lasted for seconds, as he broke the chain of allurement and faced Valerian again.

"This is for you", he said and raised his hands holding the black box. "It is a token of my appreciation of the generous hospitaliy you have bestowed upon me."





__________________________________

((ooc: Atropa - If I have written something that doesn't fit with the room, Valerian etc. just tell and I will make changes. )))

Damian & Mina - penthouse office / Adrien
 

After not having been able to decipher Mina's reaction to his comment regarding Carmilla's shortcomings - something he partly ascribed to her ability to keep a straight face at all times, and partly to the fact that he had only watched the obscure and slightly blurred reflection of her features in the window - Damian was much satisfied to see that she followed his lead. Moments after he had turned to face her, she did the same. By doing so, she allowed him to catch a glimpse of her tiny smile and thus confirm that she was truely and properly honored by his trust in her. It was widely known that with him, trust didn't come easy. And even though it was a somewhat small matter, compared to the intrigue and backstabbing a Prince was often faced with, something about the look in his eyes spoke of how Carmilla's behaviour following her release was of little concern to him. It wasn't the point. The reason why he trusted Mina's judgement wasn't simply because it wouldn't cost him all that much if Carmilla strayed from the straight and narrow of the Camarilla. The reason, the point, was that he would've valued Mina's judgement, no matter what the issue. She seemed to understand him and his reasoning in a way that none of the other Primogen did. She was refined in her methods, and understood the game of politics, the value of setting things up, aligning all aspects, before carrying out her own agenda with brilliant precision and perfection. She didn't just storm in to whomever she felt owed her something, she didn't make noisy demands or whine openly about how the Prince did not act like she wanted him to on a certain matter. She didn't act like a stubborn three year old child, nor like some rebellious teenager. Unlike some.
On the contrary. She was calm, composed and dignified. She took her time to analyze the situation, to consider possibilities, and listen to her head rather than her heart. And even though she may act swiftly, she was never rash.
Had Damian not known she was Tremere, at times he could've sworn she shared his blood. And there were times when he wished she had. She would've made a most extraordinary addition to the Ventrue prominence and grandeur.

"I can only assure you that Carmilla will follow her own destiny", she said. "The door has been opened for her, the circle broken, Seath's influancial power discharged. We can do no more, without forcing our own influence upon her foreordination. I can offer no more to her than a guiding light."

Damian nodded slowly. It was a most noble stance for her to take. Others would've jumped at the chance at manipulating the now very vulnerable Carmilla, to carefully mold her in secret to serve their purpose.
And really, he wouldn't have blamed Mina if that had been what she'd chosen to do. She had taken a considerable risk by getting involved, and asking for Damian's help. A far greater risk than Damian himself had taken by meddling. Carmilla didn't just owe Damian alot. She owed Mina a h*ll of alot more.
And so Damian wouldn't have thought any less of Mina than before, had she taken advantage of the situation.
He did, however, think more highly of her because she didn't.

"You have my gratidude for your involvement in the matter", she continued, her voice now sounding most humble, and her ever piercing emerald gaze softening slightly as she spoke, before she looked away. "If ever..."

She didn't finish the sentence, but then again she didn't need to. They had an understanding, and so until he decided to call her on the favor she owed him, the matter wouldn't have to be discussed any further.
Thus, his only reply was a gracious nod, much like one would expect from him in a situation like this. But there was also a slight curve of his lips. Not the usual semi-smirk, not even the vague but ill-boding smile that tended to grace his lips when he was in a particularly predatory mood. No. It was a far more benevolent one, that offered her the same warmth her smile had offered him.
Then, deciding to change the subject, he turned from the window and started moving over to his desk.

"I take it you have heard that Lord DeWinter has returned?" he said, mostly as a rhetorical question. "And I trust you have recieved the invitation for the ball that is to be held in his honor?"

That, too, was a question that needed no reply.
However, the next was. Upon reaching the desk, he turned back to look at her, and went through his standard motion of inviting her to sit, if that was what she wished to do. He himself intended to remain standing. For now.

"Will I have the pleasure of seeing you there?"

'I'. Not 'we', as in the Ventrue clan mentioned on the invitation. Once again he was using the trick of expressing himself in a seemingly innocent way, to get an underlying hint across. He didn't ask on behalf of his clan, with the purpose of making sure she would attend out of respect for Archon - though there was an ounce of that as well - but because he himself wanted her there, for his own personal reasons.

Though much to his dismay, the only answer he got right there, was the interrupting buzz of the intercom. Doing little to hide his annoyance, he leaned across the desk to press the little red button.

"Yes?" he demanded.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Sir," the voice of his secretary apologized. "But there is someone here to see you. A Tremere who wishes to make his presence in the city known to you."

Damian looked up at Mina, raising an eyebrow at the coincidence of a Tremere coming to introduce himself to the Prince while he was in a meeting with the very Tremere Primogen.
But there was also a silent question for Mina in his expression. Although he didn't much like the prospect of having his one-on-one meeting with her interrupted, it somehow seemed appropriate to have this new Tremere present himself to the Prince and the Primogen both at the same time.
And since her interest seemed piqued as well, what harm could it do to allow the man his introduction and then send him on his way?

"Send him in", he ordered.

With that he let go of the buzzer, and straightened his back.



- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


To say that Adrien was excited about meeting the Prince would be a vast overstatement. As far as he was concerned, the fewer Kindred he met, the better. They had nothing to offer him, except venom, loathing, and disrespect. Most seemed too busy taking their revenge on him for friends and brethren he'd slain, to realize that he had been a force to be reckoned with. During his hunter days, he'd been more lethal to the Kindred than any other human (or in his case, half-breed), and the only reason why he hadn't continued his career even as a vampire himself, was because of the blood bond his Elders had forced on him, in order to keep him on a tight leash. They were the only ones who seemed to be aware of what he'd be capable of, if just given the chance.
But, with the loyalty to the Tremere tugging in his veins, the best thing he could do right now, was to follow protocol. And protocol at the moment, demanded that he see the Prince.

When told by the Prince's secretary that he may go in, he took a deep breath - a human habit he still hadn't rid himself of - before pushing the doors open. Without hesitation he stalked towards the desk, and the Prince, exuding a confidence he'd learn to draw from his hatred and his bitterness, his stubborness to not be degraded. He refused to show a weakness the Kindred so longed to see in him. He refused to falter.
And yet, falter was exactly what he did when his eyes landed on the elegant woman standing not too far from the Prince. It was a sight that made him stop dead in his tracks, a vision that left him frozen to the ground, that sent chills shooting violently up his back.

Her.



(((ooc: veldagia - Sorry so long. Would've been way longer though, had I had more time. But I don't. I have to go to bed. *pout* )))

Zillah approching Vevila - Street
 

Zillah pullled on a pair of dark denim jeanes, worn, ripped and faded yet still hugging across his slim hips. He added a black shirt, covered in a distortion of zips, short, thin, wide and long which entwined to give a hard edged punky style. This was all topped with her long black leather trench, to keep the chill of the night air away. His head pounded with an intense hangover, a tribute to the excesses of the previous night. A deadly plague of headaches and dehydration that threatened to ruin his carousal lifestyle. He plopped one thick white tablet into a cup of water, watching the fizz, and bubbles of the tiny explosion before downing it in one large gulp. Grimmicing against the bitter taste.

He tucked the small semi-autamatic sleek black gun into the lining of his coat. Secure that it could be retrieved in an instant, a flick of the wrist. Then headed out into the street, detirmined a walk would clear his pulsating head. He pushed on through the crowds, vicous of movement keeping a solid central line that gave way to no-one as they parted or collided with his powerful frame. Pressing on his journey, he did not rush yet there was no hesitation in his step, certain he would reach his destination in time.

A smile blossomed across his lips like a rose opening its petals to the morning sun. The emerald orbs opening wide with suprise and intreque as he took in the dazzling sight wandering aimlessly down the street before him. The intrecate nest of hair had been combed into a sleek dark cascade of ebony. The wildness in her multitonal eyes replaced by an unphased serinity. But still she looked like a warrior soul sent to battle upon the dark urban landscape.

Zillah stopped dead in his tracks on the street. A few steps before her. His blood pulsing harder, faster through his veins threatening to drown out everything with its thunderous throb. His darkly enticing gaze fixing her fully like a deer caught in headlights. "Vevila." He said the word oozing from his lips to dance through the night air. A whispered breathe to summon her attention.

((OOC Trampled hope you don't mind Zillah pouncing on Vevila he couldn't resist
Atropa I will respond ASAP but right now I need to sleep ))

Mina with the Prince = his office And Adrien!
 

"I take it you have heard that Lord DeWinter has returned?" Damien said rhetoricaly. "And I trust you have recieved the invitation for the ball that is to be held in his honor?"

Mina followed him with her eyes, admiring his command of the room, of the conversation. The way the air seemed to part for him, as though it worshiped the power that emenated strikingly from every movement. Oh how easy it would be to fall for the devil. To turn to him to banish the cold darkness inside that threatened to drown her with its gloomy tendrils. To allow herself to lean upon that ruthless strength. To become the dark shadowous sage lurking behind the throne. To covert an additiction to the ancient blood which swirled through soverignity.

Reaching his desk he motioned for her to sit if she chose. Ever the gracious host. Still she remained standing at the window, turning to face him so she was outlined by the darkness that crept inside. A small inclination of her long gracious neck confirming she had received the invite.

"Will I have the pleasure of seeing you there?" Damien questioned.

His ownership of the phrase was not lost upon Mina. The implication it held of a personal invite that she could not refuse. Though she had always evrey intention of being present. It was a networking opportunity, no-one in the political circle would miss. The chance to mingle on a more personal level, to dance and share laughter. For she would ensure she was seen on his arm for at least one swirl across the floor. A devestating caution to any that might linger in the distance hoping to engage the hem of power.

But before a reply had chance to form across her ruby lips the receptionist's buzzer sounded, ringing brutaly through the air breaking the engaging pause. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Sir," the voice of his secretary apologized. "But there is someone here to see you. A Tremere who wishes to make his presence in the city known to you."

Here already, the one her Elders had spoken of, one that needed a firm instruction to acquire their rituals, their gaurded rules. Mina met Damien's raised eyebrow with a curious smile. Though any other interuption would have raised annoyance. It would be a notable introduction for the troublesome childe to comprehend her alliance within these walls. That trouble would not be permited within her haven, whilst she still had the capacity to dominate this citiy's night.

"Send him in", he ordered.

As the doors opened, the Tremere entered stalking confidently towards the desk. The stubbon arrogance oozing out of every pore with a familality that a century's passing could not banish.

If Mina's heart had still been working it would have ceased all pulsations in that very instant. So great was the shock of seeing him again. Her sharp emerald eyes filled with anger as they held Adrien fixed within their intense glare. But it was not the usual icy anger that signalled her annoyance at some matter. This was a raw burning rage, a fire born of pain, of betrayal, of deceit and of blood. Her mask held, the slight smile fixed upon her lips though all traces of warmth disintergrated. She did not speak as she battled with the urges within as the blood magic rose into her eyes, an instictive protective magic that shone bright in her eyes. A flash of warning as she tore her gaze from him, controlling the power for she was within the Princes domain.. The Thamaturgy which would steal anothers blood finding no target within the line of emerald sight dissipated. Long lashes descended banishing the socery forcing it back down, containing it within.

Only then did she look at him once more. The Dhampir who had tried to kill her, had held her close in his deadly grasp. The man she had sworn to destory, with every passion she possessed. Not for attempting to end her eternal nights, that was forgivable, there were many who wanted her dead, others who had tried and failed. But for what Adrien had stolen from her, her heart betrayed through the trust she had so blindly bestowed upon him. She had believed him, protected him, provided him with an alabi and he had turned it all against her in a fury of rage when she understood perfectly one of them would have to die. And still she had been unable to do it, in that moment when her teeth grazed his neck, her heart had broken.

Finaly Mina spoke, the name that haunted her soul torn from her crimson lips in a whispered condemnation. "Adrien."

Mina took a step towards Adrien, Damien forgotten in her transfiction with the ghost before her. She could smell his blood, the amber musk that taunted her nightmares with hatred and scarlet desire. The razor blades that tore within her dreams, that would not let her forget him, much as she tried. Her sharp white fangs desending slightly to graze over her lower lip, a dark threat as she moved closer her analytical eyes scouring over him, something had changed. The receptionist had said he was a Tremere, the disquise he so blatently had flaunted all those years ago. Could it now be true?

She stopped a foot before him, close enough that in an instant she could break his cold white neck, but her hand lingered at her side as though she was afraid to touch him. Her elders had informed her that they were sending a young Tremere that required her guiding hand to instruct the ways of the Pyramid. Their hints had contained a challenge after she had bitterly disaapointed them refusing to turn another with her powerful blood. That she should take this one on, demonstrate that she was worthy of their trust. She must prove she could hold it all in her delicate balance, her position within the Princes office, the Tremere leadership within this city and to instruct an apprentice they believed would be nothing but trouble. But did they hate her with so much vehemence as to send her Adrien? It could not be true.

Mina's head inclined slightly to one side, the vitriolic pain hidden behind a mask of intreque. "What exactly are you doing here?" The here was bluntly emphasised so Adrien would clearly understand she meant her domain, that he had so arrogantly ventured within her own crimson circle of power. Slowly her ruby lips spread into a smile, a smile laced with the lethal poison of over thirty-five thousand nights spent waiting for her revenge.



((OOC My replies hardly short but I don't think there's too much to respond to

Mina gets to see Adrien again :dance: I just couldn't condense it any further....

Sorry all for the double post but I wanted to keep Mina seperate))

Valerian & Archon - the Haven
 

Most people who had the pleasure of ever meeting Valerian, would find it hard not to be infected by the young man's vibrant vitality and high spirits. Kindred and kine alike. Most also found him to be an enigma, a paradox. While soft-spoken and mild-mannered, he still often had the aura of a whirlwind; whoever happened to be in his company were swept off their feet, wrapped in his undying enthusiasm and joie de vivre, his words and mere presence conjuring vivid and wild fantasies, leaving their heads spinning with a burst of new impressions and sensations.
Had it been anyone else, his ways may have seemed false and exaggerated, but as Valerian was all kindness and sincerity - most of the time - his lavish gestures and tendency to title his guests took his elders back to a time long forgotten, and offered the younger ones a taste of something they had never gotten to experience. Some were fondly amused by it, and others, like Archon, appreciated it as another way for Valerian to embrace all the beauty of eternity.

"Thank you", Archon said politely, accepting the young Toreador's invitation.

However, before entering he gestured for Roe, his bodyguard, who was hovering a few feet behind him. Apparently, it was a sign that the Gangrel had been waiting for, as he immediately came over, carrying with him a black box which he handed over to Archon before turning again and heading towards the stairs. Valerian, whose curiousity had - not surprisingly - been piqued by the sudden appearance of this mysterious black box, watched his retreating form from over Archon's shoulder, and for a brief moment, his eyes filled with longing. A true rarity in his club, Roe held an unmistakable appeal to the ever appreciative Valerian. He was such a virile young man, and Valerian was as easily attracted by rough, rugged masculinity as he was by elegant and refined femininity. And everything in between.

As Roe started descending the stairs, Archon breezed through the door and thus efficently brough Valerian's attention back from it's brief detour. He followed slowly, watching Archon take in the scenery, like he'd done the other few times he'd been inside Valerian's personal chambers. Once the light from outside the room had been blocked out, Valerian flicked the switch next to the door and sent the artificial light cascading down over the part of the room they were in. There would be no romantic interactions with Archon, and so he may just as well set the mood for something more businesslike.

"You are the essence of your clan, Valerian".

The Ventrue's first words took the young host by complete surprise. Archon was not known for giving compliments easily, and especially not ones that went straight to the heart of the reciever. Had Valerian still had the ability to blush, he would surely have felt a rosey hue tinge his ivory cheeks as the simple but highly flattering statement warmed his heart.

"I have met many Toreador, these past months alone, but no other is as eternal in the present moment as you, my friend", Archon continued, further complimenting Valerian, not only by commenting on his persona, but also calling him a friend.

It was another thing one did not earn easily when it came to the Ventrue Primogen. Or any Ventrue, for that matter.

"I find most of them buried in the past, in need of a quickening. Maybe it is your tender age, but never the less, I believe I will find you ageless in the centuries to come. I am sure, as your chambers concludes this."

Sensing that although he fell silent he was not done, Valerian simply smiled and gave a humble nod, staying silent as Archon once again let his gaze roam his loft-like living quarters. Once satisfied and ready to speak the rest on his mind, Archon then turned back to face Valerian.

"This is for you", he said, extending the black box towards Valerian. "It is a token of my appreciation of the generous hospitality you have bestowed upon me."

As he accepted it, Valerian's eyes flashed with excitement, and his sensuous lips parted in another delighted smile. Although more curious than ever, he found that it didn't really matter what the box contained. The gesture alone was enough to leave him thrilled. Though to many a gift not opened would be a gift completely wasted, and Valerian's curious nature did demand that he open the box immediately. Looking around for a place to set it down, he finally decided on the small sideboard next to his easel, where he kept his brushes, paints and palettes along with various jars and pieces of cloth. Perching the box on a small uncluttered edge, he glanced over at Archon, and then carefully opened the lid.
Slowly, his jaw dropped.
On a small bed of satin was a most exquisite and delicatly handcrafted Venetian mask. Black, with an intricate pattern decorated by tiny white gems.

"Lord DeWinter", Valerian breathed, clearly overwhelmed by such a fitting, carefully chosen gift. "You are far too kind."


(((ooc: veldagia - Will have to respond tomorrow. Going to bed in a bit.
Have to add one thing first though: *reads Mina's RP above and claps hands in pure delight* I'm loving this! )))

Sarah and Bee - Haven - Night 5
 

Sarah entered The Haven carefully, hoping Bee wouldn't notice her. She made a maze-like path through the crowd of people and tried to be inconsipicuous. One of her worst skills. She should have known better.
"Sarah!" Crap. "What a pleasant suprise."
"Oh, hi Bee." Sarah put on her best 'suprise' face.
"I hope all went well with that fight with your friend."
"Oh it went fine. I have a new room, but a loud neighbor. It's a nice excuse to get out." Sarah realized she left her car at the cafe. Smart move genius. There was an awkward pause. "Hey, have you ever read this book?" She scavenged through her bag until she came to Twilight and gave it to her.

Bee could tell she was a bit surprised that saw her. It almost made her laugh. Bee was a relieved to find everything went good wiht her friend. Maybe they would see more of eachother now that she lived alone. Bee almost wanted to smack he self for that one. the girl was is human. then seeing a lot of eachother wouldnt be a good thing.

"Hey, have you ever read this book?" She scavenged through her bag until she came to Twilight and gave it to her.

Now that is ironic. A book about a girl and a vampire. Bees smile grew wide. It must have been the book she saw her reading in the cafe.

"Yes I have, it is a very interesting book. What brought you to read this book?"Bee had to keep a sly smile from coming on her lips but amusement flickered in her eyes.

This is totally off topic but your vampire sim reminds me of Coraline from Moonlight another vampire character.

http://alpha.cbs.com/primetime/moonlight/

Aella : The Haven | Gemma: The Haven
 

Aella

Aella became engulfed by the influx of people on the dance floor. She almost had to fight her way out of the crowd. She brushed stray hair out of her face as she emerged from the crowd.

She caught a few breaths of fresh air as the crowd around her thinned. The Haven was really busy tonight. She wiped a little sweat off of her forhead and walked slowly over to the bar.

The bartender approached, asking her what she would like to drink.

"I'll just have a water, thanks," Aella told the bartender, as he grabbed a bottle of water. She drank, but she didn't really feel like getting drunk tonight. Especially since she was just passed over for a part; she might do something stupid.

As she drank her water she looked around and saw a stunning dark haired woman enter. . . .

----
Gemma

Gemma entered the Haven for the third time in the past three nights. . .

After drinking her coffee she had went back up to the library to study for a while longer, and then she decided she would drop in at the club for at least a little while.

She scanned the club quickly and saw a few familiar faces as she walked farther in. The place was particularly pack tonight; the dance floor was a large mass of people.

Gemma noticed the girl from the cafe was there, chatting with Bee. She didn't let her eyes linger on them for long though. She saw a few other Kindred among the crowd, no one she really knew though.

She took a seat at the bar, waiting for the crowd to thin out a tad before she danced. Perhaps she would properly introduce herself to Bee and the girl soon.

((Voicesinside- Wow! I just went and looked at that website, and the show sounds really interesting! I love Sophia Myles, and Shanon is a really great actress as well! I'll have to keep an eye out for it to see if Vevila is really similar to Coraline!
Veldagia- Eee! Do I mind? Not at all! Vevila won't mind either. ))

The pulsing, churning, delectable rhythm of life was fast approaching her. She could smell his flesh. The flow of his blood within the veins lying delicately just beneath a helpless layer of skin drove her mad. There was a presence so strong and intriguing, compelling and seductive that Vevila writhed with longing. Her thirst had peaked, and the mere approach of a warm body brought something feral to the surface.

"Vevila."

There was a raw intensity, a pure fire in her smoldering gaze. When it lit upon the enticing figure of the man she had seen at the Haven, there was a curiosity intermingled with the slight come-hither stare. He was undeniably human--the pumping blood from his heart throbbed like a metronome in her ears. But simultaneously there was the inhuman allure that only vampires seemed to possess; he was startling. The dark clothing and long trench accentuated the prowess of his strong frame, and complimented the crown of gossamer hair that settled around his shoulders like a curtain of gold silk. He was reminiscent of many male Toreadors she had met over the years-- a beautiful synthesis of masculinity and femininity, beautiful and handsome all at once.

"You." Vevila spoke in a breathless whisper, as if the word would be stolen from her if she didn't utter it then. She didn't attempt to hide the wander of her gaze from the crown of his head to the base of his shoe, then back up again. Her survey was quick, but decisive. Her plump crimson lips spread into an amorphous smile, revealing very little aside from its simple beauty.

"You know my name?" She quirked a finely sculpted brow. "I don't recall having met you." Vevila's elegant smile smoothed out, and her expression was all at once challenging, enticing, and enigmatic.

Adrien, Mina & Damian
 

It had been bound to happen. He'd known it all along, ever since being ambushed and so viciously Embraced in that grimy back alley a little more than three years ago. Sooner or later, he'd have to come face to face with one of the very few survivors he'd left in his wake. The one he'd betrayed more than he'd betrayed anyone else. He had left her heart bleeding and withering, after she had dared to open it up to him. No matter how many years had passed, the look in her eyes when she had realized what and who he was, had never faded from his memory. It had pained him then, to know he that was going to kill her (or so he'd thought). But he'd used that pain to draw an anger towards himself for wishing there was another way, for being weak and sentimental. It was an anger that had spiralled into a determination to kill her, no matter what. He simply could not allow her to live, because if he was to do his duty as a hunter, he could not start making exceptions.

Ever since becoming what she had been, and still was due to his failure, Adrien had known that he would be made to face her again. Fate would have it no other way. Nor would the Tremere clan.
But he hadn't expected it to happen now. His only reason for being in this office was inform the Prince of his presence in Los Angeles. Coming before Mina wasn't supposed to happen until later, once this brief meeting was over and he'd made his way over to the Museum where she, the Tremere Primogen, made her abode.
This was too soon. He wasn't prepared.

The pure anger and white hot hatred in Mina's eyes was crashing over him in an endless flow of waves. It was an invisible force so strong it would've surely knocked him to the ground, had he not already been frozen to it. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her, she was keeping him trapped in hers, much like she'd done that night over a century ago, when he'd misjudged her powers and she'd claimed control of the situation. Until her wayward heart had made her loose it again.
But this time, it was different. This time, she wouldn't hesitate.

"Adrien."

The name rolled off of her tounge, holding every bit of poison it had left in her mind. It was like venom burning his skin, nails digging into his flesh and tearing it apart.
He would be made to suffer. What the other Kindred had put him through would be downright pleasant compared to what Mina had in store for him. There was no doubt in his mind about that.
But he'd be damned if he'd let her see the panic that was rushing through his every limb. He had his pride, and he was no coward. He would face her now, knowing full well the only reason she hadn't killed him yet was because she had been asked not to. The Tremere elders that had sent him here were enjoying his fate far too much, as was every Kindred that learned of his story, to let the game end just yet.

She started drawing closer to him, and as she did the paralysis let go of it's choking grip of him. Slowly, his posture changed. With every step she took, it grew more and more proud and dignified, and when she finally stopped infront of him, a measly foot seperating them, he was looking at her with calm determination, his back straight and his head held high.

"What exactly are you doing here?"

Again she spoke, her tone of voice as ill-boding as the look in her eyes. He could see visions of his death play out in her icy stare, the various scenarios running through her mind creating the thin line that was seperating her actions from her desire. Her ability to picture his demise seemed to be the only thing that kept her from draining every last drop of blood from his body, one way or another. Like him she was a Tremere, a magician of the blood, but while he was a mere fledgling, a neonate, she wielded her powers with the brilliance of a skilled Elder. He had nothing to fight her with, except his pride and his insubordination. His powers were laughable compared to hers, and the blood bond forced on him had stripped him of his hunter abilities. The abilities that had once been like instincts; to trick, to decieve, and to attack, sometimes in the most complex ways. Now, no matter how much he wanted to strike, the blood bond kept him restrained, left him unable to go through with it.

The beginning of a smile formed on her lips, and slowly widened into a malicious grin. The realization had hit her, the prospect of breaking him whispering seductively to her vengeful mind, to her thirst for retribution.
Fighting back the urge to flinch at every movement she made, Adrien met her gaze, keeping his own steady and obstinate as he answered her flatly.

"Your elders sent me here."

His defiance was clear; never would he submit to calling them his.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Standing by his desk, Damian had watched as the situation unfolded. He'd been alarmed by Mina's sudden transformation the moment she'd set eyes on the young Tremere. Her formal and yet friendly air had vanished in the bat of an eye, and instead she had appeared like a tigress, with a fire in her eyes that he had never seen before. There was bad blood between these two. He'd sensed it even before either of them had said one word. Mina's obliterating stare, and the young man's distress spoke louder than any words possibly could.

And as he listened, quietly observing, he soon grasped what was going on.
'Adrien', Mina had called this new addition to the city. She knew his name.
There was only one 'Adrien' that Damian knew of, who would make her react like that. The notorious Adrien de la Cour. The tale of him and Mina had reached Damian's ears decades ago. Little was known about the details of what had really happened between the two, but it was fairly well known that Adrien had tried to kill Mina, and failed, and that that was the last time he'd managed to pose as a vampire.

So... The feared vampire hunter Adrien de la Cour had been Embraced. Oh, such sweet irony. Damian had to admire the devious mind of whoever was behind it. It was indeed a punishment that fit the crime.
And even though he much would've loved to watch Mina unleash her anger on the insolent whelp, Damian recognized the situation as one where the noble thing to do was to let the two of them face eachother in private, like it had probably been meant to happen.

"I'll give you two some privacy", he declared, and after signalling to his sheriff, they exited the room.

But on his way out, Damian shot Mina a glance, his eyes telling her that if she wanted to make Adrien suffer, he could be inclined to look the other way. But he would not allow the life of any Kindred to be taken within the walls of his office.


(((ooc: Sorry, I know the Damian part is crappy, but I'm in a hurry, so I didn't really have time to write anything except the stuff that was absolutely necessary. Will modify when I find the time (and peace). )))

Kira was actually happy. It had been a long time since she felt this way. Her mind and body set free to let happen what ever happened. Sam had taken her out the door and downt he stairs. Laughter that was Sams filled the air around her. Kira could help but wounder what was going on. What was her surprise? A hand slipped into hers. She aqueshed it and jogged along the street, she knew it was Sams. When they finally stopped it was infront of what looked like apartment building. What were they doing here? A puzzled look came to Kiras face.
"Just wait here Kira. Ill be right back." A broad smile was on Sams lips. Kira couldnt help but feel a little dred in her. She hoped that Sam wasnt going to make a fool of her. About 5 minutes passed before Sam came back out, followed by two men.
Kira was irrate. Sam was setting her up with a date. That infuriated her. How could the girl be so stupid?
Before Sam could see her, Kira walked off. Or more stormed off. She didnt even want to look at her. Didnt want to hear her voice. It was going to be a bad ending if she did. Kira walked into the first bar she saw. She didnt even look at the name of. Didnt even really care at the moment. She swong the doors open and walked in. The blast of music and the smog of smoke hit her like a brick wall. She had to stop and catch her breath. Fury raged threw her body so much she was shaking. There went hat good mood she was in. Sam had ruined that. The only thing she could think of was how bad ahe wanted to punch something as she walked tot he bar.
"Give me a scotch." It came out as a growl. the bartender just looked at her. AS soon as it came to her she shoot it down and asked for another and shoot it down just as quickly as the first.

((ooc: Kira is approachable. She is in a bad mood, but someone is more than welcome to come up to her.))

Archon DeWinter and Valerian - The Haven
 

# 4 [Fifth Night]

Since he was a Ventrue, Archon was used to more formal surroundings. But with Valerian, all bets were off. Coming from a intimate clan, as well as being Toreador to the core, Valerian did not excuse himself or had any fear for the Primogen that resulted in him trying to change his quarters to what they were not. He had no other room to conduct meetings in such as this one, and he did not try to hide all the artistic chaos in the room. This was far more appreciated by Archon than Valerian would ever know. Too many Kindred tried to guess what he expected, and alter the situation and environment to better suit this guess of theirs. Little did they know that Archon could see through it all, and even see what they tried to conceal from him. It was a game some Kindred had brought with them from their kine days, a game Archon did not care for. He wanted strong Kindred that would not go into submission for anyone but themselves. As long as they, of course, respected those above them in Kindred rank.

Valerian was not this unyielding head strong vampire, yet his childlike nature with perfect physical harmony had no obstacles in it's portrayal. Valerian loved, Valerian cherished. And he did it without saying he was sorry. A characteristic Archon himself had; neither he excused himself. But he was not as free as the Toreador, as this young one before him. His clan had no use for this freedom, and they were all about what was useful to them. They could not rule the Kindred world if they had Ventrue running around doing what they felt like, when ever the mood set in. Archon would never see beauty the way Valerian did, but he would own the world that surrounded it.

When Archon spoke, he watched Valerian, although without making it obvious. It was apparent the Toreador understood the words and appreciated them. But Archon could never know just how deep he affected the young man, since feelings never took the best of him. Though he could sense that Valerian was more that curious about the black box in the hands of the Primogen. It was made of fine wood, with a smooth surface painted in a blackness that took in no reflection what so ever from the light Valerian turned on in the room. It sooner absorbed it. The content waited to be revealed. A box like that was either to be hidden for ever or command awareness from those who looked upon it. To be able to speak and demand full attention, in the same room as something so tempting, was no easy task but Archon had perfected the art. Both the box and the words were gifts.

When Valerian had the box in his possession, Archon had a gentle smile on his lips. Valerian was never a disappointment, but no prediction either. He was captivated by the box, but when he opened it, he was truly in awe. This pleased the Primogen, as he then was certain he had made a wise selection.

"Lord DeWinter", Valerian breathed, clearly overwhelmed by such a fitting, carefully chosen gift. "You are far too kind."

Once again, a soft smile reached the Primogen, even his eyes. Then it was concluded. His effort had not gone unnoticed, and he had accomplished what he had set out to do - to give Valerian the perfect gift, to show that he did not take his hospitality for granted.

"I do not know if I possess the ability to be too kind", Archon replied. "It is you, Valerian, that has honoured me with what I wanted, without questioning me. I have never assumed for you to do so, and I never will. I can not thank you enough."

He moved a tad closer to Valerian, motioning toward the mask.

"It is not only handcrafted", he continued. "It is made especially for you. My first trip was to France, and there I met with several members of the Toreador. And as I have said, most of them did not accompany me in the present, except for one. A remarkable young man, in fact. Although it should be a crime to embrace someone so young, only fifteen when bitten, he did handle himself with grace. He would make any Toreador proud."

It was not often a vampire made a lasting impression on Archon. Valerian was one, and although the boy could not measure himself to Valerian's impression, he had made a name for himself in the mind of Archon. That alone was a triumph for anyone.

"When he told me about his talent, I asked him for a favor", Archon continued. "Venetian masks are his speciality, but I asked him to go beyond all that he has ever done and truly make one of a kind. And he did rise to the challenge, I believe. He told me the gems are Swarovski crystal, directly from the hands of Daniel Swarovski. Of course, he did not know the contoure of your face, but he said he could sense enough from me to make an honest attempt. He will alter it for you, if you wish."

The next thing in the head of the Primogen had nothing to do with rare gemstones or masks. But it did have everything to do with Valerian. Archon had been near the end of his travel, retrieving the finished mask, when he learned of the scene displayed within this Elysium. A turmoil in which one of his own had been involved. It was a disgrace that had brought bad blood to his arctic heart. Had he not known Valerian, it would still have been just as bad, but knowing the young man did make it worse. It was excpected that the Ventrue carried themselves with respect and veneration. Nothing of the sort had been used at this point in time. Archon had been so enraged he wanted to speak with Valerian in an instant, but in order to maintain the way of the Ventrue he decided to wait until he could do it face to face. There was nothing so dire that Archon could not trust the Prince to handle it without his interference. After his return he did find it vital to speak with Valerian, to adress the matter. It was expected by a Primogen, and by a friend.

"I do know about the disturbance in your establishment", Archon said with a quiet voice.

The reserved tone did not speak of shame, but of the anger he had contained given the time he had had to think it over.

"A Tremere and a Ventrue. Both acting like nothing of the sort. It is not dignified, for either clan, and certainly not for mine."

Archon's eyes met with Valerian's again. This time with an expression on his face that showed the monarchial in his veins, his aristocratic ancestry. If one did not know Archon, this was the chance to learn. He would simply not stand for the behaviour he spoke of. He himself was a respected man, from a respected clan. They were all a reflection of not only the clan iself, but the Prince first and foremost. And every single member were also a representation of their Primogen. And this would not do. Had it been a Gangrel and a Brujah, he would at least have understood how it could happen. But the Ventrue knew better, and the Tremere were nothing if not secretive.
It was not just how it made his clan look, it was also the danger it had opposed to the Masquerade. But since that was the Prince's concern, a concern he had dealt with, Archon left it aside and concentrated on what was for him to deal with.

"I know Beyonca has apologized to you and talked with our Prince", he continued. "At least that is becoming of a Ventrue. I do not tolerate trespasses against your home, Valerian. Your Elysium. It was far more than generous of you to allow her back into to The Haven, but that is your decision and I respect it. You have always been the bigger man. I myself am still... furious."

This time Archon fell silent due to the fact that he did not know how to proceed, or find the right words. He could still feel the wrath he spoke if, linger in the back of his mind. There was no place for it here though, in Valerian's gracious company.

"Is there anything I can do to compensate you?", the Primogen asked.






_____________________________________

((( ooc: innoscenteyes - I just wanted to let you know that Beyonca is mentioned in this post. My Archon is such a Ventrue... I like Beyonca, but he's not to fond of her at the moment. *It's like having a split personality.* Don't worry, he will come around, given the chance. He just needs to talk to her. )))

((ooc:ok. I will brace Bee for the wrath that is to come. ))

"It seemed popular, so I thought I'd give it a try." The club slowly started to fill up with people. Then the woman from the cafe walked in. Things just kept getting weirder in Sarah's life. Why can't she just be normal. She watched the woman for a second or two. "While we're on the subject, doesn't that woman look like Alice?" Sarah suddenly began to feel tired. Maybe she wasn't, just the affect of the club.

((Sorry for the uber-shortness. Happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate.))

Bee shrugged. "Yeah it has goteen popular. I have a wide varrity of books at my house, you might be interested in. You should some check them out sometime."
There was something about Sarah that wasnt registering with Bee. Like why she had followed her. Of course she was curious why she had done it. Did Sarah suspect Bee of something? There is no way she would know that Bee was a vampire. She watched Sarah scan the crowd and her eye fell on Gemma.

"While we're on the subject, doesn't that woman look like Alice?"

Bee couldnt believe she was caparing Gemma to another person. Bee had always thought she had a look of own. A beauty that was in her that couldnt be compared.
"Alice? Alice who?"

Mina with Adrien - Princes office
 

"I'll give you two some privacy", Damian declared, and after signalling to his sheriff, they exited the room.

Mina's eyes gently followed Damian's retreat, her smile softening for an instant as she was reminded of his protective presence. She certainly doubted that he would venture far. But the warning rang clear in his eyes as they met hers for a second, no death on his teritory. She could respect that, it would draw too much attention for a vampire to vanguish within the walls of his office. Still as much as she wished to scrutinise Adrien, fulfil the potence of the years. The slightest pang ran through her to loose the enchantment of Damian's solid presence.

Mina's eyes hardening once again her attention snapped back to the vampire that so arrogantly stood before her.

Adrien met her gaze, keeping his own steady and obstinate as he answered her flatly. "Your elders sent me here." His stance was the same as proud, egotistical and detirmed as she remembered from all those years ago. But now it paled before her, seeming a sullen pretension compared with the dominating self-assured poise of Damian.

"My elders." Mina's vicous smile became tainted by a mocking laughter. "My dear, I can smell the blood of the seven within your veins." As she spoke she circled Adrien, her darkly glowering emerald eyes tralling over him from head to toe as though examining a piece of meat hung in a market for any sign of spoiling. "So fresh."

He was certainly young but not newly embraced. And yet she had heard not word of his turning. In their scheming they had sought to hide this from her. Never once had his name graced their lips in the past years. But it was a truley marvolos scheme, one of which she could only approve. To turn the hunter into the prey. For him to wake each night withh the blood he so dispised powering him on. To have to haunt amongst those who hated him, wanted their vengance for suerly every vampire in LA would know of one whose life he had extinguished, or where he had so miserably failed. The many souls he had sacrificed fulfilling his own avengeful mission.

Yet they sent him too her, knowing she would surely kill him. That pleasure may draw out from a day to a millenium, but there was no other fate so secured as the rising of the sun. Damien may have forbidden it this night but Adrien's time to face the reality of what he had done would come . Mina's elders tightly gaurded words had instructed her to keep him in line, but they had never once directly forbidden her from her revenge. She had destroyed a Tremere before, one much more powerful that the childe that stood before her now, more powerful than she had been. And she had gotten away with it. Eyes had turned blind, ears deaf and senses dumned to protect her, to secure her destiny. Adrien really was a tiny worm in compassion and they stuck him on a hook and danglied him into the deep waters of a shark. Perhaps they sat at the round table, laughing to themselves with the intricity of their plan whilst they waited to see just how long it would take her to bite.

As she circled back to face him one slender pale hand came up. Mina's razor-sharp red enamalled fingers gently brushed against Adrien's jawline tilting his head so he had no choice but to stare straight into her dark emerald orbs. The same obstinate detirmination flared within his eyes, they had not broken him meerly bended him a little to their will with the power within their blood. Perhaps that is why they sent him, they could not destroy that resolving soul, but she would watch it crumble before her. No eternity would heal the bloody tears that had flowed from the pain inside. The price had to be paid for all the times she had just wished to see his face again.

The smile still fixed upon her face the words cold as ice cut through the mere inches of air between them. "I will never forget." And with that she realised him from her gentle yet firm touch, her arm falling back gracefully to her side.

"So you have become one of us, how does it feel to drown in the sea of blood, to run through the darkness night after night?" Mina asked her head tilted slightly to one side as she cooly analysed him. "Are you even half as terrible as you imagined us all?" Her voice dropped to a hush with her finaly question meerly a frosty breathe. "Is our life so meaningless?"


(OOC as always any changes let me know and I'll happily alter - I skirted very close to GMing him.))

Gemma : The Haven
 

Sitting at the bar, pretending to drink her water, Gemma noticed Bee and the girl from the cafe looking at her.

Her ears did not have to burn to know that they were speaking about her. She wondered what they were saying. With her enhanced hearing she could catch little snippets of the conversation, but nothing much to go on.

She caught the word Alice once or twice. Perhaps they were talking about 'Alice in Wonderland', one of Gemma's favorite books. They wouldn't know that it was one of her favorite books though, so she discarded that train of thought.

Gemma got a little paranoid knowing that they were talking about her and that she couldn't hear them. What if they were saying something bad? They could be spreading rumors, or plotting against her!

She thought about what she was thinking in her head for a second and then started to silently giggle. How can on get so paranoid over something so miniscule? Honestly, Gemma thought, I read into things too much. I'll just go over there and introduce myself in a second.

Zillah with Vevila - Street
 

As Zillah stood before her, he felt the intense multitoal gaze surveying ever inch of his body as the breathless "You" spilled from Vevilla's lips. As though she was confirming he was real, solid flesh and blood not a figment of the play of shadows and light. The quick, quirky mischevious smile spread across his cherry lips, his hands sliding out of his pockets pulling himself straighter as he inturn sized her up. She remembered him, then he had managed to leave an impression upon the angels mind. He could only hope it was one filled with as much awe and curiosity as she had impressed upon him. He watched enchanted as her crimson mouth spread into a beautiful smile. A smile that lit the night with its wonder.

Why on earth was such an aqueously beautiful angel wandering these dangerous urban streets alone? Streets interupted by the sharp pulse of gunfire, screams of pleasure and pain, the scuttling of underlife and violent tears. Yet Vevilla didn't look afraid, rather she moved through the night like the shadows belonged to her. But the fragility was still there, like butterfly wings, beautifully irredescent until crushed by a swiping hands. Leaivng him caught in her stare, a slave to temptation drowning in a sea of lust. He could show her so many pleasures to open those alluting eyes wide.

"You know my name?" She quirked a finely sculpted brow. "I don't recall having met you." Vevila's elegant smile smoothed out, and her expression was all at once challenging, enticing, and enigmatic.

"How could I not?" Zillah grinned the words flowing from his lips like melted chocolate. "It would be a crime to look upon such a vision and not have any word to recall the cognizance. And just so you can do the same I'm Zillah." He gave a mock bow the mischief stealing into his smile again as he proceeded to answer her question more directly. "Bee was most forecoming when I saw you at the Haven, really you should tell her if its a closley-gaurded secret."

Zillah laughed, the low deep rumble reaching his dancing eyes as he glanced back the way he had come. He had a few scant hours before he needed to attend the next appointment and this was an opportunity too marveolous to deny. "Perhaps if you wish to grace the club with your presence again, I should join you, all manner of atrociousies lurk the night."

He failed to mention that he was one of them. The one girl's mothers warned them about that would break their hearts with a flutter of his long lashes and disarming devil's smile, leaving them bruised and bleeding without a single qualm.

Valerian & Archon - Valerian's personal quarters at The Haven
 

"I do not know if I possess the ability to be too kind", Archon said, sounding stoical as ever, but with a rare smile warming his eyes. "It is you, Valerian, that has honoured me with what I wanted, without questioning me. I have never assumed for you to do so, and I never will. I can not thank you enough."

Slowly, the young Toreador reached in to the box and carefully took out the mask, holding it tenderly between his fingertips, as though he was a afraid it would crumble under his touch. It looked so delicate, so frail, that it left him completely mesmerized. He probably wouldn't even have heard what Archon said, had the Ventrue not been a man whose mere presence demanded attention. Though it took a few moments for his words to penetrate Valerian's enchanted state, but once they did, Valerian looked up and returned his smile with a beaming one of his own. It had always been his pleasure to offer Archon his own little corner in The Haven, where he could conduct business and keep up with things of both the Kindred and the human worlds. He was honored to have him there. He knew that Ventrue of Archon's caliber weren't prone to appreciate the modernity of L.A. club life, and so it was a sign of great approval and respect that he would choose to dwell there, despite his dislike of the thumping beats and flashing multicolored spotlights.

"It is not only handcrafted", Archon continued, motioning towards the mask, as if sensing the question about to form on Valerian's lips, born from his Toreador yearning to know more about the history of the mask, and it's creator. "It is made especially for you. My first trip was to France, and there I met with several members of the Toreador. And as I have said, most of them did not accompany me in the present, except for one. A remarkable young man, in fact. Although it should be a crime to embrace someone so young, only fifteen when bitten, he did handle himself with grace. He would make any Toreador proud. When he told me about his talent, I asked him for a favor. Venetian masks are his speciality, but I asked him to go beyond all that he has ever done and truly make one of a kind. And he did rise to the challenge, I believe. He told me the gems are Swarovski crystal, directly from the hands of Daniel Swarovski. Of course, he did not know the contoure of your face, but he said he could sense enough from me to make an honest attempt. He will alter it for you, if you wish."

At that, Valerian vehemently shook his head, sending his unruly raven tresses dancing furiously over his naked shoulders, the sharp contrast making his skin seem not only pale, but white like the mist of morning. Such a crime it would be to change even the tiniest detail of the mask. An insult to the artist, by pointing out flaws that simply did not exist.

The strong reaction seemed to leave Archon content, and seeing no more reason to dwell on the subject, he soon moved on to the next thing on his mind. With the procedure of courteous greetings out of the way, he got down to business.

"I do know about the disturbance in your establishment", he started in a low voice, seeming genuinly disturbed by the rumours that had reached him.

Valerian recognized the change of topic, and so gave the mask one last loving look before he put it back into the box and closed it, knowing full well that if he didn't, his unfaithful eyes would stray to gaze upon the gift, and risk have Archon think he was being far too distracted to listen. And so with the mask safely tucked away, he turned to face the older Kindred, showing himself ready to focus on whatever it was that was on the Primogen's mind.

"A Tremere and a Ventrue. Both acting like nothing of the sort. It is not dignified, for either clan, and certainly not for mine. I know Beyonca has apologized to you and talked with our Prince. At least that is becoming of a Ventrue. I do not tolerate trespasses against your home, Valerian. Your Elysium. It was far more than generous of you to allow her back into to The Haven, but that is your decision and I respect it. You have always been the bigger man. I myself am still... furious."

As he paused, another smile appeared on Valerian's lips. In fact, the host of The Haven was rarely seen not wearing one. He always seemed to find a reason to smile, be it something someone said to him, the company he was keeping, the hustle and bustle around him, the beauty of one of the many things that appealed to him, or the intense inspiration he felt when creating.
And in case of none of the above, it was the simple joy of living.
This time, it was Archon's words. They pleased him greatly, as it made him happy to know that someone considered his forgiving nature to indicate that he was "the bigger man", and not merely a pushover.

"Is there anything I can do to compensate you?" Archon added.

Once again, Valerian shook his head, though this time not as frantically as last. He knew that by banning both Ada and Beyonca from his club, the rumours born that night had spoken of great disrespect on both young women's part, even though Beyonca had shown far from the same amount of that quality as Ada had. It was Valerian's doing, although unintentional. At the time, he had been so angry with Ada that his judgement regarding Beyonca's part in it had been clouded.
Not that she hadn't gone against his wishes. She had, but not to the same extent and not for the same reason as Ada. In that instant, it had simply been her judgement that had been clouded.
But she had apologized, and as far as Valerian was concerned, all was now well between him and her.

"Lord Archon, I must confess," he said, the warmth and the softness in his voice beckoning Archon's temper to cool. "I think I may have overreacted regarding Beyonca's involvement. Ada's disrespect had me too upset to recognize that Beyonca only meant well. I'm afraid it is my actions, not hers, that have made her a target of reprimanding she does not deserve to be."


(((ooc: Adrien coming later! )))

Aeode Mallard - Human
 

((Ahh..I havent rped once tonight have I?

Whatever, I will try to get something up tonight...once I sort out whats going on right now:P.

Oh....and welcome Ghanima!! :D))

((thanks, I've been eyeing this thread for a long time but always thought I didn't have the time blah blah...but hey once a VtM rper, always a VtM rper..hopefully I can find somewhere to jump in I know there's a proeminent club in the story, and since she's a bartender perhaps she could be one...or somesuch))

Mina & Adrien - Damian's office
 

As Damian left the office, sheriff in tow, Adrien caught the exchange of looks between him and Mina; the Prince's understanding and leniency being met by a fleeting softness in Mina's smile. A softness Adrien had seen before, a long time ago, when she'd thought him to be a Tremere just like her. Back when he'd made her feel something far different than the hatred now shooting from her eyes whenever she was looking at him.
So, she cared for the Prince, did she?
That meant Adrien was out of luck, as far as convincing Damian to make some kind of deal was concerned. He'd had his doubts that such a thing would've been possible in the first place, but as the Ventrue were businessmen, one could've hoped that Damian would've seen something of use in Adrien. But if the Prince had warmed up to Mina, the possibility of Adrien somehow earning his benevolence and/or mercy was nonexistent. The Prince, if his widespread reputation was true, wouldn't lift a finger in Adrien's favor.

"My elders", Mina scoffed, sounding amused rather than annoyed by his discreet, strategic defiance, and she began to slowly circle him, like a predator closing in on it's prey, sizing him up, determining what he could possibly have to defend himself, should she choose this time to pounce. "My dear, I can smell the blood of the seven within your veins. So fresh."

Currently passing behind him, she didn't see the way his dark olive, umber-tinged eyes darkened into an almost black. But the silent rage radiating from his entire being was hard to miss, and if nothing else, the clenching of his jaw was a dead giveaway; her words hit him where it hurt the most. The blood bond. The crimson liquid regularly fed to him by brutal force, the process that left him tainted, feeling dirty and violated in a way that the words and punches usually hailing over him could not.
Gone was the anxiety of having her disappear from his line of sight, of her presence threatening him from behind. He'd had to resist the urge to spin around in order to make sure that if she was indeed about to attack, he would at least see her coming.
Now, all he felt was the anger eating away at his self-control, bringing him dangerously close to the edge of doing something rash.
But only for a few moments.
Having spent the last three years hiding his feelings, appearing unfazed by anything thrown at him, building a sturdy brick wall around him and growing a thick, impenetrable skin, Adrien had once again become the master of illusion he once was. His acting abilities from his early hunter days rekindled to rob his enemies of the satisfaction of seeing him in physical or emotional pain.
Having momentarily lost his usual unyielding self-control again, he had to struggle to find it again, but once he did, his shoulders soon sank to settle into a relaxed yet heedful posture, and his chin rose slightly. He would show no fear, and no weakness.
Let the taunting begin.

Mina was now coming around him, and as he spotted her in the corner of his eye, he also felt her touch, her cold fingers grazing his equally cold cheek. The same cheek that had just unclenched as he'd regained his poise. Her touch was gentle but firm, a dominant caress that turned his head, and allowed her to trap his gaze in hers again. The omnious smile was still on her lips, and left Adrien half expecting to feel her sharp nails dig into his smooth skin any second.

"I will never forget."

Her tone wasn't particularly threatening, and yet never before did one single sentence hold such a promise of torment and slow, painful death. Even the way she let her hand drop from his face seemed menacing, like a silent statement that his fate had been determined, that the story with the end already written was now about to begin.

"So you have become one of us", she said. "How does it feel to drown in the sea of blood, to run through the darkness night after night?"

She tilted her head inquisitively to the side, seeming genuinly interested in his reply. And why wouldn't she be? She, like every other Kindred he'd come across since his Embrace, wanted to know all about the anguish he so deserved.

"Are you even half as terrible as you imagined us all?" she continued, her voice lowering with each word, ending up just shy of a mere whisper. "Is our life so meaningless?"

Again Adrien's eyes flashed with anger, but it was probably more due to his fate than it was her words. He still hadn't come to terms with his punishment, and he had vowed that he never would. The moment he accepted it, and welcomed his new existence, he'd turn into the same kind of monster he considered them to be. Kindred or not, he still separated himself from the rest of them.

"The meaning of your life, as you see it, I know not", he said, vanquishing the rage in his gaze with a rebellious smirk. "Nor do I care. But my life has always had a purpose; to rid the world of the likes of you. And if I had to become one of you to bring the rest of you down, then so be it."

He struggled hard to keep his bitterness from staining his words, to keep her from catching a glimpse of his inner turmoil and the battle constantly fought between his human self, and the unrelentingly growing vampire one. But somehow, without being able to pinpoint what it was, he felt there was somehing that gave him away, something that kept his words from ringing completely true. Being confronted by the countless, nameless vampires that all wanted a piece of him had little effect on him these days. But coming face to face with this Tremere that had been the only Kindred to ever make him feel something other than contempt, now that was a different story.
And just like those very feelings had angered him back when he'd tried to take her life, this tiny pinprick of emotions long forgotten did the same, and made him lash out without thinking things through.

"Now, allow me a question in return", he said, and the smirk on his lips infected the look in his eyes. "How does it feel to know you're alive only because I didn't get the chance to finish what I started?"

No sooner had he spoken that last word than he silenced himself abruptly, his jaws clenching shut around the words that had been to follow. Mina may be alive only because he hadn't gotten the chance to follow through with what he'd had his mind set on doing. But, at the moment he was alive only because she allowed it. For now. He'd be foolish to speed thing up, to provoke her into bringing about his demise more rapidly. As long as he was alive, there was the possibility of escaping the Tremere, and the restraining blood bond that kept him from returning to his hunter way.



(((ooc: velda - It was fine. No changes at all necessary.

Ghanima Atreides - Welcome! Will add you to the list on the site a.s.a.p.)))

Gemma : The Haven
 

Gemma's curiousity got the best of her, and she decided she was going to introduce herself properly to Bee and the girl.

She left her drink at the bar and made her way through the growing crowd. She was amazed with how many people were at the club; it was so packed! She pushed past a few people who smelled of sweat, her heels clicking on the floor.

She neared Bee and the blonde girl. They were still talking as she approached.

"Hi!" Gemma said, her tone was sweet and friendly, she smoothed down her skirt as she stood next to the girls.

"I don't think we've ever been properly introduced. I'm Gemma," she smiled, her teeth shining as she looked at Bee and the unknown girl, waiting for their replies.

She wondered if they would mention why they were staring at her earlier.

Archon & Valerian - Valerian's personal quarters at The Haven
 

# 5 [Fifth Night]

Sometimes Archon could envy the way the Toreador could loose themselves in simple objects. Although Archon appreciated beautiful things, and had indeed choosen the gift for Valerian on his own, he was not capable to be as enchanted as the Toreador was. Instead, he understood on a theoretical basis that the mask was truly appealing, but he did not feel it to that extent. He could just as easily glance at it, as he did with his paintings when he passed them in his manor, and leave it at that. With the eternity at hand, he felt it would have been more exciting if he had been able to cherish the world around him as Valerian did. Yet, he could of course not miss something he had never experienced. Thus he found excitment in other ways. When he bought a beautiful piece of art, he saw the money worth above all. He did not even care if the object pleased him on another level. It was an investment, and that often brought joy to his heart.

He was slightly amused when Valerian so strongly declined his suggestion to make changes to the mask. He realized it must have been almost a blasphemy to him. It pleased Archon that Valerian was so happy with the gift, and wanted to keep it just like it had arrived in his care. The Primogen did admire Valerian's good taste, not only in items that would be considered inanimated to anyone but a Toreador, but in simple behaviour. Valerian recognized the proper way to conduct himself, especially in the company of an Elder. And it was evident how hard it was for him to take his eyes of the mask, and concentrate on the change in subject. He listened carefully to the words from the Ventrue, really listened. He was not merely waiting for it to be his turn to speak. And when that time did appear in the conversation, he spoke in a manner that reached more than Archon's ears.

"Lord Archon, I must confess," he said, the warmth and the softness in his voice beckoning Archon's temper to cool. "I think I may have overreacted regarding Beyonca's involvement. Ada's disrespect had me too upset to recognize that Beyonca only meant well. I'm afraid it is my actions, not hers, that have made her a target of reprimanding she does not deserve to be."

This declaration on Valerian's behalf did have an affect on Archon. Since Beyonca was somewhat left off the hook, he could allow some stillness to soothe his rage. How ever, no one could keep his turbulent heart completely from darkness. It was a relief for Archon, that Valerian did not seem to place much blame on Beyonca, but it did not take care of all of his concern. A Ventrue knew better. This was none the less vital. She should never have been involved in such a foolish idea in the first place. There was no reason to think that Valerian wanted to protect her from the anger Archon bore with him. And to even suspect Valerian would lie was preposterous. Therefore Archon had no choice but to accept his word as the truth.

"If this is indeed your view on the matter", Archon said after minutes of contemplating silence. "I see no reason for me to be convinced otherwise. Although, I still feel she had better options than the ones she chose. She did add to the problem, did she not? Regardless of Ada being the instigator. But maybe I should not be so unforgiving, since it happened in your presence and not mine. I will of course speak with her. She can have the best intentions in the world, but it means nothing if she does not respect the host in the mean time."

Once again; silence... Archon could not leave it alone, even if Valerian did not seem to bare any ill will towards Beyonca and the Ventrue. It was not in his nature to do so, but that did not mean Archon would allow anyone to treat him less than he deserved. It could very well be, that Archon had higher thoughts of how to treat Valerian than Valerian himself had any demand for. Though it was not easy to anger Valerian, a member of Archon's clan had been there to fuel it when it happened. The Ventrue could only consider themselves lucky to have such a compassionate proprietor within The Haven.

"I do wish to compensate you", Archon concluded. "If Beyonca had not gone against your word, it would have been easier for you to handle the situation. They forced you to take actions. After all, they did gamble with the apple of your eye."

In situations like this one, Archon would rather do too much.

Mina and Adrien: Princes office
 

Adrien's eyes flashed with anger at her words. The meaning of your life, as you see it, I know not", he said, vanquishing the rage in his gaze with a rebellious smirk. "Nor do I care. But my life has always had a purpose; to rid the world of the likes of you. And if I had to become one of you to bring the rest of you down, then so be it."

Mina restrained the mask, no feature moving with the strict training of many years so she did not reveal the satisfaction that Adrien's rage filled reaction provoked. He was giving her every reason she needed to hold before the council of Elders. His delusional self belief that he had a purpose to destroy them all. It opened a world of doubt that he would turn on them once again but now with the power of a vampire. How could they fail to understand if she made a little mistake with her powers, the Thaumaturgy applyed a little too strong or an accident whilst using self defence when he posed such a threat to her clan.

And he believed in himself so much as to stand before his Primogen displaying every ounce of his rebellion against their clan. It was truley audacious yet she still saw the wisdom of her Elders. If that energy could be turned to use for the clan he would make a remarkable addition. His knowledge of destroying vampires could be turned upon their enemies as he used the deliberate charm to move amongst the political circles. There was so much potential if she could only bring herself to spare his life.

"Now, allow me a question in return", Adrien said, and the smirk on his lips infected the look in his eyes. "How does it feel to know you're alive only because I didn't get the chance to finish what I started?"

"How does it feel?" A bitter laugh escaped from her lips . She should strike him down, drain every crimson droplet of blood from his veins until he begged his submission for showing such insolence. But the years spent training her insticts to obay her will forced the burning magic from her eyes. Threre was more than one way to skin a cat, unleashing her anger would only provide further fuel for his deluded crusade. So her lips spread into a bleeding smile at his nerve, calling upon the pain that had dwelled within, tearing her apart so that some nights she had wished she had just died. "That is something a man like you could never comprehend."

Mina's eyes stared out through him, dwelling in the dark memories that haunted her soul and she allowed the emotion locked away for a hundred years to spill forth with her words. "Have you ever trusted someone, opened your heart to them, just to have them betray you., To know they want to destroy you for what were forced to become. How does if feel to know that like Jack the Ripper you would condem me to death based upon a lifestyle I did not not choose? I would have done anything for you and all I ever got in return was the pain of knowing that fate alone saved me as it spares you this night. "

Mina brought her orbs to settle firmly upon Adrien once again her voice turning coldly controlled, the fragility vanishing like a whisper stolen from lovers lips. "So what do you want me to tell you, that I hate you, that I despise you, that I am indifferent to you, that I love you, that I fear you? Take your pick of whatever you wish to believe. For you will need it when you face the true darkness of self doubt these dark nights will bring upon your soul, when you doubt all beauty, all pleasure you have ever felt."

"My dear, do you think you are so unique as to battle against the blood forced upon you, to hate those who bound you to this life? Are you so much better, so different from us all that are enslaved to this eternity?" Mina shook her head sadly looking upon Adrien with pity swirling through the dark emerald orbs.

Adrien truley did not comprehend the battle they all fought with the monster inside before acceptance finaly came upon washing down. Her own battle had only subsided once the man who had stolen her mortal life was vanguished, her retribution fulfilled she could then embrace the life he had left her with. And now she would fight for that life with the wisdom bestowed by the centuries. Embrace the fact she was a fallen angel to bring revenge upon the devil for all those years of pain and tears.

Bee
 

After the sentence come out of Bees mouth, Gemma started head their way. She moved between the dancers. Bumping into a few of them. Bee couldnt imagine way they didnt part. A beauty like her should have a red carpet on the floor.

"Hi!" Gemma said, her tone was sweet and friendly, she smoothed down her skirt as she stood next to the girls.

"I don't think we've ever been properly introduced. I'm Gemma," she smiled, her teeth shining as she looked at Bee and the unknown girl, waiting for their replies.

Gemma beyond a dobt was stunning. Her hair was jet balck and her skin a perfect porcelin. No wounder Valerian took an interest in her. No way in Bees mind would she compare Gemma to Alice, she was more like snow white. The farest in the land. It was quite a surprise she didnt have more men after her. Zillah would would no doubt ask who she was when he saw her. But he wasnt the one for her, he was too much of a man. Gemma was like fragal glass. She be cared for with the upmost care.

"Hello Gemma. We havent be properly introduced. It give my apologise. This is Sarah. A friend of mine. How are you this evening? I hope well." Bee smiled with a apperance any Ventrue has.

Andre DeLucien and Aeode Mallard - The Haven
 

Andre wandered silently into The Haven, brushing raindrops from his dark hair. He was slightly moody from last night. After so many years of absence it was presenting quite a bit of difficulty to find his old ghoul. Then there was also the matter of wether or not she would be willing to become his ghoul again. Brushing through the steadily growing crowd of humans and kindred alike, Andre glided towards the bar. He threw a quick glance towards a pair of young women he had seen here before but they were deep in conversation with a darkhaired kindred beauty and he thought it would be rude to interrupt so instead, he turned the bartender. She was slim, with cropped red hair and emerald eyes. She could have easily passed for any other human girl but she was eerily familier to Andre. Flashes of memory showed a laughing young man with dark hair and young woman with tendrils of flame red hair curling over her shoulders. Grace. Andre turned his head quickly to stare at Valerian's painting over the bar so as not to offend the woman. Every fiber of his being scream at him that this was a human girl, not Grace. Andre tried to concentrate on the alluring darkness of the painting but his mind kept to dancing back to her: tugging at his mind like one pulls at an annoying loose thread. A tingle sense on the back of his neck made him turn back around. The woman was busy polishing glasses at the counter, but every now and then a piercing green eye glanced towards him, linger for no more then a moment. Everything in him still screaming to leave, Andre slid a few stools down the bar towards the woman. "You are new here, are you not?" he asked, his voice, although deep, rang clearly over the deafening noise of the club. " I'm Andre DeLucien, and you are?"

Valerian & Archon - Valerian's chambers at The Haven
 

Following Valerian's words was a long silence, as Archon took them into consideration, re-evaluating his opinion on the matter based on this new piece of information. Valerian let him take his time, very well aware that the Ventrue Primogen, like most of his clan, had a tendency and a desire to want to look at any situation from every possible angle, to analyze it and only then decide on a course of action.

"If this is indeed your view on the matter", he said once he was ready to speak. "I see no reason for me to be convinced otherwise. Although, I still feel she had better options than the ones she chose. She did add to the problem, did she not? Regardless of Ada being the instigator. But maybe I should not be so unforgiving, since it happened in your presence and not mine. I will of course speak with her. She can have the best intentions in the world, but it means nothing if she does not respect the host in the mean time."

Another silence then followed, with Archon mulling it all over one more time, and Valerian only nodding slowly, while he himself pondered Archon's words, much like Archon had pondered his. It was evident that the two of them, although sharing the uttermost respect for one another, had very different views on the matter. The incident had occured only a few nights ago, but to Valerian, it was already in the past. As far as Beyonca was concerned. Ada was another story, but Ada was not the one being discussed, and so where Valerian stood in her case didn't matter. Him and Beyonca had made up, and he was glad to have her gracing The Haven again, with no hard feelings simmering between them. He'd hoped that would've been the end of the whole debacle, and that Beyonca would be allowed to put it behind her as well. The Prince had already reprimanded her; an experience that would've had most L.A. Kindred quaking in their boots.
But, it was not Valerian's decision to make. He was not Beyonca's Primogen, and he did not share the ways of the Ventrue. They had their rules and code of conduct, and it was not Valerian's place to critisize.

"I do wish to compensate you", Archon said, once he had reached a decision on how to proceed. "If Beyonca had not gone against your word, it would have been easier for you to handle the situation. They forced you to take actions. After all, they did gamble with the apple of your eye."

At that, Valerian had to smile, and he tilted his head vaguely from side to side, as if saying that Archon did perhaps have a point. His words did ring true. The reason why Valerian's temper had flared, had been mainly because he'd known that a breach of the Masquerade within his club would risk the Elysium brand so generously granted by the Prince.
The use of violence within an Elysium was strictly forbidden, yes, but if violence did occur, it reflected badly on the host, who would be deemed incapable of keeping the peace. And within the circles of the Kindred of Los Angeles, there was none more passionate about keeping the peace, than Valerian.
But no matter the validity of Archon's statement, Valerian still couldn't bring himself to fully agree.

"Please, Lord Archon", he said, his soft voice growing increasingly humble, almost apologetic. "While I do appreciate the gesture, asking something of you would make me feel most uncomfortable, as I do not share your opinion nor your belief that compensation is required, or even called for. Therefore it is my suggestion that we let the gesture alone be compensation enough?"



(((ooc: Adrien coming later.)))


(((ooc 2: Ghanima - Fantastic first post. Welcome!
One tiny little thing though; the club is called The Haven, not Club Haven. Just a minor detail. )))

" Welcome to The Haven then, Annie. No, I don't drink alcohol, I just wanted to welcome you to The Haven." Andre replied, revealing pearl white teeth in a wolfish smile. He glanced around the room, enjoying the thrumming beat of the music and the laughter and chatter of club patrons. "Yes, it is a rather interesting place isn't it? Trust me, the longer you stay here the more...interesting it gets. The owner Valerian, I'm assuming you've met him, is a rather generous fellow as long as you stay on his good side so I'm not surprised you were hired so quickly. I had better go though, I shouldn't keep you from your job." Rising gracefully from the barstool he walked a few steps before stopping to turn back to her. " I'm just curious, as you seem so familiar, have you ever been to Ireland?"

Kira at The Haven
 

Kira was working on her third drink. She stopped and looked into the drink and swirled it around. How could Sam be so stupid. At that moment Kira felt a little pang in her heart. Sam was her closes friend and yet she didnt know a thing about her. Or Sam didnt care about what Kira wanted. Her solitude was a choisen path. It wasnt pushed on her, Kira just felt as much as she like it here, after all these years she still didnt fit in. Maybe it was jsut the way she thought. If she treid she could make friends, even though she wasnt the friendliest. She sighed and set her drink down. What was she doing she thought running her hand threw her hair. This wasnt her. Moppy and drinking was something Kira didnt do. She was surrounded by people and yet she felt like she was the only one here. She couldnt help but chuckle at her self, ' God Im losing my mind'. She turned around and looked at everyone in the club. People were dancing and sweaty. Mostly they were happy. Surrounded by their friends and just letting lose. Kira wished she could be like that. But she couldnt. It just wasnt in her to be carefree. Smiles and laughs just wasnt in her deminor.

((she is approachable.))

Archon & Valerian - Valerian's personal quarters at The Haven
 

# 6 [Fifth Night]

Being the head of the Ventrue was no easy task. Archon was perfect for the part, but even he had his nights of tribulations. He appreciated the few rare ones when nothing occupied his mind, when not a single thing made him worry about the outcome. This night was not one of them. Just as Valerian could not look through the eyes of the Ventrue, Archon could do nothing but. He would prefer to have Valerian feel he had gained something from the unfortunate incident, rather than to leave it as a possible bad reference for future use. Though he could not force something upon the gracious host.

"Please, Lord Archon", Valerian said, his soft voice growing increasingly humble, almost apologetic. "While I do appreciate the gesture, asking something of you would make me feel most uncomfortable, as I do not share your opinion nor your belief that compensation is required, or even called for. Therefore it is my suggestion that we let the gesture alone be compensation enough?"

The words from the young one had Archon ponder again. Who was he to determine what Valerian wanted or needed? He had to be careful not to dictate. Although he was a firm believer that compensating Valerian was the right thing to do, it all came down to Valerian's wish. Not Archon's. If Valerian did not wish to be compensated, that was the law Archon had to follow. Though he was not surprised. Anyone who knew Valerian enough to call him a friend, would also know he was not the one to dwell in the sorrow of the past. Valerian had not been such a goodhearted vampire, had he chosen to remain in the events that did not accommodate him.

"As you wish", Archon said with his hand slowly following a slight unseen wave in the air.

It was as if he had travelled back in time, to a royal hosehold, addressing the court. All he needed was clothes and scenery from that period, and the illusion would have been perfected. Valerian could in that moment imagine Archon when he was still kine, and without a shred of doubt see what the Ventrue had seen in him. And still did. The look Archon had kept from the past, to these modern nights, interacted well with the present. The cut and feel of his suites spoke of both past times and the ones to come. Tonight he was all black. The ruffle he pulled out from the arms of his jacket was black, just as the rest of his clothes. The only thing that did not join the dark was his pearly skin. Even his eyes, although hazel, seemed to communicate with the shadows.

"I will not press the matter further", Archon added. "But I will have you know that you can always come to me, when ever in need. Just as before this... woeful incident."

He looked upon his counterpart, although not seeing himself in Valerian, he saw someone he could respect and applaud. And that was just as good, if not better. Even though Archon was one of a kind within the Ventrue community, he was not as exceptional as Valerian was to all Kindred society, regardless of bloodline. Archon could rule like no one else, excepted by the Prince alone, but he would never be able to bend the will of others with pure humility. Of course, in the eyes of Valerian himself, he did not seek to bend the will of others. But to Archon, Valerian's mere nature was the perfect seed to a perfect weapon of power. Archon let a gentle smile grace his pale lips, as this revelation cascaded thorough his senses. It was, how ever, not rare for him to look for the power in others. But this was an isolated discovery. Valerian was the diamond glint one would be able to find in moonlit snow.

Archon would, of course, tell no one. These were his innermost private thoughts. Or, as a Ventrue would put it - leverage. Not on his behalf, but on others. Thus the arcane behind the door in his mind, just about to close. Archon could keep secrets like no one else.

"I do, how ever, have a business proposition for you", he said with the Ventrue look of deliberation.

When Valerian gave his consent for the Primogen to proceed with his suggestion, Archon moved deeper into the room, with one hand on his back. He had to take a minute, to leave the inconvenience Beyonca had cause him behind. The proposal had been born abroad, when he was still in the beginning of his journey. It had not been tainted by inane actions taken by this bretheren, therefore it was important for him to make that known with a simple pause, before the overture.

"I had a bet going with Roe", Archon said and turned to face Valerian again. "I am afraid I did not make a wise choice, but rather a sentimental one. And for us Ventrue, that is a disaster."

He smirked, almost letting out a laugh, although humble and gentle.

"I had great hopes for you to have made some changes to The Haven, yet I saw nothing out of the ordinary except for the painting above the bar. I am usually the most cynical, but this time Roe conquered. You do have a desire to make alterations to your Elysium, or am I mistaken?"

Adrien & Mina - Damian's office
 

"How does it feel?"

The bitterness that shrouded Mina's words as she repeated his question had Adrien quirking a challenging brow, daring her to confess that his presence didn't leave her as unfazed as it seemed she wanted him to think. That it was a slap in the face, that it had shook her to the core, and left her on edge far more than she seemed willing to admit.
He wasn't the only one who had reasons to be anxious. Even as a human, he hadn't been easily defeated. It had taken them over a century to track him down, and in the meantime, he had slain many of their kind. He had taken down one Kindred after another, and they hadn't even been able to find him.
What did that tell you about his ingenuity and expertise?

Now, even though he was perhaps thinking a bit too highly of himself, there were few that would argue that he had a point. His words of extermination were merely reflecting what was already oozing out of his every pore; threats and promises of Final Death, if only given the chance. And they weren't empty threats. Anyone who came face to face with him could attest to that. His eyes burned with a conviction that before long, he'd be back in charge of his life and his actions. One way or another. As long as there was one drop of blood left within his cold body, he'd stand up to the world of monsters that the Kindred were trying to make him a part of, and that if dying, he would do so knowing he'd fought for what he'd believed in, and that countless powerful Kindred had perished during his many years of glory.


"That is something a man like you could never comprehend."

Words that coaxed his lips into yet another smirk, far more venemous than the last.
Now wasn't that an easy, most convenient answer? A way to dodge the question, to leave it replied to, and yet not at all answered.
He'd expected her to sharpen her claws, and come out guns blazing, maybe even attempt to kill him on the spot. So why didn't she? He could see the rage in her eyes, the desire to put him through an agony so great it would've been impossible for the human mind to fathom. So why didn't she act on it?

The answer to that question, and the question he'd thought she'd leave essentially unanswered, was soon to come. His satisfaction of having her struggle to remain in control was short-lived.
The look in her eyes glazed over, as though she was thinking back on the time of which he spoke, when he'd come so close to ending her unnatural life, and for the briefest of moments it seemed she was no longer there, in the Prince's office, but in a mansion, a long, long time ago.

"Have you ever trusted someone, opened your heart to them, just to have them betray you?" she asked, her voice brimming with agonized honesty. "To know they want to destroy you for what were forced to become. How does if feel to know that like Jack the Ripper you would condem me to death based upon a lifestyle I did not not choose? I would have done anything for you and all I ever got in return was the pain of knowing that fate alone saved me as it spares you this night."

By the end of her very first sentence, the smirk on Adrien's lips was gone, vanished, and as she continued to speak, all smugness drained from his face completely. Had it been possible, he would've even paled.
She'd unexpectedly yanked the rug out from under his feet, sent his mind reeling, struggling to regain his inner balance. Despite him saying the cruelest, most offensive and provocative thing he could think of, she'd come out on top, once again keeping the control of the situation in the palm of her hand. And she'd done it by being completely honest, by sounding so human that for a while he was wondering if the monster he had seen in her was just a figment of his imagination, his need to despise her playing a trick on him. He couldn't recall ever feeling as much of a bastard than he did hearing her words. Not even when he'd been moments away from staking her in the heart, rendering her paralyzed and defensless as he claimed the victory of taking her life.
And considering how her words made him feel, he would've preferred if she'd just leapt at him. It would've been alot easier to deal with.

But before he even got a chance to sort out the tangle of thoughts and feelings, Mina relentlessly continued, force-feeding him every bit of pain he had brought her.
Only now the heart-felt emotion was once again gone from her voice, and in it's place was the same chilling tone she'd used before.

"So what do you want me to tell you, that I hate you, that I despise you, that I am indifferent to you, that I love you, that I fear you? Take your pick of whatever you wish to believe. For you will need it when you face the true darkness of self doubt these dark nights will bring upon your soul, when you doubt all beauty, all pleasure you have ever felt."

She paused only briefly, and then continued once more:

"My dear, do you think you are so unique as to battle against the blood forced upon you, to hate those who bound you to this life? Are you so much better, so different from us all that are enslaved to this eternity?"

Adrien had long torn his gaze from her, unable to keep it from shifting when faced by something so unexpected, so different from everything he'd learned of the Kindred throughout the years. He'd heard them talk from time to time, about regrets and the yearning to find or keep their humanity, but to him, it had sounded like charades, like a game of make believe. Now, he wasn't as sure, though he was far from convinced that he'd been wrong. He still maintained that they were, in essence, monsters. Maybe just not one hundred percent.
But, hadn't that always been the case with Mina? Truth be told, he'd considered her one of those monsters simply because he'd had to, in order to keep his true feelings for her at bay. But what had those "true feelings" really been? It had all happened such a long time ago that he could no longer tell if what he thought he'd felt was the truth, or mere notions built around the remnants of the truth.
And, more importantly, just because she had once been able to make him feel by being honest with him and opening up to him, it didn't mean she had no hidden agenda this time. In fact, he was certain that she did. Maybe her honesty now was all for show? An attempt to make him falter, to bring those feelings back to life and make him an easier target. A master of deception himself, Adrien saw possible tricks and traps in everything.

"You flatter yourselves with thinking you're protecting mankind", he said, his voice and gaze both lowered as he'd clearly been knocked down quite a few pegs, but still refused to yield. "All you truely do is help corrupt them. You use them as nothing but pawns in your neverending games and personal vendettas."

Jessica/Sarah ~ night 5
 

Jessica, now satisfied with tommorow night's dress selection, returned to her piano with all intentions of finishing her piece. Only to find she forgot where she left off. Oh well. She had a gift anyways. Time to go clubbing.

Scanning her closet, Jess found an array of approprite outfits. mini skirts. Jeans with boots, a cocktail dress. So many options. Might as well look casual. No need to stick out. She slipped on a white blouse and skinny jeans. But she wasn't satisfied. A denim vest and nearly knee high boots were slipped on. Hair curled, make-up applied. It only took herself 2 hours to get dressed. Appearance meant a lot to her.

She pulled up, as usual, in her shiny silver car and pulled in. The bouncer wasn't stationed at the door. Funny. She walked in and he was on his way to the door. He knew her. There was no doubt about it. Of course, he walked by her, almost not noticing. It was very busy tonight. Both humans and kindred packed the club nearly wall to wall.

Jess went to sit at the bar when she noticed the bartender. It was that woman. From 8 years ago. She was here. Now, in the very club she was in. This wasn't good. If she saw her she would know what she did, and who everybody was. Herself and her friends. Her clan. Jess covered her face with her hair quickly and swiftly walked to Valerian's quarters. She knew it was his private quarters, but this was major.

She knocked on the door. Harder than she usually did. Her elegant British voice rang out through the the small space. "Valerian. It's Jess. We have a problem."

((I think my longest RP yet! *woot* If you don't want Jess to intrude, I'd gladly change it.))
------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Alice? Alice who?" Sarah was confused. She was in the book they were just talking about.

"Never mind." The woman from the cafe walked up to them, nearly startling her. "I don't think we've ever been properly introduced. I'm Gemma," Sarah started to open her mouth but Bee was quick to the draw.

"Hello Gemma. We havent be properly introduced. It give my apologies. This is Sarah. A friend of mine. How are you this evening? I hope well." No need for an introduction now. She obviously knew what she was doing.

Mina and Adrien - Princes Office
 

As she watched him, Adrien's gaze falted already the cracks evident of self doubt appearing in his face, his stance. He appeared unable to look upon her, to witness the true force of the pain he had caused. Though not many could, it was so easy to be rightous until faced with the consequenes of your actions. Like every prejudice Adrien so obviously idealised them into monsters that needed destroying for the benefit of mankind. How different was his war to the ones of the humans where they blew each other apart, enslaved and torchured each other on the basis of race and religon? Believing that all were the same and so worthy of condemnation because of their blood.

"You flatter yourselves with thinking you're protecting mankind", he said, his voice and gaze both lowered as he'd clearly been knocked down quite a few pegs, but still refused to yield. "All you truely do is help corrupt them. You use them as nothing but pawns in your neverending games and personal vendettas."

Mina did not deny that vampires could be inherantly evil, she did not delude herself into thinking they were saints. But often that was their very human natures coming through, the lusts for control and power. Still they hurt and could be hurt themselves, but she would not accept that they were all cursed, abominations of nature.

Her gaze held steady upon him, studying the battle wreak its havoc through Adrien. His desperation to clutch onto the belief that they were all purely evil to justify his actions. So she took her time replying drawing out the agonising silence with an air of control. If it had been another the questions would have been dismissed, punished for the arrogance of expecting her to dfend the action of a whole race of beings, to explain their natures. That was a sires duty, not hers. But for some reaso she wanted him to undestand, if only so he would accept the horror that he had caused, so she could witness the guilt come crashing down, slamming through everything he believed himself to be.

But what would be left? If the angry retribution was destroyed what would become of the man before her? Did Adrien have any soul beyond the wish to detroy? Did anything else fuel the nights with such passion?

For a second she faltered, the words caught on her lips, in a silent rembrance of the man she had cherished for the few sweet moments so very long ago, before her cold voice shattered the silence of the room. "Adrien, it is true some of us lust for control and power, that is our very human nature coming through. We are not so different from what we were. Like the oil barons, the church, the polittions of the human world some manipulate and corrupt all those around us. Some use the vampiric nature to create wonderous art and visions of beauty, some work at furthering knoweldge of the occult, of sciene, some seek to protect mankind, some to destroy them. We are not all the same, there are as many dimensions to us as there are grains of sand on the shore. But you cannot condemn us all on the actions of the few."

Mina sighed, realising her words were inadequate to penetrate the beliefs he held so dear, the beliefs that gave him the drive to continue. "Open your eyes to the world around you. It is filled with anguish and pain, hapiness and joy. Constructed by human minds. Even we can not protect mankind from its own self destructive nature, we can only attempt to exist alongside them. It would take a greater mind, than my own to untie the tangled web between vampires and the humans we once were. Do you really believe us all to be such devils?"

Her btter laughter once again broke through and she waved her hand dismissivley. "My dear, destroy vampires when they hurt you, when they betray you that I can condemn. But to slaughter a race for nothing other than the blood that runs through their veins makes you nothing better than a prejudiced totalitarian."

The words were spoken viciously mocking him with the force of her argument. Let him attempt to justify himself to her, to absolve himself from the pain he had caused to her and to the others who remembered those he had so venamously destroyed. For she was probeably not the first to speak these words and she doubted she would be the last. But eventually he would break, for she had a hundred years of arguments, of pain and tears to torment him with.


((OOC sorry if its incoherant wrote it quick this morning...))

Something inside Andre gave a strange tug. So she had been to Ireland before. Fuzzy memories of a beautiful girl with wild red hair and a youthful face assaulted his mind, drowning out even the heavy beat of club music and the mixed conversations of clubgoers. He gave Aeode a slight smile, brushing the loose hair from his eyes. "Yes, I'm sure it is impossible...It's probably just a bad case of Deja Vu." Turning quickly Andre pushed his way passed the gyrating body towards the doors, accidentally bumping in to a group of girls not far from the bar. He mumbled a quick apologie but didn't stop to look at them. Any other night he might have been enticed into a meal, but tonight he felt the need for some air. It seemed wherever he went he was followed by the red haired beauty he had fled from so many years ago.

((OOC: oh! Well, Jessica had already offered to be that vampire and I agreed to it, I'm sorry I didn't mention it in my PM. But the Grace reference worked out beautifully ))

((Sorry for the delay Vel! >_< You're an angel! And Zillah is quite the charmer. :valentine I tried to mirror the last paragraph to the last paragraph of zillah's thoughts in your post. :] ))

Vevila drank up his presence like a fine, priceless wine. It was rich, flawless, deep, seductive-- any number of things. Such attributes in mortals were desperately hard to come by. The moonlight cascaded over his lustrous gossamer hair, illuminating the varying curvatures of his face. Peaks and sloping valleys of shadow, a plane of beauty and allure. And human; it was shocking, and drew out the very essence of her Toreador nature. It was as if all else melted away into a pool of blurred light and sound that formed a single matte background. The filth-ridden streets, the screeching of tires, wailing alley cats, trashcans being knocked over-- all were eliminated as she immersed herself in the study of his features and the desirous nature he seemed to exude.

"How could I not? It would be a crime to look upon such a vision and not have any word to recall the cognizance. And just so you can do the same I'm Zillah." Vevila drew in a breath as he curled his form into a feigned bow, a charming smile toying with his plump cherry lips. Zillah. A name one could not easily forget. "Bee was most forecoming when I saw you at the Haven, really you should tell her if its a closley-gaurded secret. Perhaps if you wish to grace the club with your presence again, I should join you, all manner of atrociousies lurk the night."

A coy smile flirted with Vevila's own crimson-hued fleshy lips, revealing two rows of flawless pearly white teeth. She took a small step toward him, as if a predator assessing it's prey; her eyes roamed his fair face for a moment and guarded the many secrecies that lay within her.

"No secret," she murmured softly in her melodious voice, each syllable rolling off her tongue as if coated in honey. "Just hard to come by. Those who know my name typically earn such knowledge. Bee must have deemed you worthy to provide such a detail. And right she was; you compliment without excessive reason." Her eyes fluttered open and closed like the swift motions of butterfly wings. "Although, I have been told that she who accepts flattery, begs it. I will forewarn you, darling Zillah," she paused, drawing closer still. The proximity had decreased to the point that she only had to whisper to make herself heard. "I beg for nothing. That which I desire, I pursue; never will I be a beggar." A glint of mirth inflamed her eyes, and her smile bloomed into a mysterious smirk.

"And as for the atrocities?" Vevila's porcelain face took on an angelic element that intermingled with feigned naive fear, as if suddenly made aware of a vast evil creeping upon her innocent being; perverted fingers feeling their way around her neck, caressing her skin most terribly.

"I suppose company would ward them off, though I am stronger than I appear, and hold no qualms about defending myself by any means." A velvety chuckle slipped through her lips. "Let us abandon these depraved streets." She offered Zillah a subtle smile that masked all emotions under a wave of mystery; it spoke to him, revealing that many layers must be peeled away before even the slightest understanding could be reached.

Vevila thought of the atrocities that Zillah mentioned. The threats upon the life of a woman so fair and alluring, a woman whose swaying form drew every gaze and desire, were countless. Innumerable perverts and murderers crawled and stalked the alleyways. Everywhere there was darkness, and the entities that could harm. She failed to mention that he was one of them. The one children's mothers warned them about; the proverbial wolf in sheep's clothing. Behind the feathery lashes and angelic smile were the murder weapons; she would leave them bruised and bleeding without a single qualm.

Valerian, Archon & Jessica - Valerian's chambers / Adrien & Mina - Damian's office
 

"As you wish. I will not press the matter further."

Archon's words were somewhat reluctant, and yet resigned, final. He accepted Valerian's unwillingness to dwell on the incident, despite not getting a fully satisfactory ending himself, deeming it more important for Valerian to feel the issue had been resolved to his liking, rather than for Archon to get his way. The true Ventrue nobility, with a dash of humility. A sincere sign of respect, and friendship. Had their association been of the less friendly kind, Archon would've most likely either seen to it that his offer was accepted, or not made it at all. On such matters, the shrewd Ventrue always found a way to wrap things up the way they wanted them.

"But I will have you know", the Primogen added however, "...that you can always come to me, when ever in need. Just as before this... woeful incident."

To that, Valerian gave a vague, gracious nod, showing that those were words he appreciated and would make sure to remember, if ever he found himself needing a potent ally or the powerful influence of the Ventrue Primogen. Archon's good grace often went hand in hand with the Prince's good grace, and that was a rare blessing, a thing to be truely treasured. And nursed.

With the matter addressed and dealt with, Archon soon moved on to the next thing on his busy agenda.

"I do, how ever, have a business proposition for you."

Valerian quirked an inquiring brow, his curiousity already piqued. A business proposition, for him? Not for his dominant, headstrong co-owner and business partner Claudia, the cunning entrepreneur who even shared Archon's blood? How exciting!
With another, simple nod, unwilling to unleash his tounge and risk saying something that might distract Archon from what he was about to say (no matter how impossible it seemed), he showed that the Ventrue had his full attention.

"I had a bet going with Roe", Archon said. "I am afraid I did not make a wise choice, but rather a sentimental one. And for us Ventrue, that is a disaster. I had great hopes for you to have made some changes to The Haven, yet I saw nothing out of the ordinary except for the painting above the bar. I am usually the most cynical, but this time Roe conquered. You do have a desire to make alterations to your Elysium, or am I mistaken?"

The serene beauty of Valerian's sculpted face was briefly distorted by a slight frown, when reminded of the fact that Claudia simply would not allow him to re-decorate as often as he wanted to. He had so many ideas, and his fingers were itching to replace the bar, or change the lighting, or even just the small candleholders on the tables. He'd seen the most delicate hand-painted black and purple candleholders the other week, during one of his rare ventures outside The Haven, and they would be just perfect on the tables, giving the booths an air of intimacy and mystery, and...
Well. There really was no point in loosing himself in the plans and visions he wanted to fullfill. Not right now, not with Archon's proposition yet to be revealed.

"Had it been up to me, your choice would indeed have been the wiser one", he said, giving a faint, ironic smile. "But alas, I fear I would be a complete disaster to The Haven's finances, had it been my decision to make. And so I have, as you well know, left all such responsibility to my esteemed and most lovely partner Claudia, your kin. But, to answer your question, yes, I do have..."

His voice trailed off as they were interrupted by a firm knock on the door, a knock that although Valerian couldn't see the person who delivered it, made him aware that something was the matter. Though mere moments later, the eager visitor revealed her identity by speaking.

"Valerian. It's Jess. We have a problem."

Jessica? There must indeed be a serious problem afoot, for his Primogen to come knocking like this. But oh, such lousy timing. He'd really wanted to hear what Archon had to say, but with the urgency evident in Jessica's voice, and her being his Primogen, he could not possibly ask her to wait.
Therefore, he offered Archon an apologetic smile, while heading over to open the door.
Opening up, he came face to face with the older female Toreador, looking casual yet stunning as ever in jeans and a white blouse, with a denim vest to complete the look.

"Jessica, my queen", he addressed her in his usual playful manner, and gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

Though he made sure his voice and lips both lacked their usual essence of temptation, lure and seduction, no silent promises of troubles all forgotten in his gentle touch upon her arm, no hunger for affection in his eyes.
It didn't seem she'd appreciate his kittenish ways at this time, and the last thing he wanted to do was to anger her by making it seem he wasn't taking her apparent concern seriously.
However, there was quite a bit of mirth in his words when he pretended to marvel at the situation.

"My, what can I possibly have done to earn the company of two Primogen at once?" he said, smiling at her a silent heads up.

He trusted that she would recognize it as not being a product of his flirtatious nature, but rather a warning for her not to say anything further, lest it was something she felt comfortable with the Ventrue Primogen knowing as well.








- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -








There was a silence in the room. Adrien's words had been left hanging in the air, an accusation waiting to be acknowledged, to be either dismissed or discussed. For it could not be denied. All through his hunter career, he had seen Kindred manipulate and decieve the human world they were once a part of, all to suit their own agendas, and then hide behind the excuse that it was for the good of mankind.
Rubbish.
He had yet to see one act of genuine kindness, a self-sacrificing act made out of nothing but the feelings for a living, breathing person, let alone the entire human race. In Kindred society, there was no such thing. They cared about blood, power, mastery, control, only sometimes about eachother. And they cared about protecting their own fiendish hides.
But never about the humans.
Adrien himself felt it in his veins, the tainted blood forced on him calling to him to let go of his values and his beliefs, beckoning him to surrender to the potency of his new existence. With each passing night, he could feel the remnants of his mortal life slipping further and further away. And it only made him more vehement in his battle against what his arbiters, his wardens in this unlife/undeath, were trying to make him into.

"Adrien, it is true some of us lust for control and power, that is our very human nature coming through."

He winced when he heard her speak his name. Her voice was cold and devoid of emotion, but it was not the voice he heard. Uttering his name, she brought memories back to life, of the warmth with which she had spoken his name during those few nights over a century ago, when he'd made her trust him and care for him. That memory was more like a whiplash to his soul than the tone of her voice now could ever be. It was not her anger or her hatred, or even her indifference that hurt him. It was the realization that perhaps she really had cared for him, truely cared for him. He'd always made himself believe that, demon that she was, her heart would've been too cold and black to be warmed by his charming ways for very long, and so his deception wouldn't have caused her that much pain. A bruised ego and a thirst for vengeance, yes, but not true heartache.
But her pained words of what he believed to be actual honesty just minutes ago, had left a cold hand twisting his gut, and along with the memory of the softness in her voice so long ago... He could no longer deny that perhaps she'd really had a heart back then, instead of a lump of coal, and that if it was now black and cold, it was largely his doing.
To make even matters worse, it would all prove that his beliefs that the Kindred nature consisted of nothing but pure evil and monstrosities, were not completely valid.

But there was still one thing he clung to, one thing he had learned during his years as a hunter. Having mastered the deception that was the Masquerade, they were all skilled actors, with supernatural powers, always putting on the mask that best served their needs and their goals. When coming face to face with him, and the realization that their unlives were about to end, many had tried to trick him, by putting on the mask of a creature with feelings such as sorrow and regret, trying to appeal to his better nature so that he would spare them.

"We are not so different from what we were", he vaguely heard Mina's voice continue through the black blizzard of his mind. "Like the oil barons, the church, the polittions of the human world some manipulate and corrupt all those around us. Some use the vampiric nature to create wonderous art and visions of beauty, some work at furthering knoweldge of the occult, of sciene, some seek to protect mankind, some to destroy them. We are not all the same, there are as many dimensions to us as there are grains of sand on the shore. But you cannot condemn us all on the actions of the few."

Adrien snorted to himself, and as his new mantra kept echoing in his head - 'She's trying to trick you, she's trying to trick you, she's trying to trick you' - he finally found himself able to once again look at her, to meet her cold gaze with a piercing one of his own.
They were not all the same... True, on the surface perhaps. But strip away all the layers, all the pretty and amiable qualities of which she spoke, and one would find that when it came right down to it, they were all driven by the same thing; a thirst for blood.
And it seemed Mina realized he wasn't buying it, as she sighed, and started again;

"Open your eyes to the world around you. It is filled with anguish and pain, hapiness and joy. Constructed by human minds. Even we can not protect mankind from its own self destructive nature, we can only attempt to exist alongside them. It would take a greater mind, than my own to untie the tangled web between vampires and the humans we once were. Do you really believe us all to be such devils?"

Though she didn't seem to expect him to answer that, as she made a dismissive gesture with her hand. Perhaps she already knew what his answer would be. The look in his eyes had never ceased conveying exactly what he felt. From the initial rebellion, to the shock and guilt caused by her 'confession', and now the fervent conviction that burned within him.

"My dear," she continued once more, and again her voice mirrored her desire to mock him. "Destroy vampires when they hurt you, when they betray you that I can condemn. But to slaughter a race for nothing other than the blood that runs through their veins makes you nothing better than a prejudiced totalitarian."

So... She, the newly self-appointed spokesperson for the 'refined' and 'superior' Kindred, was comparing him to a narrow-minded fascist. How ironic.

"Ah, yes", Adrien said while his usual arrogance came trickling back to his posture and his confidence. "The blood. A place as good as any to start, I suppose."

His hands came to rest on his lower back, clasped together casually, as a taunting sign that he was not afraid of her, that he had no need to cross his arms in an attempt to protect himself or exude determination. That he invited her to strike, both of them knowing it would do her little good in proving her point. Though it would probably make her feel better, in general.

"The Kindred claim to be far more cultured than mankind. Less barbaric and crude. Yet their only way of surviving, is too feed off of the blood of the 'lowly' humans. To steal the life force of another being, to take that which they have not earned. Why, without mankind, there would be no Kindred. Their are incapable of surviving on their own. Without Kindred, on the other hand, mankind would still continue to flourish. And yet you are the 'superior' ones?"

He quirked a brow at her, adding a little bit more of a punch to his mockery, only to continue.

"As far as I'm concerned, Kindred are the largest species of leeches in this world. Parasites with egos and agendas."

A brief pause followed, and when next he spoke the sarcasm had faded, and his voice was now cold and barren, much like hers had been.

"You accuse me of being totalitarian, but from where I stand, none are more so than your kind, choosing only the strongest, the wisest, the prettiest, the most useful, and then killing them simply because the blood in their veins isn't potent enough."

He stopped there, knowing his eyes now flared with something far more personal than he had any intention of sharing; the death of his father, his main reason for becoming a hunter in the first place, although now far from being the only one. It was what had kept fueling his rage through all these years the most.
But that was a story he would never tell. While most already knew he'd been a dhampir, fathered by a thin-blood, they had never learned the whole story. Their knowledge of his parents was simply based on the fact that the few survivors he had left in his trail, when realizing he was not a fellow Kindred, had still sensed in him supernatural powers, which lead them down the path of concluding that while he was no vampire, he was not completely human either.
Though such simple conclusions would never be enough to lead to the discovery of his father's fate. and Adrien himself had no interest in sharing.



(((ooc: As there are still so many conversations going on, I've decided to prolong this night. It will now end on Friday, approx 48 hours from now.)))

Jessica, Valerian, & Archon
 

The door opened up to Valerian's quarters. He seemed to be eyeing her outfit as he usually did.

"Jessica, my queen." Always kidding. He had no idea what was at hand. He leaned over and kissed her on her cheek, the usual greeting of Valerians flirtatious nature. Not her favorite aspect of him. He didn't seem as 'innocent' as he usually did. Was something troubling him as well?

"My, what can I possibly have done to earn the company of two Primogen at once?"

Two? Who had she intruded on? It seemed more like a warning than a friendly comment. She was curious. She gracefully stepped into the room and peeked around. Archon deWinter. How could she have been so stupid.

"Lord deWinter. What a pleasant suprise. I hope you don't mind me interrupting?"

Archon DeWinter & Valerian & Jessica - Valerian's personal quarters at The Haven
 

# 7 [Fifth Night]

Even though the Kindred would live forever, their time were precious as well. Archon had claimed a great deal of Valerian's without notice in advance, therefore he was not surprised when someone knocked on the door. He was rather amazed they had been able to talk privately for so long. Valerian was well liked, and had a business to run. Many of his attending guests must miss him. The sun had set some time ago, and Archon was still the only soul who had layed eyes on the enchanting host. None the less, Archon was pleased he had seemed to capture Valerian's interest with his talk of a business proposition. One he had not yet had a chance to mention. Even so, he had gotten Valerian's attention and curiousity. That was at least a promising start.

"Valerian. It's Jess. We have a problem."

Ah, Jessica. The Toreador Primogen. Archon's demeanor changed from that of a some what informal trusting friend, to a formal business man. Although he never let his guard down, he had been at ease with Valerian. That changed in one fell swoop. The number of Toreador had just doubled, and a Primogen to boot. How interesting. What had happened that made her come to Valerian in such great haste? It must have been something recent, or a well hidden Toreador secret, as he would have known otherwise. Still, what he picked up in the tone of her voice, assured him it was a fresh ordeal. But the thing that convinced him the most, was the fact that she came herself, in such a blatant manner. Something was indeed at bay.

"Jessica, my queen", Valerian addressed his Primogen, in his usual playful way, and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "My, what can I possibly have done to earn the company of two Primogen at once?" he said, smiling at her a silent heads up.

It amused Archon when he was present when others deemed him not. When he was the furthest thing on anyone's mind, and yet; there he was in flesh and blood. An unholy lost soul, wrapped in Ventrue delight, demanding the attention of anyone. Archon guessed Valerian's comment was cautionary, and not at all his otherwise expected charm. And his Primogen did seem a bit annoyed, or was it perhaps simply astonishing for her to find him there in a time of need for her devotee. She did, how ever, mask it well.

"Lord DeWinter. What a pleasant suprise. I hope you don't mind me interrupting?"

Her words brought a smile to Archon's lips. The kind that did not reach his eyes. He had been smiling on the inside though, of the entertainment to be a miscalculation. It was, how ever, not an attempt to ridicule the beauteous Jessica, not even to himself. He had the highest respect for her, as for all Primogen within the council. It was merely a cheer of the games played by the Kindred, a game he sought to master. He had really missed Los Angeles, and the angels inside. This particular angel held anyone captive with her beauty, if one was not careful. Archon was though. He remembered the first time he had met her, and how dangerous the experience could have been, had he not been taught well in the passing years of how to handle each clan. Especially the Primogen. Just has he was the prime Ventrue, she was the Toreador zenith. Still, Valerian held the essence of their clan, as Archon had stated. He wondered if there was ever a nadir within that clan. Logically there had to be, but he gathered even the low point of the Toreador was still a bewitching creature.

"My Lady", Archon said with a lean voice, to strip her from possible arms due to embarasment, and met her halfway with a gentle kiss upon her slender hand. "Not at all. Valerian has already been most kind to grant me more time than I deserve. I will of course let you talk with him alone. Your company is, how ever, always a pleasure. I do hope to see you tomorrow night."

On that note he turned to Valerian, the everlasting host, and offered him a firm handshake. Although both men, Valerian seemed quite the boy in comparison with the regal Archon. Valerian's bare torso added to the impression, his unruly raven hair in contrast. It was a bit rare to find a male Ventrue with long hair, furthermore a Primogen, but Archon was the one to carry himself no matter what. The ebony mane, almost completely straight with a few soft curls, framed his august face in no contradiction with his title.

"Thank you for your time, Valerian", Archon said with acknowledgement. "I do hope you will attend tomorrow as well. You and I have to continue our conversation another night, since us Ventrue have to contain our business senses when present at a banquet."

The latter was said with a hint of a smirk.

"I will leave you two alone", he concluded with a look upon each of them, before leaving the chambers with a ever noble finish: "Farewell."





____________________________________

((( ooc: ElektraNatchios33 - Great to have you/Jessica in the mix. I hope what I wrote regarding Jessica works, if not tell me. And also, she doesn't have a last name? I choose for him to call her "My Lady", as he does not often use just a first name. Should he call her something else? )))

((( ooc: Atropa - If Archon should not have left the room, let me know. )))

Archon - The Haven, the streets
 

#8 [Fifth Night]

As Archon passed through the doorway to Valerian's chambers, an alluring female voice spoke to everyone in the club, combined with the soft intro to a modern hit song. "See the devil on the doorstep..." Although the humble beginning surprised Archon, the change in tempo did not. Yet another horrible song that seemed to appeal to everyone but him and the likes of him. He would have let out a sigh, had he had a breath within his lounges. As he descended down the stairs, he swept his gaze over the crowd, taking in the information at hand. A few Kindred were present, but the majority were blood bags in the shape of kine. Some of them noticed his presence, although it was almost hidden in the dark of the club. Once in a while, the spotlights reached him, and revealed a morphed monstrosity reflection of him.

When Archon was just one step shy of reaching the floor, a kine woman stumbled infront of him and grabbed his hand to keep herself from falling. The instantaneous reaction within Archon was that of contempt. He did not have the some what normal decent respond, as to clasp her hand back and help her. This due to the fact that she was kine, drunk and had an impact on Archon's presence that was involuntary on his behalf. A combination not especially appreciated by the Primogen. It was not dignified. Although the Kindred were predominant, Archon did have some respect left for the human race. He had not forgotten he used to be one of them. But already in his kine days, he had considered himself above most of them. He believed the kine could be so much more than they were, and saw it as his duty to be someone worth imitating. The woman infront of him, laughing hysterically as if affected by a Malkavian mind, embodied their imperfection. They did not have to drink until the point of stupidity and everything but control, and yet they did. It was unrefined, even for mere humans.

Archon raised his hand a tad, with his fingers pointing downward, to make it harder for her to hold on to him. He did not want to draw attention to himself, by simply pulling away. This made the woman calm down a bit, to be able to look at him. She did not really understand what was happening, in her drunken haze. But she did detect something; the feel of his hand. The polar surface made her joy disappear, as she had never felt a man so cold to the touch. It was astounding.

"Oh...", she said soft, yet it reached over the noise. "You're so cold..."

Nothing short of statuesque, Archon towered aloft, looking down on her. He had a hauteur look in his hazel orbs, with the overbearing pride of someone superior in manner toward that of an inferior being. He could simply not stand when someone chose to be unclean in his or hers conduct.

"May I have my hand back?" he said with an indication of a smile.

He braced himself, brought everything within him to the center, to be able to portray that of a gentleman. Despite his kingly approach to the matter, he did come off as charming man. His outlook had often granted him the company of women, as they saw him as the strong alpha male ready to protect them from any danger. Little did they know it was at times despise for something or someone near by or in his mind. On the contrary, Archon was also a firm believer that it was the responsibilty of all Kindred to safeguard the kine. One could only imagine, the battle that raged within him in moments like this one.
The woman seemed abashed, and slowly let go of his hand. It was obvious she did not know what to think. The man before her was very handsome, almost an Adonis in her regard, but had offered her no help or empathy. Nothing but a soft smile, that seemed to vanish in an instant. How odd. He did resemble someone that would be an expert at treating women right. Yet, she could not point out what he had done wrong. And that was the puzzlement, that set her drunken confusion to the test. It was also Archon's intention, therefore the woman would never reach a conclusion.

As soon as the woman moved on, Archon looked for Roe. His faithful companion was soon to present himself, with the briefcase, and an amused smirk on his lips. Roe saw the humour in Archon's approach to the world, and he was the only one that could ever go so far as to point this out. This was not the time to play the jester card though, as Archon evidently had the beast rising. Not that he would let it loose, for any reason, but because Roe wanted to - figuratively speaking - keep his head. That was why Archon's hand felt glacial; the need to feed the beast. Although it was far from risen, it had begin to talk to his senses, if only by mere whispers. The beast would not be denied, every Kindred knew this. And in this they were all alike. The Prince, Primogen and every other vampire. They all had one thing to do - obey and serve the desires of the best. Not every desire though, since that would result in the slaying of kine.
They headed out into the night, not giving anyone a chance to approach them for a greeting. Although the need for blood was not dire, Archon felt it was probably best to surrender.

The sweet sound of nothing but the engine of the mercedez soothed Archon, as he closed his eyes, resting his head in the backseat. A fresh batch of blood swirled through his veins, communicating with his inner spirit. He remained silent, inactive. Until the car came to a complete stop. They had arrived, and the master stirred. The new surroundings were cloaked in a thin mist, but one could discern the trees and bushes around. From a far, the sound of a highway. Near by, the cemented opening to a sewer channel, hidden under branches and debris from mother nature. Archon could sense the liquid waste and the smell there of, and these were the moments when he cursed his vampiric capability.

"Ah, the head of the septer clan", a dark, rasping voice spoke without revealing it's owner. "And on such short notice. What an honor..."

It had the feel of a long playing record from the past, telling an acient tale of secrets long gone. Even when there were no words, there was almost a low hiss in the air. Lingering, as if to warn anyone in a close proximity. It was not easy to determine the mindset of the bearer, as the tone seemed both serious and insinsere, as if to jokingly provoke. But Archon knew the man pretty well, as well as you could ever know a member of his clan. Their treasures were hidden with such brilliant and cunning methods, they probably had the holy grail in their possession. It would not surprise Archon if they also had the bones of the infamous carpenter, somewhere laying around, gathering dust. Not a god, nor a devil, had anything on these vampires. They were the creme de la creme of any abomination that had ever set claws on this earth. Their kiss of Judas was more like a nuclear drive-by slaughter. Anyone that did not look upon their shocking features and tremble even the slightest, had no refined bone in their body what so ever.

And the Ventrue Primogen did not have a bone that was not refined. Even if he were to mass murder the whole population of the earth, he would go about in a refined manner. Trust the Ventrue to kill with class.
When the owner of the rasping voice appeared, Archon could almost not bear the sight of him. He was appalling to say the least, with a gray rough skin to badly disguise a skeleton anatomy. The face was carved from stone, like a halloween mask no man could ever create. Archon had layed eyes upon him a hundred times, yet he never got used to the horrendous vision before him. What started as a frown in the face of the Ventrue, soon became a grimace. To this, the Nosferatu grinned, most sinister. This one was particularly fond of startling a Primogen, a classy vampire such as Archon. No matter how many times they met, it never got old.

Before he entered the Kindred nights, he had been a young man in love of everything that had something to do with computers. He had also been pretty good looking, a big fan of metal music and disturbing art and movies. Since he spent his nights in his parents basment, it was astonishing anyone had noticed him enough to desire him for the Embrace. But, who were better at finding that which was lost to the world, if not the Nosferatu? The elongated coarse-skinned skull of this feral one was covered with tufts of thin shoulder long black hair. The grin revealed ragged fangs, and an almost serpent tounge. The gangling chest was covered in a t-shirt with the logo of a metal band from long ago, and from the shoulders a leather coat hanged. To this, black pants and boots. He motioned towards Archon and Roe, with hands decorated with nails that had turned into claws from the Embrace. To him, Roe was the one he prefered, since he was from the clan the Nosferatu despised the least.

"Did the cat get your tounge?" he said. "Or did he let you keep it?"

The games the Nosferatu played... One had to be pretty clever to keep up, but this time it was not hard to decipher. Archon simply knew he was talking about Valerian. Of course. The monster had already found out where he had been. No matter how well informed Archon was, the Nosferatu were always a few steps ahead. Most annoying.
Although the surroundings did not please Archon, he was always thankful when the Nosferatu were in a good mood. This one, his main and only source really, had put Archon through the great ordeal of having their first meeting inside the sewer canals, and a couple of the ones that followed. Presently, they always had their meetings outside, even if the Nosferatu amused himself with having horrible sents or displays near by. It was the price Ventrue had to pay, for the mere thought of thinking highly of themselves.

"I am here for the exchange, Vicoden", Archon finally said, when settling with the environment. "Nothing else is of interest."

Vicoden snarled, with a wry face. He could make his deformed face even more monstrous if he chose to.

"Lord Fratellini", he said with a sneer. "Wanna join me in my humble abode?"

Even though Archon was not in the mood for trickery, he had to abide. He had no wish to cross Vicoden, lest he would have to endure the degradation of walking in the sewers. Vicoden was not a friend, only a business contact, if there could be a word for their relation. When others kicked out the ones they wanted to learn a lesson, the Nosferatu invited them instead. Vicoden knew just how much disdain Archon had for his "humble abode", thus the suggestion.

"I have found more than your share of the deal", Archon replied to calm his adversary.

Vicoden grinned, this time revealing the worn fangs that would have pierced the skin if he had not been used to them. More than his share...? Archon must have been pretty disturbed about having a meeting with him waiting in the wings when he came home from his journey.

"How was Vienna?" Vicoden asked with glee, which poorly covered his baneful nature. "Did you zigzag with success through the abracadabra?"

Archon really had no interest in his talkative manner, one he did not show very often. This was just to spite Archon, to try and entagle him with haze words. Thus the Primogen motioned to Roe, who gave him a plastic case with a white compact disc. Archon turned to face Vicoden again, once more appalled by his revolting guise, as if it was the first time he saw him tonight. Vicoden grabbed the disc, with a soft clink, from claws against plastic, and reached inside his coat. Soon, he had a small laptop between his hands, just big enough to fit a disc inside.

"Most obliged, Lord Whiteface", Vicoden said when he had examined the content.

No other vampire could refer to Archon in such profanity without at least a reprimand. Vicoden was the only one, as he was well aware of the fact that he had too much valuable information in his keep for Archon to call the shots. Even if he did draw the line at some point.
In return, Archon recieved a folded sheet of white paper, not even enclosed in a envelope. He knew why. Vicoden would let out a laugh if he asked, cause what kind of protection was yet another cover of paper? Archon placed the paper safely inside the jacket of his suit. And when he looked up, after a mere second of weaker attention, Vicoden had vanished.

The paper had little to do with the Kindred in Los Angeles. It was business overseas, and was to be delievered to the Prince. A Ventrue leverage. This was the joke on Vicoden. Although as intelligent as they come through the Nosferatu Transformation, he did not really know what the information he had gathered meant. He propably thought he did, otherwise he would never reveal it to Archon, granting him the upper hand, simply sharing the information was to disclose enough. But, Archon had to hand it to him, to be able to find information even when he did not know much about it. Of course, Vicoden had to be certain the information was not worth much, otherwise he had not given it away. Yet another Nosferaty trickery, but this time it had ricochetted.





____________________________

((( ooc: Long post, I know... It kind of wrote itself... )))

((( ooc: NPC Vicoden's references: Fratellini & "Whiteface". I thought you'd might like to know, if you didn't already. )))

Andre gave a sardonic chuckle. "Perhaps, or could it be fate?" he answered, straightening his jacket. Andre glanced at Aeode's face in the dim light of early morning. She looked shaken and, if possible, paler then normal. Her eyes seemed to linger everywhere but on him. Could she perhaps feel the same sense of knowing that he did? He faked a shiver of cold and gestured towards a comfortable glow of light around the corner. "It's gotten colder. Would you care to get a cup of coffee and talk for a bit? If you're too tired thats fine also." Andre shifted his feet weight apprehensively and brushed randomly at his loose and unruly locks. It would be light in a few hours, but something about the mysterious young woman drew him to her like a magnet. Perhaps if he could just talk to her more then he could remember why she was so familiar.

Valerian & Jessica
 

Much to Valerian's relief, it seemed Jessica did catch his hidden word of caution, instead of dissmissing what he said as simply another of his carefree jovialities. For some reason he didn't understand, his very Primogen was one of the few that seemed to take his affectionate manners as a lack of seriousness, and to not appreciate his appreciation. Most people, Kindred and kine alike, would be flattered when he lavished them with beautiful words and affection, hungered to make them feel every bit as special as they were in his eyes. Because, despite him sometimes seeming a bit over the top, he always carried himself with a sincerity that left no doubt in the minds of most people, that he was being genuine in his zeal.
But, Jessica apparently wasn't one of them. Even though she was a Toreador, Valerian often got the feeling she didn't understand him at all, that she saw him mostly as an annoying child that would cling to his mother's leg every chance he got. And it saddened him, as he would much love to be on friendly terms with her, and not just polite ones.
However, if it bothered her that he addressed her in the sincerely affectionate yet respectful manner that he did, there was little he could do about it. Except stop. It would leave a bitter aftertaste in his mouth, having to strip away layers of his personality to please her, but he did so want to please her, and so what choice did he have?
Had it been anyone else, the thought of changing his behaviour when around them would not have even occured to him, because even though he was most humble and agreeable, he would never apologize for being himself.
But Jessica was his Primogen. His Queen, regardless of whether or not she took him seriously on that.

Sighing inwardly to himself, he stepped aside to let her elegant form brush by him and into his inner sanctum, watching her and Archon as they set eyes on one another. He wasn't sure what feelings dwelled between them, though he did know that the likelihood of claws coming out and fangs being bared was negligible. He did, however, note Jessica's sudden change in conduct, from demanding and overbearing, to saccharine and most polite. It was all enough to make the shadow of a frown steal across his face, tiny paw prints of vinegar padding ever so briefly over his pale features.

"Lord DeWinter", she said. "What a pleasant suprise. I hope you don't mind me interrupting?"

Standing by in silence, Valerian waited while the two exchanged pleasantries, and was truely disappointed when Archon chose to retreat. Valerian had so been dying to know what it was he had been about to suggest, to know more about this business deal of which he had spoken. Whatever could it be?
Yet, despite his discouragement to have to postpone finding out what Archon had in mind, the Ventrue's explanation for taking his leave did manage to coax the young man's rosey lips back into their serene, perpetual smile that Jessica had wiped away. Archon, the rarely humble one, claimed to have been taking up enough of his time. He referred to himself almost as a possible nuisance, and didn't take Valerian's time and generosity for granted.

"Thank you for your time, Valerian", he said, giving the slender youth before him a handshake so firm it sent a few wisps of unruly black hair flowing into the Toreador's soft face that, had it been just a whiter shade of pale, would've seemed like it had been hand carved in marble by the most talented of sculptors. "I do hope you will attend tomorrow as well. You and I have to continue our conversation another night, since us Ventrue have to contain our business senses when present at a banquet."

The smile on Valerian's lips widened, and his eyes lit up at the thought of the pending festivities. They were to be held in Archon's honor, and they posed an excellent opportunity to meet the Kindred that never cared to set foot in the Haven. And the ones that did. How could Valerian not attend?

"I wouldn't miss it for the world", he assured Archon as the older man let go of his hand. "If there is a return worth celebrating, Lord DeWinter, it is indeed yours."

Once Archon had left, Valerian closed the door behind him, and then turned to Jessica, silently awaiting her explanation on what this seemingly most urgent "problem" was. While the last thing he wanted was for yet another minor disaster to occur within the walls of his beloved club, he couldn't help but to wish, in a somewhat twisted kind of way, that there really would be a serious enough problem. He would hate for his meeting with Archon to have been interrupted because of a cat fight, or something equally disturbing yet relatively harmless.

Carmilla - a Tremere mansion, the streets
 

#23 [Fifth Night]

The words of the Prince, granting her freedom, was the most wonderful thing she had ever heard. It was to the extent that she almost didn't believe it. But it was the truth. The majestic Damian had fulfilled the only wish she had carried with her through the years, a wish that had become a burden. Until this night, the first one without the tight grip of her Sire, choking the life out of her. She rose with delight, something she couldn't even remember ever doing. Except when she was still human. Although without a heart beat, she was certain it skipped a beat, as she realized it was no dream.

Seath had not uttered a single word on the way from the Prince's office. She didn't know if he hated her, or was simply ashamed to be so severly reprimanded by the Prince himself. Although the Prince had been very gracious about the matter, even praising Seath and cutting him loose from responsibility should she fail, to Seath it was a disgrace. To be told by the Prince how to deal with his own progeny, being ordered to set her free. Such a shame. Carmilla knew this, as she knew Seath. She did not dare to speak, to tell him he should not see it that way. It would have been anything but the intelligence she had claimed to possess before the Prince. Seath was enraged, and she would have been a fool to give him a reason to unleash it. For all she knew, he might be so chained to her he would gladly take final death as punishment, lest anyone else would be granted the pleasure of her company,

The ride home she sat next to a compassionate man, with a malevolent twist. And she had gone against his uttermost will, dreams and demands. Even though she knew the world they lived in, she felt for the first time she didn't know just how far his love for her went. It probably ran so deep the crimson river turned to black, whorling with the darkest wickedness known to Kindred.

When Carmilla had awaken, she braced herself to meet Seath, and therefore walked to his room. Abashed she stood in the doorway, to find him gone. Him and his things. There couldn't have been more than two hours of moonlight, and he was already just a memory. Where had he gone to... Would she see him again? He left as if she were the one to blame. Carmilla listened to her brothers and sister in the manor, learning that Seath had made arrangements for his departure the night before. He had left at the first light of the pale moon, not even leaving a note behind. They also told her about the Ventrue that had payed them a visit, to make sure the Prince's verdict had been carried out. Without the need to wake Carmilla, her bretheren had been able to confirm it to their satisfaction. Even Seath has played his part before exiting.
Although left alone, Carmilla was not hurt. Her Sire, the one she had used as a reflection, had cowardly shun away. Be gone, she thought. But she could not tie her thoughts into a new solitary blood bond, as she was in an Elysium. She immediatly went back to her room, dressing for the night, and then she ventured out into the streets. The Tremere asked her to stay, advicing her it was not wise to leave so soon, and in such a state of mind. How ever, Carmilla convinced them she knew the ways of her mind, and would be just fine by herself. After all, she had to start to get to know herself, without Seath's hovering shadow.

Carmilla walked the streets of the city for hours, tearing away the shell of the timid vampire Seath had forced upon her to be. Although still shy, she was how ever not apprehensive to the core. She could be quite brazen, when not beaten into submission. Especially within her spirit, within her veins, where her magic raged. If she willed it so. It could also flow like a river, soft and enchanting.

She was happy. A feeling Seath had drained from her when taking her kine life. She wanted to play. She wanted to stir the city. But of course, she would not. But a girl can dream, can't she. Ensanguined dreams that filled her with might. When she had listened enough to her blood-soaked inner voice for one night, she realized the darkness was coming to an end. She stood in the middle of the city, watching all the lights and all the people around her. She was not finished with her adventure within the night, within herself - accompanied by all the blood gushing through the city.

She was not finished. And she had to see him again. Zillah. She had waited for so long, although she was afraid he had forgotten her. Chained for so long, she didn't even know if she was easy to leave behind. Did he think of her, as she thought of him? Was she in his dreams, as he was in hers?
And, the most important thing of all; would his blood invite her? His mind seemed to open a doorway for her, but he was kine, and knew little of the power concealed in the blood...

The last thing Carmilla did, before returning to the Tremere mansion, was to send a message to Mina. She had payed attention through the years, and she knew the ways of the Kindred in the city.

He message read: How does the moon repay the sun?

No name, no nothing. Her cunning Primogen would know, as the earth knows the grass.

Jessica waited until the footsteps outside Valerian's quarters had faded before she started to talk. It seemed Valerian was on the verge of frustration.

"I nearly broke the masquerade because of your bartender. I saved her life, 8 years ago. She nearly became my ghoul!" Jess wasn't mad, more worried about her clan.

"I can't risk anyones lives over this. Either I can't come here anymore, or change her shifts somehow. I understand she needs to make ends meet, but just try do do something.

((Sorry for shortness...bad day.))

Mina and Adrien: Princes office
 

"Ah, yes", Adrien said while his usual arrogance came trickling back to his posture and his confidence. "The blood. A place as good as any to start, I suppose."

Mina watched him straighten defience emitted in the stance, in the eyes. Like many fledlings he had the blood obsession so that it seemed to rule his life, an addiction to the nature of vampirism. He did not posess the elder's reflection and control of this beast that raged demanding its crimson sacrifice night after night.

But blood was what prevented her from destroying him, the blood of her elders binding her to clan wishes, and his own blood that flowed within every memory. The crimson droplets he had offered to her entwined her dreams filling them with a sea of crimson that pour fourth from his veins. The taste of his essence that had bound her loyalty to him, so that she defended him and secured her own plight. The blood she hungered to draw from his veins until his eyes bled with submission. His blood tainted with the darkest amber musk she had ever tasted, blood to long for, to desire.

"The Kindred claim to be far more cultured than mankind. Less barbaric and crude. Yet their only way of surviving, is too feed off of the blood of the 'lowly' humans. To steal the life force of another being, to take that which they have not earned. Why, without mankind, there would be no Kindred. Their are incapable of surviving on their own. Without Kindred, on the other hand, mankind would still continue to flourish. And yet you are the 'superior' ones?"

The logic which ran through his argument teased a smile to Mina's crimson lips, but still her eyes were mocking. He did not look inward on himself but turned the argument around to again place guilt on their doorway. To blame vampires for what he was, would he blame them for what he could be? Instead of realising his own potential continue on this self-defeating mission of hatred until it consumed him, destroyed him within his own bitter plight.

He quirked a brow at her, adding a little bit more of a punch to his mockery, only to continue. "As far as I'm concerned, Kindred are the largest species of leeches in this world. Parasites with egos and agendas."

A brief pause followed, and when next he spoke the sarcasm had faded, and his voice was now cold and barren, much like hers had been. "You accuse me of being totalitarian, but from where I stand, none are more so than your kind, choosing only the strongest, the wisest, the prettiest, the most useful, and then killing them simply because the blood in their veins isn't potent enough."

Mina's laughter spilled forth, comparing them to leeches indeed, what a crude analysis. But it was a soft delicate hushed chuckle that spilled like falling rose petals upon the room, the bitterness disolved into a fading memory. Some might have struck him down for spouting such venom. Allow themselves to be provoked. But her cold eyes meerly gazed upon him. She only had to wait, another would destroy him for her, one of the clans more prone towards a violent streak perhaps.

Mina's eyes still held the icy warning but her lips broke into a soft smile, one filled with regret and remorse for the waste of the mind before her. Adrien showed such promise and his charm had seduced her own cold heart into believing him once. Believing that he could end the lonliness of the eternal existance. Before he had sacrificed her soul, leaving all she had believed meaningless.

"Again you compare us to humans. Humans that slaughter the world around them to feed and clothe them. Destroying this planet, our mother earth, with their egos to have the best, consuming beyond their means. Could human's survive without the cattle they breed, the crops they sow? No, we are just one more link in the chain of life that descends from the sun. It is the way of life , each form depends on another for its sustinance, a web of interactions flow from each creature to another, from the sun and the earth to the grass, to the cow, to the kine to the kindred."

Mina's mask became thoughtful for the briefest moment before returning to its icey composure. "It is true what you say Adrien. We may be at the top tier but we depend on all those below and around us. It is unusual to see such an appreciation and understanding of the world from one so young." Her voice was genuine, approving of the logic behind his argument, like a wise teacher encouraging her pupil to think for himself.

"Many follow the motives you describe before choosing to embrace but still some follow their hearts and embrace out of love. " Mina said dismissing the final part of his attack upon their kind. There was truth within his words so why deny or waste breath with an argument when he wouldn't see the wood from the trees in his hate-filled state.

Mina took a step towards him, her head gracefully inclining slightly to one side, invading his space so she was barely a cold breath away. The dark amber beneath his skin, tantilisingly close, allurring and repelling together at once. The urge to rip his throat apart and lick the blood from the cold skin, burning, consuming, calling. She did not fear he would strike within these walls and she herself was forbidden by Damien, it held her back like a steel chain. Still the darkness swirled within her head, how much easier he would be to break if she drained away that anger with a single deadly kiss, taking his blood into her own cold heart.

Her fine dark eyebrows raised questioningly over the cold dark emeralds that penetrated his eyes as though she would see into his very soul. The arcane magic blazing for a second between them. Razor sharpness cutting away the layers of flesh until his darkest thoughts were laid bare before her, in a flash of comprehension. The anger, the blood, the hatred. "Adrien," she breathed, "You are so consumed with hatred, is that all you have to give to this world? No hope or desire? Have you never felt the warmth of love."

But then Mina's eyes dropped to the floor, a single bloody droplet streaking down her pale face. A tear for all the times her soul had ached when she could not forget him. The wrenching pain that tore her apart like razorblades caused by his betrayal when she would have held him in her arms forever. How she had looked into his eyes knowing she would have died for him.

"I cannot protect you from the shadows..." There was dismissal within her tone, she would look upon him no longer.

((OOC So sorry Trampled I've no time to reply with Zillah as I have to head out soon.))

Valerian & Jessica - Valerian's personal chambers at The Haven
 

"I nearly broke the masquerade because of your bartender. I saved her life, 8 years ago. She nearly became my ghoul! I can't risk anyones lives over this. Either I can't come here anymore, or change her shifts somehow. I understand she needs to make ends meet, but just try do do something."

Jessica didn't say much, but what she did say, and the way she said it, had Valerian's head spinning, his thoughts darkening as her words cast a shadow over his buoyant spirits, like the moon eclipsing the sun. He didn't know whether to be surprised, enraged, or appalled.
He'd never known much about his Primogen, of rather her history, for reasons that were becoming more and more apparent. Reading her facial expression and her body language was easy enough, but neither told much about her past. His knowledge of that aspect of her was limited to the same common knowledge shared by most of the Los Angeles Kindred, and so this saving of a mortal woman's life was news to him.
His bartender, she'd said. What bartender would that be exactly?
Ah, yes, of course. The young and beautiful Annie Winters, the new girl that he hadn't gotten to meet for more than just a few seconds. Which was probably just as well. Otherwise he might've risked unleashing his amorous mien on her, and made her quite possibly, although mistakenly, think that he was coming on to her, like a serpent, offering her the sleazy 'I'll-scratch-your-back-if-you-scratch-mine' kind of deal that some employers did when faced with an attractive young lady with a job application.
Valerian would never dream of doing such a thing, but keeping his ever present fascination hidden was difficult for him.

However, this was not the time to get himself caught up in thoughts of the alluring redhead. There were other matters at hand.
Jessica.
Her domineering demeanor was getting to him, stirring in him the temper that so rarely flared, that could turn the loveable kitten into a hissing cougar if provoked enough.
'Just try to do something'...?
What, no magic word? No 'could you be so kind'? Just a demand for him to clean up her mess, to sort out a problem she could easily deal with herself, and nothing more?
She had some nerve.

"My lady Jessica," he said, his voice smooth as a silken caress upon naked skin. "I will not be spoken to like a simple servant. I am your loyal subject, but not your lackey. Please do try and remember that, and that when you enter The Haven, you enter my establishment, and thus my domain. It think it only fair that I be treated accordingly, wouldn't you agree?"

Even if she didn't respect him on a personal level, it was only proper that she respected him as a host on whose territory she was treading.
And if she didn't, well, then she really shouldn't come here anymore. Primogen or not. She was the one the others trusted to set a good example to the clan, and if that was something she, for whatever reason, was unable to do when it came to Valerian, then he really would prefer if she would stay away. He refused to be disrespected in his own home, which had been shown with undeniable clarity the other night, when he'd banned Ada and Beyonca both.

"Now, your dilemma", he continued. "Quite frankly, I fail to see why you'd feel compelled to lay this situation on my shoulders? Surely there are better ways? You're a Toreador, are you not?"

Hearing himself speak, he realized that the last sentence had come out sounding a little more brazen than he had intended. But it did annoy him that she would just beat down his door in order to command him to take care of her problems for her. She was the Primogen, she should have the means, the resourcefulness, the shrewdness to deal with the matter on her own. It should be a piece of cake. Valerian himself had thought of not one, not two, but three very simple solutions the very instant she had explained the situation, and he was appalled at the lack of creativity she was showing.

"It's been eight years, you say? It's a long time in the human world. Even if she does recognize you, in eight years, wouldn't she have expected you to change in some way? Simply convince her she has the wrong person. All you have to do it make her want to believe you. Use your assets. If I can make three girls believe that what they clearly saw two minutes ago was not really what they witnessed at all, then surely you can make one believe you two have never met?"

He couldn't believe it. He was peptalking his own Primogen. How absurd. Him, a mere Neonate, had to advise one of his elders on how to handle a problem that wasn't really that much of a problem. Even if Annie did recognize Jessica, and even if Jessica couldn't convince her she wasn't the person Annie had met, it didn't necessarily mean a breach to the Masquerade. Recognizing someone from eight years ago did not go hand in hand with finding out they were a vampire. There was no connection whatsoever. Especially not since most people didn't even believe in such a thing as vampires.

"Or simply make her a ghoul", he added, thinking it would be a most wonderful solution as then she would have that servant she seemed to need to do her bidding.











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Mina's soft laugh dropped a velvet curtain of pitch black anger in front of Adrien's eyes. He had bordered on being personal, on revealing what fueled his amaranthine hatred against the Kindred. And she laughed, as if he provided nothing but easy-going entertainment. Even though she probably didn't really grasp the extent of what he had said, of what hid behind his words, her hushed chuckle of amusement almost sent him tumbling over the edge of self-control, filled him with an urge to lash out at her, to grab her by the throat and push her up against the wall, trapping her the same way he had done once before.
But there was always that voice in the back of his head. That cursed, nagging voice that just wouldn't surrender the control of his actions to his will. It tied him down, kept him from attacking "his own", from posing a real threat. Like a lion in a cage, his thoughts paced the walls of their prison, in a desperate attempt to find a way out. Anyone else might've given up, accepting that all such efforts were in vain. But not him. He didn't care how long it took. One night, they would become careless, trusting that they had subdued his rebellion and tied his will to theirs, well enough to be safe. One night, there would be a weaker link in the chain around his neck, and he would break free. And once out of their cold, choking clutch, he would go into hiding, and wait for the blood bond to wear off. It would take time, but once he was rid of it... Then there'd be hell to pay.
Though getting there wouldn't be easy. He knew the strength of the blood bond he was under, and so knew that staying hidden would be alot harder than he could ever imagine. But he also knew that in three years, his rebellious mind hadn't stopped talking to him, feeding him the thoughts he needed to draw strength and prevent the bending of his will on the spiritual level, as well as on the physical one.

"Again you compare us to humans."

Mina's voice broke off his train of thought, and the surprise of seeing the soft smile on her equally soft lips was enough to put an end to the waves of essentially uncontrollable rage that were repeatedly crashing over him. It gave him back his calm, causing the most urgent intensity in his anger to slowly dissipate.

"Humans that slaughter the world around them to feed and clothe them", he heard her continue. "Destroying this planet, our mother earth, with their egos to have the best, consuming beyond their means. Could human's survive without the cattle they breed, the crops they sow? No, we are just one more link in the chain of life that descends from the sun. It is the way of life , each form depends on another for its sustinance, a web of interactions flow from each creature to another, from the sun and the earth to the grass, to the cow, to the kine to the kindred."

At that he merely hissed, almost snarled, in the wordless objection of a predator. Although she did perhaps have a point, if one did not scratch the surface too much, to him there was still one thing that seperated the humans, and the rest of the world, from the Kindred. It was simple, but too significant to be ignored. Humans, animals and plants all had once thing in common, that the Kindred did not share; they were living, breathing creations. The Kindred were not.

"It is true what you say Adrien", Mina continued once more. "We may be at the top tier but we depend on all those below and around us. It is unusual to see such an appreciation and understanding of the world from one so young."

Those were words that silenced the faint thunder rumbling in his throat, and instead earned her a look of suspicion. He had a hard time deciding if she was being truthful, or mocking him yet again. Mostly because he didn't really expect to hear one single syllable of recognition on her part.
However, with he himself being quite versed in the art of mockery, he suspected that she might just be honest. A conclusion that was supported when next she spoke.

"Many follow the motives you describe before choosing to embrace but still some follow their hearts and embrace out of love."

Love? Adrien's upper lip curled slightly in a look of contempt. The only love these creatures knew, was the love of themselves, their own needs and their own desires. If they embraced someone out of love, it was because they wanted the person they cursed, not because the person wanted them.
And yet, even with this instinctive reaction and thought pattern, there was still that part of him insisting that what he'd seen in Mina when they had 'bonded', had been genuine and pure. No matter how he tried, there was no escaping his gut, his number one weapon.

She drew closer, challenging him through close proximity, as if wanting to see if his refusal to budge would hold. It did, although his head did pull up and back a little bit, in what seemed like the start of a reatreating motion. But his feet remained rooted to the floor, and his gaze locked with his.
Again his upper lip curled, but this time, it was in faint, semi-smile. Looking into her eyes, he saw her thirst for his blood swirl in her striking emerald orbs. It was his turn to be amused, as he realized she was bound as well, same as him. Though he wasn't sure what bound her. She seemed to be toying with too many ideas for her restraints to be anything but temporary. Had the elders asked that she allowed him to live a certain amount of time, in order to crucify him? Or was it their current situation, standing face to face in the Prince's office, with the Prince and his gorilla close by?

"Adrien", she said, and unlike before, her voice was now nothing more than an illusive breath carrying forth his name. "You are so consumed with hatred, is that all you have to give to this world? No hope or desire? Have you never felt the warmth of love."

Again that word, love. Adrien's eyes narrowed at the sound of it, resisting the thoughts, the memories, of what he had indeed loved. The eyes were the mirror of the soul. Currently his were not the exception he had trained them to be, and she was gazing straight into them. Thinking of the things that held his humanity in their weakening grasp, if read properly by Mina, would grant her more arms in the war she waged against him.
But before he could focus on draining any sign of a weak spot from his gaze, hers lowered itself to the floor, breaking her icey stare away from his.
He was just about to open his mouth and speak, but what he saw forming in her eye stole the words away from him, leaving his lips slightly parted. A tear single, lonely tear trickled down her cheek, tearing open a crimson path along her snowy skin.

"I cannot protect you from the shadows..."

Adrien simply looked at her, the words slowly reaching him through the overpowering vision of that small, bloody trail on her cheek. They didn't register at first, slipping away from his every attempt to grasp them, but once they did, he felt none the wiser. On the contrary. They confused him to no end.
He shook his head slightly, as if trying to clear his mind, or rid himself of the tangle the words had started to create. What was that other thing she had said? The question he'd been about to answer. Something about desire, hope... If he had ever loved...

"What would be the point for me to have hopes and desires?" he asked dryly, once her question had reformed itself in his memory. "Their only purpose would be to offer my enemies more ways to haunt my nights, to shatter those very hopes before my eyes."

He shook his head again. Slowly this time, rejecting the mere thought.
However his tone had changed. It was no longer defying, or cold, but instead rather flat, as if stating facts. And, he no longer refered to Mina as one of his enemies, like he'd done before by making comments along the lines of 'your kind'. Instead he mentioned his enemies as a third, non-present party.
It was a subtle change, and one he didn't notice himself. But it was there.

"I don't kid myself into believing I would get to keep them", he added. "And as for love..."

A brief pause to choose his words, and then he continued;

"What I loved, Kindred took away. In the past, and in the present. I will love no more."

With that, the look in his eyes grew harder and colder once again, as if those very words brought back his determination to not yield, to anything, or anyone.

"And that is the only true victory the Kindred will ever have over me", he firmly concluded.

But as he fell silent, Mina's last words forced their way back into his mind. They wouldn't leave him alone, taunting his mind as he tried to make some sense of them. But he couldn't, and before he was able to stop himself, his eyes were seeking Mina's now very evasive ones.

"Protect me?" he questioned, almost as if he thought he'd heard her wrong.

However, be it a blessing or a curse, this was the moment Damian decided that they had gotten enough time alone. He had business to attend to, and with this Adrien being a Tremere, him and Mina were destined to meet again, should they still not have cleared the air.



(((ooc: velda - Sorry for the abrupt ending, but it was the best way I could think of to end the discussion, in order for us to move on to the next night. Hope it's ok?

Ghanima - I just have to say this; I was just at your site, and saw your version of The Asylum. It's downright stunning! So well done! Everyone here that has played the game really should go check it out. You'll be amazed!)))

Night #6 - The Ball / Club Opening!
 

Moira Sushill - Toreador - Application
 

Damian Alexander III
 

There was anticipation in the air. An excitement dwelling in the shadows, a gentle hum concealed by the throbbing pulse of Los Angeles nightlife, only heard by those who did not have a pulse of their own. Damian felt it in the cool breeze as soon as he set foot outside his august residence, the tall, majestic building of glass and steel known as "the V". His regal form, encased in an ensemble reminiscent of English regency - a white shirt with a silk cravat, black and silver brocade vest with standing collar, and a cashmere/wool blend coat to match, with wide lapels and a fold-over collar - collided with the muggy evening air, a slight fog clinging to his flushing skin as if begging him to share the warmth of the blood he had just consumed, the arms of a shapeless, mistlike mistress reaching for him as he gracefully slipped into the waiting limousine.
It was early yet, and he would most likely find the banqueting hall empty, apart from the Ventrue and Toreador ghouls hired for the evening, to add the finishing touches and to act as servants and entertainment throughout the night.

Although ever the busy Prince and businessman, Damian had taken the time to supervise most of the preparations made over this past week, and wanted to arrive early to make sure everything was in order, with the last details added during the past hours of daylight. He trusted no one else to approve of the finished result by trying to see it through his eyes. As far as he was concerned, it couldn't be done. He was far too much of a perfectionist to trust anyone else to justly deliver his seal of approval. He rarely got to play the part of the host of extravagant gatherings such as this one, but when he did, he did it exceptionally well. Just like everything else he set about doing.
Nothing could, or would, be left to chance.

As he entered the scene of action - the bangueting hall of one of his most exclusive hotels - followed by the ever present sheriff, and two more Ventrue males acting as bodygurads, Damian could only confirm that arriving early had indeed been a wise decision. The decorative ice sculptures were in the wrong place, there were far too many tables, leaving the sitting areas cramped and not comfortably airy like he wanted them, and the small orchestra of Toreador ghouls had started setting up lit candles all over the small stage. Damian dealt with the different situations swiftly, giving orders for how he wanted things without raising his firm voice even once, much like the noble and gracious sovereign that he was.
Ten minutes later he took in the scene once more, and this time, he was satisfied. They were now ready for the guests to arrive, and in the meantime, Damian took a small detour to the manager's office, to make a few business phone calls, and then made his appearance once the banqueting hall had started filling with Kindred, politely greeting everyone that approached him. This evening, he had a couple of minutes to spare for everyone who wanted a word with him. A serious word, that is, and not just idle chatter. He had no patience for such trivial things. Unless, of course, they served a purpose and fitted nicely into one of his many schemes or plans.
And he wasn't hard to find for those who wanted to speak with him. Nor to the ones that didn't, for that matter. He stood out, seperating himself from everyone else in the crowded, elegantly decorated room. His back a little bit straighter than the rest, his head held a little bit higher. The very epitome of royalty.


(((ooc: Ghanima - We're glad to have her. )))

Beyonca woke sjortly after sunset. Remembering the ball was tonight, she instantaly got excited and threw off the covers and headed straight for the closet. There she gabbed her gown and brought it to her unmade bed and layed it across. She loved the dress. It had a little old style to it with a little new style. The sheos she had made to match the black in the dress.

Bee smiled and ran off to take a bath. She put heather oil on her bath, so a hint of the scent would linger on her body tonight. After washing and soaking for a while she got out and continued with getting ready.

The lond wavy black locks of hers was put in an updo. It felt a little differnet to her as usuall. She prefered her hair to be down, but tonight she looked more elegate, as a Ventrue should.

The dress she slipped on was perfect. It showed every curve she had, but didnt flaunt them. It was more of a hint of what was inderneath. the found her sheos and slipped them on. The necklace and earing she decided on were from a differnet era. It was more of a regal set. One of her favorites. It was nothing but diamonds, it was custom back them for people to show their weath with them. She had only ever worn it one before, and she had been human at the time. The stones were cold against her skin. It gave her guoose bumps when she put them on. She looked in the mirror to make sure everything was perfect and it was. Then headed out the door. SHe hailed a taxi and took that too th hotel.

When she arrives she paid the driver and went to head it. It was a spectacular sight. It gave off a royal presents. But of course nothing else could be exspected of the Prince. Kindred of all different clans were dancing to the soft music. One stood out from the rest. His head was high and had the regal stance of royalty. One could just look at him and know he was of importance. She looked for her Primogen and saw he wasnt there yet. She wanted to welcome him home. But it could wait. For now she just took in the scene.


((ooc: Bee is approachable. Sorry for the crappy post.))

Zillah and Vevila: street - previous nght tie up + this night Club Envy
 

((OOC Trampled - My turn to apologise for the delay - hope the tie up is alright And I just loved the mirroing - works fantaticly when read together :dance: ))

Vevilla's voice was a whispered melody that danced through the air with a life of its own., As she spoke she drew closer to him, so she filled his vision as her voice filled his head the world melting away around him. Had she been bathed in green he would have believed her to be the absinth fairy, a wonderous delusion too beautiful for existnce.

"No secret Just hard to come by. Those who know my name typically earn such knowledge. Bee must have deemed you worthy to provide such a detail. And right she was; you compliment without excessive reason.. Although, I have been told that she who accepts flattery, begs it. I will forewarn you, darling Zillah, I beg for nothing. That which I desire, I pursue; never will I be a beggar."

Zillah's smile spread wider with self-deluded pride, sensing the approval within her tone, the honour bestowed that she felt him deserving of receiving her name. The alluring smile had him spellbound as though his feet were trapped in treacle, his mind drowned in syrup. He could never imagine her begging; for what man who not relinguish to her any object, gesture or feeling that she desired. Who would not present such an exquisite bloom with her every wish to steal just a moment of time beneath the fluttering multi-tonal gaze.

"And as for the atrocities? I suppose company would ward them off, though I am stronger than I appear, and hold no qualms about defending myself by any means." A velvety chuckle slipped through her lips. "Let us abandon these depraved streets." She offered Zillah a subtle smile that masked all emotions under a wave of mystery; it spoke to him, revealing that many layers must be peeled away before even the slightest understanding could be reached.

Zillah walked beside her, the street was not long. Stealing glances at the delicate face occassionallly, flashes to remember, that would make other women pale in comparision with this illuminating beauty. As they walked he remenised on their destination. "I've only been a few times to the Haven but it has an alluring buzz. Spmething keeps drawing me back there like a magnet. Do you know the host? Valarian, if I recall Bee correctly, I wonder if he's a Gary Numan fan? He always seems occupied, surrounded, I've not yet had chance to approach him to..." His voice traileed off, realising he was starting to ramble. To fill the silence between them with his deep chocloate voice.

A few steps away from the club and a low vibration ran down his thigh, persistant, anoying, intrusive. One slim pale hand scooped into his pocket and drew out the mobilephone. Zillah frowned into it, the golden eyebrows creasing togehter , fine lines maring his smooth skin as jade orbs skimmed through the message, his expression turning darker. "F*ck," he muttered "I have to go."

Then remembering the company that he was in Zillah's face softened with a sorrowfilled smile. His hand reached out scooping Vevila's slender pale hand into his own larger palm as he drew it up to his lips. Brushing his warm cherry mouth lightly against her translucent white skin in an archaic gesture of farewell. Another with such cool flesh, did all the women in this part of Los Angeles suffer from such bad circulation? But he brushed the thoughts aside, as he released her hand allowing it reluctantly to drop from him. His eyes following her hand, never rising to her own, for if he ventured even a glance towards those crystals he would stop entraced "Farewell, Vevilla. We will meet again."

He turned from her swiftly. If he lingered a second more he would not draw himself away from her enchanting prescence. His steps echoing down the street at his fast pace slinked through his hips, faster than a walk yet not quite breaking out into a run. Summoned by a break-in at one of the properties on his turf, he could not dawdle. The safety pushed off the loaded gun, eyes darting, preparing for the bloodshed that was to come.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Next night

Zillah slung the towel from around his head,so it landed soggily into a corner. His long pale moon hair flecked with gold, purple and red streaks of colour flew down around his face, the static from his ferocious rubbing sending strands haphazidly bouncing around. He wrenched a comb through the strands, taming them until his shoulder-length hair fell like a sheet of silk to frame his pale face. The towel around his waist was discarded into the pile before he pulled on underwear then the tight dark jeans and fitted black T-shirt enblazed with a thin silver serphant that coiled around his torso. He concealed a slender weapon within a strap wrapped arond his leg just above the black chunky steel-toe-capped boots . The meerest hint of eyeliner was smudged under his eyes, drawing out the jade crystals over the fine rim of black.

Satisfied that his appearance was now fit to grace the opening of a new bar, Zillah called a cab. He'd been instructed to check the place out, estimate likely profits that could be made from its clientel. It was a duty he did not mind fulfilling, socialising on buisness meant that they would pick up the tab.

When Zillah arrived at the club he paused a moment appraising the outside. It looked too new, too modern for his usual tastes. Lacking the dark clogging atmosphere of the Haven. Avoiding the que, Zillah strode straight up to one of the bouncers. A guy who had worked the streets himelf and knew the score. A discrete nod of recognition and he was let straight in. He entered Club Envy hips swaying with the poise of a leopard, eyes snapping around until he located the bar. The crowd an unnoticed fog of bodies and faces as she pushed through them, to the front, in his crusade to get served quickly. Catching the eye of one young bar man he waved a note in the air summoning him forth. "Triple J.D. on the rocks." He smiled.

But as the minutes ticked by the smile began to disintegrate into a frown, his foot impatiently tapping against the floor as he waited for his drink to appear. How long did it take to tip few shots and some ice into a glass. It would have been quicker if he'd ran down to the off liscence and then poured it for himself. He was about to give up and find somewhere else to drink when a sheepfaced barman presented his glass. Zillah swept it off the bar, throwing the note at the barman in disguist that not even an apology graced his lips for such a delay as he headed over to the side of the room, where he would have a good view of the people who milled around.

"God the bar staff in here are atrocious. Took them over 5 minutes to find the bottle of Jack and serve me my drink." Zillah muttered disgruntedly to the woman stood at the side of the room. The glass was warm, quickly melting the ice and watering down the amber liquid causing him to frown as he took a sip, jade eyes flaring with indignation.

"I'm not normally such a grump. In fact I can actually be quite charming." Long golden lashes descended into a quick quirky wink that matched the beaming smile begining to spread across Zillah's cherry lips.

((OOC Zillah can be talking to anyone
- was going to be Aeode but me and Penny crossposted "LOL" ))

Andre mused silently for a moment, running his finger lightly along the edge of his empty coffee cup. He never spoke of Grace to anyone. It wasn't that it was especially painful, the pain had faded almost completely as the years past, just that it seemed wrong. Grace was his daemon to bear and just like most people didn't speak of vampires, Andre never told anyone about Grace.
For some reason though, he felt that this thin, pale human girl might understand. She had the weary, defensive look of someone who had known loss.

"You remind me of someone I once loved very much." He said quietly, never looking up from his coffee cup. "It was a long time ago though, and I made some dire mistakes." Aeode started to say something but quickly stopped as the waitress appeared with her coffee. They were silent for a moment as the chubby woman bustled around their table, doling out containers of cream and sugar. Each seemed lost in their own far away time.

Aeode was the first to speak as the waitress left. "What was her name?" she said, taking a small sip of her steaming drink. Andre smiled the sad smile of someone recalling a favorite pace that can never be returned to. "Her name was Grace." He braced himself for more questions but Aeode simply nodded and turned took another sip. She seemed strangely respectful of Andre's sharing of difficult memories, that was an unusual trait for a mortal.

Silence descended momentarily, and a remote melody reached Aeode's ears, coming from a radio positioned somewhere behind the bar. She recognized it immediately: Bernstein's West Side Story, a woman's deep and vibrant voice reverberating through the air: Anita, the part Aeode herself had provided her voice for once upon a time.

“West Side Story...it's been a long time” she muttered to herself more than to her companion, and a twang of longing stung her heart: longing to sing again as she had done, to loose herself in that overpowering beauty the act of singing had always held for her. “Sorry” she added presently. “I was nearly a singer in another life.”

Andre's face broke into a appreciative smile. "Ahh, I'm a big admirer of the arts." He said, his mind drawn to the gothic beauty of Valerian's painting and the sultry voice of the club singer a few nights ago. "What do you mean you were nearly a singer?" He asked, frowning slightly.Aeode glanced out the window at the slowly greying sky. Andre followed her gaze and swallowed a startled cry as he noticed how light it was getting. Clearing his throat he rose slowly to his feet, tossing a few dollars onto the table. "I apologise for my rudeness but I have to go, I didn't realize how long I had stayed. I have other matters that require my attention. au revoir, Annie." Bowing slightly Andre walked briskly for the doors, leaving a slightly startled Aeode finishing her coffee.

Safely at home, Andre paced the floors of his small apartment. True, she did remind him of Grace, but that wasn't why she seemed so familiar. Why did she remind him so strongly of someone and yet he could think who?


The Next Night...

Andre manuevered lithely through the mingling throngs of humans and kindred. The low buzz of chatter and the clink of glasses mixed with the overpowering smell of perfume. He made his way through the crowd towards the rounded atrium in the middle of the room, making small talk with a few of the people he met. The club was not much different from Valerian's Haven, although the theme was slightly less dark. Slightly less impressed then some of the other guests, Andre decided to forgo the club experiance in place of a slightly quieter evening at The Prince's party. He had almost made his way back to the doors when a flash of red hair caught his attention near the corner of the room. She was turned away from him, staring with what appeared to be lack of interest at the now full club. " We meet again, eh?" Andre said quietly from behind her shoulder.

Archon DeWinter - his mansion, The Ball
 

#9 [Sixth Night]

Most of of Archon's days were buried in complete darkness; for his body as well as his mind. No dreams, not even nightmare ones. On the rare occasions when he did dream, they were often horrid dreams with an archaic feel to them, leaving Archon perplexed and feeling a tad more decayed than he actually was. This was such a day, the sun drowned his mansion in deadly rays as well as malodorous images hard to shake. Archon's bed was ascended from the floor, like in a pharao's tomb, and the room that enclosed him was almost empty. He wanted it like that. There was a bookcase, a desk and a wardrobe. And that was it. No paintings on the walls, not even a lamp hanging from the ceiling. He did have have ancient candelabras, in case he needed light. He seldom did, as he found his way through the dark when he was leaving or entering the room.

He had stirred awake an hour before sunset, as he wanted to, to take his time to get ready. But he was weary, and had to stay in the shower longer than usual, in order to fully alert his senses. Water did the trick, water was soothing. Archon could sense Roe moving around on the first floor, as he made his way up the stairs. If anyone besides Roe had layed eyes on him, they would have suspected he was going to a masquerade. Oh well, every night was a natural masquerade for the likes of him, but this time he set himself aside from the contemporary more than usual. He was dressed as if he had an appointment with the royal court, and had been delayed a few centuries. But he did keep some modern details, like the trousers ending by the heels. He wore a white shirt with delicate ruffle, and a cravat. To this, a coat that reached to his knees. The long raven hair was pulled back, and tied with a black silk bow. On his hands; rings he had been given has a kine.

The bad dream was long gone, as he walked towards the door, accompanied by Roe and the two rottweilers. The animals hardly ever saw their master, but given their true nature, Roe's company more than sufficed. Before Archon left the mansion, he went into a walk-in closet and got a cane, it was black and made from oak, with a small ball on top of it - made from pure gold.

During the drive to the ball, Archon enjoyed the silence, as he knew there would none of it where he was going. Of course, he was entertained by a good conversation and the proper music in the background, but his tormented dream did leave him with a need to focus more than he usually had to. Thus, he sealed his mind from the rest of the world, until he felt the car coming to a complete stop and Roe's door opening. It was time to join the rest of the supernatual elements in the city. And he was ready. He was always ready. Come what may.

"Your ball awaits, Sir", Roe said with more courtesy than usual, when he opened Archon's door.

Archon did not have to look at him, to know he had a hint of a smile, since it amused him somewhat to act as a servant when they both knew he was nothing like it. Therefore Archon waved dismissively at him, when he got out of the car, as if to play along. He had gloves on, white and exclusively made for him, but he took them off and threw them in the backseat before closing the door. He did not need them. They had been a fine accessory last night though, when the drunken woman had touched him. Instead, he had to wipe his hand when he got to the car, to get the smell of sweat and liquor off. Broken kine, it was such a disgrace.

When Archon sat foot in the banqueting hall, the sight warmed his fozen heart. He had been there before, but this time it was decorated beautifully, with such care to every detail. Nothing surprising given the host, and what an honor to Archon. Ice sculptures, performers from the Toreador, and such art derived from crystallogeny - from glasses to chandeliers. He had seen the ancient paintings before, but in this festive light and surrondings he appreciated them even more.
Archon came to a halt a few feet from the doors, his gaze hovering the crowd that started to fill as the night grew older. Kindred after kindred approached him, welcoming him back to the city, greeting him most appropriately. As he recieved the hear hear's, compliments and best wishes, he made his way through the hall. He had noticed the Prince, and wanted to pay his respect, but futher more; he wanted to greet his very good friend and fellow clanmate. To have a Prince like him; they could only consider themselves lucky. Archon waited until he had been seen by their imperial leader, then he approached him.

"My Prince", he said and greeted him with a regal kiss upon his hand, as there was no better way to pay tribute on the behalf of oneself.

Affectionate - perhaps. Required - most definatley. The Kindred were - if nothing else - the fruit of ancient times. Descended from Caine himself; originated in the blood of the First One and sent forth into the world, ordained to rule in the shadows.

"This is truly an honor", Archon continued, putting a hand over his heart. "An excellent event that will go down in history. Even the bane of Abel would find it appropriate to attend. I am most grateful, Damian."

In the presence of his Prince; all of Archon's smiles that concerned Damian were always genuine and derived from the eyes.

Kira Club Enjoy
 

Kira walked the streets of L.A. fully satisfied with herself. It looked at thoguh her creativity had came back. Another painting stood drying on her canvas. This time of a castle in ruins nearing sunset ona hilly terain. It gave off a hint of seculsion and forgottenness. Like no one even cared for itanymore. The piece was truely remarakble. Maybe Sam was right. All she needed was to get out and clear her head. The thought made Kira snort. Who would have thought that Sam would have been right about some kind of thing. They still havent talked since last night. Sam must know she is still mad at her. And probably is until she gets the courage to endure Kiras rath and apologize.

A breeze hit Kiras bronze skin. The flaming locks of her hair flew behind her. A females laughter hit herm ears. The her grey eyes followed the sound. A women who looked to be young was going into a club with a man who was in full attension of her. There was a grand opening sign above the entrance. Kira shrugged and decided to give it a try. It wouldnt hurt to see what it was about. Being out and about seemed to help her mind ease.

She walked into the club and in an enstante the smell of new hit her. Along with the smoke and alcohol. It was an usual blend. Of course the smell of new wouldnt lat long. Smoke would inhabit the creases of fabric everywhere.
The darkness took ever her eyes and they soon adjusted. It wasnt like the other clubs she had went too. It was a little more lit. She stood in the back overlooked the croud. Eyes darting between the people dancign and laughing. The all fo a suddden she heard a mans voice.

"God the bar staff in here are atrocious. Took them over 5 minutes to find the bottle of Jack and serve me my drink."

Kira jumped and turned around to see a light haired man with eyes that shown so greent hey almost glowed. She quickly adverted her head away and looka to the crows once again. As if ignoring the man.

"I'm not normally such a grump. In fact I can actually be quite charming."

The man spoke again. This time in not such a disgruntled voice. She turned to face him once again. This time taking in his features. He was yet another remarkable man. It seems as though a lot of them have poped out lately. Maybe it was just she was actually looking for the first time. HE was pale and look so devishly handsome. Devishly pop in her head. There was an aura of masculanity sorrounding him along with something else. She couldnt quite pinn what it was. Again those green eye struck out to her and da** near drawn her into. This time she spoke back to him.

"Is that so. I'm not charming in the slightest bit." The words came out like velvet in her irish accent. It might have sounded a bit, well grumpy, in the mans words. But it was who she was. Not a friendly person. Yet something stuck her to talk to him again.

"I am guessing this is your first time here, or has this place been open for a few days?"

((ooc: The man would be ZIllah , if ya didnt know. ))

Mina Museum to Ball
 

Mina rose and deliberated which gown to wear for the ball. After some thought she finaly selected one that had been presented to her as a gift from one of the Oriental Primogens as a gesture of goodwill and respect for her handling of a certain delicate matter. A handmade exquisitley embroided gown of the finest red silk which had been customised to suit her westernised style whilst retaining its oriental heratidge. It was a gift she was most proud of, and an occassion such as this called for a grand dress. Her hair was loosly styled, adding a demur grace along with the simple makeup of red lips and eyeliner applied with the flair of a geisha.

She was eager to join to the Prince and other vampires in Archon's honour but before she departed business called. Demanding she hesitate and provide guidencee to her clan. Mina sat down at her writing desk, an old wooden masterpiece which predated even herself. A gift from her sire, it was carved with the protective inscriptions and invokations to Egyption gods. The colour had long since faded but fingers delicatly running over the surfac of the legs could feel the ancient story interwoven with the grain.

She unfolded a note and a faint smile played across her lips as her eyes fell upon Carmilla's handwriting: How does the moon repay the sun?

Turning the note over, she dipped a gold pen into ink adding her own curvacious caligraphy: Embrace the trio, honour destiny and the sun will rise. Her response was as allusive as the original message to the uninititated. Yet revealed a world of truths to those whose shining eyes penetrated the shadows.

The second note was a much more formal message and was inscribed upon a fine parchment paper, All Tremere are expected to attend the ball tonight, unless previous engagements have been agreed. She studied the note for a second and substituted her usual signature, for a much more provoking saying born from the fire of Thaumaturgy - Vitae animum nobis est - M.

Taking the two notes she rose from her seat, one fluid hand motion gesturing the awaiting ghoul from his senital duties. Placing the first note into his palm she gave one order. "Carmilla". The ghoul nodded his understanding as the note was carefuly placed within his robe. The note would be delivered to a messenger and sent on its journey.

"This note must be delivered in person to our guest." Mina paused the ice running through her voice as she refused to speak his name. The dishonour her elders bestowed upon her by forcing her to provide him shelter within her own Haven turned her blood cold. Adrien, could not be trusted yet still they had insisted that she keep him within her Museum, her Chantry, her kingdom of darkness. That she would be accountable for his presence within the city drove her firey anger to its limit. How could she bare to have him close, after everything that had happened between them. It was a punishment from the gods, a trial of blood and fire, a sacrifice of her soul.

Mina's voice dropped lower into a hiss of secrecy. "When the note is delivered. Remind him that the night is long, dark and cold. Enclosed within the confines of a coffin the beast can only grow stronger until frenzy breaks the mind and spirit." The cold malicious smile that stole across her lips once the threat was delivered would have frozen a saints heart.

Her duties as Primogen fullfilled Mina departed into the night, a cloak of shadow surrounded her. Drawing around her the dark smog of the city, blending into the darkness with a whispered single word and a pinpricked ruby jewel pressed against her lips. She traveled silently down the streets, blending into the shadows, unnoticed to even the most vigilant observers. Alone with her thoughts of blood and revenge.

The cloak was dispelled as she turned onto the street. The warmth of the air blasted upon her chilled skin as Mina walked through the doors into the Hotel. Her hips swaying gracefuly with the restriction of the dress, not a movement wasted as the crimson silk shimmered over her lean frame. She absorbed the grandure of the room, the tasteful adornment that spoke of Ventrue elegance. The banquet fit for royalty which would be wasted upon their undead lips.

Her sharp emerald eyes fell upon the solitary angel, standing as proudly as an iceburg rising from the stormy sea. The leader of their world, the true reason she had honoured the gathering with her dark prescence. The return of a Primogen was a notable event, one that demanded the cities respect and she could not attend such an engagement for political manovering. Yet the time she had spent in deliberation of her apperance was for the attention of one man alone, the only one who could melt her soul of ice. Her crimson mouth curled into a demur smile as her eyes bowed to the floor in a silent greeting across the room to Damian.

But she did not approach, allowing others to pay their respects, instead fading back into the crowd to mingle. Emerald orbs penetating the pale painted vampiric faces as she searched for her fellow clan members within the plush walls. She hoped to see both Carmilla and Gemma gracing the Ball with their prescence. And of course Adrien would be most foolish to disobay her instructions to attend.

((OOC Atropa hope the Adrian bits OK

Mina's signature - Vitae animum nobis est - The blood is your soul

Mina's approchable by anyone.))

The girl flinched visibly and spun to face him as he spoke. Andre took a small step back so as not to spook her. “It appears we do. Either LA's smaller than I remember it, or fate must really be on to something” She chuckled. He smiled at this, glad to see her sense of humor in the matter. Some people would have been uncomfortable with his many sudden appearances.
The room became ackwardly quiet for a moment as the music changed and was replaced by a slightly more relaxed tune. “I'd offer you a drink, but since I know you'd refuse, would you prefer to dance, Monsieur deLucian?” Andre's curiousity towards Aeode hightened slightly as she addressed him thus. Monsieur deLucian. It had been quite awhile since he had been address in such a way. It brought back many memories of his human life. Aeode also seemed to be lost in thought for a moment and a distant, slightly confused look crossed her face."oui mademoiselle" He said with a theatrical bow, taking her small hand to lead her out onto the dance floor. With a bemused smile, Andre leaned close to her ear for a moment as he spoke. "I promise I am no stalker, merely favorite by fate and tempted by curiousity."


OOC: Sorry if it seems kinda choppy. I couldn't sleep until I replied. :D