Fandom ℕ𝕖𝕨 𝕆𝕣𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕤 𝕓𝕪 ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥

[Rusty of Shackleford]

𝕁𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝟛, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟚



𝕊𝕒𝕖𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣



𝟙𝟘:𝟘𝟘 ℙ.𝕄

June was always a hectic month. For some reason, tourists think that going to the middle of a swamp in summer is a good idea, meaning the streets were crowded. And unfortunately, not everyone piled inside at night. The French Quarter was jam packed with Kine and Kindred alike, looking for drinks, a good time, or both.

Unfortunately, there could be no revelry tonight. Every Kindred, be they Camarilla, Anarch, or autarchis, received a letter upon waking from daysleep. A single, white envelope with a wax seal. Opening it would reveal a letter and a single ticket. The letter read:

Esteemed guest,

Please make your way to the Saenger Theater for tonight's exclusive showing of “A Midsummer's Night Dream.” The show begins at 10:00 P.M., so please make your preparations soon.

Alongside this is the ticket, which more or less just repeats what the letter said.

This was all just a cover for a meeting, really. Holding Kindred gatherings in theaters was an old tradition, and a good one, seeing as it was easy and efficient to get everyone in and out quickly.

Most Kindred in the city had a feeling what the Prince wanted to tell everyone. Rumors rarely stay put in the mortal world, and with Kindred it's no different.

Cordelia Boudreaux is as central to the social scene in New Orleans as the French Quarter. She's been in the city almost longer than anyone else, and for all intents and purposes, WAS New Orleans to many Kindred. Everyone knew her, and most respected her. But…for some time…no one had heard from the Toreador Primogen. Which was odd, as she was the Camarilla Herald. Her lavish apartment received no answers when rung up, her phone went to voicemail. Some believed she may have gone into torpor, as many older Kindred do. Others predicted she may have been called off for the Beckoning, pulled by her very Blood toward her progenitor in their war against the Sabbat. But others had a more…terrifying thought. Cordelia met her Final Death. And when it comes to Kindred, that means only one thing…


Murder.

As you slide into your slightly uncomfortable seat, you begin to notice the key players of the city.

Up in the elevated seats are the Primogens and their close advisors. They're the power player in New Orleans, the highest of the high. It's no surprise they were present.

On the far left are a group of pale, emaciated figures, the lights slightly obscured. It seems their Primogen is not present. Odd. The shadows shroud them, but there’s no doubt they’re the Sewer Rats.

To the right of them are the loudest group in the theater. A motley crew of different people, all united by their desire to ruin everyone else's night. At the center is a tall, muscled man, covered in scars, piercings, and tattoos.



That's Ishmael, the Brujah Primogen, though only in name. Thanks to his…unfortunate attitude, most consider him nothing but a punk. But a punk with a following, nonetheless. His disdain for any sort of authority mixed with his confrontational attitude means he’s gained a small but nearly fanatical following, mainly consisting of younger Brujah tired of being treated as Rabble. Already, Ishmael and his gang were hollering and hooting, and a few had bottles. That didn’t bode well.

Seated next to the Brujah were a variety of individuals, though they all seemed to have a rough edge to them. Leading them was Louis, Gangrel Primogen and Sheriff of New Orleans. He was chosen for the position thanks to his complete ambivalence to most Kindred politics. Already, his piercing orange eyes were burning holes through the Brujah Primogen.

Located in the center of the elevated seating were a group of well dressed, well groomed Kindred, looking like a homogenous black blob of formal wear. Sitting at the top center of them was a young looking man with glasses, his short blonde meticulously combed to the side.

This was Benjamin Edwin IV, Venture Primogen. If his contemptful look was any indicator, he doesn’t think very highly of anyone who isn’t a Ventrue. He’s been outwardly opposed to pretty much any policy that gave the local Anarchs any sort of benefit, and has openly protested the treaty, under the pretense of a slippery slope.



To the right of the Ventrue, it was…prettyy empty. A single male figure sat there, a red button up shirt under a slightly undone black vest, topped with a messy head of brown hair with a matching beard. That was Schmitt, Tremere Primogen. Well…only by technicality. Not many Tremere were in New Orleans, especially after the Pyramid fell apart, so he was named Primogen thanks to being one of the more senior members of the Clan.

Finally, at the far right was a rainbow of different dress styles. Elegant 20th century chic, punk, modern. The Toreador higher ups, no doubt. Though, of course, Cordelia was nowhere to be seen.

With some of the big players noted, you turn your head to the large stage at the center of the theater to see THE big player in New Orleans: the Prince.



Ezekiel Pereira is an odd Kindred. He as Embraced late in his life, giving him an old, wizened look compared to the eternal youth of most other Kindred. And he was a Brujah, no less. Brujah Prince’s aren’t completely unheard of, but still quite rare. He was considered one of the few…calmer Brujah, and was respected by both sides of the Sect War, to an extent. He was a calm Kindred, concerned with the ultimate survival of Kindred in the Final Nights. It was he who pushed for the treaty between Anarchs and the Camarilla in New Orleans, and it was he who was doing everything to keep said treaty in effect. He looked…tired. More tired than usual. Behind him was a rectangular object on a pedestal, covered by a black sheet. He surveyed the seen, letting out an ultimately unnecessary sigh.

The meeting began.

“Kindred of New Orleans, thank you for coming. I know these meetings are becoming more and more difficult to attend in Modern Nights, so I appreciate the risk you took to come.” He had the vaguest hint of an accent, maybe Eastern European. “Unfortunately…this is not simply a social call. As many of you surely know, Cordelia Boudreux, Toreador Primogen, and well respected member of our community, has been missing for several nights. The Sheriff and I have been investigating, and, unfortunately…we bring ill news.”



Ezekiel pulled off the sheet to reveal a large framed picture of Cordelia. Judging by the age of it, it had to be from before or shortly after her Embrace. The Prince’s brows were heavy as he continued. “I regret to inform you all that, three nights ago…Cordelia met her Final Death.” Immediately, there was a loud rumbling amongst the crowd, a thousand dead voices crying out for justice, sorrow, or joy in the case of Ishmael and his group. The Ventrue seemed ready to throw down with their Brujah enemies, the only thing stopping said brawl being the group of Gangrel already moving to keep the situation under control.

Summoning a quiet presence, Ezekiel rose his hands, and there was peace. Benjamin slowly sank into his seat, burning holes through the Prince.

The Brujah Prince continued, his tone solemn and deep. “Peace, all of you. I know her death comes as a shock. Though I may be new to this city, compared to many of you, I know the place Cordelia had amongst the Kindred in New Orleans. She was a friend to us all, and her death deeply saddens me.” He stopped, taking another deep breath. “I assure you, the Sheriff and I are currently investigating the nature of her death. Unfortunately, the death of a Kindred is never of natural causes. The perpetrators, whether they be Kindred or Kine, will be found, and brought to justice.” It was as he said this he shifted his head to the side, using an inhuman speed to dodge a bottle hurled from the top seats. Without skipping a beat, Ezekiel finished his speech with, “That is all. You are all dismissed. Good night, all of you.”
It’s as you’re leaving, that you feel someone bump into you. It might be a Kindred might’ve been a ghoul. Regardless, they’re gone before you notice that they pushed a note into your hand. Upon reading it, it reads, in neat handwriting,

“Top office, 11:30. Make sure you aren’t followed.”

At the bottom is the same red wax seal on your invitation letter.

Upon making your way back to the theatre, the stairs up to the office are oddly plain. Plain white plaster walls, and a single, plain ceiling light casting a dim yellow glow down the narrow staircase.


Aleksander Svoboda


"Meeting? Sranda, that's not good..."
An unassuming man with brown hair wiped his mouth as he read the letter, placing a nondescript white mug onto a worn lamp stand. On the surface, he seemed...normal. Normal build, he was wearing a plain white shirt and boxers. His apartment was a mixture of being organized and slightly messy. The only thing out of the ordinary was why someone in New Orleans spoke with such a heavy Eastern European accent.

He let out a sigh, taking one more sip before finishing his drink, washing it in the sink.

That's when things got weird.

He was drinking blood.

Rook thrived on not being noticed. As he threw on his black jeans and brown hooded leather jacket, he noted how plain he looked. Well, besides the fact he was pale as a ghost. "Shit...can't be seen looking like this." He took a deep breath, focusing on the blood inside his dead heart. He forced the organ to begin pumping once again, forcing the blood to once again fill his dead body. He felt...warm, again. HIs skin went from an unhealthy pale color to an average pastel. Time to go.

You probably didn't even notice him when he took his seat. Rook sorta blended in with a lot of his fellow Brujah, though he was of course much quieter, and not throwing finished beer bottles form the top row.

When the news hit, he started to wish he just stayed home, maybe done a delivery or two. This was bad. He was a declared Anarch, he still had a copy of the letter he sent to the Prince two years ago. War was brewing, and Cordelia was the match that might spark it. The last thing the Movement needed was rising up against a well liked Prince.

Unfortunately, he didn't ahve time to prepare an escape plan, thanks to the note. He sighed, muttering to himself, "Great...Cammy politics...better show up, I guess."

He'd learned ot not be followed at this point. It was just the simple matter of walking around the block a few times, occasionally pretending to take pictures or text someone. As he stood in the narrow staircase, he let out a frustrated sigh. His two years of peace and quiet had come to an end, it seemed. The Brujah reached for a pack of cigarettes, popping one into his mouth before lighting it with a plain metal lighter. It's not like he'd get a buzz, he was pretty sure his lungs looked like the surface of the moon by now, but it...helped. it helped remind him he used to be human. That somewhere, he was still human. That he could tame the beast within him.

And that maybe he wasn't just kidding himself...


SirNateUnknown
Psychie
Mentallynot
Noah Gray Silver
​

 

[Psychie]

As Toni rises in the early evening, she looks up to see one of her servants entering her room. Alex says, "M'lady, this letter arrived for you. Looks important."

She nods, taking the letter and looks it over. With a raised eyebrow, she tells Alex, "I don't know if Keith has gotten a letter like this, but even if he hasn't, he will be joining me. Make sure he's aware of the event and I expect his best behavior tonight, well dressed, too. I don't want my ward looking like a slob."

"Yes, ma'am. Right away."

With a glance at the clock, the pretty Toreador checks to see how much time there is to get ready. This is clearly an event that she will want to put her best face forward for, so she had best get busy. I wonder what we have in store for us tonight?

Mentions Sherwood

 

[Sherwood]

Keith doesn't leap out of bed right away; he has a bad case of wanting to sleep longer but then, he has the annoying ring of his cell phone demanding his attention. He recognizes the tone as one of Antoinette's people; not someone he can ignore. With a few choice swear words, he rolls over and grabs the offending device and grumbles out, "Yeah? What is it?" He listens to Alex and manages to reply with, "Tell her I'll be right over."

Ending the call, Keith rises and prepares himself for a night out on the town. After he cleans up, he slips into his tux, knowing that Toni will be dressed to the nines and needs to make sure she's impressed with his appearance. Sliding a large knife into a hidden sheath under his armpit, he feels ready to brave the event. If someone decides to get too out of line, he's confident that he's got the chops to deal with it.

At the meeting, he walks along next to Toni with his senses on high alert. He knows that meetings like this are supposed to be on safe ground controlled by the Prince, but having so many possible hostile vampires around put him on edge. Even with as strong as he is (apparently not all newly created vamps are as tough as he is with his Disciplines), there are many Kindred that are much stronger than he is. Even tiny little Toni has powers that she's used on him to demonstrate that she's not one to be trifled with. Some crazy mind-control power. Crazy shit out there.

When the Prince tells the group that the Toreador Primogen had been killed, he immediately looks to Toni to see her reaction, tensing up even more than he was before. He only met her once; seemed nice enough for a vampire, and she seemed to be important to Toni somehow. So many rules to keep track of makes it hard to remember. "Toni? You ok?"

 

[Psychie]

When Keith shows up in his tuxedo, Toni looks him over with a critical eye. "Very good. You clean up nicely. There shouldn't be any problems today, but remember that there are some out there that want to send you to the grave for good. Lets not give them any reason to voice those opinions."

When the Prince tells them of the disaster of Cordelia's Final Death, Toni is shocked. How could this happen? Who will speak to the Prince for the Toreador Clan now?

It takes her a moment to realize that Keith is talking to her. She finally nods, saying, "Y-yes. I'm fine. This was just - unexpected." She looks around at the other vampires here, thinking that no matter how powerful they are, it is still possible to come to a violent end. With the presentation from the Prince over, she says to Keith, "Lets go. I need to clear my head."

Then she notices the note in her hand. "Hmm? What's this?" Quickly reading it, she frowns. "It would seem that we have other plans now. Come. Let us see what this has in store for us."

 

[Noah Gray Silver]

The theater was rather alive this evening. Gilani knew what this meant, there was a shift in power this evening. With how his beloved leader Cordelia was missing in action, he knew where this influx came from. One of the youngest actors handed him a note and only told him when Gilani had already lost his patience.

“Tell me what it says”.

The actor fumbled around with the letter and told Gilani of the meeting in another theater. A distasteful one, of course. With one motion, Gilani let his student gather up a group of more delightful friends to join Gilani after he was dressed by one of his favorite actors. This would be a sour night, best bring at least some sweetness. After rousing up a racket for leaving as most of his favored were always starving for more of his attention. Tonight he would have to influence another type of crowd. Dressed in extravagance, Gilani was ready to take in the energy of a new crowd.

 

[SirNateUnknown]

​

scroll

Ulf

Beowulf's manor - Theater

Benjamin, Schmitt, Aleksander, Toni, Keith

Rusty of Shackleford

The night was cold, desolate. It casted naught but a single shadow against the concrete walls, The smell of iron painted them. An odd shaped object lay beside the nest, cradled in the pale fingertips that once held significant power.

Murmurs of the kindred, gibberish to the ears of the unenlightened. True words that held the curse of his descendants, now pasted on the piece of junk. Blue eyes lay lazily upon the pale sockets, for it's peace is now disturbed by a knock on those walls.

Rising from the darkest shade of the night, he unlocked the large vault and returned to the mortals around him. One would think that thirst would haunt him, but their scent could no longer entice his senses. For they lack the scent of the dead, a fellow bearer of said curse. that is, save for one of the his housemate.

A young man with thin limbs gaze right into his eyes, chapped lips and ill looking face. He grabbed a bag of blood to sate their thirst, as they sank to the couch and greedily suckle each drop of crimson. While the blond watches from a mile, leaning against the decorated walls with a thin smile.

"I needed that, thank you sir."

The voice echoed and graced with the twist of the wolf's grin, sharing not even a word to break the silence that stifled the air. However just as he proceeded to return to his room, the youth stopped him. Holding onto his palm to grab his attention, pulling his palm open to place a letter with a familiar seal upon it.

"Here, it is for you sir. It looks important."

The blonde smiled once more and thanked the other with a pat on their head, Moving away towards the study room but not before he uttered those words of gratitude.

"Thanks, kiddo."

Unraveling the content of said letter with ease, at first the blonde thought it was odd that the "courier" didn't appear to hand this letter over to him. Perhaps they were too busy with running other errands? As if to further surprise him, the letter did not contain any words of a possible target. Instead it was an invite to a meeting, to be truthful he felt something was amiss.

Pressing the sheet of paper against his lips, those lucid blue eyes studied the possible implications of said content. It's been a while since they invited him into any meetings, to attend such large event. Would it be wise for him to risk his neck for it? though at the very least it seems his primogen will be there.

Sighing at the revelation he came too, the thin smile on his lips widen. How exciting, for centuries it was uneventful at the most. Finally someone made their move, but what it will cost has yet to reveal itself. Amused, he burned the envelope by chucking it into the furnace and shove the ticket into his pockets.

"Luke, Make sure to serve the soup at dinner for the others alright? I'll be gone for a bit."

"I will, please becareful sir."

Grabbing his jacket and announcing his leave to the pale young man, he pulled out the keys to the garage and started his bike. Securing the helmet upon his head and chased forth to arrive upon the familiar view of the theater, sparing not even a second to waste and entered the building.

Upon entering, the scent of blood was thick in the air. Coughing lightly at the intrusion and the fire that burned his throat, He took deep breaths as an attempt to calm himself down. An old habit he carried around even after many centuries of his "death". Taking a minute to collect his thoughts, a presence felt familiar to him.

He could name a few already without looking as a particular scent riddled his mind, he cursed under his breath with a light chuckle. Of course he is here.. How dumb he was, now he could not evade him for sure. Though that's not too bad, seeing he could finally bask in their presence- almost lost himself for a second there.

Being extremely cautious to fight back with his willpower, it was difficult to do so while he has been skipping meals for a reason. The last thing he needs is to give in and take the final step to complete the blood bond. Taking a seat beside a familiar face as he clench the arm rest with sheer strength, fighting back the insane amount of urge that riddled his flesh. Perhaps just a tiny sip wouldn't hurt- this is quite the ordeal to fight off. He smiled at the Tremere Primogen and tried his best not to have even a glimpse of Benjamin's face.

"Been a while Schmitt, hope you don't mind me being here out of hiding."

A simple chatter to greet the fellow Tremere, Perhaps it was a simple tease or a friendly banter that one would pay little attention to. Settling further into his seat, he tries to distract himself by taking a good look around him. A few familiar faces, one belongs to that of the courier. Interesting.. he thought.

That and two others that had yet made it into his hitlist, It seems to be one of the toreadors and whom could the other be? He smelled fresh perhaps too fresh. Seems like they weren't apart of the old parties here, things had certainly change this couple of months. Tapping his fingers and focusing those jewels of aqua onto the charismatic figure that had just graced them.

The new Prince, a Brujah at that. So far he prove to be the best yet, it's fascinating to say the least. Each words that falter from their lips had further and further pushed just how dire the situation must be, to see that someone else had a hand in the death of a kindred and under their noses. Seems he will have his next target soon, but it is not his duty to play detective.

He was but the executioner, to grace another their final death with the consent of the prince and the Camarillas. He knew for sure that he wasn't the one who killed the Toreador Primogen, just who would risk to do such a thing? the more he thought about it, the graver the implications may be.

As the speech was finally concluded, Ulf remained in his seat. Tapping his cheek as he closed his eyes and went deeper into the fabrics of his mind. That is before the thirst rudely made itself known once more, furrowing his brows as he balled up a fist and resist the sweet temptation to decrease the distance between him and the ventrue primogen.

Rising from his seat, clearing his throat and covering his lips and nose with his cold palm. His steps stuttered as he exited the room, heading towards the bathroom and pry the sink handle to drench his palms with cold water. He shivered and trembled, not from the temperature but his own will dwindling in the mere presence of his employer.

For the reflection upon the mirror had present him the sickly expression that torment his skin, He may have to leech off one of the kindreds here. Anyone but that spectacled blonde will do, if he was even allowed the chance to. A predicament he is placed upon, one that he couldn't help but laugh at. It took a couple of minutes for him to walk normally once more, he turned off the sink and exited the bathroom. Just as he was about to take his leave, a lady had bumped into him. He catches them and held their palm, as he helped the lady to regain her balance.

"Careful there, Are you alright miss?"

"I'm alright sir, I'm sorry I didn't mean to.."

"Think nothing of it, do be more careful next time."

The stranger thanked him while he waved them farewell, a piece of paper crumpled in his palm. Unravelling the very contents, he understood the message and shoved it into his pockets. This message did not come as a surprise to him, as it was an old trick they use to communicate out in the open. Many times it was used within his line of work, especially when secrecy is heavily enforced.

He proceeded to leave the theater as normal and drove away from the building, a few minutes later. He arrived with the hood of his jacket pulled up and walked from a couple of blocks away. Entering the building once more, with light hitting naught but drawing an eerie silhouette upon the walls. He picked up the scent of cigarettes and the blood of another kindred, twisting the corner of his lips further. Approaching the familiar figure, his feet tapping against the floor did not make a single noise. For he broke the silence with his own scratchy voice, as if greeting an old friend.

"Woah kid, I didn't know you want to burn down the theater that badly."

A teasing remarked left his lips, while the dim lighting revealed the chapped lips that held those very words. Much akin to the color of the plain walls, yet the presence of the figure felt ill-fitting as ever. Unfit to inflict fear, but enough to stifle the very semblance of peace and instill slight discomfort for those who are a stranger to his antics.

♡coded by uxie and art by Alle Page♡

 

[Mentallynot]

Kane

mood.

slightly annoyed

location.

manor to theater

tags.

n/a

"It's all business. There's no need to get all worked up for nothing. I can assure you the politics will not interfere with our contract."
There was laughter heard inside the old, antique study room. With a tall shadow cast upon a pale complexion, the white beaming orbs that seemed to glimmer under the candlelights remained visible despite the lack of proper lighting. He was up and about, the supposed independent ventrue who had been keeping a low profile ever since his not-so-honored leave from the Camarilla faction. Though, those weren't the things that the dead man was hung up about.

For many years, suspicious rumors had been circling around. It was nothing new to Kane as he would use them to collect more information when talking to his contacts. Sometimes, they would reveal sensitive information that he would keep for later. And despite his skepticism towards the recent rumors that have appeared, there was one that seemed to always pop up. It had something to do with one of the primogens, specifically the toreador primogen. By no means was this discovery proven to be real. But, it was definitely something he had to consider when deciding.

As his mind wandered off after the brief call he had with one of his business partners, the pale ventrue straightened his back and let one of his feet dangle in the air while he crossed his legs together. The way the flame swayed as a gust of cold breeze blew into his face, had almost touched the end of his sleeves which made him jump back, knocking his chair down onto the wooden floor as he was reminded by a dreadful knot in his gut. As beads of cold sweat rained down his forehead, he gently took a deep breath, trying to ease the residual emotions he felt. His expression remained stiff and cold despite his mental state. Considering he hadn't been able to rest these past few weeks after one of his clients decided to go AWOL on him and possibly ruin his hard-earned reputation among his kind, it was only normal if he became rather slightly unstable.

But just as he was trying to regain his composure, he heard the only door to the study room swing open along with a familiar face that was slightly covered by the figure's long dark locks. "Sir, I know you wish to be left alone at this time. But, there is a matter that requires your attention." Hearing what his Gangrel assistant had to say, Kane simply held onto the edge of his desk while furrowing his brows. He knew that the other male could be bringing another bad news judging by the look in his eyes.

"Can't it wait? I have to make some phone calls and I don't think I have the patience to care about another mess." His assistant quickly shook his head and readjusted his narrow glasses with his index finger while he held out what seemed to be a white envelope addressed to Kane specifically. As the ventrue male took the envelope, he quickly noticed the seal on the envelope. His once furrowed brows were quickly raised along with his curiosity. After reading the letter, he let some of the information linger in his mind while he tried to predict what will happen at the theater. It was already 8 o'clock, meaning that he would have to leave his manor right away or he will be late.

"Geoffrey, prep the car. We're heading out to Saenger theater." As soon as he said that, the black-haired male walked past his assistant and proceeded to exit the study room followed by the rather rugged male who had first blown the candle out before exiting the dark study room.

The drive to the theater only took them an hour or so and Kane always liked to keep things in order. So, being punctual was like a second-hand nature for him. After parking the car over on the side of the road, Kane jumped out of the car with his assistant close by, not ever leaving his side unless told so. The number of heads that were there inside the theater could suffocate him. He didn't exactly like the smell that was filling the air.

Looking over at the Brujahs, he could see the bottles that they brought to the theater. A slight disgust was shown beneath his usual straight face as he pulled his gaze away from the clan's death glare as the ventrue male was sitting at the back of the theater along with the gangrel male acting as his bodyguard. It didn't take long for someone to finally walk on the stage. It was the new prince, one with that Kane has yet to familiarize himself with. Perhaps he will be able to do that once his ex-associates from the Camarilla would stop perceiving him as a traitor. Perhaps they blamed him for the old prince's death or maybe they thought he had to do something with that. No matter, he was fine with keeping his nose out of the politics despite what his bloodline may say about him. He may be a ventrue, but he was no Camarilla nor Anarch, he would prefer to just find his own way without burning bridges as some would.

As he pulled his fingers over to his own lips, the ventrue male gazed at the stage while his ears listened to the news that provoked cries from the audience. Not soon after the tension between the Brujahs and Ventrue had shown its ugly face to all of the attendants inside the theater. Kane simply chuckled and shook his head gently at the ridiculous hatred between the two. To him, it was like watching two idiots fight. But then again, he couldn't care less for any of this. It never really mattered to his business as he always remained neutral nonetheless what kind of war would break out. Sure it would make things more difficult but he had made sure that he had loyal clients to ensure his position inside the evergrowing population of Kindred.

Just as he was about to pull himself out of his seat, he noticed the look on his assistant's face. His eyes were fixed on something in his palm. Quickly, the ventrue turned his face towards the other man's palm and spotted the red wax seal on the paper he was holding. "Hmm? Where did you get this?" The Gangrel male quickly turned his face to meet Kane's but his eyes showed a rather cold look which made Kane question his behavior a bit. "I think this is meant for you, sir." His eloquent voice was clear to Kane as he received the note and read it for himself. The ventrue male only nodded as he placed the note inside his pockets. "I shall wait for you in the car. Do not hesitate to call me if you require my assistance." Kane only smiled and placed a hand on the Gangrel's jacket, gently tapping his shoulder to reassure him. "I'll be right back."

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Noah Gray Silver]

The Saenger theater used to be a thing of beauty. Actually, it still looks pretty much the same. Gilani remembers beautiful moments there, moments of him shining and of some of his breakthrough performances. That’s how old the theater is. Still when it got renovated ten years ago, Gilani lost his touch with the place. So when he learns of an important meeting, while his primogen Cordelia is missing, is called in the Saenger theater. Well, you could imagine his tension. Still as any great performer, he stills his heart in order to take in the room.

He enters and just like with many of the Toreador, his entrance commands some turned heads. Some of his closer acquaintances can’t hold their smiles when they feel Gilani’s aura. Gilani was practiced in commanding attention from even his kindred, because his presence was just so sweetening. Of course Gilani would not dare to use any extra power here, but his own theatrical skills were enough. While the Saenger is not to his tastes, Gilani still knows how to command a large crowd. He was on his own grounds. He spreads his arms and fails to contain his own broad grin. He revels for a moment, but before the attention shifts, he takes place.

Usually Gilani would go around to meet some people, get some compliments, get his proverbial cheeks kissed. Today he sits and watches the unruly crowd. Even though there is only tension here for now, Gilani has practiced his senses enough to know that there is aggression brewing here too.

The meeting began.

“I regret to inform you all that, three nights ago…Cordelia met her Final Death.”

…
…
A storm. Deep. Rumbling. Strong. Overruling his composure. Gilani’s usual calm state and aura turned into a rousing underlying earthquake. But he contained it. He thought back to Cordelia’s presence on the city and on how he had liked it not to have to think about any ruling while she was primogen. He would still not even think of it and judging from the crowd he would not have to. Now to still this anger, a quick moment of sadness was only enough for a moment. Thoughts of revenge quickly took over, but before he could continue he felt a hand on his shoulder from one of his oldest friends. He did not have to turn around to know it was Rouge.

“Come”.

Her eyes said. She was right in her assumption that Gilani would not have registered words. A look from a strong friend took him out of his deafness. He heard the crowd again. Distastefully agressive in a theater. His anger shifted as he took Rouge’s hand.

“How dare they defile such a sacred place”.

Rouge retorted

“You know that these people are tasteless. It’s up to us to appreciate true beauty”.

Gilani noticed a note in his free hand as he left the room. He held it up to Rouge, who knew what to do. When she read it out to Gilani she returned her hand to his shoulder.

"I will wait for you here, think of returning to me when you feel as you do now."

Gilani did as he picked up his pace. He turned around one last moment for another look. Which was enough to convey that Gilani had found his composure again. One big smile and he turned back around with a motion just as grand.

 

[Mentallynot]

Kane

mood.

indifferent

location.

theater

tags.

Noah Gray Silver

As he got up from his seat, his grey eyes quickly moved to search for the supposed path that wpuld lead him to the top office. He had only been inside this theater for more than a couple of times and never bothered to explore it considering most of his participations there were only for the meeting that would be held now and then. Though, that didn't mean that he wasn't familiar with the Kindred who especially loved to spend their time among these theaters.

The Toreadors tend to show their faces here considering its their beloved place to display whatever they call art. Which was nothing that Kane could ever care about except for the fact that he still enjoyed listening to music. May it be the newer kinds or the oldies, he would love to just unwind while he hummed along the tunes.

As he looked over to the seas of Kindred, he started to make his way to the office that was mentioned inside the note that he received earlier. Perhaps it was a chance for him to show his stance between the current chaos to the new prince. That would certainly put him on the brujah's good side, right?


With that question in mind, he brushed past The Toreadors as he watched a group of them seemingly fixated upon a specific figure. He couldn't but wonder who it was. Though his curiosity was quickly diminished when he saw a familiar face among the crowd. It was Gillani, the man that he certainly had yet to actually make any effort to initiate a partnership especially when the ventrue male had already established one with one of his former Toreador associates back when he was still working for the old prince as a Camarilla.

As he walked over to somehow stand before the actor, he brought his palms up to his face and intertwined his fingers while letting it hover over his lips. His eyes were staring right through Gillani, trying to gather any information from his body language. "Greetings, Mr.Gillani. I hope you don't mind me stealing your time for a moment. I know that I have yet to properly introduce myself to you upon our last meeting. So, I wish to get that out of the way while we still have the chance to do so."

His eyes gently let out a small glow as he shifted his weight over to his toes for a moment, displaying a slight excitement to the other male. But this was all just for him to seem rather welcoming or friendly. It was always just his way of getting himself around people. A needed cover for him to draw in new contacts.

Though, his expression quickly changed when he saw the woman nearby. He simply raised one of his brows assuming that his interruption wasn't exactly welcomed by Gillani's peers especially with his rather peculiar reputation among those who only heard about him from his former peers who still ridicules him and perceives as nothing but a traitor to the cause.The ventrue male quickly turned his head back to the actor and let out a small smile on his face. "That is if you and your peers do not mind."

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[Psychie]

Toni is quiet as Keith and her make their way to this other meeting. As they walk, her mind is in turmoil. What will happen to the High Counsel now? Who will represent the Toreador to the Prince? Then a thought comes to her. What if . . . she tried to take that spot? She has resources that no other Kindred has, contacts in many places that no one knows about. With a bit of work, it could happen.

Her eyes go to Keith as they walk. He is young, but very powerful for his age. His skills would come in very handy in any attempt to make her move to the High Counsel. Yes. This could work out very well indeed.

 

[Noah Gray Silver]

Gilani was in his element again. In meetings like these, it was rude to use any real power, but that was the advantage of his blood. He did not have to strain himself to exert his influence. His sweetness was automatic, like a flower’s aroma. It was as easy to him now as it used to be to breathe.

Just as easy as it was for many Ventru to radiate power. Which was noticeable to someone with the sense for it, or enough to have a pupil whisper in his ear.

“Someone is walking up to us, it’s Kane, the turncoat power-hungry tyrant from some decades ago. Be careful.”

Not one to heed caution, Gilani turned around in his characteristic slow movement, to assess the man. Not much hate in his body, for now, lots of opportunities.

"Greetings, Mr.Gilani. I hope you don't mind me stealing your time for a moment. I know that I have yet to properly introduce myself to you upon our last meeting. So, I wish to get that out of the way while we still have the chance to do so."

Gilani let his hand fall a bit to let it hover in the air. His eyes glanced up and to the left as if making a decision was a hassle. One of his so-called ‘peers’ would whisper in his ear, which was of course more than laudable enough and informed Gilani’s decision. While he wanted to let his ‘friends’ stay at first, he thought again.

"That is if you and your peers do not mind."

Kane’s aura was not dangerous and Gilani preferred people who lusted for power. He would not care for it himself, so he always needed allies to do that boring work for him. It seems like Kane also has some reputation, which is nice as he must know the burden of fame. Plus, Kane is in the middle between the camarilla and the anarchs, which is dangerous, so he had to be either strong, dangerous, or useful. In any case, worth the talk. The only thing halting any notion of enthusiasm was Kane’s disingenuine sense of excitement. It was an insult to Gilani’s pride, but he noted it as ignorance. For now. So, Gilani’s hand moved around, making his friends disperse reluctantly. Some hovered around a bit too noticeably.

“Yes, such a shame that you did not take the time to introduce yourself earlier. Handsome people should always strive to care for each other. Although I can’t help but notice that you have always had the chance to attend one of my shows, but never made the effort. You must need something now. Tell me what it is, if it’s only business that interests you.”

Gilani’s smile was more genuine. A practiced actor like him could look for what makes him actually happy to speak with anyone. This time it would be all the opportunities from someone who practiced negotiation as much as someone with Kane’s standing, who could not even properly fake a smile.

Mentallynot

 

[Sherwood]

Keith keeps his eyes open, doing his best to keep people from bothering Toni since she is a popular singer in her own right. As they walk, he asks her, "Do you know what this meeting might be about? Do you think it has anything to do with the Toreador Primogen getting killed?"

 

[Psychie]

Keith keeps his eyes open, doing his best to keep people from bothering Toni since she is a popular singer in her own right. As they walk, he asks her, "Do you know what this meeting might be about? Do you think it has anything to do with the Toreador Primogen getting killed?"

Toni replies, "No idea, but I have a feeling that we might be getting involved in it in one way or another. We may end up using some of your police training in the near future. Just keep quiet and let me do the talking until we know what is going on."