by Imperialisium » Thu Aug 12, 2021 6:22 pm
by Morrdh » Thu Aug 12, 2021 9:21 pm
by Luminesa » Fri Aug 13, 2021 5:18 pm
by Oblivion2 » Sat Aug 14, 2021 6:51 am
by Finsternia » Sat Aug 14, 2021 4:10 pm
Random stuff here. Random stuff there. Bla bla bla. Whatever I don't care.
Soon, the penguins shall rule the Earth with a cold flipper
by Morrdh » Sat Aug 14, 2021 5:31 pm
by Luminesa » Sat Aug 14, 2021 9:44 pm
Morrdh wrote:Morri
She caught him when he shambled through still half-sleep, having been awoken by his alarm. Happiest flourished at the reunion, further added to when a sleepy little girl emerged from her own room and cried out in joy at catching sight of a frequently absent parent. Alas, the happiness was fleeting as Morri was soon on her own in the house. Alexei had work, a college professor these days, whilst their daughter Kaya was now attending Kindergarden. Though Morri understood the necessity, she had a mistrust of the US education system and rather preferred Kaya going to school in Ireland or, failing that, Britain. But that would require leaving LA which wasn't feasible for any of them.
But here she was, all on her lonesome and counting the minutes until the others returned. Partially due to an agreement with Alexei and partially to stop herself from going crazy with boredom, Morri busied herself with some housework as well as preparing some food for dinner. It was a weird, almost surreal, sort of normality compared to her life as a Garou facing the Wyrm's lackies and other supernatural foes. In some respects it provided an anchor for her, a sort of bastion of sanity. Yet it made her increasingly torn between trying to have a regular human life and her duty to Gaia and her pack. She hated when she had to leave her little family and her pack respectively, she hoped there wouldn't come a day when she was forced to choose between the two.
Morri had, for intents and purposes, become estranged from her parents some years earlier to protect them from Pentex. Her twin sister Morgana she hadn't seen in an even longer time. She missed them dearly, though her pack had gone some way to filling the family sized hole she had in her life. It sometimes left her feeling conflicted, a feeling made worse by the fact that she felt trapped in a city which she unwillingly been sent to and that she just couldn't up and leave. Though perhaps when her deal with Anna was fulfilled....
by Kingdom of Irhk » Sat Aug 14, 2021 10:07 pm
by Luminesa » Sat Aug 14, 2021 10:17 pm
Finsternia wrote:Awakening of the Maddened Moon
Los Angeles, Pacific Palisades
As the sun falls to the veil of Great Nyx upon the heavens, the City of Angels remain bright. In fact, its sparkling towers and bustling streets appear the more beautiful and enchanting under the shadow of night. Pedestrians fill the streets, cheerful laughter echo in halls and stores and buildings. A facade of joyousness and merriment paint the canvas of uglyness beneath; the glamour of Hollywood and entertainment hiding the blood, the terror and the insanity underneath.
Moonlight streams down the heavens, pure and resplendent that casts a spotlight upon the impurity of this place. Someplace a man starving and shuddering for warmth gets his muffled cries silenced by clawed hands. In another time and place an unfortunate transaction turns unpleasant, mortals writhing and twisting for freedom but finding their wings clipped and broken. Los Angeles is a den of sin, a place where the missing goes unwept for, a basin of blood and fecal matter mixed into a quagmire of filth. A beautiful land of dreams painted over a nightmare, ruled by invisible dread lords of night, magisters of the Arcana, and blood and flesh of the Moon. By night mortals dream, and their monarchs come out to play.
A soft creaking echoes within a sealed chamber somewhere within a luxurious estate by the sea. A shifting of something that is yet without form unnervingly sloshes within a decadent coffin and soon the cracking, breaking, and realignment of bones ensue. Silence follows the grim orchestra of flesh knitting and piecing itself before a dainty hand pries the container open. Moonlight and white emerges out of the coffin, death in the form of beauty, and the sound of bare feet dances upon marble floor. His hands touch velvet heavy curtains, parting them to grace himself the light of the moon. Chartreuse green eyes open, moonlight staring at moonlight, as a smile graces Silvanus' face. "Ah... Wondrous Selene..."
by Finsternia » Sun Aug 15, 2021 1:56 am
Luminesa wrote:Finsternia wrote:Awakening of the Maddened Moon
Los Angeles, Pacific Palisades
As the sun falls to the veil of Great Nyx upon the heavens, the City of Angels remain bright. In fact, its sparkling towers and bustling streets appear the more beautiful and enchanting under the shadow of night. Pedestrians fill the streets, cheerful laughter echo in halls and stores and buildings. A facade of joyousness and merriment paint the canvas of uglyness beneath; the glamour of Hollywood and entertainment hiding the blood, the terror and the insanity underneath.
Moonlight streams down the heavens, pure and resplendent that casts a spotlight upon the impurity of this place. Someplace a man starving and shuddering for warmth gets his muffled cries silenced by clawed hands. In another time and place an unfortunate transaction turns unpleasant, mortals writhing and twisting for freedom but finding their wings clipped and broken. Los Angeles is a den of sin, a place where the missing goes unwept for, a basin of blood and fecal matter mixed into a quagmire of filth. A beautiful land of dreams painted over a nightmare, ruled by invisible dread lords of night, magisters of the Arcana, and blood and flesh of the Moon. By night mortals dream, and their monarchs come out to play.
A soft creaking echoes within a sealed chamber somewhere within a luxurious estate by the sea. A shifting of something that is yet without form unnervingly sloshes within a decadent coffin and soon the cracking, breaking, and realignment of bones ensue. Silence follows the grim orchestra of flesh knitting and piecing itself before a dainty hand pries the container open. Moonlight and white emerges out of the coffin, death in the form of beauty, and the sound of bare feet dances upon marble floor. His hands touch velvet heavy curtains, parting them to grace himself the light of the moon. Chartreuse green eyes open, moonlight staring at moonlight, as a smile graces Silvanus' face. "Ah... Wondrous Selene..."
Mikhailov - Attending to the Moon
Five years. So much had changed, and yet so little. The same city, the violence always coming in small waves and then settling. Anna had kept her moody and overbearing distance. Mikhailov had indeed healed since that night fighting Belial, when he had found himself anew. The echoes of that beautiful hymn still played in his mind at times, a shining moment of bravery and recklessness.The blood that had filled his brain, and then had healed. The organized chaos that had followed in that evening.
Most of all, he had reached a second revelation about who he was, and had survived. He would sacrifice blood and almost his entire life in order to achieve a peace his world had never given him. He could indeed start again.
Radiant Magic flowed through his body frequently, especially when he walked outdoors to run errands. He only thought about that night’s script, after all, when he was not busy. After that evening, Silvanus had gone into torpor to heal, and he had to help Sylvester to run the household while he slept for an uncertain amount of time.
Yet a Second Awakening changed the way he saw the world. Time flowed more smoothly, more quickly. He did not feel the same anxious constraints of others. Time passing, waiting in lines at the grocery stores, arguing with people over the phone. An otherworldly calm blurred the worries of the world around him, and he could feel sunlight underneath his skin. As long as this sensation lasted, he had no reason to feel worried. Silvanus would awaken when he was ready.
Michael still existed, a happy Doll who awaited Mikhailov each time he returned home. The new villa by the sea made for a scenic return, as the Russian Mage seemed to glitter into view from nowhere, under the streetlight that led to the mansion. His eyes were assured, and he always showed Michael a sweet smile. “…Welcome back, Kostya,” the Doll greeted, “did you find the books for Lord Silvanus?”
“Of course I did,” the Mage responded. He smelled seawater and the chill air of winter. Evening had fallen when he had arrived home, and so the glow off the water reflected in his eyes. What a mystifying location Silvanus had picked, but then nobody loved the moonlight more than a Malkavian.
Mikhailov walked toward the door, and Michael’s smile continued to follow him. As he opened the door, however, friction stopped both of them in their tracks. For once, the Mage seemed puzzled. He looked around as he began to hear whispers. The Web. He had now lived in a Malkavian household for so long that he almost knew each individual voice by name.
A stirring, something very powerful…
Waiting, we have been waiting…
Will you approach? Are you afraid?
The Mage felt his heart beat a little faster. He stared in the doorway. Business as usual, at least from what he could see. Sylvester and the other Dolls were all busy, and none stopped to greet him as he took a step inside. And yet his heart continued to stir. Something in the air had changed inside, and he needed to know where.
Michael followed him inside, closing the door behind him. “…It is for you, Kostya,” he suddenly spoke. When the Mage turned his head to listen to him, the Doll continued, “Go see. Go see him. We will still be here when you return.” That royal “we”. Mikhailov still caught a chill at times, but he always accepted Michael as he was. Yet he did not take time to think, as his eyes darted down the hall. Only one place could have caused such a change.
His feet rushed down the hall, tracing steps to a locked chamber in the back of the villa. This room, this sanctuary, was one only Sylvester and he could enter. He bit his thumb and dropped some blood on the doorway, and he was able to enter. He heard cracking and popping from within. The knitting of bones. Such bizarre sounds were not unusual in Silvanus’s household, but in this room…
Mikhailov threw open the door, and the moonlight flooded the room. Standing in front of that light, however, was a figure whose pale, delicate hands caressed the curtains with deliberation. A curtain of silvery hair fell down the slim figure’s back. A perfect porcelain statue, curved with the careful and meticulous love of Michelangelo. The pounding in the Mage’s heart grew to a climax. He did not hear the words the figure spoke. His eyes widened, and he stepped into the room as if he was stepping into a dream. Only by touch would he know if this figure was really him. Even so, he still whispered his name with devotion.
“…Lord Silvanus…welcome back to us.”
Random stuff here. Random stuff there. Bla bla bla. Whatever I don't care.
Soon, the penguins shall rule the Earth with a cold flipper
by Luminesa » Sun Aug 15, 2021 9:55 am
by Finsternia » Sun Aug 15, 2021 10:21 am
Random stuff here. Random stuff there. Bla bla bla. Whatever I don't care.
Soon, the penguins shall rule the Earth with a cold flipper
by Luminesa » Sun Aug 15, 2021 10:53 am
Finsternia wrote:Silvanus - Dread Moonlight
Los Angeles, Pacific Palisades, Demesne of the Malkavian Primogen
Unblinking eyes stare back at Mikhailov's desperate blues, small orbs of quivering sky that overflow with worship and obsession. Silvanus liked those eyes. If only he could pluck them out and display them as jewels. Perhaps upon his fingers on golden rings, or embedded within brooches or lockets as beautiful amulets. A pristine hand touches Mikhailov's face, cold and hard and cruel despite the softness of its touch. He caresses without thought, distant chartreuse eyes watching for the reactions of an animal to his touch.
"How pitiful..."
"If only you know how desperate you appear now..."
"It is soooo... delicious. So close to tears."
"A desperate little man..."
Phantom chuckles and giggles whisper into his ear as unseen audiences watch as if this is a sick comedy. How laughable it was indeed for him to cling to this unfeeling monster, captivated by his beauty and entranced by the beautiful terror in silver and white seated before him. "But that is alright, good enough for you, isn't it?" Two voices answer the doubts that knock and bang in his head as the Elder and his Doll respond at the same time. "Haven't you already had your fill with my butler? So many Dolls and yet you are insatiable... Kneel."
The vampire crosses his legs and offers his right hand for Mikhailov to kiss. Jewelled rings deck his scarred hands, stone stars glimmering as the moonlight outside hits and reflects upon them. As he waits for Mikhailov to revere him, to lay kisses of devotion upon his hand, the Lord of Clan Malkavian continues to speak. "I wish to take a stroll through town... So many sights and pleasures to be had this evening! It has been quite awhile since I've stepped outside for a walk... and I have many places I wish to visit... Accompany me, my faithful hound... I wish to pay a visit to certain interests." A beautiful smile blossoms upon his face, beautiful but scarred eternally, but the glimmer in his eyes hold nothing of beauty nor goodwill.
by Finsternia » Sun Aug 15, 2021 11:40 am
Random stuff here. Random stuff there. Bla bla bla. Whatever I don't care.
Soon, the penguins shall rule the Earth with a cold flipper
by Luminesa » Sun Aug 15, 2021 12:09 pm
by Morrdh » Sun Aug 15, 2021 12:25 pm
by Finsternia » Mon Aug 16, 2021 12:30 pm
Random stuff here. Random stuff there. Bla bla bla. Whatever I don't care.
Soon, the penguins shall rule the Earth with a cold flipper
by Luminesa » Mon Aug 16, 2021 12:40 pm
Finsternia wrote:Silvanus - Undying Lord
Los Angeles, Brancroft-O'Malley Household
Sylvester the Doll steps to the side and back of the Malkavian Primogen, his head bowed low as the old vampire surveys the land. A simple home amidst copy pasted layouts of houses. As bland and boring as any 21st century subdivision planning could ever spit out of the drawing table. Nevertheless, a simple start is no less than any starting line. His eyes wander towards many of these concrete structures, green malevolence piercing through walls and into the quivering and fleeting lives hidden behind such flimsy architecture. How interesting are the colors that splatter and paint upon the boring grey and mutedness of this land. Crawling Kine consorting with unsavory beasts in his opinion. Alexei sees his ancestor's nose crinkle at the thought. 'Bothersome beasts...'
His chartreuse eyes find Alexei once more, their glare softened by the moonlight above. "...Is that how you greet your dear Uncle after all these years? How indifferent and cold... Did you not miss me after all these years? Or was it good riddance, young man? You haven't even written me a single letter." Crisp footsteps and the thumping of a cane move closer to Alexei as the Malkavian walks up to him. "The miracle of life has graced you and yet you haven't told me a single thing... It was difficult to procure a gift at such short notice... Why don't you introduce me to your daughter and your wife? We have not had the pleasure of meeting as of yet." A smile graces Silvanus' face but it only serves to make his beautiful countenance cold and sharp, as his eyes pierce through Alexei's being as if saying "I know everything you've been hiding."
by Imperialisium » Tue Aug 17, 2021 5:45 pm
Oblivion2 wrote:Jean Luc ’Etienne’ Saint Francis
Outside the Janus Club, North Hollywood
Los Angeles, California
November 4th, 01:25
Los Angeles was dying, one wretched death at a time. You could smell it on the cool air if you took the time and had the predilection to do so; urban stink, rotting garbage, spilt blood, and wretchedly corrupt money. This was the sweet perfume of the Kine so desperate to live their dream that they would whore themselves out for anyone who could even bring them an inkling of the elusive thing. The City of Angels was hardly the only town in America in its long running death throes; the entire beast was ill, and Los Angeles was but a single festering sore on the body of the dying animal and wherever death’s shadow fell, predators would begin to circle. Étienne was just such a creature; his undead gaze had been turned to the city for the better part of the decade until such time the opportunities became too great to ignore, though he was far from the only predator stalking Los Angeles.
The Frenchman had come four years earlier after years of extending small tendrils into the soft underbelly of the City. It had been shockingly easy, purchasing the land from the Kine and developing it into the North Hollywood hotspot that had become known as Janus. Obtaining permission from the City’s Prince had taken longer, and had actually begun fer in advance of his presence in Los Angeles. But the Club, and the few streets surrounding it were his territory now. Territory he had already maimed and killed to maintain. Janus had grown to have a certain reputation in the few years since it had started running. To the Kine it was a curiously intriguing place to meet new and interesting people; modern decor at times fused with traditional sentiments. Statues and paintings dotted alcoves and walls above the VIP booths, modern DJing equipment and sound systems would sometimes be shut off to make way for a piano older than any mortal guest under Janus’ roof, and when the veneer began to bore Étienne, it was given a facelift with dizzying speed.
To those blessed with Unlife or otherwise marked by the supernatural, Janus was something of a sanctuary. When you entered the Club, you were bound by three rules; No Killing on Janus grounds, ask not what they are, and Janus always gets a piece. The first rule was self explanatory; Etienne wanted no one dying on the property, for risk of breaking the Masquerade. Even when he had to take a life, it was always off property. The second rule was more nebulous; when you entered Janus you were expected to don a second face as though you were the two-faced God itself. If the owner didn’t know what you are, how could he be forced to act against you? The same policy applied to the club’s guests; your senses might tell you what you suspect someone to be, but if you did not ask, how could you know? Of course, officially any trespassers into Camarilla territory were dealt with to the exact mandates of the Prince.
Rule number three dealt more with the explicit business of Janus, and Étienne himself. In addition to being a safe haven, it was also where things were traded. Information, services, goods, and sometimes lives. Étienne was a networker of mortals and immortals alike, and a procurer of items. If you did business under his roof, or if you used any of his contacts to do business of your own, Janus always got a piece of the take.
The Master of the Club stood outside the back alleyway, contemplating just how he could advance himself along the winding track of Camarilla society. This wasn’t the first time he had come to a City in order to carve out an important niche for himself, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. The flare of a match illuminated his face before being replaced by the flare and fade of smouldering cigarette embers. Etienne’s hair was a dark blonde approaching brown, thick and wavy and often combed backwards. Expressive eyebrows sat above a strong jawed and honest looking face, but those dark eyes glittered with a feral cunning. You wanted to like him, but you found yourself almost frightened at the concept of disappointing him. Etienne’s visage had not changed in nearly two hundred years, though the names he’d been called by seemed to come and go with the winds. Here in Los Angeles, he had retaken his birth name at last.
“Sir?” A steady voice called as the steel door opened behind him. Étienne had heard his beating heart from the other side. This was Stapes; general manager, occasional confidant, trusted servant, and ghoul. Stapes had been in his service for nearing forty years now, and he held more of Etienne’s secrets than any living creature did. Quiet, dependable, and discrete above all else, Stapes looked like he might have been a grocer in another time, instead he kept the Janus running on the day to day and handled minor disputes. “Oui, Stapes?” Was Etienne’s soft reply, in between long, languid drags on his cigarette.
“The gentleman from last week, the Italian. His payment has been delivered to your office, sir.” The Ghoul explained in a demure tone.
“Ah, very good. And the Macallan?” The vampire asked, his tone silken and smooth despite the smoke in his lungs.
“It arrived this morning sir, while you were asleep. It’s with the other assembled tribute now.” Stapes assured his master in a placating tone. “Everything is being loaded now for transport.” A brief pause in the Ghoul’s words as he weighed loyalty with his blood bound need to serve as capably as possible. “Sir… Are you certain this is wise? You will be offering more tribute than you would other wise need to. Some of these items too are from far before your time here in Los Angeles, items that you need not give up.”
The Frenchman let out a roiling cloud of smoke, blowing it directly up into the air and watching as the late autumn breeze carried the cancerous smog off into the night. Everything he had been planning for most of a century for was coming to a head. He had merely been waiting for an opportunity to make his mark, and now it was here. Now in this dying city he would feast, and be given the chance to carve out something for himself beyond meaningless servitude. A place at the table. “Oui, Stapes. I am very certain this is what I want. At worst, I will be seen as grasping and ambitious. Perhaps even underestimated.” He turned and fixed his servant with a smile so chilling it would have frozen the blood of a lesser being, “And you know how well that goes, don’t you?”
Stapes blanched, the mortal blood draining from his face despite his ghoulish nature and his long years working with his master. “Yes sir, not well at all.” Clearing his throat with a polite cough, the general manager of the Janus continued. “Everything is loading right now in preparation for your meeting. Shall I have a car brought around?”
“Please Stapes.” Etienne said, working his cigarette almost down to the filter now. “The Audi, if you would. I feel like driving myself tonight.”
“A repast before you go? The young man from Colorado is in the building?”
Étienne waved that offer aside, he had fed the night before and hadn’t done anything particularly strenuous since then. No, he needed the edge a little hunger would bring him. When one knelt before royalty, it was more important to be at ones most flexible and ruthless. And if everything he’d read was true… If what he believed was true, he’d need it.
—————————————————————————————————
Anna’s Mansion
Later that evening
The mansion was as intimidating as Etienne remembered. He had only been here once, very briefly to make his case for his land rights and to swear his fealty to the Prince of the city, Anna. Her mind had seemed occupied, for she had barely spoken to him other than to grant him the property that Janus now sat atop. Dressed in a tailored Italian wool jacket and pants of dark charcoal grey, with a waist coat of deep blue, the Ventrue was looking and feeling his best. Stepping out of his car, he handed his keys to a mortal valet, not bothering to threaten about his car and it’s expected state of return; he suspected the young man got it all the time. A sniff about the air confirmed one of the Frenchman’s lingering suspicions; gargoyles on the rooftops. They had a unique scent amongst the bloodlines; typically gangrel-esque with the acrid tang of Tzimisce flesh craft. Even if they were bred rather than created now, the signs still lingered.
In the darkness, Etienne could see the shifting shapes of mortal soldiery as well. The radio chatter sounded distinctly Hungarian, with bursts of Transylvanian accent thrown in every now and again. The Black Legion then, talented soldiers as far as Mortals went. Ruthless too. As he ascended the steps from the drive way to the mansion proper, he wondered just how much they knew about whom they were contracted to protect. Very little, likely. At the top of the steps he was met by a bullish looking man, dressed in an all black ensemble that no doubt had either inspired or been inspired by the mortal film ‘Underworld’. This one was one of the Kindred, for certain, likely one Rothai, the Elder’s personal bodyguard. On a good day, Étienne might be able to fight a few of their lesser number himself, but he had no doubts the closer he got to the inner sanctum the less true that would become. The bodyguard searched him with ruthless professionalism, to which Etienne only grudgingly allowed. When he found his matches and cigarettes, he raised a dark eyebrow at the Ventrue.
“Quoi?” He asked, allowing more of his native quebecois accent to shine through and make him sound more innocent. “I like to indulge. Is that such a bad thing?”
“It is here.” The heavy grumbled, pocketing the items himself. “You’re clean, now.” Etienne allowed himself a very Gallic shrug in response; the sort of shrug that managed to express all manner of emotions and sentiments despite its seemingly vague nature. In this case; Whatever you say, asshole.
Ushered into the foyer, Etienne could see other Rothai milling about the background. They were here watching the other guests; when kindred gathered in any sort of numbers, things could get volatile quickly. Running Janus meant that Étienne knew that better than most. Other immortals had brought their own bodyguard, while Etienne had left much of his staff at the club. Only two of his were here, and they were busy offloading the Tribute intended for the Elder that had been brought out on a separate truck. They would leave once they were done, less the presence of the Caitiff Thinbloods in his employ provoke anyone’s ire. Taking a moment with one of the Ghoul’s in the Prince’s employ, Etienne checked himself in. They would alert their mistress, or more likely some majordomo on her staff, to his presence and have him summoned Into the inner sanctum accordingly. Then and only then would the real test begin.
by Finsternia » Wed Aug 18, 2021 5:45 am
Random stuff here. Random stuff there. Bla bla bla. Whatever I don't care.
Soon, the penguins shall rule the Earth with a cold flipper
by Oblivion2 » Wed Aug 18, 2021 6:38 am
Imperialisium wrote:
Anna's Mansion
November 4th
The person who retrieved Etienne was none other than a youth. A young girl of approximately fourteen, maybe fifteen, years of age. Her pale skin and short pixie black hair gave her a modern scene vibe. Something Etienne, as a club owner in Los Angeles, would be well aware. However, there was something about the girl which belied this apparent extreme of youth. Yes, there it is, the way her blood flowed in her veins. She was a Revenant. A Revenant from no doubt an entire bred line of Revenants that operated loyally as servants for their vampiric master. "My Master bids thee welcome. You and your," she glanced in the direction of Thinbloods outside for a moment, "staff." She finished that with a touch of effort. Yes, thin bloods, caitiff to boot, were not necessarily the most well received in Kindred society. She turned politely, "If you would follow me, just yourself, the employees you've brought will have to wait in the foyer, should they choose to enter."
Leading the way and not checking to see if Etienne was following, which of course he would be, she pushed open a set of doors to reveal a long gallery. Tables, chairs, and a raised dais to one side were a beautiful woman with raven black hair touched with blue sat. Her electric green eyes shown in the darkness while rose red lips lay with mute expression. Her hands clutched the arms of her plain throne. A pair of Rothai bearing halberds, in full livery, stood at the base of the dais. A further two guarded the interior by the doors while another four were about the gallery.
The gallery itself was full of milling about, socializing, vampires. In one corner lurked Bulehard, the Nosferatu Elder, with his ilk. Some surviving Ventrue and Toreadors discussing or possible flirting for one couldn't be sure. A couple Gangrel off to the side. With all the rest from Tremere to Brujah in between.
The Revenant child led Etienne forth, more than one pair of eyes watching him pass, as he was brought to within a few feet of the dais first step. Within a swinging blow's length from either Rothai and their halberds.
"I present Jean Luc Saint Francis, also going by the name of Etienne for short."
The young girl bowed before backing away. Anna's eyes flicked to Etienne. Boring into his own, into his skull, as if to peer into his very unlife powered brain. "I take it Janus is doing well? You are aware of the observances being conducted for this night?" She beckoned him to begin rolling off with the formalities. Tribute, any new kindred to be presented, concerns, a modern meeting of Prince and denizen of the former's territory was much more abridged than what it had been several centuries prior.
by Luminesa » Wed Aug 18, 2021 7:32 am
Finsternia wrote:Silvanus - Family Drama
Los Angeles, Brancroft-O'Malley Household
The Malkavian Elder's eyes scan Alexei. The not so subtle shakes and flinches, the quivering of his lips, his rattling fingers clenched behind fists. Alexei sees a frown on Silvanus' face as the vampire stares him down. Five years without correspondence. With his eyes from beyond dream and sleep he watched, waited, and observed. He watched this couple forced by fate and circumstance create a child, keeping a tiny candle aflame and alive in calm seas. The storm of Belial has passed, the thunder has quieted, and the raging winds were soothed. These poor little children adrift at sea, in a makeshift raft keeping themselves alive with a candle so feeble yet so bright. Alexei could have had said something about this new life. Silvanus quite adored children. Not for their innocence or any reason that includes the love of parenthood. They are beautiful little candles untainted by gray slate of mundane mortal life. They are feeble, fragile.
"...You speak of me as if I am without manners. As long as you've trained your dog not to bark nor bite the wrong tree... We won't have any problems." Silvanus lifts Alexei's chin with a pointer finger, his frown transforming into a gentle smile. He sees how time ravaged Alexei. Soft edges become sharper with time, whereareas what was once sharp became dull. Hints of wrinkles appear on his forehead as he scrunches his face in confusion and fear. "...You've become soft and dull... Is professorship really that difficult? Time isn't always gentle with its flow on you Kine..." He squints his eye in distaste at the word before letting Alexei go. He taps his cane on the ground and offers his arm to him. "Do please escort me in and introduce me to your family, Alexei. I would like to meet your beloved wife and daughter."
by Morrdh » Wed Aug 18, 2021 1:35 pm
by Luminesa » Sat Aug 21, 2021 5:40 pm
Morrdh wrote:Morri
“Morri? Kaya? We have company for the evening!” Alexei called out as he re-entered the house with a trio of people in tow, though she didn't buy into the look of reassurance that Alexei gave. She gave a look back that said I'm ready to start ripping heads off whilst out loud she asked. "...Guests?"
"Ye..." Said Morri when she saw Mikhailov enter. "Ye were at the church...five years ago..."
Though when Silvanus entered, Morri tensed up and it took great effort on her part to not instantly shift forms at eyeing eyes on the Kindred. She forced a smile and said, with a little bit of a growl creeping into her voice. "Who's this?"
At the table Kaya sit with the look of a child unsure of what was going on and whether or not the strangers could be trusted, her eyes darted back and forth between her mother and father looking for reassurance from both.
by Morrdh » Sat Aug 21, 2021 8:56 pm
Luminesa wrote:"Why hello, I indeed was at the church...Though we didn't exactly get much of a chance to talk," Mikhailov spoke, for the first time since he had piled into the limousine and then had arrived at Alexei's house.
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