Masquerade: Teardrops in Winter (Arc 4)(IC)

[Kingdom of Irhk]

Anna's Mansion

The abrupt arrival of Kensington had caused a murmur among the courtiers of the re-established Mansion. Even as Kensington was obviously allowed to pass through security and enter the building proper. The murmuring did not cease. Whispers and sly commentary circulated among the Clans membership in the Mansion. Even the Ghouls and Humans present traded hushed tones. Anna had, due to the late hour of the Night, instructed that Kensington be placed in a side gallery with a small table. There, Anna awaited with a glass of crimson liquid held in her right hand. She wore night clothes. It was actually somewhat unusual behavior to present oneself in such a manner. The warm pajama shirt hiding her supple bosom while the pants ended in a pair of warm red socks. The red and white pinstripes of the outfit accenting her figure.

"Such urgency in the tone of your message, Mister Kensington. I hope all is well for your enterprises? And what, do I owe this meeting for?" A voice of subtle bemusement and possible foreknowledge. Had Anna guessed his intent already? Had something given it away? It was certainly possible after all.

Kensington - Anna's Mansion

For a brief minute, Kensington had to recollect his thoughts. As a Toreador, beauty often had a quick access into his brain, which nearly immobilized him, and Anna's place - as well as Anna herself - seemed to nearly activate his fundamental flaw as a Kindred. Shaking the feeling off his own mind, he gestured for his assistant to stand by the door.

"Prince Anna, I beg your pardon for my unusual urgency in the matters that we will, hopefully, discuss today. My enterprises go well, indeed they are even better than what I could've imagined back in the first time I visited this city. In fact, they go oh so well that, as every healthy specimen, it attracts pests... and let's just say I currently lack the proper means to deal with them, which I'd like to do before it turns into an infestation.

As much as I'd love to partake in metaphors, I believe we will do so in another opportunity, since this night seems rather crowded at your estate, Prince. What I'd like is the formal title of Toreador Primogen in this city. Ms. Ito, please."

His assistant moved towards the table, a small folder on her hand: with a swift movement of his hand, Kensington opened up the folder, revealing the inventory of an art collection.

"Recently, my Sire had to... acquire the collection of someone who owed her a considerable amount of money and failed to keep up with the payment. Lady Helena can be tricky in her temper when defied, as some associates in common will be more than eager to attest, a trait I cannot say I do not share with her. There are exquisite musical items, paintings, creations that weren't ever catalogued, some of them inspired by Toreadores, as the legends may tell you.

This - in its entirety - is my offer to you, Prince Anna. So, what do you say, Prince? Am I fit to be the Primogen of my clan in your city?"

[Finsternia]

Silvanus - A Cold Dinner
Los Angeles, Brancroft-O'Malley Household

The slight frown upon the perfect, immaculate, and porcelain molded face of the old Vampire has never left ever since he has sat upon the head seat of the table. His eyes dart around, as if inspecting every possible flaw upon the room. His aura almost feels palatable, whispers from beyond that tickle the fancy and rake at the insecurities hidden deep within the psyche.

"Oh how drab is this furniture..."

"Such an unfilial family... To frown and disrespect a senior, nay, an ancestor!"

"It's cold, mommy..."

"How disappointing."

Whispers and voices, perhaps from others or perhaps... simply intrusive voices of their own psyche and subconscious, claw at Alexei's and Mikhailov's minds as Silvanus slowly cuts through his food and eats stiffly with the mannerisms of bygone centuries. Sylvester attends by his side, putting on table cloth upon his lap and person as well as serving him the cake that Alexei has brought out. "...Quite adequate, I must say. You have found a passable wife, dear Alexei." He holds up a fork with a piece of the cake, watching it crumble and fall. His eyes follow each crumbling piece as if divining some sort of future from its motions. Like buildings falling through the ages, brought ruin by revolutions and petty rivalry, of machinations that span centuries before the same walls were erected. The piece obscures Kaya as well as Alexei, but the mortal Inquisitor could feel that the Elder could see him clearly even if he would be chained beneath the waves miles and miles away.

Sweets made of flour, eggs, sugars, flavorings. Like relationships built upon necessities and the unsavory, like tasteless and bitter flour and unsavory raw eggs, forcibly unified by the sweetness of things such as love. Heat coagulates it all. Perhaps the passion surrounding the act forged it together... perhaps it was lust who did and managed to nail the entire facade together, all in order to create a tumbling, sickly sweet, and overly decorated cake that Silvanus holds aloft with his fork. All of mortal relationships, built by tempestuous actions, forged by senseless passions, and easily mocked and crumbled by a cold and unfeeling reminder and action. The Malkavian Lord puts it within his mouth and a practiced smile blossoms upon his face, his cheeks rosy and flushed by blood, like how a mortal would react with delight and happiness. "...This has certainly been a delicacy... and young Kaya loves sweets, I presume?" He smiles towards Kaya and for once closes his eyes as he smiles. The first blink of the night within these walls.

Dinner continues as Silvanus eats and finishes his dessert, softly wiping his lips of cream and frosting as he disappointingly looks at his glass bereft of wine and is rather filled with pedestrian water. He takes hold of it and sips, before smiling at Alexei. "...Where has your wife gone? I haven't even managed to speak well with her... to talk about blessings and greetings... but I guess she has her own problems... and people to speak with instead of I." Silvanus slowly puts down his glass of water, never breaking eye contact with Alexei as he folds his hands upon his lap. "...Am I uninvited, Alexei?"

[Luminesa]

Alexei - The Hostest With the Mostest (Stress)

Those voices. Somehow, they always followed Silvanus and never ceased to make the room colder. He hoped that Kaya could not hear them, as she would not understand and would be even more frightened. Alexei was used to them, however, and he did his best to ignore them. He took a bite of his cake, and seemed glad with the results. It was quite sweet, not burned, and he managed to make the buttercream thick, but not cement. He watched Silvanus eat as well, and noticed that he said little. At the very least, perhaps he would like the cake.

Morri and Connor took their time speaking outside, which would not normally bother him. However, the friction in this Bancroft house would not die. At least Silvanus finally started some small talk about the cake. He called it ‘adequate’, which was high enough praise for him. He could feel his chest exhale involuntarily as he listened to his uncle speak. “…Thank you, Uncle, though I think Morri and I have agreed that I seem to be the wife. Not that I am ashamed of that in any way…If Kostya would admit he was your wife, perhaps we’d be closer to killing the stigma that men cannot be nurturers a little faster…”

Mikhailov gave a funny smirk as he bit into his cake. Somewhere between amusement and continued embarrassment. He knew Silvanus had him whipped, even after his heroic deeds in the church basement against Baal five years prior. Part of him was still that hero, and the way he moved and sat was more self-aware than he had been before he had met Silvanus. A blush even crept to his face after he finished biting into his cake.

“As for Kaya, yes. She does love sweets. Which I am glad to make for her within reason,” he answered, once again giving his sweet daughter a reassuring smile. Meeting a relative one did not understand was frightening enough, and having a relative like Silvanus could be very hard for any child to comprehend at such a young age.

Once the dinner ended, however, so the pleasantries seemed to vanish as well. The Malkavian had sensed that something was wrong between Morri and with whoever she was visiting. Silvanus held himself in a proper fashion and put his hands in his lap, looking dignified and beautiful. Yet his words were subtle in their threat. A vampire hated being uninvited. Yet Alexei was quick to try and save the evening.

“She had some personal business which pulled her away from dinner. Rather unceremoniously, but it’s not her fault. It also does not mean you are uninvited, Uncle. Things happen, I suppose. Please, if you would like any wine I still have plenty.” He returned the unblinking gaze, and for a moment they looked like twins. He even folded his own hands in his lap to demonstrate his sense of properness.

[Morrdh]

Connor - Los Angeles

"Morrigan, Morrigan... I'd say that the smell of trouble would be weaker after you became a mother, but I guess some things never change."

He moved away from the back of a pick-up truck: different from the short hair and well trimmed mustache he often used, Connor's hair was now a long, red mane that went past his shoulders if it wasn't put entirely backwards, reaching the middle of his back. The mustache gave way for a huge, somewhat recently washed beard that extended to his chest, giving him the looks of a traveler who spent so much time alone he forgot the importance to present himself in a clean way.

"Y'know, I wonder what you did to force Cait's hand to tap all the tiny numbers of my phone to call me... but considering how many Kinfolk looked me on the way here and how this entire street has its sights locked on your house, and obviously, the faint smell of the Wyrm around here, I imagine that once again you found yourself locked in with Kindred.

So tell me, Morri: how's family life so far? And what the fuck did you get yourself into this time?"

Morri

Morri revealed herself, silently cursing that she overlooked the fact that her often used Gift didn't mask her scent. Either way, Connor knew she was there and so she might as well get this encounter over with. "This been...interesting, having to balance things with the pack and all."

"Fer once, I haven't gotten meself inta anything." She countered. "This time it's kinda on Alexei."

"We had an unexpected guest, a leech, turn up. Apparently he's related ta Alexei in some way, but he's creepy as heck." Explained Morri. "There's a..Mage I think with him, a friend of Alexei so it see-..."

Morri cut short her sentence and spun round, her sixth sense alerting her to somebody approaching them. Though all she could spy was a dark haired man, but there was something about him that she couldn't quite place but she did notice a distinct lack of the Wyrm's scent. Some random passer-by?

She couldn't say for sure, but kept her eye on the man to see whether he continued on his way or not.

[Luminesa]

Connor - Los Angeles

"Morrigan, Morrigan... I'd say that the smell of trouble would be weaker after you became a mother, but I guess some things never change."

He moved away from the back of a pick-up truck: different from the short hair and well trimmed mustache he often used, Connor's hair was now a long, red mane that went past his shoulders if it wasn't put entirely backwards, reaching the middle of his back. The mustache gave way for a huge, somewhat recently washed beard that extended to his chest, giving him the looks of a traveler who spent so much time alone he forgot the importance to present himself in a clean way.

"Y'know, I wonder what you did to force Cait's hand to tap all the tiny numbers of my phone to call me... but considering how many Kinfolk looked me on the way here and how this entire street has its sights locked on your house, and obviously, the faint smell of the Wyrm around here, I imagine that once again you found yourself locked in with Kindred.

So tell me, Morri: how's family life so far? And what the fuck did you get yourself into this time?"

Morri

Morri revealed herself, silently cursing that she overlooked the fact that her often used Gift didn't mask her scent. Either way, Connor knew she was there and so she might as well get this encounter over with. "This been...interesting, having to balance things with the pack and all."

"Fer once, I haven't gotten meself inta anything." She countered. "This time it's kinda on Alexei."

"We had an unexpected guest, a leech, turn up. Apparently he's related ta Alexei in some way, but he's creepy as heck." Explained Morri. "There's a..Mage I think with him, a friend of Alexei so it see-..."

Morri cut short her sentence and spun round, her sixth sense alerting her to somebody approaching them. Though all she could spy was a dark haired man, but there was something about him that she couldn't quite place but she did notice a distinct lack of the Wyrm's scent. Some random passer-by?

She couldn't say for sure, but kept her eye on the man to see whether he continued on his way or not.

Nightingale - Strangers In The Night

Ives did not think the two people who were arguing would notice him. He watched them, and heard a little of their conversation. Apparently two strange and powerful figures were in town, not too far from where he was standing. One was a Mage, and another was a “creep”. With a chill in his back, he considered the possibilities.

Nosterafu, Malkavian, Tzimisce, or-God forbid-Lasombra or Giovanni. Any of those sorts of Kindred would be especially worrisome to find in someone’s home. Yet he did not think of them as pests to be removed. Rather, he found them to be the most unstable, the ones who could hurt the most people, and the ones who were the most incorrigible.

He wondered if he should approach the house, or perhaps find some way to draw the being away from the home. Sometimes even powerful vampires still found themselves attracted to beautiful music. He could not fight any such vampires, not to his knowledge. He also was not interested in a fight. The two Garou in front of him were more well-suited for combat, especially the large man whose huge, fierce physique continued to catch his eyes.

Yet the young woman was the one who spotted him, and who kept her eyes on him. He decided to risk himself, for better or for worse, by approaching the duo. “…Hello Miss. It seems you happened to notice me. I hope you will forgive me for my intrusion, I do not mean any harm. My name is Nightingale, and…I overheard some mention of a ‘creep’? Unfortunately, I am aware of the wiles of many stronger Kindred, who tend to be…‘creepy’. If I may be of any assistance, perhaps I can help to keep the peace somehow and to…avoid some sort of fallout.” His eyes occasionally flickered to Connor, but he kept eye-contact with Morri as well.

[Kingdom of Irhk]

Morri

Morri revealed herself, silently cursing that she overlooked the fact that her often used Gift didn't mask her scent. Either way, Connor knew she was there and so she might as well get this encounter over with. "This been...interesting, having to balance things with the pack and all."

"Fer once, I haven't gotten meself inta anything." She countered. "This time it's kinda on Alexei."

"We had an unexpected guest, a leech, turn up. Apparently he's related ta Alexei in some way, but he's creepy as heck." Explained Morri. "There's a..Mage I think with him, a friend of Alexei so it see-..."

Morri cut short her sentence and spun round, her sixth sense alerting her to somebody approaching them. Though all she could spy was a dark haired man, but there was something about him that she couldn't quite place but she did notice a distinct lack of the Wyrm's scent. Some random passer-by?

She couldn't say for sure, but kept her eye on the man to see whether he continued on his way or not.

Nightingale - Strangers In The Night

Ives did not think the two people who were arguing would notice him. He watched them, and heard a little of their conversation. Apparently two strange and powerful figures were in town, not too far from where he was standing. One was a Mage, and another was a “creep”. With a chill in his back, he considered the possibilities.

Nosterafu, Malkavian, Tzimisce, or-God forbid-Lasombra or Giovanni. Any of those sorts of Kindred would be especially worrisome to find in someone’s home. Yet he did not think of them as pests to be removed. Rather, he found them to be the most unstable, the ones who could hurt the most people, and the ones who were the most incorrigible.

He wondered if he should approach the house, or perhaps find some way to draw the being away from the home. Sometimes even powerful vampires still found themselves attracted to beautiful music. He could not fight any such vampires, not to his knowledge. He also was not interested in a fight. The two Garou in front of him were more well-suited for combat, especially the large man whose huge, fierce physique continued to catch his eyes.

Yet the young woman was the one who spotted him, and who kept her eyes on him. He decided to risk himself, for better or for worse, by approaching the duo. “…Hello Miss. It seems you happened to notice me. I hope you will forgive me for my intrusion, I do not mean any harm. My name is Nightingale, and…I overheard some mention of a ‘creep’? Unfortunately, I am aware of the wiles of many stronger Kindred, who tend to be…‘creepy’. If I may be of any assistance, perhaps I can help to keep the peace somehow and to…avoid some sort of fallout.” His eyes occasionally flickered to Connor, but he kept eye-contact with Morri as well.

Connor - Los Angeles, near the Bancroft's Residence

"Kinda on Alexei? What he did this time, put too much gravy on the cake or something? Morri, they're deep in a Kinfolk neighbourhood, sets of eyes accompanied me all the way here and I just arrived... imagine the Wyrm's entourage that just arrived at your home and-"

Suddenly, Connor was softly interrupted by someone. He wasn't the brightest brain around, but only those from the same side of the Veil employed the word "Kindred" with such calm. The man presented himself as a mage, under the name "Nightingale".

'Morri, you are so unlucky that if you were old enough to get into a Sinatra show, I bet the man would lose his voice the moment you set foot on the place. One day, I am literally less than one hour into this city and of all the possible people in this city - no offense to you, Nightingale lad - you manage to gather, in the same neighbourhood, two Mages, a Kindred and two Garou. Argh..."

Not so gently running his hand through his hair - which looked more like a mane, considering its length - he paced around for some seconds before eventually stopping near Morri again.

"They probably won't try anything... but I will come by your house tomorrow. If this lovely bunch hangs around and you have, I don't know, a Malkavian in your house this street will probably be a bloodbath or something like that. They'll probably ask you where the fuck have you been in this time, so I strongly suggest you tell a white lie this time. And Mage, is there any place around here that we may wait until they leave the place?"

[Luminesa]

Nightingale - Exchanging Glances

So the musical Mage’s suspicions confirmed themselves, based on Connor’s warnings about what he had seen, as he had entered the neighborhood. Kinfolk. So the person inside of Alexei’s house was indeed a powerful Kindred of some sort. He turned and looked in the direction of the house as Connor pointed to it. He then looked back over at the Garou. He was gruff and frustrated, and even seemed to complain about his appearance. Yet he could not help but keep his eyes on him.

Connor ran his hands through his hair, and Nightingale could not help but notice the delicate way his hands moved, despite his hulking frame. When the older Garou was lost in thought, the darkness of his eyes seemed illuminated by a subtle beauty. He was a leader, charismatic and assured, underneath his angry and grumbling exterior. “…If a Malkavian that powerful is within the house, sir…the rest of the neighborhood will most likely stay away. Chances are that he is an ally of the Prince, or whoever currently has control over the Sabbat. I have heard that a power struggle has taken place…” he quietly suggested. He figured that he could calm Connor and Morri’s nerves about an all-out neighborhood brawl by suggesting what he knew.

He then made a point to listen to Connor’s instructions to Morri. He would return to this location to check for any signs of violence. “…Any places close? Ah…” Nightingale’s eyes scanned the shadowy streets, looking for anything beside the apartments which lined both sides. “…Nearby there are several shops, a U-Haul warehouse, and a diner. Quiet places outside of the neighborhood which might give you some place to relax. Then again, I don’t know if you intend for conventional relaxation, given you are hiding to avoid any sort of violence…”

A moment of realization seized him as he saw Connor’s eyes in the streetlight. Bright-green and focused. They seemed to have an under-glow, even while the world around them was so murky, blending the buildings and people together like a multitude of paints dipped together into water. “Goodness, his eyes are beautiful…” He shook his head for a split second, and then faced Connor again. He also gave a nod and a smile to Morri, to assure her that he was not completely ignoring her. He simply did not know how to react to Connor’s…face. “If you also require of my services to keep away other Kindred, I will do so, in order to help keep the peace,” he suggested.

[Morrdh]

"Kinda on Alexei? What he did this time, put too much gravy on the cake or something? Morri, they're deep in a Kinfolk neighbourhood, sets of eyes accompanied me all the way here and I just arrived... imagine the Wyrm's entourage that just arrived at your home and-"

Suddenly, Connor was softly interrupted by someone. He wasn't the brightest brain around, but only those from the same side of the Veil employed the word "Kindred" with such calm. The man presented himself as a mage, under the name "Nightingale".

'Morri, you are so unlucky that if you were old enough to get into a Sinatra show, I bet the man would lose his voice the moment you set foot on the place. One day, I am literally less than one hour into this city and of all the possible people in this city - no offense to you, Nightingale lad - you manage to gather, in the same neighbourhood, two Mages, a Kindred and two Garou. Argh..."

Not so gently running his hand through his hair - which looked more like a mane, considering its length - he paced around for some seconds before eventually stopping near Morri again.

"They probably won't try anything... but I will come by your house tomorrow. If this lovely bunch hangs around and you have, I don't know, a Malkavian in your house this street will probably be a bloodbath or something like that. They'll probably ask you where the fuck have you been in this time, so I strongly suggest you tell a white lie this time. And Mage, is there any place around here that we may wait until they leave the place?"

Morri

"Mórrígan Ní Mháille." Morri said to the newcomer in her Irish accent as she spoke the Gaelic version of her name before she turned back to Connor. "As I said, this leech seems ta be related ta Alexei and wanted ta see Kaya...that's me sprog by the way."

"Lie? Moi?" Added Morri in response to Connor's suggestion as her own green eyes lit with mischievous intent. "Who do ye think ya talkin' ta?"

Despite standing at least a head shorter than Connor, Morri certainly seemed to be full of spirit and filled with a monstrous fury that belied her small stature. She stood and cocked her head as her emerald eyes regarded Nightingale for a moment, her face framed by her long red hair. At last she spoke. "A Mage eh? From Old Blighty no less...."

[Luminesa]

"Kinda on Alexei? What he did this time, put too much gravy on the cake or something? Morri, they're deep in a Kinfolk neighbourhood, sets of eyes accompanied me all the way here and I just arrived... imagine the Wyrm's entourage that just arrived at your home and-"

Suddenly, Connor was softly interrupted by someone. He wasn't the brightest brain around, but only those from the same side of the Veil employed the word "Kindred" with such calm. The man presented himself as a mage, under the name "Nightingale".

'Morri, you are so unlucky that if you were old enough to get into a Sinatra show, I bet the man would lose his voice the moment you set foot on the place. One day, I am literally less than one hour into this city and of all the possible people in this city - no offense to you, Nightingale lad - you manage to gather, in the same neighbourhood, two Mages, a Kindred and two Garou. Argh..."

Not so gently running his hand through his hair - which looked more like a mane, considering its length - he paced around for some seconds before eventually stopping near Morri again.

"They probably won't try anything... but I will come by your house tomorrow. If this lovely bunch hangs around and you have, I don't know, a Malkavian in your house this street will probably be a bloodbath or something like that. They'll probably ask you where the fuck have you been in this time, so I strongly suggest you tell a white lie this time. And Mage, is there any place around here that we may wait until they leave the place?"

Morri

"Mórrígan Ní Mháille." Morri said to the newcomer in her Irish accent as she spoke the Gaelic version of her name before she turned back to Connor. "As I said, this leech seems ta be related ta Alexei and wanted ta see Kaya...that's me sprog by the way."

"Lie? Moi?" Added Morri in response to Connor's suggestion as her own green eyes lit with mischievous intent. "Who do ye think ya talkin' ta?"

Despite standing at least a head shorter than Connor, Morri certainly seemed to be full of spirit and filled with a monstrous fury that belied her small stature. She stood and cocked her head as her emerald eyes regarded Nightingale for a moment, her face framed by her long red hair. At last she spoke. "A Mage eh? From Old Blighty no less...."

Nightingale - Wandering in the Night

“A lovely name, Morrigan. Or, Morri, as this gentleman calls you,” Nightingale answered Morri. When he called Connor a “gentleman”, he turned back and give a quiet smile, innocuous and proper. Connor, the hard-drinking, gun-toting, truck-driving Garou pack-leader, seemed like a gentleman in his eyes. Yet he needed to focus on Morri, as ignoring a lady would be rude.

“Ah yes, I am from Britain. I suppose my accent makes that somewhat clear. I’ve lived in the States for a few years but…I have never been able to hide my accent well. It continues to return.” He chuckled, and continued to give a thoughtful smile when Morri joked about lying. Both of them seemed pleasant enough, and he was glad that they did not feel so threatened by his presence. Perhaps he could be helpful after all.

Turning and nodding to the violin case by his side, he mentioned, “This violin of mine is my instrument, but I suppose also my…Rote? I suppose a Mage should not tell his secrets, but that is not so much of a secret to keep. We are all on the same side of the Masquerade, I hope. Now…perhaps the two of you can hide, and when the Malkavian leaves I can perhaps make sure he does not come in this direction.” Of course, he would be foolish to directly stop Silvanus, but a fight between a Kindred and a Garou never ended well. The risk is high, but I’d rather not bind his wounds…well… He took a look over at Connor. Not tonight, perhaps? A small, embarrassed blush crept to his face, and he shook the thoughts away.

[Morrdh]

Morri

"Well...I'm actually Irish by birth." Morri admitted. "Though strangely I appear ta have missed out on the luck."

"Gotta go." She added. "Got others waiting fer me, so I'll leave ye in the delightful company o' Mister Grumpy-Arse here. Sláinte!"

As she uttered those last few words, Morri was already moving in order to put some distance between herself and the original Pack Alpha. Though truth be told she wasn't fully certain on what it took to stoke Connor's rage these days, though the Ahroun did seem more world wary compared to the last time she'd seen him. Regardless, she kept moving and ducked behind some handy bushes to shift into Lupine form to head back to the Bancroft residence.

Much to her disappointment as she approached the house, Silvanus' malicious aura still lingered heavily in the air. She made her way round to the back of the house before shifting back to Homid form, then paused and sighed before entering through the backdoor. The others were still seated at the table eating dinner despite the tense undercurrent, but thankfully it looked as though the Kindred had been fairly restrained. Morri gave Alexei a quick peck on the cheek as she went to sit down, saying out loud in an apologetic tone. "Sorry...some neighbourhood watch stuff came up."

[Luminesa]

Alexei - The Best For Last

Alexei could not describe the relief he felt when Morri finally reappeared through the doorway. He held himself together, however, as she came and sat with him. He did not want to offend his Uncle, though he became increasingly worried with his desire to simply have this awkward, heavy conversation with the little one at the table. He was also staring into the souls of everyone, which made eating cake more difficult.

He also had questions to ask about Silvanus’s activities, and about why he seemed to have changed his aura over the last few years. He needed to speak to his uncle one-on-one, not at the table in front of his family. He had been determined to keep the Masquerade intact for Kaya’s sake. He also wished to simply have dinner with his uncle alone, so that the pressure to perform and to not be anxious could be off his back. Soon, for this evening, that pressure would hopefully lift.

“Ah! Good to see you’re safe and sound then.” Alexei gave Morri a kiss on the cheek, and smiled at her as she sat beside him. He then turned to Silvanus and nodded. “We need to have more dinners like this, and I assure you that for the next one I’ll try to be more prepared with more food. And better dessert. I promise I’ll keep practicing,” he explained, keeping his pleasant and peaceful tone. He then nodded to Morri. “I believe Kaya will be needing to go take her bath and to go to bed soon,” he suggested.

Of course Alexei wanted Kaya to know her family. She did not have much, but she had more than her father had when he was a child. He wanted her to know the kind, gentle, and helpful Silvanus, as much as the strange and unusual Silvanus. He was still her grand-uncle. “And we’ll have to talk more about what Kaya might want for her birthday. I’m sure if we put our heads together, we can think of quite the nice gift.”

“Not literally, I hope,” Mikhailov muttered from behind his glass. His fellow at the table shot him an exasperated look, but then winked to Kaya. The Mage, in the meantime, also smiled at Kaya. “I’m sure I can also bring a gift for her. After all, her father is my longtime friend, I owe it to him, I think.”

Nightingale - Smokey Streets

For better or for worse, Morri had decided to leave Nightingale and Connor to themselves. Her mischievous streak never seemed to have an ending, though Ives did not mind. He would be glad to learn more about the werewolf who seemed to have caught his eye out of nowhere. However, these streets were not the best place for such conversation. “…I believe it would be best for us to move somewhere else, as we may draw suspicion from others by simply standing here. If you would be glad to talk, then perhaps we could go speak wherever you best feel comfortable. That is…if I am not imposing.”

Nightingale almost felt as though he was asking Connor for a date. In reality, he wanted to get both of them away from the Malkavian in the area. If Morri had returned to the source of that strange, frightening power, then he hoped that she had the situation under control. As a result, he and Connor could move elsewhere and be on standby for the evening. If they were not needed at all, at the very least he could make a new friend.

[Morrdh]

“Ah! Good to see you’re safe and sound then.” Alexei gave Morri a kiss on the cheek, and smiled at her as she sat beside him. He then turned to Silvanus and nodded. “We need to have more dinners like this, and I assure you that for the next one I’ll try to be more prepared with more food. And better dessert. I promise I’ll keep practicing,” he explained, keeping his pleasant and peaceful tone. He then nodded to Morri. “I believe Kaya will be needing to go take her bath and to go to bed soon,” he suggested.

Morri

"Oh right, yes...I'll deal with that then." Replied Morri before turning to her daughter. "C'mon little one, time ta get ye sorted."

"But I'm not tired." Kaya protested before yawning.

"Course ya not." Morri smiled, before giving Alexei a quick kiss on the cheek and saying. "I shalt see thee once this little monster is dealt with me love."

With that, Morri picked up Kaya in her arms and carried the little girl out of the room. Morri allowed herself a small smile, this was the closest she got to what could be called a 'normal' life. It also sparked memories of her and her twin sister growing up as well as her parents, a great many happy memories she had despite a tinge of sadness of not having seen either for quite some time. It was something she deeply cherished even if it was oh so fleeting and brief when she occasionally got to actually be involved with her family.

[Luminesa]

Alexei - Under a Troubled Moon

Once the evening ended, with Kaya in bed, Alexei was glad to finally have quiet in the house again. Cleaning dishes, checking on Kaya in her room, listening to the clock ticking silently…he was relieved by the quiet. Morri had done her part to keep the peace, and so the evening would end without the house or neighborhood being destroyed.

And yet he was still uneasy.

Getting into pajamas and grabbing a sip of coffee, Alexei stared out the window and wondered on the days to come. With Silvanus and Mikhailov back, the Masquerade would follow. Anna was still in limbo, as was the Camarilla. The Sabbat would most likely make a move. Connor was in the wings, both a trustworthy ally and a maverick. In a way, things were changing. Yet they also stayed the same. Many of the same pieces moving around a chessboard, goaded by invisible forces which watched with mild amusement.

“…Thank you, by the way, Morri. I…know we don’t get many peaceful evenings together, and this one was…eventful,” he explained, keeping his voice low so his daughter would not hear. “…but it’s good to at least get through it with you.”

Nightingale - Sweet Wine Dreams

The drama of the evening seemed to end on a lulling note. Connor would no doubt remain on-edge with a Malkavian in his friend’s neighborhood. Yet Nightingale could not do very much about the situation, and so with the pleasant meeting of two new souls, he headed to his home.

Being a lonely musician who still lived in comfort and luxury was a dichotomy of emotions. He felt happy to come home to this safe, spacious loft after an anxious day. Yet his only companions were his instruments and his shadow. As he entered his home, he gave a deep, uncertain sigh. Once he placed his violin case on the floor, he went to the kitchen to make himself a glass of wine.

He had lived in Los Angeles for five years now, and he was still felt a disconnect from his surroundings. The hints of strawberry which reached his nose from the glass gave a perfume to his emptiness, which oftentimes he fought to fill with music. He was successful in that regard…but still felt alone once the notes settled. Something about Connor had been different, however, a spark of some positive feeling. Animated, strong, and loud, his presence broke the monotony of his surroundings. The Janus had become a buzz in his ears, but Connor’s voice remained distinct. As he sipped his glass of wine and sat at the kitchen table, he stared out over the city from his suite and scratched his head.

“…Hm. I would like to hear his voice again, I think,” he admitted to the glass in his hand.

[Imperialisium]

Decrepit Church, Edge of the Mojave


Chipped, yellowed, painted walls revealed the rotting wooden framework of the building. Its old bones barely keeping its leaky roof aloft. The simple cross which had been mounted on the small steeple above the front entrance having long snapped. Crucifix lying in the brown dirt next to the warped doorway. The church itself was not entirely anomalous. Even as the glittering city of Los Angeles' sprawled to the West, the church sat squat and dark amid neighboring abandoned buildings. Forgotten to the sands of time when their residents had all moved on or perished. A half ruined General Store there, a few collapsed houses there, a dried up well sitting forlorn amidst it all.

Inside the church, however, were signs of life, or at the very least habitation. Candles flickered as a dozen individuals shuffled on their feet humming hymns from a blackened book. The spines cracked and creased in their hands. What these individuals were doing however could be seen as anything but the macabre. For before them sat an altar to a fanged effigy of Jesus Christ. Hanging right side up on an upside-down cross. Mouth agape in a yawning fanged maw. Betwixt the group sat a young man, blind and sullen. Obviously, uneased but not terribly perturbed by the happenings around him.

The hymns rose in pitch until one by one the candles blew out, and the group was silent. Barely perceiving the entrance of another individual who melded among the shadows. Whispers, emitting from the Shadow came across the group who began to wail in pleas for 'vision' and 'sight'.

"Do not be afraid," said the voice from the Shadows, and the blind man straightened his spine. Responding with, and quite ecstatically, "I can hear him! You, an Angel of the Lord..."

"Do you wish to see?"

The young man let his chin rise and fall in agreement.

"Do you wish to partake of the Eucharist? To taketh thine blood unto your own?"

Here the man paused as if unsure. The creature in the shadows maneuvered closer. The young man now slowly leaning back in his chair, "H-how? How do I know th-."

"Faith in the father is rewarded to the truly faithful. Fear and uncertainty are the paths to damnation and despair."

The young man was still unsure, only managing a meek affirmative with his head. The creature enveloped the young man who squirmed and gaped in brief pain. Before the pleasure of the feeding took hold. Face paling as the darkness suckled on his very life. His very blood. But when it seemed like he was about to pass out, the creature relented, and with a swift movement of its shadowy hands it cupped the man's head back and let four little red droplets splash down into the back of the blind man's throat. The man gasped for air and fell to the floor. To the floor, he could see the floor! Milky white clouds dissipating as for the first time in over a decade the young man could now see before him. The shadow withdrawing out the church as the cultists raised their hands in prayer to the Angel that had been sent to bless the young man with renewed sight!

[Morrdh]

Alexei - Under a Troubled Moon

Once the evening ended, with Kaya in bed, Alexei was glad to finally have quiet in the house again. Cleaning dishes, checking on Kaya in her room, listening to the clock ticking silently…he was relieved by the quiet. Morri had done her part to keep the peace, and so the evening would end without the house or neighborhood being destroyed.

And yet he was still uneasy.

Getting into pajamas and grabbing a sip of coffee, Alexei stared out the window and wondered on the days to come. With Silvanus and Mikhailov back, the Masquerade would follow. Anna was still in limbo, as was the Camarilla. The Sabbat would most likely make a move. Connor was in the wings, both a trustworthy ally and a maverick. In a way, things were changing. Yet they also stayed the same. Many of the same pieces moving around a chessboard, goaded by invisible forces which watched with mild amusement.

“…Thank you, by the way, Morri. I…know we don’t get many peaceful evenings together, and this one was…eventful,” he explained, keeping his voice low so his daughter would not hear. “…but it’s good to at least get through it with you.”

Morri

In contrast to Alexei, Morri had a more indifferent approach to night clothing by preferring to wear an oversized t-shirt. Her normally loose hair had uncommonly been tied back into a low ponytail whilst she did her teeth, giving her an almost tamer looking appearance. In-between stokes of the toothbrush she mumbled responses before practically hawking out a spit of toothpaste and whipping her face clean.

"It was nice I have ta admit...." Morri said. "...Even with ya uncle."

"Tis good ta get a break from pack business, I mean we don't get ta spend that much time with each other and we should really make the most o' it."

[Luminesa]

Alexei - Burning Behind My Eyes

Alexei had to laugh as Morri gave the aside about his uncle. Perhaps they would eventually warm to each other, in a strange way. Somehow, Silvanus had a way of forming those sorts of tenuous-but-bearable relationships with others. In other cases, such as with Mikhailov, those relationships were even stranger. He was just glad for the silence which finally fell over the evening. He walked over to Morri, and as soon as she finished washing her face he kissed her gently on the lips. He had not necessarily had many lovers before he met her, and she was around so little. He enjoyed the feeling of being able to love someone, to make them comfortable and to be almost a part of them. She felt wonderful to embrace, when he held her and felt her curly red locks under his chin.

"Hopefully we'll be able to spend more time together. One of these days. But...it's good to enjoy now, isn't it?" he whispered into her hair.

Even such peaceful moments did not last forever, however, especially given what was brewing in the deserts and perhaps somewhere even lower.

Alexei remembered the first time he was certain he had seen a Sabbat. He was barely seventeen, about to graduate from high school. Lasombra.

Lasombra were particularly sinister, even among Sabbats who were known for their horrendous, wicked, twisted desires and actions as clans. For Alexei in particular, they had a deep, searing darkness which burned into the very thing around which he had based his life-religion. They loved to twist, to torture, and to destroy anything pure and holy surrounding the religious, the pure, the sacred. Always blessed with the curse of knowing too much, he had been heading home from a study hall before an exam, and once again he had decided to walk in the darkness. His job, after all, did not offer him breaks or holidays. He was exhausted from a long day in classes, but someone he had passed in the street had given him a strange look. Someone who knew what he was.

Alexei had paused, and had looked behind him. Once again, his backpack was a chain keeping him tied to a normal life, but not a strong one. The Lasombra was dressed like a seminarian, but something was wrong with him. Pale, cold, and piercing eyes. He would have been a Toreador if not for the aura of something even darker than a normal Camarilla Kindred. Oftentimes, when speaking to Camarilla, the young Inquisitor was fine to entertain them or to talk without killing. But Sabbat got no such mercy. Not since the Rose Woman.

The "man" hissed, and Alexei turned his body slowly, pivoting with all the grace of a ballet dancer. His sword drawn, he instigated. The vampire was luckily a weaker one, but a weaker one was still stronger than the average human. He was lucky that nobody was necessarily watching as he chased the vampire through the streets, his backpack left far behind.

The only person who seemed to have any clue that something wild had happened was the man who was driving through an intersection and whose car got punched on the roof by the vampire who jumped over it. Even he did not have time to react, as both combatants rushed out toward the desert. Both of them in an open field, the wind whipping the sands into a frenzy. The winds were hot and knowing, the sky was clear and observant. A tainted soul was about to meet a bloodied end.

"You'll kill a priest, little boy? All this chasing and hiding, and you'll face me and kill me in robes? Little half-blood sinner?" He had an evil grin that would make the Pope bald.

Alexei kept silent, his Faith sustaining him even as his muscles wanted to turn to dust. He moved toward the man, his clothes now covered in hot sand and sweat. He could run anywhere, but so could his opponent. Taking aim, he rushed him until he managed to pivot behind him. A slash to the back of the neck, and he managed to cut into something. Even worse, his sword held his Faith's power, and so the vampire's "skin" was burning. Once he got a single attack, he aimed for the heart and got it.

The vampire was burning, the power antithesis to his being boiling his Vitae. He was glad to get such a quick death, but his priestly garments fell on the ground as he was gone. Alexei, in the meantime, found his sweater once again covered in blood. Burying it in the sand, he left both pairs of garments behind. By the time the police found the clothing, Alexei was gone and the incident was left a mystery. But his heart had burned with the heat of the daytime sun.

But now, Alexei's eyes shot open in bed, and he found himself staring at the ceiling. For some reason, he could feel his skin crawling, and not just because of the dream he had. No, something was calling to him. Something vile that needed a cleanse. His stomach turned, and he drank a glass of water on the bedside table. He stared out the window, cursing the fact that the Masquerade rarely let him sleep, even on such a calm night as this.

[Kingdom of Irhk]

Connor Mac Domhnaill

As the sun once again rose to enlighten the City of Angels, its rays of light also made their way inside the room of the returning, yet still asleep. He was not suffering from any type of hangover, other than the one caused by the hurried voyage he did in the last days to rush back to LA. He did not know what Alexei and Morri were up to, yet he was certain that it was complicated: one of the reasons why he chose to be alone in the first days of his return.

Other ones, those he tried to hide, were obvious. He disliked the city, and the fact that it was the last resting place of his friend made the sights even worse. It was a complicated relationship: the city that bludgeoned him day after day, month after month was also the city that built the legend of a man that fought his way through hell itself, carrying the banner of the Garou with utter determination.

Yet the daily ritual that Connor realized, of bringing himself in front of a mirror to realize that he indeed survived another day, showed that his head was indeed unbowed, but it was bloodier than the usual. The hair was long as a mane and the beard, often kept shaven and the always trimmed moustache disappeared into something disordered that turned him into a man of the woods, a nearly legendary creature.

Duty called, and Connor could not ignore its call. He had to protect Morri, Alexei and the small Kaya, the shining offspring of such dark times. Cait still needed him. The sadness, the exhaustion, the wish for the days of old to come conflicted with the realization that no matter how many tears went through his face, they could not bring back what he wished.

Lifting his head, the reddened eyes met the determined grin he long lost. Los Angeles was a personal hell, yet it failed miserably on taking him down. Again and again, the menaces of the city found them unafraid and standing. Whoever creature wove his fate, it would fall to him: he was the master of his fate.

Rushing to the city once again, he made sure to stop at a barber, his eyes focusing on the reveal of his own face as his hair was cut: One that he thought long lost, rose once again, remembering him of a Connor lost to the passage of the years.

And with the same look that turned him into a near urban legend across the Garou community in Los Angeles, he was back... and headed to the docks that were his home.

[Luminesa]

Nightingale - Hidden Sickness

A restless night of sleep caused for Ives to pull himself out of bed a little earlier than usual. He had felt a general unease, one which had kept him from falling asleep for any longer than an hour per attempt. Yet then again, he was used to sleepless nights. Oftentimes they brought him inspiration for his music. Yet now he sat upright in his bed and stared out the window, into the shadowy visage of Los Angeles below.

He decided to get out of his bed and to take a walk, this time early in the morning. He felt a compulsion to find the source of his unease, and he figured that staying in bed would not bring him any closer to the answer. Los Angeles in the winter was not cold, even in the winter-still much warmer than London, and so he simply wore a cotton blazer over his shirt and slacks. Stepping into his boots and grabbing his violin case, he then left his quiet home for the morning.

“Blustery this morning, aren’t we…” he murmured, as he stepped out the door and onto the sidewalk. The presence of several powerful spirits moving around Los Angeles before dawn would have given him a shock years ago. Now, he was getting used to the sensation. Even if he was not a powerful Mage, he still felt that he was becoming more a part of the fabric of the Masquerade during such moments. Yet he had to wonder if such a particular powerful spirit was causing him such discomfort. He began to move in the general direction of the spirit, which led him further and further away from the mainland.

Eventually, he found himself moving toward the Pier, and he realized what he was following. Looking along the boardwalk, just a few minutes away, he could feel the pulse of a wild spirit, but not one to cause unease-at least, not for him. “…A good spirit?…Hm…No, they can hide their true auras, can’t they?…” At least the boardwalk was beautiful, and the Pacific shoreline appeared as a mighty, gentle, rippling boundary between now and eternity. He could watch it all morning, but he wanted to determine the mystery that was bothering him.

As he moved closer to the end of the boardwalk, he caught a glimpse, that of the Garou he had seen last night. A smile bloomed across his face, and he walked toward Connor’s blazing-red-haired visage. If he was not the source of the disturbed feeling, perhaps he could help to locate the source. “…Good morning, Connor. We meet again?” he called to him politely.

[Kingdom of Irhk]

Nightingale - Hidden Sickness

A restless night of sleep caused for Ives to pull himself out of bed a little earlier than usual. He had felt a general unease, one which had kept him from falling asleep for any longer than an hour per attempt. Yet then again, he was used to sleepless nights. Oftentimes they brought him inspiration for his music. Yet now he sat upright in his bed and stared out the window, into the shadowy visage of Los Angeles below.

He decided to get out of his bed and to take a walk, this time early in the morning. He felt a compulsion to find the source of his unease, and he figured that staying in bed would not bring him any closer to the answer. Los Angeles in the winter was not cold, even in the winter-still much warmer than London, and so he simply wore a cotton blazer over his shirt and slacks. Stepping into his boots and grabbing his violin case, he then left his quiet home for the morning.

“Blustery this morning, aren’t we…” he murmured, as he stepped out the door and onto the sidewalk. The presence of several powerful spirits moving around Los Angeles before dawn would have given him a shock years ago. Now, he was getting used to the sensation. Even if he was not a powerful Mage, he still felt that he was becoming more a part of the fabric of the Masquerade during such moments. Yet he had to wonder if such a particular powerful spirit was causing him such discomfort. He began to move in the general direction of the spirit, which led him further and further away from the mainland.

Eventually, he found himself moving toward the Pier, and he realized what he was following. Looking along the boardwalk, just a few minutes away, he could feel the pulse of a wild spirit, but not one to cause unease-at least, not for him. “…A good spirit?…Hm…No, they can hide their true auras, can’t they?…” At least the boardwalk was beautiful, and the Pacific shoreline appeared as a mighty, gentle, rippling boundary between now and eternity. He could watch it all morning, but he wanted to determine the mystery that was bothering him.

As he moved closer to the end of the boardwalk, he caught a glimpse, that of the Garou he had seen last night. A smile bloomed across his face, and he walked toward Connor’s blazing-red-haired visage. If he was not the source of the disturbed feeling, perhaps he could help to locate the source. “…Good morning, Connor. We meet again?” he called to him politely.

Connor - L. A. Docks

It was unavoidable: the docks and the waves near it reminded him of how hard it was to burn the body of his best friend to avoid it being the object of the nefarious purposes of the Wyrm-servants in this city. It reminded him of that faithful day where he lost a brother, one that could understand his rage more than himself did most of the times: a formidable duo in battle a lovely, brotherly bond outside of it.

Yet he snapped out of his thoughts by the particular, thick yet elegant British accent that came with a voice he knew, but not for so long. The Mage, one that also longed for the fight against the vampires, seemed to find him through some uncanny coincidence alongside the boardwalk.

"Eh, you're the bird-named Mage, aren't you? Sparrow, nah nah... Nightingale, yes, Nightingale. Indeed, we meet again, however I'd recommend you to not walk here with your hands inside your pockets... Garou guards here won't be exactly careful with the aim and I've been away for quite some time... we might run into some trouble around here, but don't worry. Walk with me, will you?"

Connor calmly walked towards the headquarters he so boldly established when he first arrived at Los Angeles: it certainly evolved from the improvised occupation he established, with the docks becoming a quite reliable source of income for the Fianna in the city, along their bars and investments. As much as he didn't want to, Connor felt a certain pride to it, yet the corners missed Derrick's stealthy presence.

"When we arrived here, Mr. Nightingale, we struggled to establish a safe presence here. City was a dead zone for Garou and Kinfolk alike, but... somehow, we survived. Constant pain in the ass of the vampires and their allies here, more than once... They tried to get this place away, but didn't manage to do so in the end. We lost good people... some of the best I've known, but made quite the noise, positive noise, back at home. Don't need to say where I am from with my charming accent, eh?"

As his surroundings became less and less crowded, out of a corner a guard popped up.

"- What's your business here?
- Came to talk with Cait.
- How do you know this name?
- Bloody genius... she called me.
- Bullshit.
- What? You think she'd call you?"

The guard grunted slightly, extending a baton towards Connor, grunting at the unknown's visitor behaviour. Taking two steps forward, his arm went up, as a loud growl could be heard from Connor. Of course, he couldn't judge the guard's actions: they likely believed that Connor no longer existed, or that someone could impersonate him, unlikely as his physique and appearance were. With a swift move to the left, Connor restrained the man's arm alongside his neck, before lifting him up and slamming him against the ground with an impressive strength, as the man's breath seemed to be taken out by the visitor's combat capability.

Connor walked towards, entering the wide, open area of the docks while the gates slowly opened, as Connor's gaze met the amount of armed guards readying their guns at him.

"- Stand down, stranger! Or this will be a bloody fight, hear me?
- Of course it will! Only if you are STUPID enough to fight me. Now, where the hell is Caitlin Donahue?"

The screams caught the attention of the captains of the security, those who were around long enough to recognize not only the voice, but the mannerisms and straightforward approach of their long missing friend. Slowly, the guards put their weapons down, their minds adjusting to the idea that Connor, the Fianna who established them in the city was indeed alive and returned to a city that most people dreamed to escape.

The hurried steps went down the stairs and went past the guards as Cait saw her long time friend alive once again, even if his company was a stranger to her. Rushing to the warrior Garou, she embraced him with a hug, in a rare display of affection by her part: the years he was absent took their toll on her, as she seemed to miss Connor's seemingly endless determination and ability to face the problems that L. A. placed to him.

"Connor, you could've called!"

With the near conflict properly calmed down, Connor, Cait and Nightingale were now at her office. A different vision from the improvised one Connor had, it was properly furnished, with the contacts of the Kinfolk - including those who kept an eye on Kaya and Morri - listed near the phone for any emergencies.

"Connor, I am glad you're back. Those from the old days missed you a lot, I guess. Lots of youngsters, as you just saw, still coming here to make a name for themselves in this wild city. Yes, I called you about Morri... but first. I don't know your companion... care to introduce yourself, stranger?"

[Luminesa]

Nightingale - Wolves and Crows

“Yes. I am Nightingale. It is good to be acquainted once again,” the musician responded with a smile. His face remained calm, but his heart began to feel some sort of hope. The Garou had not responded with hostility, but rather with wary friendliness. He certainly seemed to have a capacity for being amicable, underneath his gruff exterior. Given Connor’s signal that he could approach, Nightingale walked toward him and nodded to his violin case. “As for having my hands in my pockets, I do have one hand holding this instrument of mine, which I’d like to not break or lose by putting my hands in my pockets. And I would be glad to walk with you.”

The way Connor had asked him had felt more like a firm request than a question. He had that sort of nonchalant-yet-knowing attitude about him, as if he knew he could easily have what he wanted just by speaking. Yet his eyes were sharp. He knew he could also get what he wanted with violence, yet chose to be a gentleman. Nightingale was thus transfixed on him as he walked alongside the Garou leader.

Being focused on Connor, however, did not mean that the Mage forgot about his surroundings. While he felt a certain static while moving alongside him, Ives examined the changing atmosphere of the docks as they moved to the Garou base. Cold, watchful eyes, gloomy concrete buildings, darkened doorways which smelled of alcohol. He felt his left hand curl more tightly around the handle of his violin case.

Nightingale smiled as the Garou then explained the origins of his clan’s presence in Los Angeles. Like himself, Connor was an expatriate from another country. In the case of his new friend, however, his thick Irish accent was lovely and rich. Something about the way Connor described his own accent as “charming” made him radiate even more with a warm, hearty light, even as he described his own painful losses. “…Certainly. My wife was from Ireland, and I have visited the country many times. Beautiful place, beautiful people.” His own soft accent showed itself as he answered the Garoua’s question.

The friendly charm of the moment found a swift interruption, however, as Connor was questioned by guards at the gate of his own home. As the Garou guard immediately attempted to apprehend the guests, he found himself on the wrong end of Connor’s clawed grasp. His body rammed the ground as the Garou leader slammed him without a second thought, and Ives took a step back. He did not wish to fight, especially not with his sort of Magic, and so he watched his companion and hoped he was not needed to fight.

Soon, however, the smoke settled and they both were able to enter the Garou hideaway. A multitude of armed guards prepared to attack, only for Connor’s swift rebuke to disarm them. Nightingale felt a shudder in his back. Much like Etienne in the Janus nightclub, this particular man held considerable power. At a word or a shout, people could raise or lower their guns without question. He turned his eyes to watch them, only to hurry along with the Garou beside him as the guards granted them entry.

Finally, they hasted into a building and managed to find the aforementioned Caitlin Donahue, Connor’s dear friend. She had a tight grip on her Garou friend, and Nightingale could only smile once again at the warm embrace they shared. She then spoke to him with a measured, weary worry, much like that of a friend who has spent countless weeks crying and hoping and did not know what emotions to produce anymore. Yet she glowed as she spoke to Connor, and she had some spring to her step as she questioned Ives.

“Ah, I apologize. I have…hardly spoken since I entered this commune with your friend Connor. I go by Nightingale. I am a Mage, one who daylights…and…moonlights…as a musician. I found Connor as we were both concerned over the presence of powerful vampires in a nearby neighborhood. I hope you do not mind my accompanying your good friend here. I was searching for the source of a rather darkened aura I felt this morning, and while I do not believe it to be Connor, I am glad that I found him.”

[Oblivion2]

Etienne - Overture

Etienne watched the leather clad emissary with a carefully neutral expression. The kindred representing Alonso Fatina was as haughty and as arrogant as any Ventrue could be, but with hardly any redeeming qualities. He’d been crass with Etienne’s staff as they served him while he waited for the Janus’ master to meet with him. Even his walk and the way he’d casually settled himself into the chair across from the French Vampire’s chair spoke of a reckless arrogance that was unbecoming of a nightborn.

“You know what I’m going to say already.” The Red haired man said casually, his attitude almost indifferent. “You going to make me say it?”

While Etienne could have pushed the fact that the man had ignored more than a dozen pieces of social protocol and in doing so had deeply offended the master of the Janus’ sensibilities. “I presume nothing in matters of diplomacy.” Etienne said matter of factly, rather than what was on his mind. If this creature and his master wanted to dig their own graves, who was Etienne to stop them from doing so?

The red haired emissary shrugged, “Mr. Fatina categorically rejects your claim of overlordship over him and his brood. Says he’s been here in this town for sixty years, and that he won’t bow and scrape for some French upstart.”

“Canadian upstart.” Etienne interjects dryly before allowing the other vampire to continue. “He does however offer you the opportunity to relinquish your claim to the position of primogen and swear your allegiance to him.” Etienne made a show of looking displeased, but inwardly he couldn’t be more vindicated. He’d have his war, and his show of strength to keep the other Ventrue in the city in line. This foolish creature had just given him the opportunity to put his piece of the Kingdom to rights without Etienne having to instigate anything on his own. “I will of course, have to decline.” The Ventrue Primogen said with nary an expression save a raised eyebrow.

The emissary seemed surprised at Etienne’s words. Had he actually expected the older vampire to knuckle under and submit? “You are certain this is the message you will wish to relay to my master?”

“I was charged with the governance of the Ventrue in the city, and I mean to do so.” Etienne said, plucking a stray hair off of the front is his waistcoat. “Mr. Farina’s continued independence prevents me from completing my duties in a satisfactory manner. He must fall in line if I’m to keep my honour intact.”

“Are you threatening war?” The red haired man asked, his hackles raising somewhat. “I said no such thing.” The Frenchman said with no hint of emotion to betray his intentions, “Take my refusal to your master and let him think on what I said. Remind him of my need for him to do his duty. The city does not function if we don’t work together to keep the Masquerade.”

The red haired man got to his feet, nodding almost thoughtfully before disappearing out the door. Etienne waited the span of five mortal heartbeats before speaking aloud. “Alexander.”

A hidden door built into a bookcase opened up revealing Etienne’s tanned bodyguard. “Sir?”

“I’d like that man dead.” Etienne answered without any particular relish. “Ideally as he enters his master’s territory. Make it bloody enough Alonso takes notice, but obviously doesn’t break the Masquerade, and not near Janus. I want him to know it was me, but I’m not killing him in this house.”

“I can manage that easily enough.” The Brujah said with a hint of relish. He enjoyed the thought of shedding blood, not for the sake of violence itself but more as the pursuit of an art form. “Anything else?”

“Yes.” Etienne says with a nod, “Have Stapes reach out to those who have pledged their loyalty to us, have him collect a small tithe of bodies for the upcoming fight. We will do a majority of the lifting ourselves, if only to prove a point. But they may prove their loyalty by supporting our endeavours. Are the thin bloods ready?”

Alexander’s eyes showed a glimmer of dissatisfaction, for he held some prejudices against the creatures of the later generations. “As ready as I can make them.” He admits begrudgingly. “They’re hardly kindred, but they are motivated. What about our mortals?”

“I’d prefer not to involve them except as a clean up option. Though, have Stapes reach out to Leftenant Johns. I’d like any of Alonso’s associates that he can reach placed in custody while we deal with this. Strike a lightning blow without blood, as it were.”

“Very good sir. If there’s nothing else, I need to get going.”

Etienne waved the man away with the back of his hand in dismissal. Alexander was ruthlessly competent. He’d see his instructions out to the letter. As the bookcase settled back into place, Etienne swiveled in his chair to observe the lights of the rotten city through his office window. “My Kingdom.” He murmurs lowly, hungrily. This was the opportunity he’d been waiting centuries for, a chance to prove himself. It was all coming together.

[Kingdom of Irhk]

Nightingale - Wolves and Crows

“Yes. I am Nightingale. It is good to be acquainted once again,” the musician responded with a smile. His face remained calm, but his heart began to feel some sort of hope. The Garou had not responded with hostility, but rather with wary friendliness. He certainly seemed to have a capacity for being amicable, underneath his gruff exterior. Given Connor’s signal that he could approach, Nightingale walked toward him and nodded to his violin case. “As for having my hands in my pockets, I do have one hand holding this instrument of mine, which I’d like to not break or lose by putting my hands in my pockets. And I would be glad to walk with you.”

The way Connor had asked him had felt more like a firm request than a question. He had that sort of nonchalant-yet-knowing attitude about him, as if he knew he could easily have what he wanted just by speaking. Yet his eyes were sharp. He knew he could also get what he wanted with violence, yet chose to be a gentleman. Nightingale was thus transfixed on him as he walked alongside the Garou leader.

Being focused on Connor, however, did not mean that the Mage forgot about his surroundings. While he felt a certain static while moving alongside him, Ives examined the changing atmosphere of the docks as they moved to the Garou base. Cold, watchful eyes, gloomy concrete buildings, darkened doorways which smelled of alcohol. He felt his left hand curl more tightly around the handle of his violin case.

Nightingale smiled as the Garou then explained the origins of his clan’s presence in Los Angeles. Like himself, Connor was an expatriate from another country. In the case of his new friend, however, his thick Irish accent was lovely and rich. Something about the way Connor described his own accent as “charming” made him radiate even more with a warm, hearty light, even as he described his own painful losses. “…Certainly. My wife was from Ireland, and I have visited the country many times. Beautiful place, beautiful people.” His own soft accent showed itself as he answered the Garoua’s question.

The friendly charm of the moment found a swift interruption, however, as Connor was questioned by guards at the gate of his own home. As the Garou guard immediately attempted to apprehend the guests, he found himself on the wrong end of Connor’s clawed grasp. His body rammed the ground as the Garou leader slammed him without a second thought, and Ives took a step back. He did not wish to fight, especially not with his sort of Magic, and so he watched his companion and hoped he was not needed to fight.

Soon, however, the smoke settled and they both were able to enter the Garou hideaway. A multitude of armed guards prepared to attack, only for Connor’s swift rebuke to disarm them. Nightingale felt a shudder in his back. Much like Etienne in the Janus nightclub, this particular man held considerable power. At a word or a shout, people could raise or lower their guns without question. He turned his eyes to watch them, only to hurry along with the Garou beside him as the guards granted them entry.

Finally, they hasted into a building and managed to find the aforementioned Caitlin Donahue, Connor’s dear friend. She had a tight grip on her Garou friend, and Nightingale could only smile once again at the warm embrace they shared. She then spoke to him with a measured, weary worry, much like that of a friend who has spent countless weeks crying and hoping and did not know what emotions to produce anymore. Yet she glowed as she spoke to Connor, and she had some spring to her step as she questioned Ives.

“Ah, I apologize. I have…hardly spoken since I entered this commune with your friend Connor. I go by Nightingale. I am a Mage, one who daylights…and…moonlights…as a musician. I found Connor as we were both concerned over the presence of powerful vampires in a nearby neighborhood. I hope you do not mind my accompanying your good friend here. I was searching for the source of a rather darkened aura I felt this morning, and while I do not believe it to be Connor, I am glad that I found him.”

Connor and Caitlin

"Well, in this case Mr. Nightingale, I'll get some coffee for us so we can start the day properly.", said Caitlin.

With hurried steps in a mix of happiness for the safe return of her friend and the anxiety to know what brought him to the docks exactly, Caitlin started her work at the coffee machine, picking up the cups from a nearby tray so she could get them served. It was funny to see how Connor, a man of conflict, always found a way to make allies even when he wasn't looking for them: Alexei, Morri, and now the mysterious Mage who shared with them all the dislike for the vampires. She'd certainly get to know him better in due time, but for now, it was something she could let low, at least for her friend.

Placing the cups on the top of a small table between them, Cait looked at them between the sips of the dark beverage.

"- I'll never figure out how you manage to drink this without sugar, Connor.

- Eh, takes talent.

- Did you visit Morri?

- Yes, and no.

- Connor...

- Yes, I saw her, but no, I did not enter the quite cozy Bancroft residence. Nightingale here can confirm that her residence had some... guests.

- I received the report... Morri didn't want it, Alexei was reluctant, but Kinfolk keep an eye on them for me. Couldn't help to organize some contacts around them when Morri came to tell me the good news, y'know... toll was quite heavy on her. One day you're a trickster, engaged in sabotage... next day your whole group treats you as you're made of glass. I could see it made her mad... and I mean, I don't even need to say how Alexei was worried about her, you can imagine that for yourself. Mate looked like he was out on a hunt, reading book after book on parenting and how to raise a nice kid...

- Then Kaya came to this world.

- Yep... Kaya O'Malley Bancroft. Never knew the exact origin of the name but it took some time for Alexei to hold her without looking like she was about to break. He's a good dad, don't get me wrong, but it was funny to watch how caring for her he was. She grew, we took a liking to her and well... we did out best, Connor.

- I am sure you did, Cait.

- Well, after some years... Morri came. Said she need to talk about something she'd 'forgot' to mention."

After years, Connor was once again able to let out that long, exasperated sigh that he only had for Morri. There was always a failure of her memory, a detail of a plan she forgot or couldn't mention by a reason she didn't exactly could tell. It was her nature, of course, and he always hoped it would never jeopardize any plan and as much as he hated to admit it openly, Morri was skilled in her particular art. He fought, she distracted, a similar configuration to one he previously made with his fallen comrade. Finishing the cup with one gulp, he looked at Cait with eyes that showed that he was ready to hear it.

"- Well Cait, shoot it at me.

- She said that her words were, well... cursed. Bound. Yeah, bound was the word she used. I checked with other members of the pack and well...

- Geas, huh?

- Seems so.

- Who put it?

- Well... you'll need to ask her.

- Phone Morri. Tell her I am coming in for dinner, Nightingale as well if he wants to go.

- Connor, wait. I need to speak to you... in private.

- Well, I am sure that our friend here will excuse us for a bit..."

With the doors locked behind them, Cait leaned against the table and let her eyes drop to the ground for a minute. She had to collect her thoughts properly, and even as a Galliard, it was very hard for her to properly conceive what she wanted to say to Connor, even if they knew each other for some time. He was absent for some time and Cait didn't know how his head was, or if he was ready for it.

"- Connor. You need to return as the Alpha of this pack.

- Cait, listen-

- No Connor, listen. I know, I know, you wanted me at this place and everyone agreed with it because I am calm, collected... but this city, it grows inside your mind. I can lead them through words, I can grasp them by their souls and inspire them to go and do it... but I feel, no, I know it isn't enough. They need something else, Connor. They need someone at the frontline, someone that show them that is possible to live here. And honestly, you did it. You did it punching, shooting, exploding, running, endangering yourself and probably against every single reasonable advice a person could give you. But... here you are again. Alive. Listening to our troubles and finding a way to solve them. And..."

Calmly, Connor walked to her and hugged her. There was no rush on his gesture, and if anyone could see it, the size difference made Cait look like she was hugging a giant stone. He didn't move. It was clear that Cait missed him, and it was clearer that his personality left a mark on her.

"It is alright, Cait. I'll come back to it, alright? I'll just... settle this stuff with Morri. Need to see who did it to her and why, and I promise I will return, okay? In any case, I'll be around town. You call me if you feel like that again, huh?"

With the positive nod, Connor left the docks once again.

"So, Mr. Nightingale. Musician, hm? You look like someone who has a good taste. Hop on the car, we need to get some wine for today's dinner at the cozy Bancroft estate."

[Luminesa]

Nightingale - Morning Smoke

“Coffee sounds wonderful. Thank you, dear,” he spoke to Cait with a polite smile. As she brought coffee for everyone, he took a grateful sip and let his body relax. He was safe in this darkened, quiet place, especially as long as he remained close to Connor. Though he did not have much to contribute to the conversation yet, he was glad to listen and learn.

Reading the situation which was taking place around him, Ives understood that he was an outsider to the conflict which faced Connor and Caitlin. One of their friends had gotten pregnant, and they were determined to protect her and her new young family. The mention of an “Alexei”, the new baby’s father, came into the conversation. “Poor man. These are trying times for anyone, never mind a new father…” he thought. And yet as he listened to Connor and Cait, nodding when the latter asked about the vampires which had approached the Bancroft residence, he could hear the love in their voices for Morri and Alexei. Everyone would take the best care they could of tiny Kaya.

For a few minutes, the duo went to speak in another room, and Nightingale drank his coffee alone. The warm, hickory scent of the coffee, and the salty air of the pier were adequate company, and so he did not feel awkward. The mumbles he did hear, however, had become more urgent, and so he could not help but wonder what fears they whispered about behind those closed doors. If Connor had been gone for so long, he no doubt had important business to settle.

On the topic of settling, Nightingale’s eyes flickered upward from their cup and realized that the aura which fell over him this morning had not yet vanished. The deadly feeling did not come from this building, however. Rather, it had followed him from elsewhere. He placed his cup on the table, almost saddened to feel the comforting warmth leave his hands. Hunching over the table for a few minutes, his eyes looked lost in thought as he tried to determine the source of this aura. Whatever it was, however, it was too far away. “Perhaps…it is obfuscated…by the scent of death which seems to linger everywhere in Los Angeles…and yet it is still a special sensation…” He pondered on the geas Connor had mentioned, if that unspoken curse had some effect on a stranger unrelated to Morri. And yet he felt such a curse could not be the answer. No, this darkness was more…spiritual.

When the leading Garou and his friend did reappear, however, the Mage gladly took his coffee cup back into his hands and finished it. His stomach rumbled a little, but too quietly for either of his hosts to hear. He did smile at Connor’s invitation, however. “…I certainly could not pass such an event. I do hope to make myself useful today, after all,” he answered. He then smiled to Cait and bowed. “And you have been a lovely host, Ms.Caitlin. I shall be glad to return the favor soon.” As prompted, he then followed Connor out of the building and out toward the docks.

Without various other Garou trying to shoot them, the docks were quieter. The waves were cool and soft, a powerful backdrop to a productive morning. As Nightingale sat shotgun to the Garou, he looked out the window and then at him. All the while his violin case was still with him, now sitting by his feet on the floorboard. “…When I awakened this morning, an aura of death seemed to emanate from somewhere far away. I have been trying to determine what that sensation might be…Los Angeles is full of demons, full of nightmares which enjoy the flavor of death. And yet I cannot narrow the nightmares down into one which fits. A general unease is too innocuous of a phrase for what this…permeating death-scent feels like,” he explained.

[Morrdh]

Club Night

As Alexei slept and dreamt, Morri made her way through the night-time streets of Los Angeles. She felt a prang of guilt at effectively deserting her chosen mate, but she had Masquerade related business to attend to. Part of her...arrangement with the Kindred Prince of LA she’d been tasked with dealing with an upstart Kindred by the name of Houghton, doing so would presumably repaid the debt she owed to the Tremere Elder that ruled over the Camarilla of the city.

She’d tried, with the help of her pack, going after Houghton five years ago but fate had other ideas as her daughter Kaya decided to make her entrance into the world at a critical point. As a result, Houghton got away even if his lieutenant and some of his goons were taken out of the picture. Since then there had been a game of Cat and Mouse played out across the night-scape and shadows of LA, though one were the lines were blurred between who was the Cat and who was the Mouse.

Morri had devoted a great deal of time chasing leads, sometimes they frustratingly led to dead-ends or they helped tighten the net round her prey. Occasionally some of them had turned out to be traps set by Houghton, one or two had been pretty close shaves. But the game continued as the two opponents sized each other up and waited for a chance to strike.

Tonight, though a step towards cornering her foe, was different.

From her Glass Walker contacts, Morri had learnt of a Kindred of French heritage who’d recently setup a night club and had begun to make ripples in the city’s Kindred society. A relative a newcomer, the Kindred in question had yet to firmly establish himself in the vampiric hierarchy of LA. So there was a chance that they might be approached by Houghton, which naturally was something Morri wanted to head off and influence things to her benefit.

Through the dark streets, gloomily lit by leaning street lights, Morri ran in Lupus form until she neared the site of the club. She ducked into a nearby alleyway, quickly checked the coast was clear before stepping sideways through the Gauntlet and into the Penumbra. Her surroundings changed, the alleyway dark with oppressive moods and fears from countless crimes whilst thick with cobwebs that were the handiwork of the Weaver.

She made her way into the shell that was the club, heavy with the signs of the Weaver with an under-current of Wyrm taint she’d long since recognised as belonging to the Kindred. Beyond the veil, Morri was able to move freely but still took care to avoid attracting attention of Banes that might’ve been lurking. Scouting the building outside of the Material World she spied clusters of thick cobwebs crawling with spiders, strong signs of the Weaver that denoted technology which were most likely security systems. A mental map took form, particular focus on what were most likely cameras or alarms.

At last she found what she took to be an office, two forms marked by Wrym-taint were present in what she took to be a meeting before one left. The sole remaining occupant didn’t seem to be aware of her, but she spent a moment empowering one of her stealthy gifts before crossing through the Gauntlet once more. Back in the Material Realm she found herself in an office, a man was seated in a chair facing towards a window and thus away from her. She could sell the Taint oozing off him, all but confirming that he was Kindred and possibly the one she was after.

Moving silently as a barely discernable shimmer, she moved closer to the back of the chair and waited for a moment to check that she remained unnoticed. Once happy that she was still unseen and unheard, she lent over to say out loud in the Kindred’s ear one word.

“Bonjour!”

If the creature was startled, he didn’t show it. It had an air of nonchalance that would have been much more at home with a californian beach bum than one of the night walkers. Turning his head to reveal thick eyebrows and a head of dark hair combed to one side, Etienne smiled softly at the use of his native language. “Salut, mon chere.” His manner was pleasant but his immortal eyes revealed a flicker of annoyance. How had this one snuck up on him? Why had Stapes not announced the presence of another guest. The wheels turned in his head as he considered the alternatives. Clearly this creature didn’t want to be seen here, and clearly this thing was no assassin. Or at least not one after his head. He allowed himself to relax, though only just.

“I will admit…” He says, sticking to English, hedging that French is not this woman’s strongest suit. “No one has ever quite ‘dropped’ in on me like you have just now. Given that I’m not dead right now, I suspect there’s something you want from me.” He smiled again, pleasant and charming in the way his kind do oh so effortlessly, even so, the young woman would almost want to smile back at him, he did after all seem to be a good natured sort, didn’t he?

“Please, have a seat, Miss…?” He trails off, allowing this young woman to fill in her name for Etienne.

“Correct.” The red-haired, emerald eyed girl replied in a noticeable Irish accent and with a smirk on her face. “I’m good at getting into places.”

“Me name?” Asked the girl, taking the offer of a seat. “Tis Mórrígan Ní Mháille.”

“That’s in Gaelic o’ course.” Continued Morri who, despite her diminutive stature barely scraping a little over five feet in height, gave off the aura of the primal fury of a predator. “Make o’ that wot ye will.”

“We have a mutual…acquaintance, you probably know ‘em as the Elder Prince o’ this city.” Morri explained. “Though me relationship with ‘em is….complicated.”

“Suppose ye could call be a hound o’ a sorts.” Added Morri. “I’m on the trial of a Kindred who’s pariah, goes by the name Houghton.”

“The Prince wants ‘em taken out the picture, no Kindred is to render them aid or have any dealings with ‘em.”

Etienne nodded politely. Gaelic was a tongue he’d had some experience with over the centuries; you couldn’t operate near Boston in some of the early days without hearing atleast some of it. “Charmed, Miss Morrigan.” He says, giving her name the musical french inflection of his people. He can tell that she’s no Kindred by the way she chooses her words, or at the very least, not Camarilla. That was fine, all sorts found themselves in Janus, and even a King abided by the rules here. Ask not what they are and all that. Whatever the slender woman’s secret was, it mattered not, atleast not here anyhow.

“I’m passingly familiar with the name.” Etienne admits, before his ascension to the post of Primogen, he’d heard the name passed around through the spider’s web of information in the city. He’d not seemed to have been worth his time… But if the Prince was after the man, it wouldn’t hurt to render aid in his capture. “I was however not aware that he was a topic of interest of my Liege Lord. Forgive me for my caution, but might you be able to prove that you indeed are affiliated with the Prince? As much as I’d like to render my aid and perhaps earn a favour or two in doing so…” He trails off and smiles a broad, guileless smile, “Well, you understand how very laberthine politics can get in this city. You could very well be who you say you are and things would go fine for me, or you could be trying to play off a perceived naivety.” He spread his hands and gave a little ‘what-can-you-do-shrug’ that was endemic of French-Canadians and the men and women of the mother country across the sea.

“Of course, if you cannot prove your ties…” He picks back up, his tone becoming a touch more predatory than before, “This conversation becomes less about duty and more… Transactional in nature.”

“Prove that I’m linked ta Anna?” Morri asked, before giving a frustrated sigh. “She’s been in me head, doubt ye could find a closer link than that!”

“So wot proof do ye want?”

Something useful. He thought to himself before speaking aloud, “Given that I cannot reach into your mind and pluck out a detail of her being in your mind, I cannot verify the veracity of such a statement. Perhaps she granted you a token of her favor? Or perhaps she spoke some words to you, words that the two of you would only know. Something I could take up with her when next we meet. If I had something of that nature, I would feel obliged to trust you enough to assist you until I could speak with the Prince about it- privately of course.”

He left the unspoken threat to hang in the air. It could be taken many number of ways; Etienne could hunt down this Irish creature himself should he not get the answer he liked from Anna. Anna herself could even choose to have Morrigan marked for death should her words prove false. Deal a Ventrue false coin and the repercussions could be much more than simply fatal.

Morri sat and thought for a moment, thinking what information to reveal. “She’ll know that I’m Garou.”

“She’ll also know that I got shot when I first arrived in the city and she’ll know o’ a….person called Jonah.” Added Morri as she watched Etienne’s reaction. “In addition, she’ll know that I offered meself in lieu o’ a tribute from the aforementioned Jonah.”

Etienne considered these words for a moment before nodding slowly. “Yes, this will do- more or less anyhow.” He could sense an undercurrent of desperation from the woman. It wasn’t every day that a werewolf made themselves known to one of the Kindred. Any other place and he might have to act and make an attempt to slay her almost out of hand, but with the Prince’s blessing and the nature of how things worked in Janus… No, this would suffice for now., nor would Morrigan need to be reminded that her coming here and asking this of him would open her up to a request for a favour later.

Lacing his fingers together and settling his now knitted hands upon his desk, Etienne asked, “How may I make myself useful to you?”

“Simple; Yer ta blacklist Houghton.” Answered Morri. “Means no doing business with him and barring him from this club, though if he approaches ye I’m sure the Prince would be most interested.”

“Also means if ye don’t have any business with Houghton then ye stay o’ me radar.”

Etienne’s thick eyebrow rose at that and the jovial energy he was giving off was replaced with an almost icy disapproval. “Let me make certain I have this straight…” He begins, “You come here, to my sanctum uninvited, you tell me you speak as an emissary of the Prince but you bring no physical proof, now you tell me how to run my business and say that I would be staying off of -your- radar if I do what you say?”

The Vampire scoffs, his tone now somewhere between amusement and disbelief. “Little girl, do you happen to have any idea what sort of place Janus is? This is a neutral space, where all are welcome, regardless of species and creed. ‘Ask not what they are’ is the very first rule of this place, without it, you wouldn’t be safe here, the Prince’s supposed blessing or no.” Etienne leans forward in his chair, the leather creaking underneath him as he does. “Let me make this abundantly clear for you. I am the Primogen of the Ventrue of this city, and I am the Lord of the Janus, until such time as Prince Anna herself threatens me with fire and sword due to my running of this establishment, I will admit anyone and anything that follows my rules.”

He leans back now, the very picture of casual authority. “I will not bar this man from access to my establishment. It would ruin the reputation I have carefully cultivated over the years. However, if he is foolish enough to come here, I will put you on his trail, even have him distracted so you might strike at a time of your choosing- so long as it is after he leaves here. I will do this as a gesture of goodwill to the Prince, and to yourself as you obviously expended a fair amount of effort to get here tonight. If I hear of him, I will even forward the information to you. That will be the nature of our relationship, if you don’t like it-” He gestures towards his office’s door frame. “There is the door.”

“Suppose that’s gonna be as good as I’m gonna get.” Replied Morri. “Very well.”

“I’m happy to respect the sanctuary o’ this place but will the information exchange be one way?” Morri asked. “I mean, will ye tip o’ Houghton?”

“Only if I find out that you’ve lied to me.” Etienne says easily, “You and I have what amounts to a business relationship, he and I do not. I would only seek such a thing out if I felt the need to recoup any losses our arrangement might incur. My word is my bond, and it is stronger than stone, steel, or solid oak. It has seen me through more troubles than you can even begin to imagine, young wolf. Now…” He smiles jovially once more, and with it comes the desire to smile right back at the Ventrue. “Was there anything else?”

“Nah, that was all.” Morri said, standing up and glancing at the nearby window. “I’ll see meself out.”

She walked over to the window and placed a hand on the glass, a brief look of concentration on her face before she simply vanished in front of Etienne’s eyes.

“Hrm.” Etienne rumbled softly before stretching out with the power in his blood and summoning his Ghoulish manservant to him. “Sir?” Stapes said, stepping into the office at his master’s call.

“I’d like you to arrange a meeting with the Prince, Stapes.” Etienne says thoughtfully, his gaze returned back out to the city beyond the club.

“So soon after the tribute was called? With hostilities on the horizon?”

“Yes, Stapes. Her earliest convenience.” Etienne confirmed, “I’m being drawn into a hunt, it would seem. There are things I will need to know about it, and the players in it. Theres nothing I hate more than being in the dark.”

“I’ll see to it sir.” Stapes said, eliciting a grunt from his master, but little else. What manner of game was afoot?

[Luminesa]

Alexei - Dawn's Mourning Shadow

Alexei sat upright in the bed at 6:00 AM, and he stared at his blanket as he adjusted himself to the morning. He always knew when Morri left, even when he was deep in the clutches of slumber. Admittedly, a pang of sadness always hit him when he looked at his bedside and noticed. She was a messy sleeper, and her side of the bed was unmade. He could still feel her fingerprints pressed into his back, and her legs pressing into his shins. Almost reverently, he stood and made the bed, careful to make himself productive and to not spend too much time dwelling on what he could not yet have. She would return, and they would spend more time together. For now, he had his work and a child to send to school.

Pancakes, milk, coffee, early-morning cartoons. Familiar domestic sounds, smells, and sights adjusted him to the day as usual. As soon as he got Kaya out the bed, he helped her to find clothing for school. He ate breakfast with her, sitting in the kitchen and listening to her talk about childish things. She was bubbly and inquisitive, unlike himself when he was her age. He recalled being a small child who preferred to read books and to sit with a friend or two by the swing-set at his own school, rather than one who babbled endlessly and chased other children on the playground. He wondered if he would be happier if he had a temperament more like Kaya's. If she ever asked questions about Silvanus, however, he knew he would need to make some rather difficult answers known.

He then brought her to school, which was not too far from the neighborhood. Driving still felt odd, given he was so used to walking everywhere. Yet he would then use the public transport to get to work later in the day. He had a department meeting, and he had his own investigating to do. That nightmare had to have meant something, and in order to understand what to do next, he would have to meet with his favorite uncle. If he was not awake, his dear friend Mikhailov would have to do. Even if he was not Silvanus, Mikhailov definitely was more aware of the world around him given how powerful of a Mage he was. Not to mention that the duo had some catching-up to do together.

He needed to get both of them a gift, both for good will and to apologize for the awkwardness of yesterday's dinner. He was good at finding gifts for Silvanus, especially in antique shops, but he had never gotten a gift for Mikhailov. The man was constantly buried in books, journals, and parchments, many of which seemed so brittle under his fingers that they would turn to dust if he turned the pages too hard. When he was not reading, he was on the town running errands for himself or his...partner? Alexei was not sure what to call the two of them together. The Mage lived under the Malkavian's roof, was affectionate toward him, and helped him to monitor vampire activity around the city, and yet Alexei suspected that Silvanus was not the sort to care for traditional relationships. Then again, the former Inquisitor himself was living on-and-off with his Garou lover, now the mother of his child, and so he could not judge. Only suspect.

After spending some time in an antique shop, he settled on a framed, old world map for Mikhailov. The Mage definitely enjoyed learning history, or at least studying how history unfolded. Whether or not he felt a personal attachment to his own country's history while being a Mage was beyond Alexei, but the framed item looked pleasant, and he recalled that the Mage's room in Silvanus's mansion had seemed rather bare. For Silvanus, he had bought him gifts throughout the years and still was not sure what he liked. Then again, Silvanus' personality-changes could make him like anything at a particular moment. He decided on an old-world brooch, one of white-and-lavender roses surrounded with a halo of golden enamel. As soon as his department meeting was finished, he determined he would go to the funeral home to find more answers to some of his own questions.