|
Post by Tyler on Dec 11, 2021 10:02:51 GMT -5
The Longaevitas Journal
Relevant news for long, magical life
((The paper would feature a coded message for all known supernatural species in the city. Each species would decode a rough translation of the following message.))
Citizens,
I feel as though in the wake of the king's demise, the supernatural species have come to a stand still on interspecies relations. I am committed to the cause of ensuring peace in our fair city, and so I come with a humble proposal I hope the majority of you will find agreeable. Tomorrow evening, I will open my private home to the city, holding a summit of peace and cooperation in the only way I know how; a sinful and extravagant party! If we can not break bread together - or glamour, or blood, etc. - then how can we live together? I promise an evening of fun, impactful progress on interspecies relations, and a start to fill the void left by the loss of his Majesty. If you wish to be a part of the solution to making Dusk a peaceful and safe city for all, then come to Kline Tower tomorrow one hour after sunrise. Dress code is formal wear, a personal choice of mine I'm afraid. Do honor the hostess though. You' won't want to miss my party favors. Gifts are not required, but certainly appreciated. I look forward to meeting those who'd fight for our fair city. Show up to Kline Tower on New Years Eve at dusk!
Your Servant,
Oliva Pane of Clan Toreador
Daughter of Dusk
((OOC: So the party will be New Years Eve. The purpose of this thread is for your characters to react and discuss what this party might mean for the city. So think of the replies bellow as small vignettes of your character's feelings about new powers possibly rising. It might be a good way for everyone to "meet" everyone's characters before the actual party thread. The party thread will likely kick off the day after Christmas so have your outfits, plans and motivations ready by then and I hope to see all players attend Dusk's formal, and long overdue, official coming out party. A party for our characters, and a party for us player's as well! Love you all and look forward to seeing all of your hot takes as New Years approaches!
|
|
|
|
Post by The Cedar Witch on Dec 12, 2021 13:08:39 GMT -5
Day OneBy the time the flame surrounding his summoning circle died down, Figueroa had been gone for at least ten minutes. Zeus took the moments following to stretch, rolling his neck and flexing his wings, before shifting into his more energy-efficient human form. He could have followed after Figueroa, but that vile human would be easy enough to find later should the need arise. Methodically, he gathered the signed contract and rolled it into a tight scroll before stashing it in the inner-pocket of his suit jacket, followed in turn by the ring and necklace. His mind buzzed with a quickly-populating to-do list as his hand found the decanter of Cognac to take some edge off his temper. Zeus had to track down his contacts in this city, send a message to Ghatti's personal guard in Vobet, update his political knowledge, track down Dusk's witches-- He took a graceless swig from the decanter before exhaling loudly. Perhaps he should pay Ludwig's court a visit, there was one contact on the inside that still owed him a favor. As soon as he exited the building Zeus recognized where he was, allowing a small bit of relief creep into his expression. Had Figueroa known how close this summoning location was to his vault? Doubtful. With decanter in hand, he strolled leisurely through the industrial park, keeping close to the comfort of shadow as he passed each familiar warehouse building. It was quieter than he expected -- than he remembered -- but it wasn't enough to arouse suspicion. The moonless sky provided much cover for the demon as he navigated through the maze of shipping containers, all the way to the back least-used sector of the park. Zeus came to a pause when the huge stone block came into view. It was untouched, just as he left it. His shoulders dropped and a smile twitched across his lips. No summoner could take this patch of land from him, at least - and that was something Zeus could take small comfort in. Even if he was stuck on this plane for a year. At his approach, a dull blood-red glow emitted from the sigils etched into the otherwise unblemished surface. When he was nearly upon it, the entire front-face of the structure dissolved to allow him passage before re-materializing and sealing behind him. Familiar, piercing black eyes greeted him in the dark, otherwise empty interior. "Welcome back, boss." --- Day TwoSetback after setback, shriveled opportunities, lost and wasted favors. Ludwig and his court of jesters gone. How in the circles of Hell was Zeus supposed to make any headway on his contract with his most influential contacts killed? In Zeus' brief absence the fool king had somehow left the city open to hunters to sweep through? Why had Figueroa needed his services in the first place -- it seemed the hunters were doing a fine enough job as it was. Zeus leaned back in his office chair and gave his face a brief, vigorous rub before standing. A knock sounded at the door, and he sighed sharply through his nose. "Enter," Zeus crossed his arms over his chest while a bulky demon in human form brought an armful of objects over to his desk. "The blood isn't very fresh," the demon explained apologetically, "But it's all we have down there right now." He placed the tall vial on Zeus' desk, followed by a black velvet pouch, a shallow obsidian bowl, and a curved rune-engraved bone. Zeus gave the tight-lipped reply, "It will have to do," before rounding to the front of his desk. "I need a report from you --" he glanced up at his fellow demon, poised by the door to leave. "Find out which demons are still claiming territory, I need you to update the list." The demon nodded perfunctorily before closing the door behind him. Good, Zeus thought. The sooner he could gain access to a leypoint the better. Alone again, he turned his attention to the objects on the desk. Uncorking the tall vial, he spilled the dark, viscous content into the obsidian bowl, shaking it gently to encourage the very last drops to fall. This was old -- would it even work? He sighed through his nose before loosing the strings sealing the black velvet pouch, emptying its sandy contents into the bowl along with the blood. The mixture hissed gently, bubbling ever-so-slightly at the edges of the bowl. Zeus frowned -- was it supposed to do that? He watched for a moment, and when he was sure the bubbling had subsided he picked up the curved bone. The deep lines in his palm cast a sliver of shadow, and it was here that he pressed the tip of the bone, hooking it into that small dark place and pulling. A tendril of shadow extended, and with a flinch he detached it from his form before adding this to the bowl. The mixture foamed enthusiastically, emitting a foul and unexpected odor. It didn't matter -- he had to proceed. "Vobet," he stated aloud, sending a ripple across the surface of the liquid. Then, placing the tip of the curved bone into the bowl, he stirred clockwise. A flurry of whispers streamed from the bowl, followed by an enthusiastic whirlpool. "Message for Ghatti's throne room," he answered. --- Day ThreeOne step forward, two steps back. Zeus knew that his impatience would do nothing for the longevity of his sanity for the duration of his contract. He was loath to admit that he would need to make contact with Figueroa again, and it was unlike him to procrastinate like this. Still, there was much to do that did not involve the city fool, and that was where the demon would keep his focus at least for the moment. After his sunset stroll through the South District, Zeus came to the only demon bar he was aware of, guarded by the pair of brass tigers. This wasn't a place he was keen to visit, but he had contacts here that he would rather speak to in person. Once through the door, he stopped at the metal rack just inside -- the one bearing an assortment of city magazines, newspapers, and journals. Plucking the first that caught his attention - The Longaevitas Journal - Zeus flipped it open to a coded message. It had been awhile since he read the city's printed media, and he made a mental note to renew his subscriptions (and check his PO box). Oliva Pane. This name was familiar. Not someone he had any sway over, but perhaps that could be amended. Her message called for peace, but Zeus knew that nothing would be as it seemed in this city. Not with Ludwig gone with none yet named to fill his place. At any rate, this event wasn't something that the contract would allow him to miss. It seemed that Zeus would have a party to attend.
|
|
|
|
Post by rubyboobie on Dec 22, 2021 19:50:50 GMT -5
Louis cell phone was blowing up.
He was strewn across his bed for the rare moment of downtime when he noticed it picking up.
What do you think she's going to do?
Are you going?
WHO do you think will be there?
Scrolling through it, he was growing apathetic.
Louis panned through several of his webcam feeds and recordings, watching certain people pick up a newspaper and read about the upcoming event.
One stop to a horse ranch later, Louis scooped a paper off of Augustine Prices' long driveway, standing there as he consumed the message himself.
He'd give that Olivia credit when credit was due- she was one cutthroat bitch if he'd ever seen one. Minute the king was gone she was rearing her ugly claws into the position, that woman, mm-mm-mm, like a bowl Campbell's soup good. His mind rolled, fantasizing about taking a canister of gasoline and lining the palace with it with everyone inside. Would be a dramatic time to launch a rebellion, but an ill-timed event. It would be expected, perhaps on some level, invited by this woman. Better to clear the air of any protesters upfront than let them linger and create insidious, underground plans.
Everything said...he had no intention of attending. Not personally, at least. He was sure he would get the play by play in the days following through his own unique grapevine methodology.
City politics licked his fancy as much as missionary position. He could already see it- a bunch of bullshitters paying fanfare, arriving with pretty little bow covered boxes all for the future Daughter of Dusk, golly wolly, hope we make a good impression!
It was a good move on her part, he reckoned, something that would be interesting to see unfold. If he had his way, the 'peace' that she wished to enact would go terribly awry, splinter into infinite conflict and confusion that nobody could explain. Chaos of the universe can't be avoided. Talk of social harmony were pretty words for weak minds. He reckoned the majority of the city would fall hook line and sinker...which would make it all the more abhorrent when it all fell apart, as all things did. Like the King before her, a day would come where Olivia herself would be gone, and the cycle would repeat. Over and over and over again. He got pretty damn tired, following the illusions, pretending change was anything other than transitory, dancing with fantasies of reigns that were by definition, finite. He'd play his role, as he always did-- build to destroy, and then in the reverse. His role didn't dress up fancy and drink martinis while chumming it up. Louis waited, in the empty space between what people thought they knew and where the actual truth existed, seizing the blindness of their optimism for his own selfish pleasures.
|
|
|
|
Post by rubyboobie on Dec 22, 2021 20:15:12 GMT -5
He'd been locked up in his room for several days, driving himself mad over the translation of a Basque folk tale. Most of it made sense, but a couple of paragraphs were definitely off, and despite several faxes to his colleague at Oxford University, he had received no response. Papers were covering the entirety of his cherry oak desk, legal boxes opened and tossed about on the floor. The whole place looked like a tornado had gone through it. Paul's beard was growing longer than usual, he hadn't slept, and Descartes was growing irritated at the lack of attention.
A knock on his door led him to slam his body to his desk with the last ounce of energy he had to give.
"Come in, Raymond." He spoke with a tone as bitter as an orange rind as his body guard entered the room. Paul begrudgingly lifted his body from the table, giving the intruder a good stare.
"I expect you didn't interrupt me without dire reason?" Paul pressed.
Raymond handed over a newspaper.
Paul unfolded it, eyebrows furrowing as he read the encoded message.
"Dismissed, Raymond." Paul said about a minute or so into reading, giving a shooing expression with his hand. He waited for the man to leave before returning to the paper, picking his pipe up from the table and giving it a light. This news was smoke-worthy.
Olivia Pane was throwing a ball New Years. He'd have to look at his wardrobe to see if he still had that custom tailored suit he bought in Milan several years ago. Was there a theme? He didn't see anything mentioning it. Formal wear, yes, but naturally who would attend the event without that? He chastised himself for thinking the thought.
Idiots. The world was chock-full of them and unfortunately with such a public invitation Ms. Pane was likely to encounter a plethora at her home that evening. Which meant, so would he. Paul grimaced. Pity.
What to gift the Lady, mm? That was the question. Clearly an artifact of historical importance- that he was certain of. Nothing less for a woman of her status, he had a reputation to maintain, and it seemed evident to him that Olivia was making a bid for power in light of city's clear lack of direction. Whatever way the wind blew, Paul was satisfied in following along, so long as he remained atop.
Puffing the smoke around his study, Descartes jumped on his lap. Feeling in a much better mood at the news of such an extravagant affair, Paul threaded his finger through the long-haired feline's coat.
"Inguma be damned, Descartes. I have an event to attend to." He announced to his pet. The frustration of translating the text would have to be re-prioritized. There were preparations to be made.
|
|
|
|
Post by Tyler on Dec 26, 2021 12:33:04 GMT -5
Day 1:
Rudy cracked his knuckles, as was his custom, as he sat in the lobby of the Midnight Court Hotel. He despised waiting, second only to small talk with people he didn't like. Both required large amounts of patience, something Rudy had always lacked. However, what he lacked in patience, he more than made up in cunning, and the cunning man learned to blend in.
"Your room is ready Mr. Puttanesca," said an overly eager bellhop. "Shall I carry your bags to the room?"
"No thank you," Rudy replied, sticking out his hand dismissively. He didn't want some eager mortal looking for a tip to see the inside of his private space. Staying in hotels was his only escape from sharing a home with both young no nothings, and a stubborn ancient who know far too much. Only Billy the Bull knew where his boss had gone to, and instructions had been clear. DO. NOT. DISTURB.
It would be the same for those eager little maids in the morning. A sign on the door would tell them to fuck off, and if they didn't it would be there very early funeral. The Puttanesca Don hadn't a moment's peace since moving to the city of Dusk. It was to be expected. Setting up an operation took a fuck ton of work, and with only Billy and a few of his crew working the streets, Rudy had started picking up all the dead weight. It had gotten so bad, that after brutally murdering a Setite who'd held clan loyalty above his own life, Rudy had told Billy that he needed the next three nights to himself.
"I don't fucking care what that cunt Theodora says," he'd told Billy. "Let her skull face come find me here if she really needs me."
"Should I tell her you called her a cunt," Billy asked, with a fresh faced smile. Rudy frowned. "No."
Rudy began to walk to his room but turned back to Billy, crossing fast and with the power his strong body commanded. "You're getting a little smart," he accused. "Remember to show me proper respect, or I'll assign you to teach her how a cellphones works."
Awe, the many forms of torture: Waterboarding, beatings, clipping off fingers, and of course the worst of all, explaining modern tech to a 1500 year old ancient. "I got you boss. You said she was the sweetest lady in the family," Billy replied fearfully.
"You're learning," Rudy answered, his tone starting to warm again. "Now, get out of here. Go make us some money." Billy noded respectfully and left the hotel with haste. Rudy smirked. "I like that little bastard, jokes and all." With that, he picked up his elegant Italian luggage, and headed up to his penthouse. The Hecata laid out on the bed, and started at the celling. "Awe," he said to nobody. "Fucking quiet at last."
Day 2:
Rudy had spent the majority of the day asleep. The maids had stayed away as requested, and the curtains had been taped down to the wall to prevent even the smallest amount of sunlight from creeping into the room. In the early evening, Rudy dressed and went down to the hotel bar, using the blood within him to look alive. He sat and ordered a scotch. The Hecata's eyes moved about the lobby when he finally spotted someone interesting. She had dark hair, soft white skin, and green eyes. She was human. He could smell it.
"Bartender," he said, "send that lady whatever she's drinking." The bartender nodded and made a Manhattan, walking over and placing it on the table. He pointed back to Rudy who nodded his head with a polite smile. She smiled back, sipping the drink. He almost walked over to her. He wouldn't mind some nice warm human on him, and he could always wipe her memory if he wanted to feed. However, a man walked up and joined her, and the pair kiss. The bitch was married.
"Why did she accept my drink then," Rudy complained to the bartender. "She was just trying to lead me on," he concluded. It wouldn't be the first time a woman had lead him around by the balls and given nothing back. Still, he wouldn't let one little human ruin his night. He turned back and found the empty seat next to him had been filled by a drop dead gorgeous blonde. She had that buisness bitch look about her. She ate men in the pant suit and crisp white dress shirt, a pair of black heels in her hand.
"Gaston, please give me something fruity this evening," the blonde woman said. She turned with a smile and held out a delicate hand, nails sharp and crimson. "Mr. Puttanesca," she asked, her upward inflection implying it was a question .
"Yeah," he replied, wary of anyone who would dare call him by name. "How do you know me?"
"It's my job to know these things," the woman replied. "Olivia Pane, first Daughter of Dusk., but please call me Samantha Kline." She grinned. Rudy could tell she was a fanger, and based on the look was likely a rose.
"Nice to meet you," he said, going through the required social graces. "What does a 'Daughter of Dusk' want with a guinea like me," Rudy asked, not trying to hide the mocking way he said Olivia's self appointed title.
"Come now Mr. Puttanesca," Olivia replied. "Let's not make it seem like you're some nobody." She spun in her chair and handed him a black envelope. Rudy carefully took it. "If you're asking for a date, you're not really my type," he replied with a harsh laugh. "I'm more into brunettes."
Olivia laughed harshly, and leaned in, her face a little harder than before. "Mr. Puttanesca, I assure you that should I like to, you'd be kissing my feet and thanking me for it. No. No. No. I'm here to invite you to a meeting of the powerful. Come to my home in two nights time for a party. You won't regret it."
Without another word, Olivia rose and walked away from Rudy, leaving him at the bar with his undrunk scotch. He opened the envelope and tried to make sense of it's silver, cursive writing. Whatever could be said of this Olivia, she was respectful enough to invite him in person. Rudy did also love events where he could dress up. "Hmmmm," he grumbled. He whipped out his cell. "Billy, tell Thodora to get her best mask on. We're going to a party, and I need you to look into a name for me. Ready? Samantha Kline. I want it all." With that he hung up, and swirled the ice in his drink. He had a lot to think about.
Day 3:
Rudy's 2 nights and days in the hotel had been the exact kind of refreshing he'd wanted, and now he looked through his suitcase for an outfit worthy of Olivia's party. A knock came on his room door. Rudy crossed the suite and opened the door, admitting Billy into the room.
"What did you find," Rudy asked impatiently. "I need to know how to get some leverage on her just in case. She found me without trying."
"It's not much boss," Billty conceded. "She keeps squeaky clean. She married a guy for his money. He died. She became the most eligible widow in the city. I wasn't shocked to learn she had no history under that name before her marriage, but..." Billy tossed a file on the desk. Rudy began tearing through it. Several pictures showed a series of women who looked just like Olivia at several points in the city's history. He was starting to get the whole Daughter of Dusk thing. "I think she's making a play for the leadership," Rudy concluded. "She probably thinks she's earned it for being here so long."
"What's the play boss," Billy asked. Rudy thought for a long time. "We go. We even let her make her move. We need her to look the other way on what we're doing. Perhaps we can be associates."
"And if she gets in our way," Billy asked.
Rudy grinned. "Then we find people who want to string her up by her pretty little heels and get them to pay us to do it," Rudy concluded. "Either way, we win."
"For the Hecata," Billy said with pride. "For the family," Rudy answered, and then he resumed making preparations. His three day holiday was over.
|
|
|
|
Post by Tyler on Dec 26, 2021 12:52:27 GMT -5
"Lisa-Joe," the barback, Riley, screamed out across the bar. "We got another cokehead in the bathroom."
"Goddammit," the redhead cursed, tossing her bar rag at Manuel. "I'll toss him out," she yelled back to Riley. A pool game went on in the center of the bar, and all around bikers drunk beer. It was mostly a quiet night, and definitely not the crowd Lisa-Joe prefered. Quinn was off tonight. Manuel was quieter than normal. Amy was upstairs and into her magazine, and even Riley was more skittish than was his nature. There was a tension present in the city in recent nights, and many vampires had left town, or were advocating war with the wolf packs. It was pointed out that while the dogs had their packs, they were nothing against the children of Cain. Lisa-Joe wasn't too sure about that. She hadn't fought one in her life, but she also wasn't looking to do so. The harpy also couldn't figure out where this tension had come from. Both were blaming the other for the recent hunter waves, but Lisa-Joe had long understood that it was failure of King Ludwig that had brought them.
It felt like someone wanted a war...
Lisa-Joe headed to the bathroom and disposed of the drug user, throwing her out onto the street and telling her not to come back. As she reached the bar, her faithful friend, Manuel, pushed a copy of some vampire rag to her. "Party," he said.
"Manuel, I know you speak English fine. It's like you want me to guess by saying as little as possible," she teased. Manuel was not amused. "Party on New Years Eve," he expanded. "Now did that kill you," Lisa-Joe said with a smirk, punching Manuel in the arm and then grabbing the paper. She read quickly.
"Fuck," she said finally. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She smashed her hand into the bar, a small crack appearing in the wood. Olivia was making her move. Lisa-Joe had seen this coming, but had hoped the Toreador wouldn't be able to pull off any kind of takeover. It seems she was wrong. "The last thing this city needs is Queen Barbie Bitch," Lisa-Joe mocked. She was really against any new leaders. The city seemed to be getting on just fine without them.
"Will we go," Manuel asked, seeming less alarmed than his boss. "I could run the bar that night if you want to take a chatty person." Manuel looked at the bouncy Riley with contempt. "No. You're coming Sugah, she told the stoic Gangrel. I need muscle."
"You could beat the shit out of anyone there I bet," Manuel said, and despite the obvious fault in that logic it was clear he believed it. "You're sweet Suhah, but you ain't getting out of this. I think we need to throw a monkey wrench or two into this nice little affair. I think we need to show people exactly who Olivia Pane really is." Lisa-Joe rubbed her soft, round little chin. "I'll need to wear something spectacular," she concluded. She looked to Manuel. "Got a suit." The gangrel shook his head back and forth. "Well find one," she instructed. "We're taking this little diddy by storm."
|
|
|
|
Post by The Cedar Witch on Dec 26, 2021 18:04:32 GMT -5
Vai made a point to keep up with the local printed media, even more so after the hunters swept through the city. The pack would not be caught unaware again - losing a few pups in the city streets had been an unforgivable act. Ethan had found the twins face down in a dirty alleyway with silver bullets in the backs of their heads. While it was true that none of them feared death, being put down like a sick dog without a chance to fight was abhorrent.
It was on a crisp evening on the porch of her small cabin that Vai flipped open a copy of the The Longaevitas Journal to that bitch Olivia's letter. The wolf grimaced in disdain as she translated the message - surly this marked the beginning of things. She didn't give much of a shit about who ran things in the busy part of the city so long as they left the forest - and the Sanctum - alone. That was one thing Ludwig did right - but she would rather bite off her right hand than call that fool King. The worst part about his death was the chaos it left behind. Time would only tell whether or not someone would come seeking foothold in the wood again. The Bastards would have to prepare for war.
She closed the journal quietly, leaning back in her chair and gazing into the night sky. Someone would have to attend this meeting. The question of the evening was - who would be accompanying Vai to the party? She scowled.
|
|
|
|
Post by The Cedar Witch on Dec 27, 2021 0:51:36 GMT -5
After spending many insurance-call-filled days on the phone, pacing in one of Damien's safe-houses, she needed a change in scenery. Their trail had grown cold, and it was time to establish another foothold of her own in the city. The room she paid about a month's worth of rent on would suffice while she searched for her next home, giving them enough time to be sure the hunter sweep had passed. And enough time to reestablish a sense of security.
While not searching for a new home she'd taken up oil painting in her room. The carpeted floor of the living room had been cleared of furniture - a sprawling plastic tarp spread over the ground. Many sketches were strewn around the easel, some vigorously scribbled with dark lines. Many nights she'd taken to feeding from human bar patrons first and then going back upstairs to paint over the mistakes from the previous day. One such night, after dining on some beautiful boy drunk on wine from the bar, she went back to her room and retreated deep into her memories with all of her might. She slept through most of the day in the bath. When she woke up that evening she stopped going to the bar all together and doubled down on scheduling viewings, ignoring more of Damien's calls to update her on their lack of progress.
When Sonya learned of the upcoming event there was a glimmer within her. Olivia's party could not have come at a better time. While she knew this would be a political occasion, Sonya did love a good party. Something to make her feel normal again. The thought allowed a twinge of excitement to flare up past the fog in her chest. With Damien it would be all business, of course, but they would still be arriving. She had to go shopping for a new dress. Something to replace what had been incinerated. A welcome distraction.
It was three days leading up to the party when she had first spotted him. From the other end of the hallway she caught a glimpse as he passed briskly by on the way to an elevator on her floor - but then he was simply someone familiar. The next day when she spied him from behind as he was entering the bar, she remembered. And how it made her smile. How long had Rudy been staying at the Midnight Court Hotel? She didn't even realize he was in the city.
The day before the party she shopped for a dress, a small smile occasionally passing her features as she ran her fingers over fabric.
|
|
|
|
Post by rubyboobie on Dec 29, 2021 12:15:07 GMT -5
Time had passed since Samantha had invited him to the party. Louis was long gone, and Coalji had been working feverishly at his work desk. It was late, and he had turned on the lamp to see the detail of the wood he was carving. The duskborn didn't have much to offer, but he could use his craftmanship to make the woman a jewelry box. It had taken a while, to work the finer details out. Tonight he had concluded the finishing touches.
Being so out of touch with the supernatural world, he never saw the paper, and was unaware of the importance of the party itself. All he knew was that it was an honor to be invited- one that he did not take lightly.
|
|
|
|
Post by Danny Whizz-BANG! on Dec 29, 2021 22:10:12 GMT -5
Damien in a condo? He would never be used to it. Pierre whistled carelessly as he walked down the hallway towards his sire's new living quarters. After a lifetime of living amongst their kind or by himself, it was funny to think of how frazzled Damien had been to choose a home among humans - not that he was actually among them. No, Jenella had picked Damien a condo with all of the boxes ticked and any pretty little thing he could want. It was now Damien's turn to actually relax enough to move into it.
He spun the keys to the space in his hand and whistled something he didn't remember the name of. But when he came to the door, a there was a large red envelope resting against the door frame. With too much curiosity for his own good, Pierre plucked the envelop up and opened the door.
Damien was sitting on the arm of the couch with his laptop in his hand, the same typical look of concentrated frustration that Pierre knew so well written deeply into his features. He greeted his sire, who only grunted back, lost in his work.
"Have you seen this?"
"What is it?" Damien asked without looking up from his task.
"I'm not sure, but it's addressed to you." He handed it to his sire, who took ahold of it and finally looked up from his laptop.
" 'Olivia Pane'? " He read aloud in confusion. Pierre shrugged with a non-committal noise, placing his keys on the granite countertop and hunting through the barren kitchen. It was time to see what kind of perks Jenella thought necessary for Damien's survival.
"I think she was a journalist or something?" It came with glassware. Why would Damien need glassware?
A small tearing sound and silence as Damien read and Pierre explored. No food in the refrigerator, at least. Maybe she hadn't thought of everything after all. Moments passed and when Pierre looked back up at the other he found Damien back in his laptop, the red envelope tossed aside on the couch. Pierre frowned. "Well, what did it say?"
"It was an invitation," Damien said plainly, without looking up at him.
"Well, are you going to tell me to what, or will I have to guess?"
"A New Year's Eve party for the supernatural elite of Dusk, hosted by none other than Ludwig's press secretary - well, former press secretary." Still he remained, clearly unimpressed, within his laptop. "Apparently to decide the fate of the city from the comfort of formal wear."
"Oh, that kind of party," Pierre said, circling around some piles of boxes to fall comfortably on the couch and read the invite for himself. "Sounds like something Odessa would do." He noted Damien's silence and found it strange.
"Yes, well, I have quite enough in my hands at the moment." Damien closed the laptop and rubbed his eyes. "I should send you in my stead."
Pierre scoffed. "Not on New Year's Eve night, you won't. Some of us have fun plans."
He heard Damien exhale through his nose, a tell-tale sign that he had been defeated by something. "I suppose I should go," he grumbled. "It's ridiculous to think that such pomposity should be used to exploit the power vacuum in this city." Pierre watched as the familiar frown broke over his sire's brow. He said nothing, knowing exactly why the elder should feel such animosity. A wave of gratefulness passed through him like a leaf on a river. Without Damien, Pierre wouldn't be around to enjoy New Year's in the first place, here in the 21st century.
"Well," Pierre said in a resigned voice. "There's always Odessa." This time it was Damien's turn to scoff.
|
|
|
|
Post by The Cedar Witch on Jan 11, 2022 18:44:23 GMT -5
Promptly after sunset a courier made their way to the front of Kline tower in a nondescript white van. Two superbly dressed individuals exited and, in perfect synchronization, circled around to the back of the vehicle. From the back of the van they extracted an ornate gold-and-white vase. Nearly spilling with a luscious bouquet peachy-lavender Juliet Roses, the vase contained no less than one thousand extravagant stems. This they moved with painstaking care into the building and as close to Olivia Pane's presence as security and secretaries would allow.
An elegant white card with crisp, golden script read--
To the Daughter of Dusk - a Rose of roses. I offer my sincerest thanks for your hospitality, and for putting on what will surly be the event of the century. We look forward to speaking with you this evening. Kindest Regards, Sonya Turkevich on behalf of the House of Aquillius
|
|
|