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Post by Snuffleupagus on Jan 18, 2022 16:39:30 GMT -5
"I believe it was due to his depression rather than being an epileptic that was responsible for his creativity." She started out, as Inness was known to have more than one illness in his lifetime. He was never gifted with good health in his living days.
"His artwork didn't start selling until the last decade of his life when his depression became quite bad. Yes, he was also frail, suffering from epilepsy, dogged by stress and anxiety due to his poor critical reception in the past, and his financial insecurity." Keeping an even and pleasant tone towards Paul as she was enjoying the conversation, for now.
"I believed he wanted to escape the reality of his life. His paintings are now focused on the emotions of the landscape rather than remaining loyal to the facts of nature. Depression can change the brain in a variety of ways, and if I had his bad health I would use that depression to my advantage." That is where Maria decided to end the conversation and was politely waiting for Paul's reply.
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Post by Snuffleupagus on Jan 18, 2022 16:39:57 GMT -5
That voice did not match the big behemoth of a man that stood beside Sam. She was tiny compared to him, and she had to crane her neck up at a ridiculous angle to get a good look at him. It was simple and polite conversation, but the enthusiasm was weirdly placed. Better to start somewhere, she did not need Laurent telling Mitchelletto Sam did nothing but watch the dancers all night. The man seemed nice enough, and with a smile Sam answered his question.
"I am enjoying myself. Thank you for asking. Do you like to dance sir?" She could feel the leeches swirl and dance within her head, but Sam kept it together. The man would see nothing but a nice smile and a genuine interest in having a conversation with him.
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Post by Tyler on Jan 20, 2022 16:15:33 GMT -5
The black swan finished her dance, dying as was her custom, and falling to the stage in one last jump split. She left the stage shortly after, leaving it open for the next performer. Instruments were brought on stage, and an entire band set up in the span of only a few minutes. Chatter began to circulate that Olivia was arriving soon, and anticipation replaced excitement as the tuxedo wearing musicians quickly tuned their instruments. The lights went out, a spot light focusing on a single performer. An elegant man with dark cocoa skin, bald head and piercing black eyes scanned the crowd, a wolfish smile on his face.
"Good Evening," he greeted, his voice, deep and resonate without the assistance of a microphone. "Ms. Pane would like to welcome everyone to her humble little party. She will join you all as soon as this next number concludes. I will be your Master of Ceremonies. But please, call me the MC. Everyone does."
Finally, he lifted a microphone to his lips, and the sound of a bell kicked off his performance. Bass, drums, guitars, steel guitar, and synthesizers all burst to life at once, and yet the beat was slow, deliberate and dangerous. The MC moved along the stage, and began to sing.
Take a little walk to the edge of town And go across the tracks Where the viaduct looms Like a bird of doom As it shifts and cracks Where secrets lie in the border fires In the humming wires Hey man, you know You're never coming back Past the square, past the bridge Past the mills, past the stacks On a gathering storm Comes a tall handsome man In a dusty black coat with A red right hand
The devil at the crossroads revealed his right hand, covered in a jeweled glove with claws at the end. He waved it about as he sang, moving off the stage and into the audience. He looked past guests for the most part, but made eye contact with those unlucky enough to be watching his face closely. A cold chill filled those who held the black eyes of the MC for too long, and yet he only smiled and continued his way around the room.
He'll wrap you in his arms Tell you that you've been a good boy He'll rekindle all the dreams It took you a lifetime to destroy He'll reach deep into the hole Heal your shrinking soul But there won't be a single thing that you can do He's a god, he's a man He's a ghost, he's a guru They're whispering his name Through this disappearing land But hidden in his coat Is a red right hand
Now he moved slowly up the stairs, the spot light following him. The rest of the room was in a quiet, deliberate darkness. The Anarchs kept a wide berth, Lisa-Joe daring to get the closest. He met her on the second floor landing, winking at the happy mourner, before passing by her as if she was insignificant. The Brujah snorted out her nostrils, before working her ways towards the stage.
The MC jumped onto the balcony that looked down on the first floor. He snapped along with his song. The band played on, the hellish tones of the synthesizer taking over during the bridge of the piece. All the while, the feeling of an aura got closer. To the young it felt pressing and overwhelming. To the old, it felt... concerning. How could one so young carry so much in their wake? Even those unaffected could tell something was happening. The MC seemed to relish the discomfort, continuing to sing.
You'll see him in your nightmares You'll see him in your dreams He'll appear out of nowhere but He ain't what he seems You'll see him in your head On the TV screen Hey buddy, I'm warning You to turn it off He's a ghost, he's a god He's a man, he's a guru You're one microscopic cog In his catastrophic plan Designed and directed by His red right hand
The music played him out, as the MC sauntered back to the stage, first moving down the stairs and then up to his original perch. As the music began to fade, he said in the same deep, rich tones, "Olivia Pane will be our next performer. Enjoy the next few minutes. I will announce her." He didn't wait for applause. That wasn't the point. He was the herald of something that drew ever closer, and he'd spun a tale of death and the devil. Surely Olivia Pane was not those things? Surely...
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Post by Tyler on Jan 20, 2022 16:19:17 GMT -5
Rudy turned back to Theodora, Sonya's spell broken by his friend's words. He didn't want to discuss Sonya with his mentor. It was difficult talking about women with one had once been his lover. Still, she seemed to know this, and directed him towards making small talk with the only other sensibly dressed person in the party.
"Right as always," he muttered, smiling softly at the Harbinger. "Let's go puff out our chests and make some business happen," he added, leading Theodora over to where Salvio waited. He was never good at introductions. He was much better talking shop, but connections had to be made.
"We seem to be the men with the best taste here," he greeted, pointing out the other's attire. "Rudolph Puttanesca, and this is my colleague and friend, Empress Theodora."
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Post by The Cedar Witch on Jan 22, 2022 11:04:21 GMT -5
After the red-handed performance, Zeus stepped carefully from the shadows of an unoccupied corner when he was sure he would not be witnessed doing so. If there were any surveillance cameras about, he wasn't able to spot them. The demon straightened his suit while his eyes scanned the room. Ms. Pane would make her appearance soon, and there were undoubtedly scores of fools scrambling to speak with her. He would wait to speak with her privately. His bit of information was not for an audience.
"Can I bring you a drink, sir?"
Zeus turned his gaze to a waiter who had approached him from the side. Everyone working this event was exceptionally good-looking - a fact that did not go unnoticed. The demon glanced down at his watch.
"Your best whiskey. Neat." He turned back to the stage to wait for Ms. Pane's appearance. After this entrance, the party would truly begin.
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Post by Tyler on Jan 25, 2022 17:39:36 GMT -5
Lisa-Joe debated her next move carefully. She had two options as she saw it. One, ruin Olivia's entrance, and leave such a bad taste in everyone's mouth that whatever followed would not make up for such a total humiliation! It was risky though. She had the bar to consider, and the general reputation of the Anarchs. They were a small sect here, but a growing one. Now would not be a good time for them to get run out. She sighed openly, her eyes the color of glass. The second option was to challenge her somehow and make a fool of her in a socially accepted way. This may have not been the Camarilla, but it reeked of the same type of political pitfalls and bland rules of engagement. In Anarch circles political disagreements were handled with a little gasoline and a blowtorch. It was brutal, but it was simpler than all this peacocking and crowing.
Manuel was currently questioning a waiter, and from Lisa-Joe's perspective seemed to be flirting with him. That would have to be addressed later. Amy had blown Vai a kiss before moving back into the party, the young bartender pleased at getting a rise out of the old wolf. Lisa-Joe looked for her last crew member, and struggled to find him. Where had Riley gone? She cursed under her breath. That blonde menace would be the death of her.
In searching for her young clan-mate, she instead spotted Maria, the young Duskborn who'd reconnected with her only a few days ago. She decided it was time she blended in until Olivia's grand entrance, so she strode over and stood in the same perimeter, and she began to listen to the conversation, not yet inserting herself.
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Post by Danny Whizz-BANG! on Jan 25, 2022 19:50:06 GMT -5
The man known colloquially as Mr. Jitters had arrived at Kline Tower several hours early, dressed in what he believed to be the exact same light gray suit and purple bowtie his mother had bought him for Easter 1973. It was pressed to perfection and Jitters had polished his black leather shoes up to a shine so clean he could see himself in them (perfect for slipping beneath standing ladies and enjoying some delightful private viewing - if he had been into that sort of thing). The human even believed that he had found the perfect matching fedora complete with a lavender feather. Indeed, when he entered Kline Tower a few hours before sundown, singing an unorganized version of When The Saints Go Marching In, Mr. Jitters was too pleased with himself to notice that the building staff kept him corralled in an unoccupied corner office of the Dusk Tribune.
To the curiosity of all employees of the Tribune, however, it was evident that Mr. Jitters was not in fact dressed in his Sunday's best. Instead he wore a once-fine pair of black trousers turned charcoal with wear and dirt, a threadbare brown vest with a half-busted zipper, and an ivory long sleeve stained with old wine and sweat. His shoes were untied steel-toe work boots with the leather missing from the toe. Even his proud fedora was only his trusted pork-pie hat that sat atop his unwashed hair. Still he polished and adjusted himself like high nobility as he paced endlessly in that office.
When the sun finally dipped below the horizon for the night, he was lead into one of the elevators and taken up to the Ballroom. He danced by himself and filled the space with a lively jig and a loud rendition of Sinatra's "New York" as the staff hurried to put the room together around him. More than once he was shepherded by the staff out of the way - gently so as not to disturb him. As the guests arrived he had partaken in several glasses of the expensive champagne and proceeded to slip his dirty boots beneath the shortened dresses of Dusk's rich and famous with the hopes of seeing what made them famous. He imitated the acrobats, stumbling into guests as he did. He sang the same songs as the performers in different pitches and melodies. He partook in a lot of the food and favors, chasing down wait staff whom had the answers and goods he sought. And when the black man with the red hand neared him in the audience, Mr. Jitters did his best to tell him about his maps, only to be brushed off for the sake of performance.
But Jitters understood. The show had to go on, after all.
With another jig, Jitters moved on with a song in his head. He was about to try to find an instrument to play when he spotted a familiar human face that hid a demon. "LORD ZEUS!" Jitters bellowed at the demon, throwing his arms up in the air in victorious surprise. He laughed his gravelly, wheezing laugh, never noticing if he had drawn any nearby attention and approached the demon for a handshake. "Master of Souls and Victories!"
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Post by Snuffleupagus on Jan 28, 2022 18:15:50 GMT -5
Puff out our chests. A small, light-hearted chuckled escaped Theodora's lips at the sentence. The walk was short despite the crowd in the room. The man was preoccupied until Rudolph started to make small talk with the fellow. Not much else one could do in a room full of strangers to break the ice before getting to the gnarly bits of business.
"I will agree with you. In fact, both of you have quite the eye for fashion. Your Italian attire is an excellent choice," dipping at mid waist into a graceful bow with one hand across his chest. "Savio Blackshriek," regaining his full height after a few moments. "May I ask, if its not too intrusive. Do you know Ms. Pane personally?" Holding eye contact with each of them to be respectful.
All the while the wheels in Savio's head started to turn. Rudolph Puttanesca, was this the same man who bested the Methuselah Iponious Giovanni? It must be. It would be a trillion to one senerio this individual would share the same name as the infamous man who beheaded Iponious.
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Post by The Cedar Witch on Jan 29, 2022 22:32:31 GMT -5
The MC finished his bit, leaving the space hanging for Olivia's entrance. After a deliberately slow inhale, in old Byzantine Sonya murmured "What do you make of that?" to her blood-kin. Her eyes stayed on the MC, a peculiar tension staying at the base of her throat.
You're one microscopic cog In his catastrophic plan Designed and directed by His red right hand
What a peculiar choice for an introduction -- wasn't it? It stayed fast in her mind, pricking a string in her gut though she could not place why. Why did it have to feel peculiar? Couldn't it merely feel familiar? Fun, even? Was that to much to ask? Sonya looked to Damien with a guarded expression, anxiously willing the party to properly start.
--
Lord? Zeus' head snapped to the right at the sound of his name, and once his eyes found the human they narrowed. The man was often louder than the demon preferred. With quick steps he closed the distance between them and clasped the man's hand in his own.
"Leland," he answered with a softened expression. "I told you not to call me by that title," he murmured, releasing his grip after a slight squeeze. "Master of Souls..." He muttered, shaking his head.
The waiter returned to deliver whiskey as requested, and he took it fluidly before turning back to the strange human. "What are you drinking?" Zeus patiently asked.
--
The old wolf stood still facing the stage, a fist around a charm that hung from her neck. Her eyes were fixed to the MC with laser focus, her lips pressed into a straight line.
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Post by rubyboobie on Feb 1, 2022 9:49:13 GMT -5
The woman explained his theory, and as she spoke, Paul's mind went over the dozens or so of studies he had casually read related to the issue. His memory was impeccable. His manners and way with people- not so much. Argument, particularly in his area of expertise, was only natural to Paul. He did have to keep in mind where he was and what consequence his strong opinions might have for him politically. Still; they were not speaking about politics at all. This was science.
Paul knew science, and it wasn't a debate. Science was theory and fact, analysis and hypothesis.
"I'm a neuroscientist," Paul offered, to explain the drivel he was about to get into. He wasn't used to people understanding what he was talking about and at least prefacing that he was a professional in the field helped give context.
"Temporal lobe epilepsy isn't fully understood, but it is associated with low latency inhibition of dopamine, specifically D1. Latent inhibition is correlational, not causational, with attention differentials and is essential for associative learning. In 10% of epileptics, this lowered inhibition can result in hypergraphia, a condition marked by the uncontrollable urge to write or draw. In each seizure cycle, neurons are stimulated in various areas of the brain, such as the hippocampus- an area of the brain deeply embedded in the temporal lobe. Full to the brim with glucocorticoid receptors, these receptors are easily stressed, and repeated stress results in long term atrophy. In epileptics this damage is incurred toward the end of an individual's lifespan from repeated trauma of seizures, resulting in elevated cortisol levels, occasional onset of Cushings disease, and the development of clinical depression." He gave a wide, wide smirk.
"So you see- your theory and my theory are intrinsically linked. The creativity itself was a genetic flaw, a complete accident of an insufferable medical condition depleting his brain of functionality over time. As the disease progressed, the damage to his brain becoming irreversible and undeniable, chemical depression emerged and influenced his art. In this way, the gradual degeneration of the brain is celebrate culturally. Likely because we do fully understand the inherent implication of the breakdown of natural physiological functions of the brain occurring in the artists we observe, and that it is this defect alone which results in the final product."
He had observed in the background that the scene was beginning to shift, that the host would soon be out- but he was much too stimulated by the conversation. He reminded himself not to get his hopes up, not to become too invested. In some sense it was idiotic to even continue speaking, to go into the depth he had. But he was warm and tipsy and it had all sort of....slipped out.
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Post by Snuffleupagus on Feb 4, 2022 20:00:23 GMT -5
"Yes," she smiled at him as a light bulb went on in her head at the mention of receptors. "Now that you mention it, depression and being an epileptic do share the receptors. Particularly the central serotonin-2A (5-HT2A) receptor. You must have read the study done in 2015 and again in 2018 when they found evidence to link those who are epileptic were more likely to have depression or other mood disorders even before they have their first epileptic episode. They-"
Maria felt this revolting presence, and the voice that hit her ears would have been lovely, had it not been for that creature. Maria's Pangool were pushing against her conscience in the most uncomfortable way, her gaze was broken from Paul's as she momentarily watched that thing go up the staircase. Those red pumps were a dead give away, and all Maria could think was, touch that lady and I'll curse you. He passed by, but not before snubbing Lisa-Joe, he's lucky were here or she would have eaten him.
"Pardon my manners. They called it a comorbid when you have both epilepsy and depression." She said with a smile, playing it cool and calm on the outside. This was not good, and she didn't mean the conversation. What the hell was Olivia up too? Maria had lost track of Lisa-Joe for the moment, and the devil herself would arrive soon enough.
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Post by Tyler on Feb 5, 2022 14:50:54 GMT -5
The lights began to dim, slowly at first, but then in a flash there was darkness. A single spotlight lit up the MC once more, now standing back on center stage. He smiled slowly, showing a row of gorgeous white teeth. All around people began to whisper with expectation. "And now, I'm happy... no. I'm exuberant to present: The Lady of the Rose, Steward of the Masquerade, Defender of the Common Person, and the proud Daughter of Dusk, Ms. Olivia Pane!" His voice boomed through the room, and just as quick as he came, he disappeared into the darkness, like a living shadow. The next sound was that of bongos, followed by the guiding beat of traditional drums and cymbals. Marakas joined in next, and the spotlight began to spin around the room, searching for where it was supposed to stop. The excited chatter of the crowd only served to enhance the mystery, and as the guests speculated, a primal cry came from the ceiling of the room itself. A second cry finally helped the spotlight to focus, and suspended from the ceiling was Olivia Pane. She was standing on a narrow high wire, that had been strung up at some point during preparations, and had been used earlier by the arelists. She wore a low cut red dress, with no shoulders, and a deep back. The outfit included elbow length red gloves, tons of onyx jewelry in the form of rings and bracelets with ruby stones, and a pair of matching heels. Her face wore a black cato mask, and her hair was voluminous and lightly curled. A white rose was prominently placed in her folicils, shining in the light and the only contrast from her otherwise dark color choices. How she stood on a highwire in heels was a mystery to some, but those who were masters of the blood knew. She was bathed in at golden light that was obviously supernatural, but cast her in an undeniable, yet haunting, beauty. She smiled at the audience, her mouth curling into something between warm and smug. Olivia was pleased with the turnout. As the intro music played on, her eyes moved about the room, not caring a lick for the darkness. She would be heard this night, even if the blood was how she'd accomplish it. With her irresistible voice, she began to sing, her words cutting through the music without the assistance of a microphone. "Please allow me to introduce myself, I'm a man of wealth and taste." Olivia began to weave a story, and as she sang, she moved along the highwire, letting her hips rock naturally to the steady beat. Each lyric was important, and her crisp diction helped to make sure that none of them would be missed. "I've been around for a long, long year, stole many a man's soul and faith." Next she sang of Jesus Christ and Pontius Pilate, and of sealing the former's doom. As she spit out the lyrics, it was clear she took joy from her performance. Olivia channeled her hatred for her former king. If this was a funeral for Ludwig, then it was the happiest one that anyone had ever attended. A party for Ludwig indeed. What a joke. It was one she'd been happy to play. With that fool gone, it was time for someone better to rise. It was time for competence. It was time for someone who actually knew what was happening in this city. It was time for someone who could balance her plate, instead of crumbling to hedonism. It was time for a queen instead of a king. Her eyes found her new child Coalji, and she delivered the next lyric directly to him. "Pleased to meet you, hope you guessed my name." She gave him a harmless shrug, before turning away to deliver the next lyric to the party at large. "But what's puzzling you is the nature of my game!" The hostess leapt from the highwire, landing on the stage in a left split. The drop would've killed or seriously injured a mortal, but she made it look easy. Her face never left the crowd, and she sang on, as if the move was the simplest one she could've chosen. A few gasps turned into hurried applause at the stunt, but Olivia's voice once again cut through the room like a hot dagger. "I stuck around St. Petersburg, when I saw it was a time for a change. Killed the Tsar and his ministers. Anastasia screamed in vain!" If only they knew the real events she was referencing, in the disguised lyrics. She was telling them all the truth, if only they were clever enough to listen. She hoped someone would be foolish enough to actually challenge her on the song choice. She couldn't wait to gaslight them later. "I rolled a tank, held a general's rank while the blitzkrieg raged, and the bodies stank!" Olivia didn't stay on the stage long. She popped up from her split and began working the crowd as she sang, twirling between people like a leaf in the wind. She moved so quickly that mortal eyes couldn't see it at all. The next chorus was delivered to Salvio, Rudy and Theodora, with a respectful smile to the ancient one, and a wink at Mr. Puttanesca. Rudy blinked in surprise, and quickly looked for where Sonya was standing, as if to assure her that Olivia had no charm for him. The song mistress then spun around and made a quick path to where Damien and Sonya stood, first nodding at Sonya with a polite smile and warm eyes. Damien was next, and perhaps by chance, or perhaps on purpose, he received the lyric, "I watched with glee while your kings and queens fought for den decades, for the gods they made." Now on stage, three backup vocalists began to "Hoo Hoo" in three part harmony. They wore ivory robes with a golden stripe going down the left side. Each had a white rose in their hair, matching the lead singer in this one small fashion. They gave a sensible and choreographed dance. It was a blend of gospel choir and the Spice Girls, and each of the women smiled at the audience as they hoo hoo'd. Olivia sang on, moving next to where Paul was standing with Maria, with Lisa-Joe lurking behind them. This lighting fast movement looked almost like teleportation, and appeared astonishing to those unfamiliar with celerity. To Paul she sang, "I shouted out who killed the Kennedy's," giving his hand an affectionate squeeze. She turned to where the Lisa-Joe lurked and made sure she got the next lyric. "When after all, it was you and me!" Lastly to Maria, she once again introduced herself with the chorus. She was unsure who this one was, but she radiated something special, even if Olivia lacked the time to properly read her aura. She moved on, and the scene only continued to grow more exaggerated. The stage spun along with its adjoining wall, it's motion like a carousel. Waiting on the other side was her live band, dressed in matching tuxedos. The MC banged boogie-woogie of the piano, and with microphones for each they joined the "hoo hoo" chorus as they played. Olivia zipped through the crowd once more, ending up next to Zeus and Jitters, making sure the demon got the lyric, "And I laid traps for troubadours, who get killed before they reach Bombay." In a surprise to some, Olivia next grabbed the hands of Mr. Jitters, giving him a warm greeting in between lyrics and dancing a little with the prophet. She didn't linger long, as the song demanded her be elsewhere, so after a few moments of their awkward shuffles she zipped back to the stage. Next, a shirtless guitar player, with long razor cut hair that covered his eyes moved to center stage and began to play a wicked solo. He wore tuxedo pants like the rest of the band, but was clearly here as eye candy. Olivia danced around the player, showing off her flexibility and dexterity, her dress flowing up as she spun and twisted. The emo boy twirled his axe upside down, and continued hammering away. Olivia stopped dancing and stared in awe, turning to the audience and saying, "give it up for Claud and the All Devils Band!" After waiting for the applause to cease, Claud took a mini bow, before stepping back and surrendering center stage back to Olivia. As she reached the bridge, her smile dropped and the next section was delivered with a cold seriousness that strangely worked against the upbeat backdrop of the music like a concerto. "Just as every cop is a criminal, and all the sinners saints! As heads is tails, just call me Lucifer, because I'm in need of some restraint." The rose's eyes now moved from one end of the room to the other, and then up to the higher levels, delivering the next words in the form of a warning. "So if you meet me have some courtesy. Have some sympathy and some taste. Use all your well-learned politesse, or I'll lay your soul to waste, mm yeah!" The smile returned and it was then the other dancers and the full choir went on stage. What had started as just Olivia now showed off the full power of the Nephilim. A room full of talented, beautiful artists now played their craft for the masses. Even with the song not yet done, Olivia was pleased. She would build this city into a place worthy of Michael's utopia, and tonight was as much about politics as it was recruitment. The truth was she saw herself as the devil of her own religion. If Michael was the Nephilim's god, then she was his morning star. She had been cast out of the garden by her clan, for the crime of escaping her oppressive sire. She'd been exiled to this city as punishment, but the joke would be on them. She would use the larger cult to get what she needed, and then she would replace the fools with her own version of Michael's plan. She would usurp her own god! Olivia had watched as Dusk went from a fur trading post, to the small city it was today. It was a mighty domain, and held secrets that would make any power hungry Kindred want it. In exile, she would create her own heaven on earth, and it would be better than Constantinople ever was. There would be obstacles of course, but she was prepared for them. She was prepared for other species to wonder why they should trust a vampire with their affairs. She was ready for some powerful ancient thinking that age alone was criteria for leadership. She was ready for all the powerful men of the city to scratch their heads and wonder why they shouldn't be leading instead of her. She was prepared for all that, and much more. She put as much thought into her political plans as she did her performances. Her resume was on parade, if only the crowd was clever enough to see it displayed. Those who wished to help her build this city into a peaceful utopia would be rewarded. Those who got in her way would be dealt with quietly. It was that simple. She'd told nothing but the truth in her song, but she was counting on the fact that nobody would expect the devil to be honest. Claud wailed on the guitar as the MC continued to drive the band with the piano! Olivia's voice switched from a rock and roll belt to an operatic soprano. "Tell me baby, what's my name? Tell me honey, can ya guess my name? Tell me baby, what's my name? I tell you one time, you're to blame!" The lights started to dim everywhere but center stage. The music began to fade out, and one by one the performers left until only Olivia, Claud and the MC were left. Finally, even her two most prominent costar's were gone, and she sang one last time with no accomipment, "Pleased to meet you. Hope you guessed my name!" Rather than some flashy high note, the last lyric was almost a whisper, and yet it could still be heard by all. With a smile the song ended. The spotlight went out, and the room was once again filled with darkness. Olivia had finally arrived.
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Post by Danny Whizz-BANG! on Feb 7, 2022 21:19:36 GMT -5
He had no response to Odessa's inquiry, listening closely to the lyrics to understand. He was about to respond to her, when he felt it. As the performance began, Damien's gaze was pulled by the performer in red. He watched Olivia with what felt like a fishhook in his mind, something he hadn't felt since Lucretia. It both put fear into his heart as it had all those years ago and coaxed his senses towards her. He looked over at Sonya to gauge her reaction.
"What is this?" he asked the ancient silently as the chaos of the music and the movement of her body drew him in like a spider's web. He prickled at the sensation, like being entangled in something deadly, on the edge of getting free. He blinked and grimaced outwardly despite his attempt to keep composure, pulling out of the spell as much as he could while watching more diligently than he was comfortable with.
But when the little spider danced over to the pair of them - the spotlight following - Damien maintained his position next to his kin and composed his expression into something more fitting for her game. It was remarkably easy to pretend he was enjoying himself and Ms. Pane's attention - until the spotlight left him in the dark again and the stiff discomfort of the moment with the devil - in front of the entire crowd of people - caught up with him. His expression dropped into something sour and indignant and it was only the pressure of Odessa's mind reminding him of decorum for their clan's sake that Damien's stony countenance dropped back into an unreadable, focused expression.
"She makes too many bold insinuations," he fumed at Odessa behind closed lips, followed by a flood of mistrust. "Something is rotten here."
--
"Whatever these old hands can get a hold of tonight," the man called Jitters responded with shake of his hands after he was released by the demon lord. "I'm never one to turn down free libations, if you know what I mean." He smiled with a mouth full of yellowed teeth, elbowing the demon in a chummy way before issuing a wheeze of a laugh.
"What in Hell brings the famous General of Pyaegidath topside?" Jitters asked, knowing the Truth. He leaned in close enough to smell the demon's whiskey, his voice low and secret. "It was Soz'gokan and that whore of a Buriz, Boknothan again, wasn't it? I told you never to trust those Keepers." He gave the demon a good slap on the shoulder and a hearty gristle of a laugh. He was about to tell him about the new Lands being formed in the Xuekkoxin sector when a familiar tune popped up and the Mistress made her way in.
He forgot all about Zeus and succumbed to the music in his ears, his body a finding the rhythm and letting free. He bumped into others until they learned enough to clear a path for him and Leland sang the greatest harmony to ever hear alongside the Rolling Stones. But the band played too slow, lacking the speed and funk with which Jitters knew the Stones for. The background Hoo-hoos were too quiet, too slow, off pitch and out of time so he decided to fix it, singing them properly and loudly to guide the song back into its proper rhythm.
But when that red, red beauty found him in the crowd, she took his breath and his hand. She was bad at dancing, trying to lead him in some swanky trot unfitting of the stones, but the good ol' boy in his trousers reacted just fine when she met his eye and sang near him. The voice of an angel and the body fitting of a great many tugs on the old trombone. But before he could begin his proper seduction, she was mist in his hands and a memory for later that night.
His jig only ended when the song did, a loud round of whooping and hollering and raised hands like he were praising Jesus again. He stuck his fingers in his mouth and produced a loud whirling whistle as he blew, feeling a glob of spit slide down the palm of his hand as he did.
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Post by The Cedar Witch on Feb 8, 2022 10:01:11 GMT -5
Odessa felt it as soon as Damien had, that pull. It softened her gaze, leaving her momentarily unguarded until Damien's mental voice cut through the fog. She straightened and hastily strengthened her mental defenses, maintaining a weak tether to her blood-kin. How could Olivia be charming the entire crowd? Just how old was she? Somehow she carried the presence of an ancient but that didn't seem right. The last time they had been acquainted was at some party many years ago, but Odessa couldn't recall feeling the same magnetic draw. Perhaps it was part of the performance. "Steady," she passed smoothly to him as her eyes remained locked on Olivia's form. "It is just an act." Best not make it more than that. When Olivia drew near Odessa played the part better than Damien, pushing a wave of delight before her own apprehension. Her smile mirrored Olivia's, but it did not reach her eyes. "She is Toreador, after all." Odessa was unable to pay as close attention to the song, and made no attempt to read into it anymore than she had the previous one. Instead she doubled down on her mental defense, wordlessly suggesting Damien follow suit. Perhaps the spell would end with the performance? Hopefully she would be able to have some fun tonight without having to keep an eye on Damien's anger. -- Zeus was about to reply, because his reason for returning to the Earthly plane had nothing to do with Soz'gokan, but then the lights dimmed. The darkness brought the demon a spot of comfort, and his shoulders dropped automatically. Now was time for Ms. Pane's performance and the night could finally begin. He sipped idly at his whiskey while the music started, expecting a proper song and dance from the woman of the evening. What the demon had not expected was to be as drawn into the act as he was -- surly had he known his hand would have been firmly in his pocket, fishing for that coin. But there was no way he could have known, and as soon as everything began he somehow didn't care. Unprepared, his face betrayed captivation while the Daughter of Dusk first defied gravity and then worked the room. Her body moved with grace and poise, and the demon was struck with unhindered admiration. As if of its own accord, there was a swell of excitement in his chest when her attention went to him -- and to his inner-horror his face gave her a true, starry-eyed smile. When the room went black again, the demon stiffly drained the whisky from his glass. -- One with the crowd, the wolf-woman swayed and cheered and danced without hesitation. When she settled in for sleep in the early morning after the party, the memory of her unhindered enjoyment would keep her up for many hours, tossing and turning with revulsion. But for now, this was the greatest performance she had every witnessed, and when it ended her voice was amongst those begging for encore.
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Post by rubyboobie on Mar 5, 2022 19:42:13 GMT -5
Beside him, a woman spoke to him. Coalji noted her unusual hair- shaven- and wondered what it meant. Fashion was not a cultural consideration to him, as much of his own culture was symbolic and meaningful. It was difficult to get used to the white man's habit of doing things for the sake of it, with little backstory.
She looked young, but by now the Duskborn understood that appearances meant nothing in terms of determining age. He tried to focus on her in the room, to get a sense of further information about her, but it was impossible. Like with most in attendance, the lady beside him was dressed elegantly. The difference in height, he was sensitive too, but once again he had no idea of knowing what her actual ranking and power was. For the most part he played it safe, which brought him to a predicament:
When an opposite-sex individual asked another at a formal event if they enjoyed dancing, were the answer to be yes, it typically ended in a dance.
Besides Samantha, he had taken a point not to dance with women after his wife's passing. It hadn't been hard given the long stretch of imprisonment and lack of opportunities.
Now it seemed dancing would be part of integrating into the local community. He would have to learn not to take it to heart.
"My wife and I would dance together. We enjoyed it." He offered, not exactly extending the gesture, and perhaps that was a mistake. Subconsciously he wrangled his wife into the conversation in hopes of buffering any advances, though his loneliness only grew by the day. How long he could continue his abstinence was a lingering question.
Gesturing to the performance,
"I have never danced like that. This is talent and practice. I admire it." And then, as an afterthought, "Do you like to dance?"
The flow of the conversation was slightly awkward, though Coalji was oblivious to such details.
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Post by Snuffleupagus on Mar 9, 2022 0:48:19 GMT -5
Samantha smiled fondly at the mention of his wife, but this man spoke about his wife in the past tense. That was sad, but she did not pry into this piece of information. Instead, for a brief moment Sam wondered if his wife was as tall as him, or was she short like her? She did not dare ask, and Sam moved the conversation along, her face shining brightly as the man returned the question.
"I love to dance, but I don't normally dance with people. Just in private. Maybe one day I'll have the confidence to dance in public." That was a half truth. As a blood doll she did not have the freedom to do such things anymore, when she did it was limited to being a spy at endeavors like this.
Sam could not help but jump as the performance suddenly changed to the main event. Olivia Pane. The performance was memorizing in itself, but she was not unfamiliar with what Olivia was trying to do. While Sam's Fortitude was stronger than the average Ventrue her age, this she could not seem to block out for long, and after a time, Sam too fell into the same trap as everyone else did in the room, dancing in and out of the crowd, gracing them with her Presence, literally. Although Olivia gave a few clues as she danced, Sam was taking note of each and every individual Oilivia visited, including the man beside Sam.
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