Welcome to Gaia! ::

Sipping her drink while the male speaks, Sarcedsia takes a moment before replying. It seems he hasn’t figured out yet who she is. Skirting society is what she wants however how her bloodline came to be was quite infamous. “I was part of a clan once upon a time. As far as I know it fares well. The trio of female Gangrels who were left for dead in the old mines? I was one of them.” After another moment she decides it wouldn’t harm her to introduce herself. “I am Sarcedsia, Oberloch Disciple. My bloodline is small yet fierce. Most don’t know others exist, I assume I’m the only one here tonight.” She shares this information as a test. You can tell a lot about someone based on their reactions. As well as if they pass along information and who they pass it to.

Sipping her drink she watches him to see what he may share in return. All the while paying attention to those around her; for two souls in particular. The Disciple wishes to acknowledge Grendel, but also avoid Enoch. Or at least not be surprised suddenly. The last time her guard was down around that particular Gangrel she damn near lost her tail. Unfortunately Oberlochs don’t heal the same as the others.

As always, it seemed that the moment Grendel let a compliment for his partner fall from his lips, the other downplayed his status in Grendel’s life or his involvement in the events which led to where they were now, which made it seem like he was also denying his own self-worth. Though Grendel knew that was not precisely the case, it still gave him pause, long enough to level a piercing red gaze on the Disciple, holding those faintly glowing green orbs with his own. “Și ești prea modest.” With one arm already preoccupied with holding the ancient vampire close to his side, and his other hand wrapped around the stem of a goblet of wine, he could not reach out to cup Ravnos’s cheek as he fervently wished to do, could not brush the edge of a thumb against a handsome cheekbone and lean in for the kiss that he so ached to give him, but the impression of his wish to do so was there in the slight upturning of his lips and the all-encompassing love of his gaze. Ravnos knew what he meant to the deity, even if he preferred to keep such things between them.

The God’s gaze flickered away to watch the two who approached, both kin in a way, though only one by blood. Abel had been a mostly quiet presence since his awakening, having come to see Grendel only once to find out what had happened to his brother Cain. A part of the Deity held a certain type of guilt for having done to his father what he had done, without thought to the others who may have sought to exact their own vengeance upon the old God of Vampires. Not regret precisely, nor remorse, but an understanding, a knowing how slighted he might have felt should the situation be reversed and if Lilith, or anybody else, had done it all on their own. For that and that alone he would hold some shred of patience during this unexpected encounter, his gaze levelling on Irad, power flashing bright and dangerous in his eyes as a warning. Of course he knew Ravnos had been around long before him, and had his own demons from his past that haunted him. He also knew who this particular first of all vampires was and the things he’d done in Caine’s name. But that did not mean he would tolerate any nonsense, especially if it meant causing his partner discomfort.

“Abel. Irad.” He greeted them both with a nod of his head, lifting his goblet toward them both before raising it to his lips for a long, languid sip, a hand squeezing just a little tighter against Ravnos’s side in comfort. Beyond their interaction, he could feel more disciples arriving, and could sense Irad’s distraction as well. After all, he had potentially sired some of the most powerful vampires here…including Artemis, who had just strolled into the foyer arm-in-arm with Veddartha. He felt, rather than saw, as Irad looked toward her, his slow recognition, and the satisfied smugness that seemed to encompass the red-haired vampire who leaned so heavily against Abel, practically melting into his side.

“Ah, I am afraid that fire has long gone out, and that tomb is now buried deep beneath my temple.” Grendel smiled as pleasantly as he could manage as he lowered the goblet from his lips, head buzzing with so many presences, so many voices, that he was slowly sifting through one-by-one. “And I would prefer it if you did not piss on my home.” The smile widened, as his gaze darkened by increments, before flicking toward Abel.

“I am surprised to see you here, Uncle. Such mundane celebrations seem beyond your usual tastes. Have you grown nostalgic for simpler times?” His words, while cool, were underlaid by hints of amusement and curiosity. It really did seem quite odd to see Abel at such a soiree.

In the meantime, a hand shifted, and fingers stroked casually and idly along Ravnos’s arm, a touch infused with calm, like a little boost to the effect of the cigars he smoked, soothing while he spoke in the other's mind.

Have I told you yet this evening how deliciously ravishing you look? He asked, perhaps as a distraction, though the words were nothing short of the truth.
And elsewhere, his mind wandered, flitting from Disciple to Disciple, counting those present, pleased that so many had chosen to be here this evening.

One in particular he stopped upon.

Koroleva, his voice rumbled through her mind, a power on the verge of grating but not quite, instead overwhelming and soothing all at once. I was hoping you would be present tonight. Forgive me for not approaching face-to-face; I find myself quickly occupied when in the public eye, but I have brought a gift for you. As the voice began to taper to a quiet echo in her mind, Koroleva would suddenly find a convergence of shadows in front of her, and from it, lifting and floating in the air in front of her face, something that appeared like a cup, though somehow otherworldly in appearance. It was crafted from a smooth, iridescent material, shifting cool and warm hues in a way that did not make sense. The cup's interior was a gleaming, polished obsidian so dark one felt might feel like they could fall within its depths. It could easily transfix a gaze, and those who looked within would find themselves searching for what may be hidden deep within what appeared to be an unending well. Only those with ancient power could see more: Faint glowing lines that apperared to move and rearrange itself like a living map; tiny, luminous motes that sparked and drifted across the surface, appearing and disappearing quickly…

An old artifact wrought from the ruins of my fathers temple. The Bowl of Convergence. Use it wisely.

The cup-like bowl would remain floating before her until taken, its surface temperature changing with its hue.



While conversing with Koroleva in his mind, it appeared another Disciple did approach the Deity and his small gathering. Shifting his attention to her, his gaze warmed, a smile lifting his lips as he gave her a nod in greeting. “Narcisse. It is nice to see you again, outside of your usual domain.” His eyes flicked to the basket offered toward him, the undeniable scent of blood cookies within lighting his gaze further.

“Of course…Though I do not promise to share with the rest of my family.” He would have extended a hand to take the basket, but both were preoccupied. Instead, a tendril of shadow rose to wrap around the baskets handle, and soon the basket itself was tugged into a void, and disappeared, spirited away for later enjoyment.
“I hope you find your evening pleasant. I may yet find you later if time allows.”

Vlad smiled, wryly. "One does not reject a personally addressed invitation. Especially not when our mutual godly benefactor is in attendance." One did not simply deny Grendel one's presence, especially not after swearing to him.

"But I'm glad to simply share a table quietly, if you like." That would certainly be no great problem. "Vlad," he introduced himself, casually. Whether this one knew exactly who that made him or not was...up in the air, he suspected. His Dragons had always moved underground. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Maltheas let a low, dark little chuckle pass his lips, finger coming back up to gently tuck under Rude's chin for that brief moment.

"Is that a promise?" He asked, low, dark, and playful. That hint of glittery lips felt like it, at least--or a hint, of what he might win if he played his cards right. Ah, the gamble. Ah, the sweet promise of victory.

And an evening spent in the arms of a charming partner. Be it dancing or...more private amusements.

It was easy to move in unison so close together, and his hands came down to trace over Rude's sides and rest on his hips. They stayed there even when the other vampire turned, a point of connection.

"Willing to see how lucky you can be?" He teased, amused. "It seems we're both on a hot streak."

Black wasn't really her colour...Well, that wasn't precisely true. Sio could make almost anything look good, no matter the hue, but black was not often her first or favourite choice. However, a little raven had told her (or rather, had shown her) of Lazarus's departure from his private study, dressed in a manner he was not known to be accustomed to. However, she had to admit that he sure did cut a striking figure when he wanted.

Dragging herself away from her own studies was not nearly so difficult for her. There was always more time for tombs and artifacts and ancient scrolls, especially when time meant so little to those who had stolen immortality for themselves. Keeping Lazarus's choice of suit in mind, she fashioned herself an outfit to match, one that accentuated precisely what she wanted to accentuate, though the darkness of the fabric was a stark contrast to the fairness of her skin, the front delving low to the top of her naval. She traded her golden crown for a black, bejeweled mask which perched delicately upon her porcelain features. Her eyelids were dusted with shimmering black eyeshadow, but her brilliant violet gaze shone with a radiance that was impossible to ignore. Black heels to match the dress completed the look.

She arrived at the party some time later, knowing full well it was where Lazarus had gone scurrying off to. She had meant to ask him herself if he would like to step out for the evening to accompany her to this little soiree, but it seemed Kilah had gone and made it her business to get him out the door instead. But it was no matter, really. Sio was a patient woman, in love with a man who was so often in love with his work. She knew what he could be like once he'd gotten his hands on a good tomb...but she'd also been sure to remind him of her existence, from time to time, when the mood struck, and he had always been more than willing to set that tomb aside for a few hours of distraction with her.

The manor was absolutely bustling with all manner of folk, mortal and immortal alike, and she could feel the power as she stepped through that entrance, rolling over her, through her, shivering enticingly down her spine, a thrill that made her all the more eager to find he-who-had-snuck-out-on-his-own.

It did not take her long. She always seemed to know just where to find him, as though a connecting thread had pulled taut and tugged her in his direction. He looked just as she had seen him through the raven's gaze, perfectly immaculate, the suit fitting a form she knew all too intimately well. Throwing long flowing waves of hair over a shoulder, she sauntered toward him, dress shifting round her feet as she made her way, coyly, to his side.

"Why hello there." She breathed, her voice soft and low, dulcet, like crushed velvet. She turned to press her back against the wall, her hands placed flat against its grooved wooden surface behind her, head turning slightly toward him, a glimmering twinkle of mischief in her gaze. "I could not help but notice you from across the room. Such a handsome thing, brooding here all alone in the shadows." She paused, leaning closer, standing on toes just to reach the curve of his ear as she quiety murmured.

"Were you trying to hide, or simply waiting for someone to find you?"

Mortified by his behavior, Aistra gently takes her free hand in his. “Please forgive me. I know not what came over me. What I do know is you’re right about the potency. They sounded fun at first but you look terrified and I’d rather not be acting like some hound.” He has no idea what she saw or felt; her reaction tells him it wasn’t good. Lifting the hand in his, he gently kisses it. “Would you like something else? Food might help counter some of this…” The last thing he wants is for Arianna to be hurt. “If you’re up for it we could make our way to the dance floor. Me singing to the music has to be better than howling right?” Chuckling as he makes the joke, his eyes never move from her.