Welcome to Gaia! ::

In the heart of the East Wing a vivacious young lady is dancing non stop. The clanless vampire is wearing a black lace corset with a short skirt. An elaborate matching lace mask adorns her white face, with an interesting choker around her neck. Spinning and twirling on the dance floor in six inch leather heels Khroma laughs wildly.

As she dances her undead heart out her multi colored eyes take in all of dancers. Outfits, muscles, eyes, smiles… any jewelry and weaknesses. She is checking them out and looking for future marks. The con artist in her is taking note of anything valuable. Not that she’s do anything here to anyone.

Khroma dances song after song. When others join her she dances in rhythm with them. When ‘alone’ she dances in rhythm to the music. Her floor length long black hair would normally be worn loose; but then it would be whacking everyone anytime she spins or twirls. Tonight she has it carefully twisted and styled, held in place by pins and pearls. It serves to flow with her costume as well as keeping her long locks from whipping around or being stepped on.

As the tempo changes so does her movements. With a slow graceful spin Khroma takes in the movement around her. She notes everyone passing, those dancing, and everything else.

The ancient vampire clicked his tongue in mild disappointment, his rose glasses tinted gaze drifting across various arrivals as they made their way in through the entrance, a claw rising to pull those glasses down slightly as one in particular sashayed in with a handsome man on her arm. Irad felt that familiar pull, that slight trickle of power that traipsed along his skin. It was the same with the man tucked into the Deities side, a strange familiarity, like calling to like.

One of mine… He thought and he pushed the glasses back up, attention going back to the conversation at hand. Caine had often commanded Irad and Enki to expand his army, to turn those who either held a spark of promise or as punishment for some crime. His eyes roamed back to the Romani vampire, raked over him, gaze narrowing.

“Dracian.” He repeated, a hint of a growl in his dusky tone of voice, a slow smile curling his lips, as he gave a nod of his head. “My, it has been a very long time since I’ve seen you. I did not even recognize you at first.” He remembered now, that fateful night, not unlike so many similar others. Nights of blood and pain and fevered passion. In despair and empty promises. Nights when he could not stave off the evil of his beast, no matter how much he’d tried, back when that mattered to him. He ran a tongue along his bottom lip and bit down slightly, more words on the tip of his tongue, dangerous words that were sure to get him in all kinds of trouble.

But Abel gripped him then as if knowing, cutting off words with a firm hand and instead Irad chuckled, dark and deep, and leaned further back against the monster, his head resting against his shoulder as he gazed up at the vaulted ceilings instead, until that moment when Abel’s icy gaze held his own, and he slowly blinked, a mock pout pulling down his bottom lip. “Was I being irritating? Here I thought I was rather charming.” A grin followed as he straightened, shrugging at his fur lined coat to reposition it on his shoulders, as he looked at Grendel once more.

“I am content. Satisfaction can wait until later, in the bedroom, am I right?” He dropped a wink at the God and chuckled again, turning away, a clawed hand gripping Abel’s arm to pull him along, ready to find something else to do. “Have a pleasant evening~”

He wondered idly if this place might have a gambling hall tucked away somewhere.

The glittery vampire couldn’t help the rush of a thrill that tore through him at that low, dark bit of laughter. It was smooth as silk and a part of him quivered at the sound. Testing the urge to dip down at bite at that finger tucked so confidently beneath his chin.

For now.

So instead he bit at his bottom lip. “Pinkie promise I swear.”

As they danced, bodies melted against one another there was a moment of curiosity that popped up in the vampire’s mind. Who exactly was this hottie? But as quick as it came it was gone. Tonight, identities didn’t matter. None of that mattered. At least not here. Maybe in the higher class areas where the snooty Clanned vamps were, but here in the club? Anonymity was king. Who cared if one was anything from a Clanless to an Antediluvian.

Clearly no one who entered into this part of the estate was worried about it.

Sliding a glitter claw along Maltheas’ jaw, he laughed low before letting his hand fall to press against his chest, leaning in close once again. “Definitely not cold, baby. Though I’m feelin’ pretty lucky already I’m game to see if lady fortune smiles on me more.”

Kynthia let her gaze linger about the room as she took her sweet a** time parking herself in a chair. The male beside her oozed power and at the same time respect. She shivered in anticipation of just where this interacton would lead. She was no fool, this male was very powerful, and she knew he was a high-ranking member of her clan just exactly who she was unsure of. Shrugging to herself mentally, she knew it was a matter of time before she knew what she needed and would proceed accordingly. She came here with a mission and was determined to carry it out. If she could navigate this party in the same way as those more powerful, she would have an advantage if not she would face the consequences.

Glancing at the tray she surveyed what was presented and tilter her head to the side and deliberately took her time in choosing. She knew he was watching her with hooded eyes and to her he seemed interested in her next move. Smiling to herself, she reached slowly for one drink then bypassed it and chose another. It was a cocktail, although the vials seemed to be calling her name she decided not to indulge just yet. She needed to be clear headed if she was to able to keep herself in this game that was being set up as she sat there. She was no fool, this male was dangerous and she knew it.

[sorry this took a while, I never got the quote. I went digging in my posts and found your reply]

Smiling softly at the compliment, Mysteria shakes her head. “I’m afraid I can’t take credit for my look. I stole the boa from one of my mother’s and… borrowed… the rest from my other mother. I saw the latter here earlier. Or at least who I assume is her. Mask or not, I have a pretty good idea of who my mothers are.” Laughing softly, she finishes her wine. “For some reason it was important to her that I come tonight. I’m not entirely sure why. Although she did say this family hosts the best parties and coming is a great way to meet others.” What she doesn’t know is that family was code for ‘clan’. Mysteria knows nothing about her mom Wisteria’s true nature. What she doesn’t know is her mother is secretive with vices. Beyond that she knows very little beyond believing Wisteria is a Freakling like Kema. “Are you having a good time?”

((Whomever knows the Daeva elder Wisteria could recognize her daughter IC if someone wishes to. If they do that’d be cool. She knows nothing about who she really is or what a Daeva is. But it makes for interesting conversations.))

Among the newest arrivals are yet another couple. The 6’ tall male is wearing a gold suit with a black and gold mask. His gold eyes oddly match his suit, a random coincidence when choosing costumes. Scanning over the large entry way, he turns his gaze to the lovely lady on his arm. “What are you in the mood for? Meandering our way through the entire place? Or we could get straight to the dancing. Or…” Syan trails off so Ester can add anything she wishes.

Meanwhile he has part of his mind searching for a particular Vampire. Or several rather. He is curious if his mother or siblings are here. It was his mother who invited him after all. Granted she has been trying to get her clanless son to choose one. Midnight would prefer he join the Gangrels but she would be supportive no matter what. Not sensing her yet, he moves his full attention to Ester.

”The night is young and we can do anything you please.”

As much as the dark power that rolled off the Deity thrummed through the air around him just by his presence was easily picked up on by any vampire within the God’s vicinity, Ravnos had found that whenever he had managed to amuse his beloved there was a slight shift in that energy. A lightness for a time. And it always managed to bring a smile to his lips when he picked up on it. It happened more and more often as their time together had stretched on, especially so when it was just the two of them together.

When he was amused or laughed it was a treat for him. Made even more so by the sheer fact that he was the one to elicit that response from Grendel. Even if it was sometimes mixed with a mild sliver of exasperation for the Disciples words or antics.

He enjoyed making him laugh. Making him smile.

But as quickly as it had flickered into existence Grendel had set it aside. Steeling himself, locking it away for a more appropriate time than something to share in front of the two Ancient creatures who stood before them. It was no secret his feelings towards Irad. While he had not disclosed much about that night with Grendel, mere snippets of what he could even remember, Ravnos was certain that his love could understand his feelings upon the subject. And how seeing Irad there once again after so long made it….difficult.

It brought up bitter feelings that the Disciple had long since buried beneath his new life. Things he tried no longer to linger on with this new path he had taken. But old wounds, even for him, could be easily wrenched wide open again. Idly he rubbed at his chest before catching himself and letting his hand bring his cigar back up to his lips for one last pull before a quick flourish of his wrist sent the cigar away.

A light scoff at the Deity’s words in his mind would come in reply. Like that would stop you. You would only try harder. Amusement flickered through his mind, quickly swept aside by an unspoken sense of love wrapped within their connection. It simply cannot be helped when you traipse around with barely a scrap of cloth on. Not that I am complaining, so please do continue. It wasn’t hard to get wrapped up in those moments, to want to be with him. To desire that closeness even when Ravnos knew Grendel had things to do. The love he carried for him was endless, there simply was no bottom for one to stand on and often he felt as if he might float away from the weightlessness of those feelings that filled him. That night so long ago had changed him, for the better he would argue.

He couldn’t imagine his unlife without him.

The continued point of contact of Grendel’s hand running along his arm had helped, and now that Irad and Abel had moved on Ravnos could relax more. Letting his jaw loosen, the muscles in his body eased as he turned to peer up into those glowing crimson orbs. A softness entered his own gaze at Grendel’s apology and he gave a small shake of his head. “Do not apologize, Dragul meu. He and I have a…” His gaze flicked away then back again. “Complicated relationship. And while I am quite amazing and spectacular and all those good things there are, as always, things from my past that I must work on. But you make it easier. Better.” Turning his hand, Ravnos brought Grendel’s knuckles up to his lips and kissed them softly. A wide grin parting his lips, fangs flashing in amusement. “Ready to leave already? But we just got here. Oh, you mean things here, well….outside of terrorizing Marconius and I have yet to spot Enoch I have heard tales of some drinks in one of the bars with some interesting effects and I might quite like to investigate these claims for myself. If you would indulge me.”

It had not been easy being away from him. The distance had allowed a deep, aching longing to settle within the Justicar. Almost to the point of suffocation. He had not been lying to Mithras when he had told him the desire to leave him had been practically nonexistent that last night they had been together. And a low, burning resentment had rooted itself deep within him. Not for this man, not for who the Methuselah was or what he did. But towards fate for being so cruel as to offer something so enticing to Armistice all these centuries later.

It left him internally warring with himself and half the time he was certain he might drown in it.

The extra time away had given him time to think about it in more depth, however. Even if the distance tore at him. Armistice was intelligent, he knew what odds they faced in this. And he had weighed them all carefully. His logical self told him this was a bad idea, that nothing good would come of involving himself further with Mithras. That he should walk away. End it before that spark of flame could grow any larger and consume him. But then….the other side of him. The smaller, hidden side that Mithras had glimpsed, had pulled up from deep within him all those nights ago urged him not to turn away from this. Not to let it be snuffed out before it had even gotten the chance. To not wrap himself even more tightly within his cold, shield of unyielding indifference.

The smaller voice has won out. And the Justicar had found himself for the first time in a very long time not wanting to turn away. Not wanting to abandon this. To continue this existence alone.

He had sacrificed so much of himself already. Was he not due even the tiniest bit of happiness?

Mithras’ reply came quick and sure after his own. And for a moment Armistice felt stunned, dizzy on his feet. A weight lifting from him with those words and emerald green lips parted in a brilliant smile. That aching longing easing within him, filled with a new sense of elation. It took him back to all those centuries ago when he was still fumbling with his feelings for others, unsure and nervous at the very prospect of rejection. Only to have that quickly wiped away with the reciprocation and all he felt was sheer, utter bliss.

He so desperately wanted to kiss him at that moment. To capture those lips, feast on his mouth and taste him once more after weeks of going without. Disappointment flickered within him when Mithras turned his head slightly and pressed his cheek against his own, but the words brought him back down from space. Though he could not help but allow himself to relish in the press of that cheek so keenly against his own. “None that I am aware of.” At least, not at the moment. Demetrius has sniffed him out but the Malkavian was the least of his worries, he trusted him to a point. And anyone dealing with the issue at the Cathedral had likely skipped this evening's festivities altogether. Their minds too busy in their desperate grab for power.

As for any other Justicar that may be lingering about, there was no worry in that sense. Most cities typically only hosted one at a time unless a particular incident required more than one.

The masks did make it relatively difficult to pick familiar faces from a crowd. He had missed Mithras entirely due to this fact until their chance meeting at the bar.

A low, velvety laugh bubbled in his throat at the last question. Turning his head slightly, pressing lips against the other’s ear. “I do not know how to break this to you, darling, but you and I do not quite so easily fade into the background. Perhaps a change in setting is required. Give it a minute then follow, I’m sure there is someplace tucked away we can find.” Pulling back from the Methuselah, he let his gloved hand slide down along his chest. Though he was loath to pull away entirely the Justicar knew that any further interaction there within that public space would draw eyes that they both did not wish to have upon them. Besides, a driving need to get the other vampire alone had been buzzing through him the moment he had realized the masked stranger was him.

Turning from the grip that held him Armistice glanced over his shoulder briefly at the other before his lithe form began to retreat towards the entrance of the VIP room. Stepping around the various attendees that came and went as he made his way back out. Heading down the spiraling staircase with a firm sense of importance in the way he held himself as he walked. It was, in his way, to keep others from stopping to talk with him or distract him from his current destination. And so he moved through the throngs of people who parted to make way. Finding himself back along that long corridor lined with doors. There was one thing the Toreador always seemed to be prepared for and supplied during their parties and that was more private places for guests to gather and mingle. What happened behind those doors well…anyone could likely figure that out.

Finding one that appeared unoccupied, Armistice slipped inside without another glance behind him. Letting the door shut on a soft click.

————

While one set of eyes lingered in their direction from one table, another set from across the room settled upon the pair from where he sat in the opposite side. A wave of chocolate brown hair obscuring one golden eye as a finger ran back and forth across the lip of his glass. An arm over the back of the plush booth seat as the younger Methuselah watched closely.

My, my. His “older brother” sure did enjoy stepping in it didn’t he?

One evening he had been fervently denying his involvement with the elegant man with him and the next…well…Memphis had had an inkling. He had attempted to rattle Mithras with his suspicions as always, to get a rise out of his brother as he so wanted often to do. From the time it had taken him to meander from the club up to the Hellfire, Memphis had run into several of Mithras’ “decoys”. Though those were easily ignored. None of them gave off that certain…. Je ne sais quoi that both he and Maltheas carried. That little inkling of familiarity that Memphis was so keen to pick up on whenever the others were close. Perhaps it had something to do with the connection between the three of them from their sire.

The loops of black and white hair and that lithe body. Those things were unmistakable to the Methuselah as well. While Armistice wasn’t quite his type there was an undeniable beauty about the man that drew the eye.

Lifting his glass to his lips he slid his other hand into the pocket of his slacks. Pulling out a sleek looking phone and thumbing in the passcode before he thumbed out a message and hit send. A satisfied smirk lifted the corner of his lips as he watched the Justicar turn and leave.