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 Posted: Wed Dec 18, 2024 10:46 pm
As Mithras presented his token and spoke the words to the younger Gangrel a faint frown graced the younger vampire’s lips. It's not like he was stupid and wasn’t aware of when older vampires, especially more powerful ones were trying to exert their powers upon him. It made the back of his eyes hurt and his lip curl feeling that pressure. It prickled his skin and made his hackles raise.Though he slowly nodded his head as his molars ground together. The older Gangrel, finally getting the argumentative mortal to back down, turned to the other then shot a narrowed gaze at the Methuselah. “Either move on or ******** off. No one gives two shits about your ******** Queen Bee. Keep your domination to yourself and we won’t have a problem, got it?” A heavy growl laced his voice as he jerked his chin and the other cleared the rope from the path. As Mithras moved on the two Gangrels turned their attention back to the gathering line in front of them. So far, besides the quick interruption to the beginning of his evening within the Hellfire there was simply nothing of note. The wine was fine, but perhaps it wasn’t quite enough to slake his thirst for the time being. Glancing down at the empty glass, the faint tinge of red on the clear surface of it rolling with the motion as he twisted the stem between his fingers. His mind wandered to other thoughts. Thoughts of previous nights shared and a slight pang of guilt settled into his chest. He hadn’t gone to him like he had said he would, had he stopped waiting? Had he assumed that the Justicar was never going to return simply because he had stayed longer to see how things would play out in the end? He’d done it to get a better grasp on the situation, to see where the chips fell. What they were doing, what had begun to blossom between them had consequences for both. Dire ones that perhaps Armistice should be more wary of. But then, all that waryness had flown out the window hadn’t it? It couldn’t be helped. When those honey brown eyes had turned on him, what they had shared those nights between them. The sound of the Methuselah’s voice over the phone when he had called….those were things that had haunted his steps as he maneuvered himself within the Cathedral that extra bit of time. Those thoughts that littered his mind as he tried to rest, the anticipation in returning to him ever present. So why had he not simply gone to him once he had returned? Caution? Fear? Nothing in the Justicar’s long life had caused those feelings, those raw emotions to linger until now, not since that night centuries ago. Caution of what? Of what could happen to either of them if Mithras’ suspicions of his brother’s knowledge actually took root? Fear of what? Rejection? No, that wasn’t it. Loss perhaps. The fear of losing someone all over again, that was a bitter thing that dwelled within him, deep, aching, unending and perhaps caused him the briefest of hesitation. Longing had settled into him the moment he had left. So why not seek out the balm to it? ******** he needed something stronger. Slipping from his booth, he made his way across the nar. Gliding up to the black lacquered counter next to someone wearing a most ostentatious looking suit and bee motif mask, briefly giving the outfit a brief, critical eye as he turned his crimson gaze to the bartender who approached. “Vodka, neat.” Once he had his drink he would perhaps return to his booth, or perhaps meander to another part of the mansion given time if nothing of interest gained his attention. For now he let his mind wander, turning to Council business as he leaned against the bar top, strumming gloved fingers against it’s surface as the bartender briefly disappeared into the back storage area to grab another bottle of liquor.
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Posted: Wed Dec 18, 2024 10:57 pm
It was nigh impossible for Veddartha to take his eyes off the incredible beauty that adorned his arm as he and Artemis arrived at the Toreador's grande soiree. Too long had he been kept apart from her, the goddess of his heart, whom he had long ago sworn to protect and serve until he may become nothing more than ashes and dust. If he had but a breath to take, she would have stolen it away from him, to leave him gasping and grasping at her feet. To be reunited now, after so many long centuries, and to find her still wanting him...ah, but it had been more than just a miracle. She could easily have had her pick of many, and he knew she had indulged in those choices from time to time, but instead of moving on, she had waited. He would not easily leave her side ever again. He was dressed, in a way, to match the Disciple he was so honoured to escort this night, though Veddartha kept his suit less elaborate, sacrificing his usual finery to allow more eyes to fall upon her, as that was only befitting. An intricately wrought mask adorned his face, though again more to match hers than to emphasize any style of his own. Despite this, he still carried one of his telltale canes, the wolf's head a gold to match his mask, though, for Elysium's sake, he had left his sword back home. The moment they entered the mansion, Veddartha felt it. The power of their God, the power of other ancient vampires, and that connection to his own childer, one of which he caught a brief glimpse of before he dispersed his crowd and strode away. A faint smirk adorned his lips, though a slight sigh fell from them. "Of course. He would not miss an opportunity to make a spectacle of himself, though he always has a means to an end." And what end would that be, this time? Whatever it was, Veddartha had hardly any interest this night. Let Mithras do what he did best. If nothing else, the Antediluvian expected his other childer would keep each other in check, as they so often did through their petty squabbles. "Where to first, my beloved? A drink? A turn around the ballroom, perhaps? Or have you some networking you must attend to first?"
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Posted: Wed Dec 18, 2024 11:55 pm
"Oooooo, the Sheriff's wee little hounds have bite." He clicked his own pearly white teeth when he said it, his eyes narrowing. "How adorable~ I was simply making sure he heard what I said. They're with me, and I was told they would also have entry. If there are any problems with that, I can always talk to your pretty boy boss myself to clear up any misunderstandings." If he wanted to, he could easily exercise his discipline more fully and shut them both up, and Gods, was it tempting to do so, but the rules of Elysium bound him. Instead, he made a mental note to short the sheriff's bribe significantly this month for the indignation of having to speak more than two sentences to his whelps. The dullard clearly was not upholding his end of the deal if this was the treatment Mithras, or any other VIP for that matter, were to receive. "Have a delightful evening." His voice dripped sweetness and honey, as insincere as a laugh at a bad joke, before he moved onto the lounge proper, mentally shaking off the encounter as quickly as a duck shook off water, not forgetting it entirely, but moving past it for now. At the bar, he could ponder, a finger tapping on the edge of his glass as he listened to the conversations of those who strode past, or those who stopped to stand nearby. The masquerade was a blessing in some respects, the mask a deterrent of sorts, keeping away those who might otherwise recognize him and want to talk. In other ways, it was an annoyance, as it meant he lingered in this space alone, lost in thought, memories drifting to a year ago, and all that transpired since. He had not spoken to the Justicar since their phone call, though it had been tempting at times to reach out again, to momentarily fill some void inside of him with the sound of his voice, with promises that seemed oh so empty now. Had he not said he would return soon? Had Mithras not said he would come find him if he did not? It seemed neither of them had been quite so committed as the Methuselah had briefly believed. With the information of what was going on with the council in mind, and to distract himself from thoughts of the Justicar, Mithras had thrown himself fully back into work and all the illegal dealings that had been put on pause for the better part of the year. There was no longer reason to delay, not with Armistice absent or with the council in shambles. It was the opportune time to advance his own agenda, to reach out to old connections, and to seek out those most loyal to him once more. He had accomplished a lot in the span of very little, almost making up for the time lost earlier that year. And yet, as much as he tried to avoid thinking about him, he could not help himself, especially not in the waning hours before dawn, when he lay alone in his bed, remembering all too keenly the feel of breath against his skin, the dig of claws into his neck, the press of flesh against his own, of hungry ice blue lips, of the faint taste of God's wine. Those memories ran hot beneath his flesh, burned through him, practically consumed him whole. He took another swig of his wine, his face beginning to flush pink beneath his mask. He had been lost in thought, but nearby movement had broken him from his reverie, and his gaze instinctively drew to that movement, eyes taking in a lithe form in silver gown, in black feathers and a burnished, bird shaped mask. There was something about the way the vampire moved that niggled at him, and stirred a feeling deep in his chest. His gaze dropped to lace stockings, than rose and lingered on loops of white and black hair. Mithras felt faintly dizzy in that moment. How strong was the wine, here? He ran a tongue along his lips, his mouth suddenly dry, a frown creasing his forehead as he turned his body toward this creature of sheer elegance. It was then that the other vampire spoke, and it was that voice, the one that haunted Mithras, that whispered to him when he fantasized, because that was all he had left were fantasies. "Are you sure you want vodka? I have heard rumour that they're serving God's wine downstairs." He spoke, voice thick through a heavy, sudden ache in his chest, and honey brown eyes flicked towards crimson.
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Posted: Thu Dec 19, 2024 6:36 am
If the Gangrel was concerned about the interaction between him and the Methuselah it didn’t show. Disciplines were not required to be used here, so Mithras exerting his—especially upon his own son, grated on the Elder immensely. As all guests had been instructed he simply had to state they were with him to gain entry. Simple as ******** that. Mithras was just being an a** to be an a**. Gramsci’s face dead panned as the Methuselah mentioned the Sheriff. This Karen was out of his ******** mind if he thought he was even the slightest bit worried about him crying to his boss, like a new born pup pissing and shitting himself because he hadn’t bowed and scraped at the Ventrue’s feet. Typical aristocracy. Any monetary reduction well, The Hounds had full carte blanche when it came to cracking down and sending a message. So if things suddenly went tits up for the Ventrue’s businesses the Gangrel would surely let him know who had done it to him. He was here to do a job and he was doing his job. Politeness was never a requirement. And a rude gesture likely followed Mithras’ departure. Thoughts flickered through the Justicar’s mind as he waited for his drink. Trying to focus on what Demetrius had told him at the booth to busy himself away from idle thoughts of the Methuselah that even now seemed to wiggle their way past his concentration. They had made promises that neither had kept. Would any future they had together include more and more broken promises? How many times had he seen or heard or smelt something during their time apart that had reminded him so vividly of him? That stirred up those memories of them together as he desperately tried to focus on his work while away. That small wrinkle over Mithras’s nose that appeared when he thought he was being clever, the shade of his eyes as they darkened in moments of true unfiltered pleasure, that mischievous twinkle in his eye, his laugh rich and sure as it rolled up from his chest, his scent thick and heady, lingering in the back of the Justicar’s nose as if he were breathing it in anew right at that moment. Memories of him mussed, undone, ravished, glowing. Of Armistice laying there curled into the other’s side as he dared not move in case he woke him too early and ended their time together too soon. Arms and legs tangled as his nose pressed into the other’s neck. Some memories were clear as if they had taken place mere minutes ago, others faded like the moments when one lingered in the hazy space before wakefulness. And he could almost hear that sultry dulcet tone of his voi-fingers stopped mid thrum. His gaze snapping back to the figure standing beside him who had now turned and a flicker of recognition struck him. A deep, burning heat raced across his skin as he locked eyes with that honey-brown gaze. The wave of emotions flooded him then. Relief. Longing. Desire. Amusement that curled the corner of his deep green painted lips faintly. The sharpness in his gaze softened then heated as he turned his body towards the other. Leaning in, lips whispering past the Methuselah’s own, barely brushing his jaw as he moved to his ear. Voice low, a velvety purr laced within his words as he spoke. A gloved hand pressing delicately against Mithras’ chest. “Why embark on such a journey when what I really want is right here in front of me.” As he pulled back he gave the other man an appraising look, as always. Taking in the finer details of his outfit. The fine threads and patterns, the mask’s details, the elegant waves of his auburn hair. An almost desperate need to run fingers through it hit him but he refrained for the moment. Armistice was just simply elated to finally see him again. The world falling away around them in the moment. As if nothing else mattered, no one else existed and it was simply them there. The ache in his chest that had been tightly coiled easing once more. Would he forgive him for not returning sooner? For not seeking him out like he had promised? Perhaps there was a modicum of worry that niggled at the back of his mind that perhaps Mithras had seen it as yet another slight, another ploy by the Justicar to ignore and dismiss him as he had done so many times before. But that was so very far from the case.
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Posted: Thu Dec 19, 2024 6:55 pm
 Padraic Mannings hadn't been sure he would go to the ball this year. At learning his lovely mate would be making an appearance, however, he decided to go. Upon his face was a multi-colored and bejeweled mask that resembled a unicorn horned faehorse's head. Was it actually the head of a mortal, bedazzled and colored for this occasion or was it just jewelry? No one but Padraic really knew the truth of the matter there. They had arrived by carriage, Padraic stepping out first and offering his arm up to help Eclipse out as well. He really had no experience with this sort of event, so he would simply follow Eclipse's lead, for now.
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Posted: Thu Dec 19, 2024 7:28 pm
* Fleur dances for little bit more, then heads for the bar. She was cirous looking at some of the other fae. She walks slowly to the bar. Looking back at the dance floor she sees a fae sitting on stool. She countues her way to bar then stands there looking at drinks before ordering water. She looks around staring off off into space. She was oddly feeling like something or someone was looking for her or maybe she felt like she would meet someone like her grandma.*
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Posted: Thu Dec 19, 2024 7:40 pm
It wasn’t often that the Phuri Dae Antediluvian left her small Kumpania to venture into the city alone. While there were few who could harm her or catch her unawares she was still cautious. There were too many blades hidden behind backs. Too many wandering eyes that lingered and watched. She had grown wary these past few months. Rumors of someone she had thought long since forgotten returning had set her on edge. Constantly moving the Kumpania as soon as their work in a city or town was over. Setting up wards, charms, illusions around the vardo to keep the monsters at bay. Some might have called her paranoid, but they did not know. They couldn’t. There had been so much going on lately. The Ravnos Disciple’s children coming to her, Cryso appearing once more to find refuge within her vardo and now this. But for tonight, she would venture out. She would take a chance I. The hopes that the masquerade would give her some anonymity to stay under the radar. As she approached the estate, dressed in a flowing black linen dress, gold charm filled chains about her waist as well as any assortment of chains, chairs and beaded things around her wrists and settled upon her amble chest. Red and black hair flowing in loose waves about her shoulders and down her back, curls framing a face covered in a black and gold snake motif mask. Gold eyes glowed hauntingly from behind the covering as she stopped at the front entrance, crossing herself three times, spitting in her hand and spinning once in a counter clockwise direction before stepping across the threshold. It was loud here, filled with the bustle of revelers, the sound of music coming from all directions. It was certainly an aesthetic that Durga Syn was not used to at all. While her own vardo was lavish in its own way, it had a comfort to it. A homey feel. Where one could curl up on a window seat and sip a cup of tea while listening to the rain gently tap against the roof above. Her gaze swept across the foyer, avoiding any casual brushes against others as she made her way further into the mansion. There was a residue to this place and she had to fight the urge to constantly brush herself off. Perhaps it was the mingling of so many powerful sources, though one could not argue that their Deities presences didn’t send an electric shock through her system once she laid eyes upon him and her old friend. She was happy for Ravnos. Truly she was. And while he may no longer be her Disciple he was still her friend, they had history and perhaps unlike some of the new clans the Phuri Dae were more inclined to work with their parent clan than against it. They had always existed within the Ravnos clan anyhow, but their numbers had grown and the need to break away and be recognized as something different was beneficial to them all and helped uplift others like her, such as her new Disciple, have a better say at the table.
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Posted: Thu Dec 19, 2024 8:34 pm
Irad had not always been this way. He had once been the stoic warrior, doing as Caine bid even if he found doing so repulsive. He had always been in contention with his inner turmoil, consumed by an evil he once abhorred. However, there had been times when giving in to his beast was far easier than fighting it. There were even times when he enjoyed it. Still, it had taken much longer for him to accept the change within him, to give up on ideas of absolution, and to embrace the monster he had become. Perhaps he had found solace in Enki at that time. A deep bond forming between them despite their differences, followed abruptly by unbridled lust, drifting apart at times only to crash back together. It was the other second generation that had begun to influence the warrior more and more, to guide him toward acceptance and a particular drive toward depravity, and that influence continued to this day. Though his hatred for Caine had ever simmered somewhere deep beneath the surface, for the one who had ripped him from his life and cast him into hell itself, forging him into some unrecognizable monster. He anticipated the hand on his chin before it even arrived, gaze wrenching away from taking in the splendours of the manor to focus instead unseeing on some distant wall, a smirk slanting his lips as goosebumps broke out along his arms. "I am all yours, in this place, and wherever we go~ But tell me you are not at least tempted to defile one or two of the rooms here tonight before we go." He crooned, leaning his head back toward Abel's chest, eyes rolling toward him as he grinned. As for indulging the other man later, well, that had always been a given. A deep chuckle followed as he straightened again, his head rolling forward once more as his gaze locked on the Deity Grendel and his little pet Disciple he held oh-so-close. Ravnos - or Dracian, and Irad remembered him - Ah but there were some memories. "Oh, I do." His gaze was wicked as he moved forward, glimmering, mischievous eyes locked on his current target, a hand grasping to tug Abel along as they made their way toward the happy couple. "Grendel, brother, it has been too long since I have paid my respects." The ancient vampire crooned as he approached, gaze flicking with heavy amusement toward the Disciple who was doing his best to keep his gaze keenly averted. "I apologize, I do not wish to impose, only to pay my humblest respects. What you did to your father..." Irad clicked a tongue against his teeth, and gave his head a small shake, eyes alight with reverance. "If only I could have done the same. I do not suppose his temple might still be burning even now? I would not mind pissing on his final resting place. You know. For good measure."
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Posted: Thu Dec 19, 2024 9:48 pm
It wasn’t lost on Abel in the slightest how much Enki contributed into their triad. How he had drawn even Abel out of his own hardened shell not long after their first meeting. When Abel had sought to explain his presence in Enki’s court, to convince him of the betrayal at hand, how the wool had been drawn over the Ancient King’s eyes and it was only a matter of time before things went south. Enki injected understanding, reason and eventually passion. Though the pale haired vampire was ever the hedonist, he stirred things in Abel much like Irad did. It had taken longer to convince Irad of the egregious acts that had been thrust upon him. Even if deep down the other had known and hated what he had become. The hat loyalty had been hard to break. And perhaps, there had been times when Abel was unsure their efforts to bring Irad into the fold would work. But Enki was ever the magic maker. And Abel could not see himself anywhere other than within the presence of the other two. And while a need for torpor forced them apart, Abel much longer than the other two, it was always a guarantee that they would come together once more. What he felt for the others went beyond any understanding of the concept of love one might have. Though he could not call it love, per say, that feeling had died within him long ago. But the desire to be with Irad and Enki ran deep. To ensure their own happiness and pleasure in whatever capacity he could. That could bring the old monster a sliver of enjoyment. A burning heat lingered in his gaze; like dry ice upon one’s skin as a flash of light reflected in them. Much like that of a predator in the dark. “One or two?” Tutting lightly, Abel tilted his head slightly, raising a dark angular eyebrow. “Do you tire so easily nowadays, pet?” He felt the heat of that gaze as it stared up at him, Irad’s head pressing into his chest and he had to resist the urge to wrap long blue claws around that exposed neck. As Irad moved towards the pair Abel followed. Lingering close behind Irad, a shadow in his every step. The slight crook of a grin hidden behind his mask as Irad spoke, knowing full well that his companion was simply indulging in getting under the Deity’s skin,it seemed even his nephew could not escape Irad’s ire for his father. Though his gaze did flicker briefly to the Disciple at his side who was trying his hardest to find something, anything than the two of them to look at. Abel knew of him, and while he had no hand in the Ravnos’ time spent with Irad and Enki the former seemed hell bent on disrupting what little peace the younger had found. At mention of Caine’s temple his attention snapped back to Irad. Abel knew it lay beneath the one that Grendel had erected for himself. A token safeguard to keep the old god buried. While he would have enjoyed touring the destruction himself, preference to leave it u disturbed won out. Lest the old God stir and find his kingdom, his subjects lost to him. Letting Irad speak was all well and good, he preferred it that way. While they were family, there was little connection between him and Abel that warranted any familial bonds. Abel was too old to form a connection to his brother's progeny or perhaps it was a lack of desire to. Any want or desire of family had died on that hilltop so long ago. Though his grip did tighten on the other’s hip, applying a heavier bit of pressure. Irad could be impulsive and let his mouth run him into trouble. And while Abel had no fear of his nephew, little scared him or gave him pause, he knew the power of a God first hand. He wasn’t foolish.
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Posted: Thu Dec 19, 2024 10:11 pm
He knew it was him when he heard the other vampire's voice, yet any shred of lingering doubt that may have resided within him was scoured away when their eyes met from behind their respective masks. Those were eyes that had bore into his on too many occasions to count. Those were eyes he had seen filled with the heat of passion, burning as hot as Mithras's inner fire. Those were eyes that he had, once, and then again, seen a flicker of something true, of something vulnerable and unbridled, a secret he had believed had only been for him and him alone. But what did he believe now? Had Armistice done just what Mithras had feared? Had the Methuselah been strung along and made to believe, however fleetingly, that something far deeper than mere lust had begun to develop between them? And how smug would the Justicar be now, if that were the case. The tightness within Mithras stiffened further at the thought, his spine rigid as he thought, momentarily, to spin on his heel and walk away. But that amused curl of lips froze him in place, amongst a rapid flicker of emotions in that crimson gaze, the secret amongst them. In that moment, Mithras began to relax, his tension easing from him even as those eyes fully met his own, even as a gloved hand pressed against his chest and the other vampire leaned in close. His own lips parted with a silent gasp, and he could not help but lean toward the other, drawn to him in that same way he'd often felt drawn to him, no matter how much he may have tried to fight it. Lips brushed his own like a butterfly wing, too light and brief to count as anything serious, whispering against his jaw, ending all too near his ear. The Justicar's voice again, like a dream, far too surreal, and Mithras had to close his eyes just to be in that moment, to forget all that surrounded them and focus on those words, to mull them over, to hold onto them. His own reply came after a heavy swallow, eyes fluttering back open as the other vampire pulled away, and there lay a hint of amusement, along with the pull of a smile. "And yet you have journeyed quite far once already," he chuckled, already feeling that the space between them had become far too much, that pull he felt toward the other vampire intensifying. "Does this mean you intend to stay, now?" His head cocked to the side slightly with the question as he held himself back, wanting nothing more than to grab the Justicar and haul him off to someplace more private.
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soxs1219 rolled 1 10-sided dice:
4
Total: 4 (1-10)
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Posted: Fri Dec 20, 2024 1:15 am
Crimtoria haphazardly entered through the large doors to the manor that her sire informed her the party they were to attend would be held. Being a fledgling Crim had very little insight as to what tonight would hold. She trailed after her sire, the disciple of her bloodline, through the crowds of mingling kindred and kind to the entrance hall where she saw her Pythia escape to take a seat on a red velvet sofa. Her sire seemed to taking the crowd.
Crim herself was dazzled beyond belief at all she had seen and experienced recently. Not even a month after her embrace and she was to accompany her sire to this fantastical event with all the powerful vampires around, disguised at a masquerade ball?! She had no words for once. Her transformation alone had amazed her, in life she was going mad with grief at losing her sister, hearing whispers that she so desperately would try to talk back to but could never make out what they say. It was so frustrating she could hardly take it, the last decade was hell, then Pythia took her and gave the whispers a voice she could hear and things to see in the carnage she loved oh so much. Crim wasnt alone anymore and would never be again. what bliss!
Crim caught herself squeeing with glee and clapping as she thought back on the nights prior and her new life to live forever, the things she could do. She stopped and sobered herself, a lady mustn't act so childish, she thought and snicked lightly.
She focused back on her sire, "My lady Pythia, let me fetch you a drink, I'm a bit parched myself" she declared before bobbing a curtsy and running off to find a bar. She skipped her was through the crowd drift towards the East wing where she heard the beat of music. She bounced around, peering through her lacy mask and over the crowd looking for an adequate bar. She spotted a promising venue with a giant neon heart above it and made her way to the counter. Minding the tooling and large ruffles of her ballgown she pulled a stool under her and reached for a menu. After just a few moments of skimming the special the fledgling giggled "oh my?! I cant bring back any of those for the lady..... but surely she wont mind if I have a taste..." Crim waved for the closest barkeep and asked for the special for herself and a normal glass of wine for her escort. The bartender returned shortly with both drinks, the special in a fun little glass and the wine in its typical stem glass. Crim downed hers quickly and took the wine to return to her sire... Hopefully before the drink kicked in....
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Posted: Fri Dec 20, 2024 6:26 am
While he was loath to do so, Armistice could admit at least to himself that he did have some faults—particularly when it came to relationships. It had been so long since he had entertained the idea, not since that night had he ever imagined the thought of something more with another to be appealing. He had navigated the centuries alone for so long it was hard to show vulnerability, it down right scared him to even do so. To let someone in, to care for another so deeply it ached when they were not with you. He knew he should have committed to his promise harder, to assure the other that what he spoke was true, but he couldn’t change that now and if Mithras had walked away he might have understood. He would have been upset, but he would have understood. Being with the Justicar was never easy, it never would be. But he was trying. Their situation was likely full of pitfalls along the way and it was all Armistice could do to minimize the damage. To be a step ahead of the game, to keep Mithras safe. Because he knew, he knew that wherever the chips fell, whoever filled the council seats now would ultimately seal the Methuselah’s fate for better or worse. How funny how his priorities had shifted this past fleeting year. The thought of losing another he cared so deeply for, of losing him… They were painful, aching, unbearable thoughts. He spotted the amusement in the other, but the words left shallow cuts. Reaching up with his free hand, eyes lidding half way as he brushed a stray strand of wavy hair behind the other’s ear, effectively tucking it out of his face he let his painted lips part slightly on a light sigh. “With no desire in my steps for the trip and only to keep the wolves from breaking down your doors.” That hooded gaze lowered to the black and gold dusted lips that smiled so temptingly before him. “I am sorry, darling, for making you wait longer.” It was rare for an apology to leave the Justicar’s lips. He never apologized for what he did or what he said. But for Mithras? He had seen up close the ache that his previous transgressions had caused the other Ventrue. And Armistice never wanted to be the source of that again, directly or indirectly. Crimson orbs flickered up once more to capture the other’s gaze. That tension in his chest easing more and more. Replaced by a warm, buzzing sensation beneath his skin. Hopefulness, relief at the question. Though he was certain that Mithras had started up his dealings again while he was gone and would need to shutter the windows and doors of his activities, the question seemed more attuned to whether or not Armistice was choosing to stay for him. That Mithras wanted him to stay. “Yes, I do.”
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Posted: Sat Dec 21, 2024 5:48 am
Pythia smiled as her fledgeling approached her, accepting the wineglass with a graceful flourish. "Thank you my Childe," she purred, her violet eyes dancing in the party lights. She watched young Crimtoria for a moment, observing her with the kind of pride a mother has for her little ones. Pythia had been there during Crim's embrace, cradling the fledgeling thru the pains of turning, and there was a unique sort of connection there, one she looked forward to forming with each future Childer, as strange as that may be. She knew that other clans could be cruel with their embrace, but for the disciple herself, she enjoyed nurturing them into immortality and the bonds it created between them. "How are you enjoying the party so far, Crimtoria dear? And how are you feeling these days after the Kiss?" From what she could tell the fledgeling was adjusting quite well to immortality, which assured the disciple she had made the right choice in turning her.
She sipped at her wine and glanced around the room. The fur on the back of her neck was beginning to stand up, and it gave her the feeling that more and more disciples were making their way into the party - maybe even Grendel himself? Thinking about the deity sent electric shocks down her spine and thru her tail, a mix of awe and fear, excitement and dread, at running into her own Sire again. Perhaps because she knew that what he gifted, he could just as swiftly take away if necessary. If what she had heard of him was true, he was truly capable of anything...
Pythia shook her head to try to clear the drifting thoughts away and come back to reality. This was an important night for her Childer and she ought to be mentally present to ensure it turns out as a fond memory, right? She finished the wine and set the empty glass on the side table, gesturing for Crimtoria to sit with her. "What did you get to drink for yourself dear Crimtoria?" Her long spiked tail flickered at her feet, relaxing as the wine began to hit her.
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Posted: Sat Dec 21, 2024 6:02 am
Faedra awkwardly made her way toward the bar, cursing her terrible social skills. She didn't want to order any more drinks, as she'd already made herself look quite silly, drinking that mageblood cocktail and ending up all glowy. The shy Kiasyd felt many eyes on her and her white cheeks turned pink. Trying to ignore the attention, she sat on a barstool near where the mortal stood, requesting a virgin-lemonade. She couldn't help but turn her huge black eyes to where Fleur was, asking softly, "This is going to be a very strange question...but you wouldn't happen to be a Fae, would you?" She felt so strange, asking something like that, but knew with the way that she herself looked, Faedra's appearance was a dead giveaway for her being faeblooded. Hell, she couldn't seem to get rid of the sparkling faerylike creatures that always clung to her tail, so she simply embraced them as little pets.
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Posted: Sat Dec 21, 2024 11:10 am
By the time crimtoria arrived back at the loveseat where her sire was awaiting her return, the drink was just starting to effect her, though she couldn't quite tell which it was just yet. She was starting to get a fuzzy feeling that normal vite just didn't provide.
After handing over the drink, she took the seat offerer while exclaiming "I had the special!" Then leaned in the whisper the possibilities to her sire. She leaned back covering her mouth bet let out a tiny giggle "not sure which yet..." She said grinning with a shrug.
Her sire had indeed been gentle with her and crim was grateful, knowing violence exceptionally well. She did not have bad memories from her embrace, it had been painful, as all are, but she laughed and cried through the whole endeavor, it was magical.
In her reminiscing crim had lost track of the room and her state of mind. When she looked around again things had begun to change. The voices were beging to grow louder and she was unsure if they were in the room or the ones inside her head, the network. She observed that small details were changing all around her, the filigree on the crown molding was starting to twist and bleed forming what looked like entrails and chunks of torn flesh. She grinned. The sconces hanging on the walls became fountains of blood where the light poured out. Crystal chandeliers turned to teeth that sparkled and shone, the red light that filled the room covering everything and everything with blood. Tears swelled in her eyes. It was beautiful.... She was speechless as she beamed at all she had to behold.
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