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Pythia chuckled gently, watching the fledgeling maenad as the "house special" appeared to be taking affect upon her. The disciple knew better than to partake in anything from that menu, but she had to admit, it was a little amusing to watch the younger vampires try them out. She couldn't help but think, how morbidly perfect it was that her first Childe be a maenad, knowing the race to be known as madwomen of nature. Py placed a gentle hand upon Crimtoria's wrist to let her know she wasn't alone and ground her a little. The Malkavian blood in them did tend to be volatile at times, and the drink seemed to be giving the fledgeling some unexpected side effects on top of it. "You seem to be glowing, dear Crimtoria," she said, watching the mageblood take effect on her. Noticing the little one's eyes light up at the decor, she asked, "Would you like to explore the mansion with me and take in the sights?" Pythia stood to her full height, taller than most females, and gazed down at her Childe, extending a hand to help her up.

Her mind wandered back to the subject of Malkav, and glanced around the room with curiosity - she couldn't help but wonder what had become of him, and if he might make an appearance at the party. If she did run into him, what would Pythia even do or say? In her mind, they were almost cousins, distantly tied together by ancient roots, but would he feel the same or have the same desire to remain cordial? There was always the chance that her bloodline could be considered more blasphemy than an asset.

Another year and his faithful Antediluvian had once again opened up his mansion to run in the new year. This year, the party felt larger and far more opulent the year prior. Of course, Caius was pleased by the turnout — why shouldn’t kindred wish to be part of the biggest, brightest, most talked about party of the year?

With a discerning eye, the artist let his gaze linger over each vampire that entered the foyer. Though all were masked, himself included, the Disciple was no fool. Some cut a familiar shape, while others strode in with confidence that could only come from being ancient; once in awhile, the hair on the back of his neck would stand on end as the familiar scent of one of his fellow Disciples could be so discerned…

And what of the news of recognized bloodlines?

Such a juice bit of gossip. What new leadership might waltz in tonight, thinking them their equals? Caius certainly had opinions about these changes, but when the vampire god spoke, they listened. It was not his place to question or judge, and why should he? Grendel was a vampire without fault — that he was here at all was another delight. Such favor! To think, the god had shown up not once, but twice to this delightful affair.

His eyes moved over to the bedazzled femur, which he’d brought out in all its jeweled glory. In fact, his entire ensemble revolved around the femur — a gift from the god of vampires himself. Of course, Caius had cleaned it up, dipped it in gold, and the bone sparkled with every semi-precious stone one could imagine. Ostentatious was an understatement — but Caius did delight in the way it truly glimmered amid the light. His own outfit was surprisingly simple — black, devoid of all cover, save his mask and accessories; each one brilliantly bright, colorful, and most importantly, fashionable.

His eyes swept over the crowds, pleased. He loved to see the clans come together — it was even better to see mortals mingling and rubbing elbows with the damned. Tonight the Masquerade was in full-force, and he lived for it. For those who wished it, for just a moment, one might find themselves back in a life long-since-lost. It was easy to pretend they had a soul, a beating heart, a quaint seven or eight decades of fulfillment and petty dramas until death found them; it was a short life, but a life that many vampires forgot as the years turned into decades, centuries, millennia, unchanging.

Picking up a glass of vitae from a passing table, the vampire swirled his drink. He nodded now and then to a passing vampire or two, the heels of boots clicking against the floor with every step. What gossip might he hear among the kindred tonight? What news might reach the Toreador disciples ears? Who is banging who when they shouldn’t be? Which vampire is causing trouble for another? As the night progressed, there was all sorts of possible juicy gossip to stumble upon; and the more the kindred drank, the looser their tongues wagged. Oh yes, Caius couldn’t wait ….

[Caius is open to interaction!]

While a certain white-haired Toreador might not prefer to be fashionably late, Dazzle had other ideas. Though he’d spent the past few weeks preparing the perfect outfit for tonight’s event, the colorful vampire had made sure he wouldn’t be rushed. He’d been struck by his muse the day previous, and refused to leave his studio until he’d captured the allure of Azriel almost perfectly upon the canvas.

It still wasn’t right but it was as close to praise as he could manage. Those golden eyes, that sun-kissed skin, that pale luxurious hair — how it haunted him from sundown to sunup and even while he slept. He craved that little minx more than he could verbalize — he was his muse, and Dazzle could think of no one else than the beauty. If he wasn’t in his arms, in his bed, or posing in his studio, he lived rent-free in his memory, his thoughts, and upon his canvas. He worshipped his muse with every splash of paint, every roll of clay. All the mediums he mastered were all for Azriel….

Dazzle had been asleep until he’d met him. It was only when he crossed the other that he’d felt as if he could truly see.

So it was, the vampire sought out one and only one at the masquerade. His own mask was that of a black wolf, with colorful roses painted in white, tan, and gold; He wore a white jacket which was open, his chest bared; a few belts were crossed upon his waist, along with tight, black leather pants. Knee-high boots finished his ensemble, along with rings, bracelets, and piercings of silver and gold to tie the whole thing together. His entire ensemble was a nod his muse, and he didn’t care who might put the connection together.

He’d never felt more alive for being undead… and it was all thanks to Azriel.

Thankfully, with time, he found the one he sought. Mask’s be damned, he knew the cut of his silhouette anywhere; even among the throng of bodies, the flashing lights, the blasting music of the D.J. — he knew the body that lounged upon the chair so delectably. Running fingers through his hair, the wolf sidled up to Azriel with a fanged smile.

”My, my — whatever do we have here?” he asked with a low rumble. His eyes drank up the sight of the other, trying not to look over-eager and failing considerably. ”What’s a beauty like you doing up here? I would have expected to find you in the throng below…” Never mind that Az was the heart of the the party, no matter where he was stationed.

Though the party was full of vampires vying for attention, Asana's eyes were only for Caius. Beautiful Caius, whose splendid hues caught the light in such an entrancing way. He was a glorious sight to behold, and behold him the Antediluvian did. Closing the distance between them, he took his Disciple's hand, and bowed over it, kissing the back of it. "My heart," he said, stroking that elegant hand. His heart seemed to expand to fill with even more love as he beheld the Toreador Disciple.

Amusement flickered in his eyes when he took in the bedazzled femur. How like Caius, to take what in the hands of another might be terrible, and fashion it anew into an accessory bedecked with jewels and all manner of lovely things. Like the beauty before him, the femur caught the eye. But unlike Caius, the femur could not hold it forever. "My jewel, my love. You look absolutely breathtaking tonight."

Words could not describe Caius's beauty, nor even pretend to capture it. Those lovely mismatched eyes filled Asana's own until there was nothing but them to behold. He brought the vampire's hand up to his lips to kiss it again. Although their children were present at the party, Asana confessed that he was there only for the star of the show, the splendid Disciple who held his heart in the palm of his hand.

This was, unlike his sister, not Nyoka’s first party. He had inherited a little bit more of a wild side from his father. The young Fledgeling had arrived with his mother and Ionia, but had quickly vanished off into the crowd with Kaiser wrapped around his form. He wore tight black slacks with a very loose, low-hanging satin shirt in velvety green. He had a mask on with some of his favorite orange flowers on one side and gold on the other, matching his golden jewelry and complimenting his fiery hair.

Nyoka easily followed the flow of Kindred, hardly noticing the extravagance of the manor. His home wasn’t as bejeweled, but he thought the treehouse was much prettier. Yes, Nyoka liked the finer things. But he was a Lhiannon! A rare male one, but a Lhiannon nonetheless. The natural beauty of the treehouse wasn’t something he overlooked. Plus, Kaiser didn’t like these fancy tiled and polished wood type floors; it was weird to slither on. As the good friend he is, Nyoka let his companion perch on his body, safe from the offending floors.

In the throng of vampires, Nyoka found himself once again at Ionia’s side. Normally, he’d leave her to her own devices, but he figured she was probably scared out of her wits in this kind of atmosphere. He leaned in from the side—paying no care to the fact that she likely hadn’t noticed his approach—and whispered, “Boo!” into her ear.

Perhaps they were a strange match. A Rebel and a Blue Blood, seemingly as opposed as could be. But then, Arianna wasn't exactly the princess or the politician, and she never had been. Her interests lay...other places, and she'd always found that Brujah were good acquaintances to have. And fun, on top of it.

And now, she'd found him. More than an acquaintance, for certain. More than a useful tool, or something just for fun. A partner, if an unconventional one. In life, in business, in...many things. And he had proven more than worthy of it.

She would handle her obligations to Mithras later. He would have plenty of people fawning over him tonight. And he might appreciate an organized report of observations.

"A drink sounds lovely. I'll see about finding us somewhere to sit? I'm hoping to observe what goes on here, tonight. I suspect there will be...opportunities."

There were always opportunities. One just had to find and exploit them.

Slowly slinking through the crowds, a tall stunning female in a Peacock costume makes her way to the VIP area. Reaching Hellfire the Salubri elder discreetly shows her entrance token. Her third eye is hidden for now but she isn’t too worried. This night in this place all are at peace. Those who hate her clan should leave her alone. However Fortuna is use to being careful this her guard is naturally up. Sitting alone she orders a drink. When it arrives she slowly sips it. Closing her vivid sapphire eyes the Salubri simply feels the room. The energies, the scents, the auras; and so much more.