Much like a puzzle, or a painting, where the motif would only appear gradually, the mystery of the recent intrusion into the Nosferatu network and the retrieval of certain security footage, was slowly starting to unravel. On Damian's request (spelled 'command'), a couple of his so-called 'representatives' had been investigating the occurrence ever since he had been informed of it, and he had since learned that the culprit was one Desmond MacInthyre, who also went by the nickname 'Dez'. A very skilled hacker, according to Damian's sources, and quite the expert at covering his tracks. Good, but far from the best. However, as he was still better than anyone operating in Damian's service, Damian had sent one of his men to approach the Nosferatu in order to obtain the information. They were sure to have tracked down the person that managed to hack into one of their databases, as such a thing was bound to get their attention and have them take an interest in him. Though hardly surprising, they were as willing to share what they had learned as always. Meaning they were not. Not for free, at least, which Damian could both respect and appreciate, as he knew better than anyone that everything came with a price. What annoyed him was that the Nosferatu had little interest in money, and so obtaining information from them was not as easy as transferring money from one account to the other, or even hand over a briefcase holding a small fortune.
What the Nosferatu wanted, was either some other information in return, or a boon. Seeing as how it was the very Prince of the city that craved their knowledge, a boon in this case was worth a hell of alot more than a hefty sum of money. And it just so happened that there was this one matter on their agenda that they needed to be resolved, in order to move forward with their plans.
Damian, wanting to get to the bottom of his own matter so that it may be resolved as quickly as possible, had realized that if he wanted the information, he had little choice but to agree to the deal they offered. He wasn't happy about it, but as Prince, he had to do what he had to do, for the greater good.
Besides, it was not like the Nosferatu would have him running their errands in person. He had loyal subjects for that.

'We'll scratch your back if you'll scratch ours' over and done with, Damian had finally recieved what he wanted to know, and had wasted no time in putting his representatives to work, again. This time cracking the whip even harder. Time was of the essence.

Presently, with Moira having left his office about fourtyfive minutes ago, Damian had just learned that while his spies had found out a great deal about this 'Dez', they still had not found a conncetion as to why he would be interested in the particular footage he had retrieved, but... They had learned that a girl looking very similar to the one in the footage - Aeode Mallard, daughter of the prominent family gunned down at a large social event almost a decade ago - had been sighted speaking to Jessica at The Haven just a few night ago.
Now wasn't that a coincidence?

Could it be that the two women had happened to cross paths again, and one had recognized the other? Had Jessica chosen to reveal herself after all these years? Or had she been exposed? The recent interest in the footage of the event that connected the two, did point in that direction.
Or could it be that they had kept in touch over the years, even though Damian had been told that Miss Mallard had never learned who saved her life? It wouldn't be the first time someone had tried to decieve him. Though frankly, it did seem quite far-fetched, and it didn't explain why young Mr MacInthyre had gone to so much trouble? Unless, of course, it was Aeode he was after, and not Jessica...

Whatever the explanation, the whole thing smelled. And not of roses, that was for sure.

Add to that another tasty tidbit that Damian had just learned - that the Miss Mallard look-alike Jessica had been seen talking to was apparently not just a patron at The Haven, but an employee, and that about half an hour ago Valerian, the very owner of The Haven and thus Miss Mallard's employer, had called and requested a meeting - and it would seem that the truth was mere inches away from revealing itself. Perhaps before the night was over, Damian would've gotten to the bottom of it all. Finally.
All he had to do at the moment, was wait.

Hopefully, it wouldn't be for very long. Valerian was intelligent enough to recognize the generosity Damian had shown, by agreeing to see him this very evening, and so would be wise to get here as swiftly as possible, before it was time for Damian's next meeting.
There was no need, Damian had decided, to let the young Toreador know that there was no 'next meeting' this evening, simply because Damian had told his secretary to cancel them. Not because of Valerian, but because after the phone call that Damian had recieved first thing after Moira left, he had felt he wanted to spend the rest of the evening delving into the info it had presented him with. Though seeing as how Valerian might have something to contribute, his request couldn't have come at a better time.

Much to his satisfaction, Damian soon found that he was indeed correct in his perception of Valerian's person, as it had been no more than half an hour since the young man's phone call, and Damian's secretary already announced over the intercom that he had arrived.
Good.

"By all means, send him in", the Prince said, and then released the button on the small device, to lean back and watch as his guest entered.

It wasn't the first time Valerian stepped through those doors. He, like everyone else who entered into the city, had presented himself before the Prince when he had first arrived, and had also accompanied Claudia on one or two occasions, when she and Damian had met for business purposes. Though it had been easy to see, even for someone lacking Damian's keen eye and sharp senses, that Claudia thought of Valerian more as an accessory that made her look good, rather than a full-on business partner. And what was more was that Valerian himself appeared to be very well aware of it, yet didn't seem to mind.
Most odd, to a man like Damian, who would never be caught dead playing lapdog.

Still, regardless of how many times an outsider had stood before him in this office, Damian rarely strayed from his habit of watching them as they approached, always assessing them, always re-evaluating his impression of them, and always, always making them feel like they were under the microscope. Though some handled it far better than others.

Valerian had always been among those that handled it well indeed, which could mean one of two things; either he was a talented actor indeed, hiding his ulterior motives with a skll that would make the professionals green with envy. Or he simply had no ulterior motives.
Judging by his reputation, Damian was inclined to believe it was the latter, even though he would never completely disregard the possibility of the former, as that reputation also included an ability to play mortals like puppets, and an effortless, spellbinding presence that had managed to draw in it's fair share of people, Kindred and kine alike. And as he watched Valerian approach the desk, carrying himself with that smooth feline grace he was known for, Damian could understand why.

"My Prince", he greeted Damian with a gentle bow of his head.

Damian, who still remained seated, simply gave a small but firm nod in return.

"Valerian", he said, greeting the young man by his first name even though he would have preferred to use a title, or at least a last name instead.

Using first names suggested an acquaintance that went far beyond the one the two of them had at this stage, but 'Valerian' seemed to be the only name people knew him by. Which, if one would ask Damian, seemed rather fishy indeed, and pointed towards the possibility of a past that the young man didn't want others to know about.
But then on the other hand, it was hardly an uncommon occurence in Kindred society.

"Now, what can I do for you?" he added, sensing that Valerian was waiting for him to give the go-ahead.

Clever boy. He may look alot like the brassy, exhibitionistic and rather disrespectful youth of today, but in his case, looks were decieving. He did indeed know his manners, and was well known for it, too.

"First, I'd like to thank you for seeing me on such short notice", Valerian started, choosing what he said with the greatest care.

He wanted to word this right from the very start, as Damian's sentiments could very well make for the vital difference between agreement and rejection, and so keeping him in a favorable mood might indeed help Valerian's cause. He was quite an imposing man, oozing with power and authority, holding the kind of presence that would be felt throughout a room, no matter how large and crowded. Valerian had seen others cower simply by finding themselves the targets of his observant gaze. Even just standing next to him was enough for some to shrink like flowers left without water for too long.

"I realize you must be very busy," he continued, "and that it might seem presumptuous of me to request an impromptu meeting like this, but I assure you, I have good reason, as I fear the matter might be quite urgent. Though I'm not quite sure where to start in order to provide you with the full picture..."

Still sitting comfortably leaned back in his chair with his fingers casually interlaced across his abdomen, Damian merely listened, thinking to himself that whatever it was, it obviously couldn't be all that important, seeing as how Valerian took his time explaining what it was all about. Would he just get to the point already?
Bloody Toreador and their inability to just spit it out. No, they had to first go through a lenghty and detailed description of how it came to be, how it made them feel, what everyone was wearing and, if one was really unlucky, what color was the wallpaper.

Thankfully, it seemed this one was far more perceptive than many of his peers, which was no small achievement, as within seconds he had picked up on Damian's subtle impatience, and quickly moved on to tell Damian of what he had recently learned; of Jessica's association with Aeode, of Aeode's search for answers and her iron determination to find them, and lastly of what Aeode had told him about her latest encounter with Jessica.

The Prince, although listening intently, judging by the intense look in his eyes, never moved a muscle. To read his reaction was virtually impossible. There simply was nothing that revealed what was going on in his mind; no gestures, no movements, no expression other than the one carved from stone, not even the slightest twitch. Valerian even found himself for once having difficulties sensing his feelings, as though he had intentionally put up a wall around his mind, to keep intruders out, to keep anyone from knowing what he was thinking. And no matter how skilled Valerian was, he was still just a Neonate, and thus had nothing on the powers of an Elder.

However, despite what his lack of a visible reaction might lead one to tink, there was alot going on within the walls of Damian's mind.
He was furious. How dared she violate the laws of the Camarilla? Jessica, the very Toreador Primogen, one of the lucky few to have made it into the Prince's council, supposedly because she would represent her clan with wisdom, and promote their cause? To serve as a link between them and the Prince, with a certain amount of trust being placed o her shoulders by each side.

Had she come to him first, and explained her plan - if she did indeed have one - he might've given her his blessing to reveal herself and her nature to this mortal girl, provided that she agreed to take care of the consequences, whatever they would be.
But to just blurt it all out, about vampires and their entire system of security, and risk the lives of everyone by leaving the girl to run her mouth off to whoever might care to listen to her tale... Unforgivable.

And to think that she had done it only a few nights after he had personally called a blood hunt on another Kindred, for doing the same thing, only for reasons far more understandable, not to mention that he had done it unintentionally. Did Jessica think that just because she was a Primogen, the rules did somehow not apply to her? Did she think she was The Exception, that her position - both as a Primogen as as an Elder - put her above the laws? The very laws that had been created to protect them all? Or did she think he simply wouldn't find out?
Bah! Damian always found out. Sooner or later, the truth would always find it's way to him. And when it did, the sinners would be made to pay. Dearly.

"Thank you," he said once Valerian had finished, and even now his face nor his voice bore any trace of the thoughts that raged within.

Had there been any visible reaction at all, it was the look in his eyes, hardening from cold steel, to solid stone.

"I appreciate that you brought this matter to my attention. I will see to it that it is dealt with promptly."

He was just about to give a dismissive wave, to have Valerian understand that he was now excused and expected to leave, when the hesitant look on the youngs man's face halted his motion. Apparently, he had something else on his mind as well.

"Yes?" Damian demanded.

"My Prince, if I may...", Valerian started. "I do not claim to know what you intend for the future to hold for Aeode, but... Could I be so bold as to ask that you allow me to handle the matter? She did come to me, which suggests there is a bit of trust there, and with your permission, I would like to examine if it could be somehow used to our advantage, as well as hers, and at the same time, spare her life."

For a few seconds, Damian studied him in silence, clearly considering the request. Although a warrior since he was yey high, Damian was no fan of killing innocents. And if Valerian had the devastatingly magnetic effect of people as his reputation said, then letting him deal with the girl might just be the preferrably solution.

"Very well", he concluded, in a tone as though he considered his decision to be a generous one, and then shot Valerian a stern look. "Do with her as you please, but I advise you to rid us of the threat she poses, one way or another. Otherwise, the next head on the chopping block just might be yours."



(((ooc: Sorry so long, but since they are my own characters and it's difficult for me NOT to elaborate on their thoughts and personalities, it was bound to be. But I did my best. )))



(((ooc 2: Approx 32 hours until we move on to night #10.)))

((ooc: *dances* sorry I just have to say it I got the shivers reading that, seriously amazing post!))

#36 [Ninth Night]

An eerie feeling still lingered inside Archon. It had entered his mind a few moments after he had joined the patrons at The Haven, and though he had tried to get rid of it, it would not go quietly into the night. It was something in the musty air, surrounding them all, slightly smelling of mildew or decay - or was it just too many warm bodies at one place... However, something gave him a feeling he did not care for, and so he had told Roe to keep both eyes wide awake and the mind sharp as a razor; more than usual. The young Gangrel had given him a look that did not reassure him that nothing was out of the ordinary, from a wolflike point of view. That was perhaps even more unsettling. It was not only high pitched noises that made Roe cranky.

Though, as time passed in the busy Elysium, Archon had managed to store the feeling in the back of his mind in order to take care of business. And when Andre DeLucian had joined him, he really had to put all else aside. A Ventrue debate was like nothing else; a true meeting of the minds. Even if the subjects might seem and be nothing more than a remark on the weather, one had to be on one's toes. It was not always easy to know when the winds shifted. Though, being outdone by another Ventrue might be better than any other Kindred, since it would be to keep it "in the family". However, one could always take Ventrue branded emulation to the bank. Despite, this was scarcely a debate. They had yet to get past the formal greetings.

"Yes, I suppose in the long run the years have been decent enough to me", Andre replied. "I actually haven't been back in town for very long, I spent a great deal of time traveling. It feels somewhat strange to see everything so different from what I remember."

Was the city really that changed? Archon pondered, as he let his eyes wander for a brief moment. To him, it was all too familiar. Then again, he had never left the city long enough, since he had become Primogen, for it to become unusual. The rest of the world seemed to change, but Los Angeles stayed the same. In reality, Archon moved with the angel times, tapped into the pulse of the city life and unlife, and in the end nothing took him by surprise. Though, he could somehow envy Andre's fresh take on L.A., wondering what it would be like to see the city as if it was for the first time. Archon's first time was so long ago, when one could hardly call it a city. It had grown on him, and now he could not imagine living anywhere else but either there or in London.

"And you Archon, how has time been treating you?" Andre inquired.

The question was as polite as could be, but one did not have to be Ventrue to decipher the importance of returning the gesture that had been shown by someone older. None the less, Archon appreciated it, he could never accept a behaviour rough around the edges, unless it was for a good reason. It could take some time, to get the pleasantries out of the way, but a Ventrue needed it like they needed quality blood. And Archon would go so far as to demand it, if needed. Some Kindred was in desperate need for a lesson in manners, or several. However, there would always be Kindred that the effort would be wasted on. The thought of the Brujah scum was never far away, when contemplating the importance of courtesy. Even the Nosferatu, the one clan that did nothing without an ulterior motive, could appreciate the act of politeness. They even saw the humour in it, when the highborn Kindred had to say "please" and "thank you" to the hideous ones. It was comedy for the masses.

"Well.", Archon began his reply. "I am afraid there is no sleep for me, for ages to come."

He said this with a hint of a smile, as if he meant it as some sort of a joke, but it was hard to tell. The Primogen rarely let on how he really felt, or his true state of mind. It was a weakness to wear ones feelings on the sleeve. Or, if nothing else, dangerous. Take Valerian for instance. He put himself in danger every time he ventured the world, more so than any other Toreador. He was young, curious like a newborn, and an easy target for just about anyone. But hurting Valerian would be a cowardly act, as it would be nothing short of going at a puppy with a stick. Further more, Valerian was a danger himself. He could attract anyone, like the call of the sirens, with or without intent. Knowing Valerian; without. And Archon should know, since he had been charmed on several occasions by the youngster. One only had to be inside the walls of The Haven, to be inside the allure of Valerian, whether he was around or not. It was the Toreador appeal, in its purest form, as pure as all the gems still waiting for man to uncover.

Though Andre was no Toreador, he did have an appeal about him that many Ventrue men lacked. Archon did not have to wonder, since he could see the gazes from the female patrons, and the occasional male. The latter was something Archon choose to ignore. Although he did not understand it, he had decided to accept it. The occurance would not be denied, and it did exist among the Kindred aswell, therefore it was no sense in fighting it. Honestly, it would be a waste, since there were more important matters in the world. Both in the kine one, and the Kindred. Also, he could not accept Valerian, if he did not accept them all.

The evening concluded with Andre still at Archon's table. Old friends catching up, it made time fly by as if only a few moments had passed. They informed each other about what had happened since the last time they met, shared memories and also a few comments on the current situation in the city. The blood hunt was mentioned, but hardly beyond that. The incident in The Haven, involving Ada and Beyonca was carefully left out. Archon knew that Andre was quite familiar with Ada on a personal level, and he assumed that Andre had been informed by other Ventrue that Beyonca had visited their Primogen and sorted the matter. It was now water under the bridge. For the time being at least. There was no reason for the old friends to get into an argument over something that had been resolved, and would possibly not aspire to anything good.

Although their conversation was a harmless one, dealing with simple matters and friendly walks down memory lane, Archon sensed that Andre had something else on his mind. What ever it was, he never got around to talk about it, if it even concerned his Primogen at all. Instead, the night went by, until The Haven started to empty. Archon did, however, leave Andre with a request that they should talk again soon. Alot sooner than this time.

Archon had missed him, and that would be easy to remedy with Andre now in the city.





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((( ooc: Penny - I hope the wrap up works for you? About Andre asking Archon for a book - it's more than alright with me! It's too bad we never got around to it this night. But if you want to, we could maybe have them get together again next night or something like that? If it doesn't interfere with other plans. Let me know what you think. (So yeah, Archon owns Algernon.) )))

#33 [Ninth Night]

On her knees, Carmilla was even more humbled by Mina's presence, yet she could not divert her eyes from the Primogen's. Mina was a strong one, and it was really her locking Carmilla's gaze in her own, than Carmilla persisting. It would be easy to get lost in the eyes of the Elder, drown in all her glory and wisdom. Like a sailor over board, getting lured into the depths by a mermaid. Carmilla was filled with the desire to gasp for breath, a feeling she had not had for ages upon ages. When she rose, she felt unstable, the titles on all the books became a blur.

"You may stay and study amongst my household", Mina began.

She kept her voice low, yet it appeared to Carmilla as if it filled the room to the brim with all its might. The tone alone took a hold of the younger Tremere, demanding her undying attention as if she had not already surrendered. But ah, the words, the meaning in that single sentence made Carmilla shiver. Her dreams started to change from a mirage to a spoken reality, a promise from Mina herself.

"All I ask is that you read carefully each word inscribed upon these papers to absorb the knowledge contained within", Mina continued, "practice daily the skills and arts of our clan and obey and respect our laws."

It was as if everything around them moved, the bookcases and the furniture, even the ceiling - in slow motion. The only thing that remained the same was Mina, her appearence and her voice. The offer hung in the air, like a good omen, boiling with knowledge and the entrance to a world Carmilla had only enjoyed in tidbits. Now she would actually be able to make it all fit, gather the puzzle, even if she would never have a complete set.

"I will be here to guide but you must follow a pathway you choose for yourself", Mina added. "Make sure your decision is wise, there are many strands to follow, too many for even a Methuselah to ever hope to master them all. "

Although Carmilla would gladly lay down her life for her Primogen and her clan, she knew she had to find her own way. It might not even be the same as Mina's, but Mina would be there to show her the tools. If there was ever a perfect happiness, this would be it. Although she had yet to uncover the Tremere secrets that layed ahead of her, Carmilla was in euphoria. Her state of mind shifted into blinding white, blazes of glory, that lit up her senses as if they were on fire. She knew she was high above, in the clouds so to speak, and Mina was as close to a god as anyone could come. This would be a good night to die, even if it would deprive her of all the knowledge to come. Right now, she could not stop the blood from exiting her eyes, even if she had tried to. Crimson tears made rivers down her pale skin. Neither could she speak.

"Should you accept what is asked of every member then you may choose any room you wish", Mina concluded. "I would however be delighted for you to take the vacant suite, next to mine on the penthouse floor. The room is bare but you may bring any furnishings you wish to make it your own."

Words. The situation demanded words. Something in return, in recognition of this unearthly generosity. Should she let her decision known now, even if it was a given? Maybe it would be a sign of respect to take the time to consider, though it could also be interpreted - in this case - as if she was doubting her initial wishes. Mina's words had not scared her, she was only afraid to make a mistake in her acceptance of them. Though, Mina had not only welcomed her in, she had invited her to stay in a room next to hers. There should be no cause for concern.

"I cannot express...", Carmilla tried to reply. "...in words... what this mean to me. If you were to feel the blood in my veins, it would sooner inform you what I am unable to put into words... Although I have a vivid imagination, this is beyond what I could ever have hoped for. You are far too generous, far more than I deserve. But I will not let you down. I will do everything within my power to accommodate your requests. I will not fail, lest it will be the end of me."

She would not have to be asked twice, to accept the suite next to Mina's. With or without furniture, she would gladly sleep on the floor if needed. A more willing student was nowhere to be found. Carmilla knew she was far and beyond, in risk of overwhelming others since she herself was overwhelmed. Though, for the same reason that brought her to her knees, she simply had to make her intent known. No one, certainly not Mina, would ever see the need to question her motive. She was a blank canvas, ready to be filled with Tremere myths and magic.

That day, she could hardly sleep. Much like a child with a new wardrobe, longing to wear them, Carmilla wanted the night to break so she could return to Mina with her belongings and eager to learn.





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((( ooc: Veldagia - I hope this works for you? Let me know! )))

Responsibility weighed heavily on Valerian's slender shoulders. Like a metaphorical yoke of pure led it would press down on him, make it difficult for him to breathe, to even move forward. It always had. As a human, it had been what had ultimately caused a irreconcilable rift between him and his parents, when they had wanted him to 'mature' and let go of his 'illusions and pipe dreams' as they called it, and he had refused to do so. As a dreamer, those were the very things that had kept him alive, and there had been no way that he could push them aside, to neglect them. They had been as important as food and drink, and, since his Embrace, as important as vitae. It was the force that drove him, part of his very essence.
And throughout the century that had passed, he still hadn't grown any more willing to have more responsibility than was absolutely necessary placed on his shoulders. It was the reason why he had no problem with letting Claudia run his beloved club, and why he didn't particularly care to get involved in the conniving, the plotting and the vendettas of Kindred society. He was perfectly happy with his rather carefree existence.

However, despite it all, there would always come a time, every now and then, when he would have to step up, and sometimes even did so willingly. Last night, when he had asked Damian that the responsibility of seeing to it that Aeode Mallard would no longer pose a threat was handed over to him, had been one such occasion. Though while accepting it willingly lightened the load, it was only a by little. So little that it hardly eased the burden at all. It merely shifted it, since accepting responsibility meant that if you failed at what you were expected to accomplish, the fault would be yours and yours alone. And in this case, the consequences for failing were far more dire than Valerian would have normally risked.

But, he cared for Aeode. Granted, he hardly even knew the girl, but he cared for her nonetheless. She had been dragged into something so much larger than she knew, than she ever could know. Something whose existence she threatened by merely being alive. And it was not her fault. What had taken her there, and put her in this most precarious situation, was not her own doing, but the doing on someone else. Someone who, in Valerian's eyes, had committed a crime by placing an innocent like Aeode in harm's way.
Jessica.

He hadn't been able to stand the thought of Aeode having to pay for something for which she was not to blame. Especially not when she had touched his heart by putting her trust in him, in order to try and help the very person that had gotten her into this mess in the first place.
How could he not want to save her from what he knew others of his kind regarded as the 'easy way' to solve a human problem? Heavy responsibility and possibly dire consequences or not, he had to try.

And in order to have any chance of succeeding, he needed to keep a close eye on her, and to filter what she knew as well as what she found out. To a certain extent, with a minimum of deception.
Just how he would go about doing that, he did not yet know, and it was what was occupying his mind this evening, as he was going through his nightly routine of getting himself ready; showering, dressing, and grooming until satisfied. When he left his chambers, he was donning a purple, somewhat faded and loose fitting t-shirt, along with his trademark black leather pants, and a pair of black army boots. Completing the ensamble was a long leather strap haphazardly wrapped around his right wrist; a little something he had decided to wear as a good luck charm. Last time he had worn it, had been during his first meeting with Moira, and now he had decided to wear it again, in the hopes that it would somehow infuse him with a little bit of her cool composure, and her wisdom, as though some of it still lingered in that thin piece of black leather.
A silly thought, but comforting nonetheless.
Making his way down to the club in his usual, relaxed manner, he took his time descending the stairs, while surveying the dance floor and then the bar, first registering who was at The Haven this evening and who was not, and then searching for Aeode's face among the bartenders. Given that there were only a few on duty at a time, finding her was easily done, and he was soon headed towards her end of the bar.

On the way over, he noted that even from afar, she saw him coming, and he wondered to himself if she had been watching the stairs for him to make his appearance. Though really, it was to be expected, wasn't it? He had told her he would get back to her as soon as he could, so of course she would be anticipating the moment that he did.
But still... He couldn't help but feel that there was an added air of wariness about her, as though she'd had second thoughts about trusting him, or something had happened to rattle her even further.

With her eyes watching him like that, there was nothing he needed to do to get her attention, and so when he came to a stop at the bar, only a few feet away from her, all he had to do was to lock gazes with her, to make his wish to speak to her clear. However, there was still the keeping up of appearances. Thus, as soon as she had finished serving her current customer his bottle of beer, Valerian leaned slightly across the bar, and said in a voice just loud enough for her, and anyone that might be taking an interest in them, to hear;

"Annie. Ask Jim to cover for you. We need to talk."

#34 [Tenth Night]

Although there had not been much sleep, Carmilla had finally been able to dose off a couple of hours before dusk. So she woke up with a start, feeling as if she had wasted precious minutes of getting ready for the big move; the first one on her own terms.
The Tremere in the building understood, and had offered to help her. The one that had passed the note on to Mina seemed a bit sad to see Carmilla go, so Carmilla gave her one of her favourite books and told her to come and visit when ever she wanted.

Besides her personal belongings, clothes and books, she didn't bring much else. The bed was a must, cause there litterally where no furniture in the suite she had accepted. Along with the bed, the Tremere also let her take a desk, a chair and an armchair. It was not her furniture to begin with, but they didn't want to appear petty infront of their Primogen. Further more, they had really grown to like Carmilla, and the Tremere took care of each other. No one should be found wanting.

When Carmilla and the Tremere arrived at The Museum, Tremere unknown to her let them in. Her friends seemed to have been there before, but Carmilla took it all in, wide eyed like Bambi and happy like never before. It was all too much to fully grasp. Not only was she on her own, granted permission to study under the protective wings of Mina - but she was also welcome to stay right next to her. It was overwhelming, heartwarming.

The silence that followed, as all the other Tremere left her alone, gave her comfort. Like no silence had ever done before. She had always found something eerie when there was nothing to be heard. It was like she feared something unspeakable hiding beyond all words and other sounds that gave proof of man. But not this time. She sat down on the floor, watching her new surroundings. It was a very beautiful room, it reminded her of a time long gone. Her furniture fitted perfectly; they were all made from dark wood, and matched the decor of the walls, ceiling and floor as if they had come with the room.

It had taken time, so many years had passed since she was a mere little human girl, but now she had found her home. This was truly it. She could feel it in the air, lingering around her, and in her mind, where all the thoughts started to gather in order to understand what was happening. An unbelieveable treasure had been bestowed upon her. No one could ever understand just how much it meant to Carmilla. She was in awe, he heart felt heavy. Everything layed before her now. Wisdom. Knowledge. Magic. And she would be damned, if anyone tried to take it from her. This was her destiny, all the pain from before was just the path she had to take, to reach to this point. She would grow stronger, and in time she hoped to be able to give something back - to Mina, and to the Tremere.

There was no time like the present. She could not remain in her room, no matter if the fact that it really was hers had yet to sink in. Instead she took her bookbag, filled it with books, pens and notepads, and left for The Museum Library. She was eager to learn, and though she was sure Mina would have understood if she wanted to spend her first night in her room, she was determined to show her Primogen that she meant every word.
Of course. She could not just dive in. She decided to start where she could find some familiar territory, and go from there. It didn't take her long to find a section of books she recognized. Seath had not deprived her totally, but it felt like kid's stuff to her now, standing in a elaborate library that was nothing short of breathtaking. However, Carmilla was better prepared than she felt like at the moment, she was just a myriad of opposing emotions. She was shy, yet gifted. She was pendulous at times, yet strong.

With several piles of books around her, Carmilla sat down at a large table in the center of the Library and started to take notes. It appeared daunting, but at the same time consoling. Books had always been friends of hers. Now and then, she rose from her seat to find a reference in another book, and she walked like in a maze with a dreamy smile on her face. She could pause next to an interesting book, that wasn't directly linked to the present matter, yet caught her attention. And she could stand there, reading pages upon pages, about a single gem or the meaning of a certain word. Nothing was trivial.

In a club like The Haven, with neon lights cascading down over a sea of different faces and different styles of dressing, behaving, being, all of them unique in their own little way, and a suggestive beat beckoning you to listen and surrender to the music, it would seem quite difficult, if not downright impossible, for most to tune out the multitude of impressions constantly washing over one's senses, drowning them with the irresistable temptations of joy, pleasure, excitement and sex, all in their darkest forms. Even to one as used to it as Valerian, who spent most of his waking hours somewhere in the club, as though the two were living in a kind symbiosis, where each would draw it's energy from the presence of the other, it could prove to be an endeavoring task, to shield himself from the myriad of fascinations to which he would often be even more susceptible than most.

But this evening, he heard and saw the beauty of his beloved club only in the distance; as something alluringly elusive hiding in the shadows of the path he was travelling, too faint to turn him from it. His focus was on Aeode and on what he had to do. The club's draw was no match for when someone's life was in jeopardy.

The main issue, as he saw it, was to find a way of watching her closely, and giving her thoughts a nudge in the 'right' direction. The only 'safe' way of doing that, was to be upfront about wanting to keep an eye on her. If he wasn't, and she sensed that she was being followed, he had little doubt that she would be out of the city before he had a chance to stop her. But, if she agreed to let him keep an eye on her, for her own safety, that would put him in a position where he could influence her.

Though stubborn and able young lady that she was, it would surely take some real persuasion on his part; the full use of his charms, and, just to be on the safe side; more.

Eager to hear what news or pieces of the puzzle he had to bring her, Aeode wasted no time in responding to his request. She immediately sought the attention of her fellow bartender, a well built youth by the name of Jim, and told him that 'the boss' wanted to have a word with her. She then returned to Valerian, showing that she was ready to seek a more secluded place to recieve whatever news he had to tell.
Valerian took the lead, guiding her out from behind the bar with a sweeping gesture, indicating in which direction they would be heading; to the back of the club. Not up the stairs to his chambers, not to the second floor office/lounge, not even to the usual table in the corner of the club, where he could often be found entertaining guests, or being adored by his small but devoted fan club of human girls.
Instead, he headed towards a door in the back, which would lead them to the storage area; a quiet place, and, in comparison with the flair of the rest of the club, quite dull and grey. All the while he was glancing about himself, seemingly casual, scanning the crowd for familiar faces like he always was. In reality, there was only one person he was looking for, and only in order to avoid her, and avoid her seeing him and Aeode. Claudia. He didn't want her be a part of this, at all. He knew her too well, and was well aware that if she learned he was going to such lenghts as putting himself at risk in order to protect a human girl, it might awaken her jealousy, and with it that less likable part of her. The part that would have no qualms about interfering, and doing it in a way that might end up costing Aeode her life after all, despite Valerian's efforts to protect her.

Luckily, it didn't seem Claudia was around The Haven this evening, and Valerian and Aeode could slip through the door in the back without being spotted by her, and rousing suspicion.

That part over and done with, it was time for step two; ensuring that Aeode 'realized' the need for someone to keep an eye on her, for her own protection. That she was no longer safe at whatever place she was currently staying, and that she would be much better off keeping to a place where no one would look for her. And that, if his efforts were successful, would of course be The Haven.

Finally reaching the spot he'd had in mind - a fairly large area, with open space in all directions to allow them to make sure no one could be close enough to eavsedrop on them - he stopped, and turned around to finally look at Aeode, with a carefully measured amount of concern etched into his striking, pale blue eyes; not a complete act, since the apprehension he could feel coming off of her had him thinking that something was the matter. Something beyond what she had told him the previous evening.

"Are you alright?" he asked, and looked at her as if searching her face for answers before her words could offer one, and in his voice there was that gentle worry that throughout history had caused the inner restraints of great a many people to crumble, and give in to the desire to have their troubles just spill forth from their lips.


(((ooc: Ghanima - Sorry for taking so long. Was in no state to write yesterday.

And once again I'm wondering where everyone is... Seriously, nothing will happen to your character if you don't put them out there, and make something happen.)))

Adrien hadn't gotten to accomplish what he had set out to do the previous night. The encounter with Beyonca had sidetracked him, and once she had left him alone and he had made sure she wasn't still following him from a distance, there had not been enough time to deal with anything but the most pressing matter; feeding. Finding a victim that fit his preferences and that provided him with an opportunity to strike was no easy task, and so when finally he had fed, it had been time to retreat to the so-called Haven that had been forced on him.

Finding another, and a place to study, would not be accomplished this newborn evening either. Come nightfall, he had re-evaluated the plan he'd had, and for once, he had actually changed his mind. A rare occurence indeed. So rare, in fact, that in comparison, one could call the sighting of Halley's comet a common one. Adrien, being who and what he was, had made a habit of never deciding on a plan, until everything - every detail and every angle - had been taken into account. Nothing could be affored to be dismissed, or overlooked. It didn't mean that changes were never made, once the plan was set into motion, as there was always the factor of life's unpredictability and ironic sense of humor, that could completely change the basic conditions, but with a plan as close to perfect as possible, there would always be something to work with even when things didn't go as planned.

This time, however, he had actually decided on a plan, but when unable to execute it the previous night, he had pondered it some more, and decided to make a few adjustmests. The plan was still basically the same, only with a bit of a... prelude added.

The original plan had been to go about obtaining a place to himself, partly as a way to test his boundaries. Were the ghouls watching him good enough to ferret out what he was up to, and if so, would actions be taken, either to try and simply keep tabs on what he was doing in that apartment/hotel room, or to put a stop to that little bit of freedom altogether? Would it draw Mina out to give his leash a violent tug, or would she send someone else to do it for her? Again.
But then he had thought to himself... Why gamble with the possibility of a place of his own? Why not start out testing his boundaries with something smaller? Whatever reaction it would bring, it would offer him even more knowledge to be taken into consideration before going ahead with the rest of the plan, and thus a way to better decide what tactics to use. Like a prisoner, he would systematically examine the walls of his confinement, trace every inch with his fingertips, search out the weaker spots, and the areas that would give way, but not break. He would find out where he could push, and how far.
Such knowledge always came in handy sooner or later. Especially when one was planning a jailbreak.

And what would be the perfect place to start, if not Mina's domain, the very embodiment of his confinement in Los Angeles? There was one place there in particular, that he knew was bound to bring some attention his way, as soon as he stepped foot in it, whether it be the attention of Mina herself, or the other Tremere milling about in the Museum; the Museum library.

Having showered and dressed, in the same dark colours he favored, and disentangled the necklaces he always wore from one another, he left the "sanctity" of his room, and slowly made his way towards the upper floors, where he knew the library was located. Well aware of the temptation and the lure the books would hold to him - knowledge that he craved, but had been refused in San Francisco, and would surely be refused here as well - each and every step he took served to build and fortify his self-control. If they were to follow, in order to stop him, they would not find him with a book to snatch away from his hands, and if they were to simply spy to see in what he was taking in interest, they would find that there was nothing to report. He would simply roam the passages between the bookshelves, glance at the titles, and memorize what was there. Nothing more, nothing less.

The closer he got, the more eyes he could sense watching him, and the tension in the air kept grew stronger and stronger, the anticipation of his next step building until it seemed the very walls around him were holding their breath. Yet, there was no one else in sight. But, he could sense them. He could even hear them. Faint steps, shallow breathing. Somewhere nearby, there was a ghoul, sneaking as thought they didn't think his sensitive hearing would register their human sounds.

Adrien snarled to himself at the thought, but played along, pretending not to hear the awful racket, and instead simply stepped into the library. There, the sounds of his stalker faded away, only to be replaced by the sounds of another. Someone who, even though they were far more quiet than the one he had just left behind, he could still hear clearly. The soft whisper of turning pages, the faint shuffling of feet. No breathing.
Another Tremere, then.

Moving as quietly as always, with a soundless grace practiced and perfected already as a human, he slowly rounded a corner, and stopped when his dark green-tinged gaze landed on a young darkhaired woman, standing at the opposite end of the passage, holding a book that by the looks of it, had captivated her completely. Still without much of a sound, Adrien remained there, leaning casually against the bookshelf, studying her, and saying nothing.


(((ooc: Sorry if it's messy. Kind of scatterbrained right now.)))

A solitary candle cast its golden glow upon the desk. The room was filled with the musty scent of incense. It flowed into the nostrils threatening to choke with its clogging sweetness if a breathe was taken too deeply. Water from an ancient spring filled a silver goblet to its brim and earth from a grave settled upon a golden plate. The four elements earth, air, fire and water all represented upon the alter. But they waited for the fifth, the spirit. And that was contained within the heart and soul of the magician.

Mina approached the alter, head bowed. Her face hidden beneath the folds of clothe that swaved over her head. Before her a dusty book lay open. Revealling a handwritten calligraphy of latin, the language of the past. One pale finger traced over the words "Oculo omnividens te vigilet " as her ruby lips murmered the formulate. Then her eyes closed, the passage memorised long ago. The book acted as nothing more and nothing less than a symbol, a connection between the planes of reality and magick The invocation fell from her lips like autumn leaces blowing in the wind. A request for protection to sanctify the space within the four walls and finally giving thanks to the spirits, the elementels which aided.

It was over almost as soon as it begun. The earth and water scattered around the boundaries of the room, smoke and fire following. As Mina maintained the low chant, meerly a murmur that brushed her lips, almost inaudable to even vampiric ears. Once over, she closed the book extinguishing the candle, she needed no light to guide her within the room.

Her power had become stronger, her hold on this city fortified within the Tremere. With Seathe leaving the elders' threat was diminished. One from his chantry was already within her wall. In time others would follow.

Carmilla would grow to become a powerful allie. The seeds already had begun to germinate. Her skills in the Tremere disciplines were developed to a fine degree for her age. And she showed the qualities most admiral of a student: a respect for her elders, a huumbleness of her own status but behind it all was the brilliant sharpness of intellegence. She woulkd not dissapoint. But that was not why Mina kept her close, to allow her residence within her own floor. An elite position close to the Primogen. Carmilla was one of the few in which she had any trust , someone she could almost confinde in. And that, to Mina, meant a lot.


((OCC Mina is still within her room, but approachable to anyone who cares to knock on the door or contact her by phone or email.
* translation - May the all-seing eye watch over you - I think
Psyche - a perfect tie-up! Sorry everyone I dont have as much time now to RP as I used to but I still wish to continue despite my irregular posts))

Jessica loaded her now useless clothes into the trunk of her car. She was going to see the Prince, which meant that she either was going to be executed or banished from the city. She hoped she was exectuted, because if word got around that it was she who put every Kindred at risk, she could never be accepted in Kindred society again. She had not contacted anybody since she last talked to Aeode. It bugged her that if she was banished, she coulde never show her face near any of her dear clan members again. She should have thought of an excuse 2 nights ago, when Aeode confronted her.

Jessica pulled off the cheap blonde wig and let her shoulder length black hair free. She was wearing one of the few clothing items she took from her apartment. As she stepped into her beautiful Volvo, she twirled her key ring around her fingers. Both her car and apartment would be lost either way. Then she remembered Aeode, and how she was working nights at a bar being paid minimum wage, possibly working two jobs. There was her large bank account, and all of her clothes, which she assumed could fit Aeode, or she could have them let out because she had such a small frame.

She started up the engine, and headed from the abandoned warehouse to her "old" apartment. When she walked in, things had been scattered from when she rampaged through here last night, grabbing everything she might have needed. Jessica began to pick up the apartment, so that it would be clean for whoever she left it to. She took pride in hanging up her clothes in her regular bedroom sized walk in closet. There was still some food in cabinets for show, but looking at the dates, it had expired over 5 years ago. She quickly ran to the small grocery around the corner from the building, and picked up simple items. Bread, cheese, milk, fruit, canned vegetables, cereal, shampoo and other necessities. Then back at her apartment (after running two blocks) she unloaded the groceries. Everything was clean and ready for whomever she left the apartment to.

-- About 15 minutes later --

Jessica arrived outside The Prince's penthouse. She stood in the awkward elevator contemplating her impending doom. One the doors opened and his reception desk appeared, she suddenly wanted to freeze in her tracks, but her body pulled her in.

"I'm here to see The Prince."

Damian Alexander III had a strong aversion to not being in control of things. As a Prince, as a Ventrue, as a man, he desired and required control. It was when he set the rules, when he was conducting the game, and when he was pulling the strings, that he came as close to being at ease as he would ever come. And even then he was far from fully relaxed. He knew human nature, and he knew Kindred nature. It was always just a matter of time, before someone messed something up, and he would have to find a way of dealing with it, without stepping on too many toes, and at the same time without making it seem like he was paying all that much attention to said toes. If people only knew how much consideration it took be be so inconsiderate...

Though frankly, it was perhaps during moments like this one, when things were not completely to his liking, that he thrived. He excelled at manuevering people and situations, at bringing order where there was none, and at, in short, being the one who saved the day. It had always been the times of crisis that weeded out the weak leaders, and left the strong ones standing tall. It was when everyone around him was made to realize just what he had in him, and as long as there were situations for him to deal with, to sort out or clean up, everyone would be constantly reminded of why he was the Prince, and they were not.

That, however, didn't mean that he liked it any better when others mucked things up, simply because there was usually already about a dozen things he needed to deal with, either as Prince, or on a more personal level, as a business man. And they were all equally important, if one was to believe those that came running to him like children to their parents, crying "It's broken, it's broken! Fix it, fix it!".
Still, there were things that were admittedly far more important than the bickering and pulling of pigtails between the clans. Breaches of the Masquerade being one.

He had been quite relieved the previous night, to shift the burden of Aeode Mallard from his own shoulders to Valerian's, even though it would still ultimately be up to him to decide her fate. But at least this way, he would not have to involve himself with that part of the matter too much, nor would he have to have her promptly eliminated to save himself the trouble. And, the best part was that even though he did not go out of his way to try and save her life, he would still be credited for safeguarding the innocent.

With that part being dealt with, and the Nosferatu 'taking care' of this Desmond MacInthyre - who, he had learned by now, was a friend of Aeode's after all - that only left the matter of Jessica herself. Unless, of course, Aeode or Desmond had blabbed the story to someone else. But that was Valerian's and the Nosferatu's problem.
As Jessica hadn't presented herself at Damian's office last night, as requested, the first call Damian had made this evening, was to send his scouts to look for her, and when (not if) they found her, to bring her to him. He would not be ignored.

But, as it turned out, she had come to her senses. That, Damian was made aware of when the intercom buzzed, rousing him from his thoughts, and his secretary declared that lady Jessica was here to see him.
Finally. Finally he would see the end of this ordeal. One way or another.

"Send her in", he ordered, his booming voice already declaring that he was far from pleased with the lady in question.

Before she had time to enter, he stood and turned his back to the doors, gazing out over the city nightlife, filled with a myriad of lights of every color imaginable, clasping his hands loosely behind his back. Partly as a way of drawing strength from the serenity of the night sky, to keep his cool despite the anger that was causing his blood to boil, but also as a sign; she had fallen from grace, and was thus undeserving of having her presence recognized until he saw fit to acknowledge it. But he was still watching her approach. The darkness outside the windows provided him with a good reflection of the room behind him, and so he could watch her every step of her way to his desk, and she would still be none the wiser.
Not even when the sound of her foot steps ceased did he turn to look at her, but merely gave a short, firm order;

"Sit down."

#35 [Tenth Night]

The world had drowned out long ago, and been replaced by a world of words. The library appeared as a majestic realm, absolutley beautiful to the naked eye and to the spellbound minds of the Tremere - nothing short of irresistibly enchanting. Carmilla was greatly charmed, embraced by all the knowledge and whispers from the eminent past of her lineage. In an instant, she understood why they were feared, as well as respected. In the very point of origin within her, from which the clan's blood had claimed her, the tale was told. All Tremere knew about the myths and legends that surrounded them, but in this moment Carmilla could feel and see why. Experience, through a touch of a book, revelations in a few sentences and combining it all to a discovery of high praise and regard. Her world would never be the same. Every step she took from now on, would add to her vampiric abilities and strength. She had only taken a mere baby step, yet she felt this night would be one of a kind.

She put the book away in its place, and moved further down, to the end of that row of shelfs. There it was, the book she was looking for. It contained the reference she needed, to fully grasp what she was reading in the current book by her notepad. Although, something else caught her eye. Next to it stood a fairly tainted one, either used with diligence until it barely held itself togheter, or treated worse than a low ranked ghoul. Carmilla picked it up, carefully as if it was more fragile than a petal. She held it in her hands, like it was their Holy Grail, though it was far from one of the most important books to her bretheren. She wondered, if there were books safely locked away somewhere, or if they where all displayed here. Her mind brushed against the thought of the Seven, and what wonderous books they must have in their possession. She did not dare to explore that sentiment further, instead she turned her attention to the book in her hands, and opened it with anticipation. Already in the first sentence, she was spellbound. All of her knowledge, every single snippet, tidbit and Tremere treat she had accommodated through the years, gathered and gave her a partial understanding of what she was reading. She knew in a wink of an eye, that she would return again and again to this particular book, and when she had learnt more she would understand more. However, that did not keep her from reading.

New gates where opened, even if only for a peak. It was enough to make her feel like a choosen one, as special as every single Tremere was in the universe and to the clan. No one was expendable, no one was a waste. At least not in theory.
A soft smile grew on her lips, as she felt content, in the same time as she craved more, more. There were no end to her love for everything written, every single thought of substance put into words on a sheet of paper. She raised her hand, and touched the pages of the worn book, gentle with her fingertips. It was as if she secretly hoped for the letters to affect her skin as well as her soul. She closed her eyes, longing for everything yet to be revealed to her, and when she opened them again she realized she had turned a few pages. The words that met her dazzled her, played with her mind like a game of roulette. Sinister, amiable... Bewitching.

Though one would hardly be alone in this Chantry, or any other, she had felt very much alone in the library, until the air shifted. Or so it seemed. She thought nothing of it, as her blood told her to not be alarmed. No matter who changed the elements in her close proximity, there were no place safer than this. It was a fortress. Though it had not occured to her that it did in fact harbour a different kind of Tremere, until she lifted her gaze from the pages, and beheld Adrien de la Cour at the other end.

Of course. The hunter resided within these walls, above the unsuspecting humans by the neon screens. The one vampire they did not have to fear as much as the rest. Carmilla had been so into her newly found surroundings, Mina's acceptance and all the knowledge to be had, to give the strange man from the Banquet another thought. And now, he stood not far from her, locking her in his dark gaze. The traces of green gave his orbs a second dimension, and made her wonder if the one who claimed him had made an addition or if it was in fact a gift from birth.

The set of feelings in her chest rearranged, and a new one took form in the center. But what was it; fear? He had instilled fear in her at The Ball and cast a shadow over the intended welcome feast for the Ventrue Primogen. But this time, it was different. Although she was alone with him, as far as she knew, she was not afraid. Respect and reservation, but no fear. Instead; curiosity. She knew but one thing about him for certain; something they had in common - being embraced without consent. Of course, she knew about all the killings, but that was redundant. One could not hear about him, and not think about the vampire causalities in his path.

He did take her by surprise, but not the one she would have guessed. It puzzled her that she had not been startled, stricken with at least some fear. Was it because he didn't look quite as intimidating as the first time she had seen him - frightening an entire ocean of vampires - or was it because they were alone. The very fact that would tell anyone to run, run from the hunter. Although she would not have to be half as smart as she was to know it would be suicide for him to hurt her, she couldn't figure out why she wasn't scared. Her mind and her reaction in the flesh did not always co-exist, so why this time. The only visible thing, was her reduced smile.

Adrien de la Cour was a monster. It just happened to be, that he was a very handsome one. The raven hair, tresses teasing his eyes, and a firm jaw. A most dangerous monster. Evil in a charming form, certainly one of his best weapons. Who could believe him to be a killer, a vile creature sneaking around destroying her kind - that was now his kind as well. Though she did believe, she belonged to the clan that were in the business of carrying out his punishment.

Carmilla found herself feeling calm, and the soft smile returned to her lips in its former capacity, though he did not give her nearly as much to smile about as the book in her grasp.

"Mr de la Cour", she said with her pleasant tone and gave him a nod.

She was not about to call him a brother, but given the circumstances, she could do nothing else but greet him as she would anyone. After all, he had to be quite intelligent to be as successful as he had been. Therefore he would not hurt her. The mere thought made her smile widen, just a tad. If he were to go on a suicide mission, she doubted he would start with her. A man like him, would most likely take as many as possible to his grave.

Despite her stillness within, she wondered about that mind of his. She did prepare herself for the possibility of all her sentiments being utterly wrong. Maybe he saw in her a target she could not see herself. After all, she was not the one who had spent centuries erasing Kindred.

Fear or no fear. If he really intended to harm her in any way, neither would save her. She put her trust in her blood.

Is this O.K.? I apologize for any inconsistancies in this Bio. Please point them out to me so I may fix them. Also, can someone inform me where everyone is. I don't want to, for example say I am at The Rave Arcade when everyone is at The Museum. I'm really nervous about his post because I am paranoid that I did something horriblely wrong or made a very stupid error.

--------------------------------------------
1. Name: John Doe
Age: 30

2. Willingness to be a ghoul, or embraced (if so, by what clan): Honestly, I am fine being embraced/be a ghoul for whoever, whenever. I wish to advance the story as much as possible, even if that means my own demise. So feel free, anyone, to do whatever you wish to me. Just please send me a private message first.
3. Occupation: Reporter/Photographer

4. Short bio: John was born into an upper middle class family who supplied everything he needed for him.
"Above average" is what the IQ tests said about him, "Above average" is what his teachers said, "Above average" is what everyone said about him, and John thinks they were right. He believes he will be nothing but "above average", he will never be great, never rise above the position he had been born into.
But enough about that, here is some more history. John mainained good grades until about the sixth grade where he developed a rather nasty habit of saving things until the last possible minute. He still has not been able to break that habit and his job is now in crisis because of it.
By his Sophmore year in high school he decided he wanted to study Journalism (a choice he would later regret... Should have been a doctor, or even an actor). John maintained good enough grades to get into a college and developed an intrest in photography.
After graduating college with a degree in Journalism, he got married to his childhood sweetheart. John got a job writing articles for a large newspaper. However, he soon learned that his "last-minute" habit was not going to cut it now. It worked for him only a few times, and even then it was barely "satisfactory" Unable to cope with the stress he began going to the bar more frequently. This frequency only increased and eventually his drinking led to his divorce with his wife. (Though he tells everyone that the girl was only after his money.) Someone his age should not have all these problems....
His job is in jeopardy and without it he won't be able to pay the bills without asking his parents for help (which he won't, because he is too proud). Now, his bar/nightclub has closed, great.... but he has heard about this place called The Haven. It should be a fun place to go.
Other facts: Enjoys video games, alcoholic beverages, books, Greek/Roman mythology, movies, plays.

5. Picture: To be added

(((ooc: Game Shark - Welcome! A reporter, huh? Oh my, that might make for some drma. *s* Everything sounds fine and dandy, though perhaps you'd like to add his age? As for where everyone is; sadly, most players have yet to put their characters out there, and so for now, there really isn't anyone that's approachable. Adrien & Carmilla are at the Museum library, which I think is off limits to humans, as well as non-Tremere vampires. Valerian & Aeode are at The Haven, but in the back, which is also off limits... Mina is in her penthouse floor at the Museum, which is... yeah, you guessed it, off limits, unless invited. I think. As is the penthouse office at The V, where Damian and Jessica are at.
Wow... *scratches head* Well, hopefully some of the other players will get their act together (*hint hint* Guys, I'm looking at you. Yes, you.) and put their character(s) out there for some interaction. In the meantime, you could place John pretty much wherever you'd like, but I suggest either the streets, The Haven or Algernon, as those seem to have been the most 'popular' locations lately.)))

((ooc: Thank you for the speedy reply Atoopa. I have this idea in my head about making him aware to the vampires and then slowly tearing his mind to shreds. Ooh, this will be fun. I added the part about the bar because I thought it would be the easiest way for him to come in contact with the vampires. I could have sworn I had in age in there. Does 30 sound O.K., is it too young. I apologize for all of this. You ahve a wonderful Roleplay.))

(((ooc: Game Shark - 30 sounds just fine. And no need to apologize, I know this is one of those roleplays that can seem rather intimidating at first, due to the massive amount of info in the opening posts. But I'm here to help, so if you ever have any questions, feel free to either post them in the thread, or to PM me. I'll be happy to try and answer any questions. )))

John strolled into The Haven.... or whatever the nightclub was called. He needed something to help him forget his life. He despised the choices he had made, he despised that stupid newpaper and he despised reality. Life was rainbows and butterflies like he had been told as a child.

He had heard someone at his workplace talk about this club. Apparently it was suppose to be great. The place was dark, gothic. Usually he didn't like that kind of thing..... but there was something alluring about this place. He couldn't put his finger on it. He stopped, and grabbed the camera from his neck that he had promised never to remove in case something amazing happened. He snapped a few pictures for his random collection.

John placed the camera back on his neck and sat at the bar.

Another secretive whisper of pages turning, as though years of hidden knowledge was being shared between book and reader. The shifting of a body's weight from one foot to the other, and the minute sweeping of dark lashes, casting shadows to play over pallid skin as eyes closed, and opened again. Then, a head lifting, and a deep sapphire gaze meeting his from across the passage of rows upon rows of books.

Adrien had wondered how long it would take the darkhaired woman to notice him, in the meantime going back and forth between desiring to see what reaction it would bring when finally she did, and the appreciation of being granted yet another moment to study her in all her glorious unawareness. She seemed so firmly captivated by the book in her hands, that he got the distinct impression it had managed to block out everything else around her, spellbinding her with some dark secret hidden deep within it's folds. She drank in every word, she even closed her eyes ever so briefly, as if to savor the very taste of each and every letter on the tip of her tongue.

It was the image of such a perfect opportunity, that he could not help but to toy with the idea; the idea of how easy it would have been, to smite her right then and there, had he not been restrained by the chains that bound him from doing harm. Good old-fashioned bodily harm. It would have been so easy, even as a human. Provided, of course, that he would have gotten this far into the Museum in the first place, which he doubted. It was well guarded indeed. But if he had, the kill would have been an easy one. She might've heard him coming, she might've even heard his heartbeat, but as Kindred weren't the only ones around, she would've most likely dismissed it as the sounds of a ghoul. The place did seem to be literally crawling with them. Of course, he had only seen two or three, but by his standards that very much covered the quota for a place to be crawling with them.
Needless to say, he didn't much care for ghouls, misguided vampire wannabe's they were.

But, the moment for such fantasies had passed, at least temporarily, with the turning of her head. Now, he was anticipating her reaction, reading her as studiously as she had been reading the book in her hands. Not skimming the pages, nor haphazardly flipping through it, like you would when in search of something, anything, that might catch your eye. No. His gaze meticulously scrutinized her face, her every feature, his eyes boring into hers in search of an expression, or even just a mere quiver that would reveal to him what she was thinking, or even who she was. He had seen her before, he knew that much, as he never forgot a face of a Kindred, even though the look on hers was currently very different from what it had been the first and only other time he had seen her, at the ball Mina had blackmailed him into attending. There had been agitation and anxiety then, one of what had seemed to be the two standard expressions at the Ball, the other being that of anger and contempt.
Now, however, there was neither. Only slight apprehension, concealed by what looked like a rather amiable smile.

"Mr de la Cour", she greeted him in an equally cordial voice, while giving a slight nod in his direction.

That was all. No surprise at coming across him, no puzzlement over the somewhat unlikely location. Or did she just not realize why his presence in the library might be percieved by others as a potential threat? There was a certain aura of naiveté about her, but surely she wasn't that credulous? If she was, these books in her hands would be almost as dangerous as they would be in his. If not more. Ignorance might be the sure sign of a dull mind, but it was far from a dull blade. Throughout history, there had been many fateful events caused by simple ignorance.
However, despite that naive air about her, there was still a certain level of intelligence visible in her eyes, leading him to believe that in the end, she had deserved the right to be here.

"Once again my reputation precedes me", he replied, responding to her smile with a smirk laced with irony.

Though aside from that tiny tug at the corner of his mouth, he remained perfectly, casually still.

"However I am afraid the same can not be said about you", he added.

Sometimes dreams just arent meant to come true. They may be too far from reality, too impossible for a mere mortal, a man from the wrong side of town to achieve. He remembered coming to this city, with no money, every hope he'd ever had, shattered by the years on the street behind him. His heart turned to stone by what he had seen, his body running on vodka. He'd been barely 18 with a life to go. Another misfit kid in another burned out town. Yet the eyes told a different story, wise beyond their years, jaded by the heartache, the desperation, the violence, the lies, the fear that surrounded him. Yet he had battled on. Doing whatever it took, seeking to achieve, to become a face known in every alleyway and decrepid dive. To become a man who was respected through fear with a nasty reputation that could take him everywhere. Now he had all he'd set out to achieve, the money, the power, the notierty.

And for what? Still happiness alluded him, dancing before his eyes like a note caught on the wind. Almost within his grasp yet somehow he never reached it. And when he thought he'd caught hold finally of the allusive bliss it crumbled into a pile of ash. If he died tomorrow, what would anyone remember him for? Was it all just wasted time? The face in the mirror got no younger, and each day the lies became harder to live with. Too many regrets for one soul to carry. He never thought he'd let it get this far. That he would take anothers life for hard cash. But he had crossed that line today. Pulled a knife on an innocent man, watched impassively as the life drained out before turning his back and walking away. Doing it was the simple part, fast cash for a few hours of his time, but now he had to swear by his motto of no regrets.

Always a loner, a drifter born to walk alone. Zillah entered the Haven. A swagger in his step, hiding the thoughts that darkened his mind behind eyes tainted the rusty green colour of bottles shot apart in target practice. The dark jeans and T-shirt hid the bloodstains, the faint splodges that had splatted their wet imprint casting a portrait of death upon him, marking him a guilty man. His hands washed clean in water that splashed through the gutter yet still he could almost feel the grime upon them.

As he approached the bar Zillahnoticed a man with a camera slung around his neck. His wary eyes glided over the mans back before he slid into a seat beside him. Was he some amature following the latest fad of documenting every aspect of their lives and posting it online for the world to see. Or could he be worth knowing, journalists often had a tale to tell, with one ear constantly glued to the ground so often a juicy piece of information could be exchanged over a long hard drinking session.

"J.D. on the rocks" Zillah growled at the barstaff, in his low velvety tone before turning to the man with the camera . "So, you off duty?" He smiled, long golden lashes swooping down over one eye in a cheeky wink. If the man was a journalist he might get the joke. Journalists were always up for a story, never off the job. If he was wrong, naturally one would assume he just wanted to check he wasnt drinking alongside a cop. Zillah wasn't quite the law-loving type.

((OCC Hi Gameshark - hope you don't mind John being approached by another human, some vamps might join us soon. ))

John sat in his chair a few moments pondering what to get when suddenly, a man appeared next to him. The man looked peculiar to John. He reminded him of a kid during his college years who had streaked through the corridors screaming babble. Paul hoped this person was nothing like him.....

He watched silently for a few moments as the stranger ordered his drink knowing full well that the stranger was probably watching him back. Did this man have some story to tell him, some piece of earthshattering news that would rocket him into the fame and riches he rightly deserved? No, this was probably just another random punk who enjoyed taunting the miserable.

Suddenly, the man spoke to him in a tone that was like velvet. "So you off duty?"

John's heart raced for a moment. This man could actually have something. Fudge, he didn't have a pen or anything to write on for that matter. This did not make sense though, in his experiences things did not happen like this. Life was cruel and sadistic.

As nonchalantly as he could Paul responded "I never get off duty."

He turned to the barstaff for a moment and ordered precisely what his new "friend" had ordered. Suddenly though, he wondered if this man was just trying to get him drunk enough to reveal some juicy gossip. He hated those people and hated even more to be their source of information. He could not get too drunk tonight.

((OOC: Hope that is O.K. I am in a bit of a rush. I love interacting with anyone. Nice to meet you.))