10-15-2013, 01:25 PM
Estelle Burnhouse, the severe pantsuited redhead with her locks bound up in a tight pun and fading burn scars visible along the hairline behind her ear and down her neck, still comes when beckoned to the guardhouse by the estate's security.
Estelle is still the one who listens to new visitors give their names and make their claims or requests. She is still the one that looks just a bit disinterested in the person and more in the context of an arrival. In the details and possible dangers that come in the brief exchange of names and affiliations. Perhaps it is to hide her amusement when any vampire of any clan says they are unarmed. She perks up when she hears however he identifies himself, whether it be Assamite or the more appropriate Child of Haqim. Even then she still goes about the appeasing theatrics of having men and women in uniforms wave their batons and do their polite security checks of baggage and person. And she still gives that final promise there will be an RFID tag waiting for them on their way out to make the whole process a bit more expedient should all go well on the newcomer's presentation, a hand to her ear as she leads Kazimir off toward the castle proper.
And it is still the Keeper of Elysium, Lucille de Dampierre, who is there at the door to greet those who have come to make their presentation to the Prince and his court.
"Mr. Tesarik," she begins, her voice smooth and with only the slightest of a French accent. It is decidedly womanly in its lilt, cultivated and mature, all girlishness long aged out of her speech. "I am Lucille de Dampierre, Keeper of this Elysium, and it is a pleasure to welcome you to Denver and Castle Richthofen, the home of our honorable Prince Helmer Rasmussen of Clan Brujah, opened up to his fellow Camarilla, Kindred in the Blood," the delicate thumb and forefinger of one rich bronze finger held in those of the other hand before her nails and points trail gently up to her knuckles. She wears an ivory dress, the slight tint of it complementary of her skin tone, and offers no hand out to the approaching Kindred just yet.
The tarps, tools, workers, and all other remnants of the masonry and carpentry work that was necessary to repair Richthofen are long gone. The great hall past the foyer is again open and stocked with works of art, antique furniture, and a new piano to replace the other that had served as fuel for Sabbat flames only a short few months previous. She guides him in, reacting to his stern demeanor in the same way she would a friendly one - like she expects it to soften, eventually, under her charm.
"Tell me, are you here on the business of your clan or do you count yourself among those who would join our sect and establish order in a barbarous world? Bring civility to the society of our kind through such social constructs as ours?" She turns as she asks the question, taking a seat in one of the silk upholstered wing backed chairs deeper in the great hall. As of yet they are the only two present in the room.
Estelle is still the one who listens to new visitors give their names and make their claims or requests. She is still the one that looks just a bit disinterested in the person and more in the context of an arrival. In the details and possible dangers that come in the brief exchange of names and affiliations. Perhaps it is to hide her amusement when any vampire of any clan says they are unarmed. She perks up when she hears however he identifies himself, whether it be Assamite or the more appropriate Child of Haqim. Even then she still goes about the appeasing theatrics of having men and women in uniforms wave their batons and do their polite security checks of baggage and person. And she still gives that final promise there will be an RFID tag waiting for them on their way out to make the whole process a bit more expedient should all go well on the newcomer's presentation, a hand to her ear as she leads Kazimir off toward the castle proper.
And it is still the Keeper of Elysium, Lucille de Dampierre, who is there at the door to greet those who have come to make their presentation to the Prince and his court.
"Mr. Tesarik," she begins, her voice smooth and with only the slightest of a French accent. It is decidedly womanly in its lilt, cultivated and mature, all girlishness long aged out of her speech. "I am Lucille de Dampierre, Keeper of this Elysium, and it is a pleasure to welcome you to Denver and Castle Richthofen, the home of our honorable Prince Helmer Rasmussen of Clan Brujah, opened up to his fellow Camarilla, Kindred in the Blood," the delicate thumb and forefinger of one rich bronze finger held in those of the other hand before her nails and points trail gently up to her knuckles. She wears an ivory dress, the slight tint of it complementary of her skin tone, and offers no hand out to the approaching Kindred just yet.
The tarps, tools, workers, and all other remnants of the masonry and carpentry work that was necessary to repair Richthofen are long gone. The great hall past the foyer is again open and stocked with works of art, antique furniture, and a new piano to replace the other that had served as fuel for Sabbat flames only a short few months previous. She guides him in, reacting to his stern demeanor in the same way she would a friendly one - like she expects it to soften, eventually, under her charm.
"Tell me, are you here on the business of your clan or do you count yourself among those who would join our sect and establish order in a barbarous world? Bring civility to the society of our kind through such social constructs as ours?" She turns as she asks the question, taking a seat in one of the silk upholstered wing backed chairs deeper in the great hall. As of yet they are the only two present in the room.