Flood's eyes open to the same darkness he usually awakens to. Down and away from the world the sun feels further away in the most comforting of senses for a Lasombra. It takes a moment before the cool restfulness of a day's respite gives way to a sudden uneasiness. At first his senses reach out and summon the Abyss to enliven the deep blackness around him, sap away the light's vestigial hold on it and calling defenders to his side, wondering at and then feeling for whatever disturbance might have roused him at such an hour. It's another moment after this wasteful (better safe than sorry) expression of his blood's power that he realizes...
Nothing awoke him so early in the evening. There is no smell of smoke. There is no pounding at the door. The earth does not shake and the ceiling of brick and mortal doesn't seem to be falling down around him as it once did many decades ago.
Nothing awoke him other than himself; that is an unsettling thought with ramifications he can't begin to consider before...
Flood can feel the vibration of a phone against his chest and reaches within his suit breast pocket. The electronic blue glow of its screen lights his face as he reads the message, the number saved under the same name as that business card, and answers a moment later.
"Me too," and whether he's referring to his own rising (he must as he's answering at such an hour) or having a bad feeling is left ambiguous. It's tapped out on the screen and shot off before he begins cycling through his other contacts and sending off another message.
"Those not of His True and Chosen rise early as well," and one can begin to guess which contact group this is sent to.
Flood flicks back to Kali's message a moment later.
"Meeting?" And it's sent off to the Ravnos. With that Flood rises for what will probably be a busy (and eventful) night.
Nothing awoke him so early in the evening. There is no smell of smoke. There is no pounding at the door. The earth does not shake and the ceiling of brick and mortal doesn't seem to be falling down around him as it once did many decades ago.
Nothing awoke him other than himself; that is an unsettling thought with ramifications he can't begin to consider before...
Flood can feel the vibration of a phone against his chest and reaches within his suit breast pocket. The electronic blue glow of its screen lights his face as he reads the message, the number saved under the same name as that business card, and answers a moment later.
"Me too," and whether he's referring to his own rising (he must as he's answering at such an hour) or having a bad feeling is left ambiguous. It's tapped out on the screen and shot off before he begins cycling through his other contacts and sending off another message.
"Those not of His True and Chosen rise early as well," and one can begin to guess which contact group this is sent to.
Flood flicks back to Kali's message a moment later.
"Meeting?" And it's sent off to the Ravnos. With that Flood rises for what will probably be a busy (and eventful) night.