Elysium - The Coming of Lady Adelaide

[Howl]

Lux's body art had been duly admired by the Brujah upon meeting for the event, his gaze sweeping over the display with an appreciative smile and a "Honey, you look like a painting. Everyone's gonna want to steal you from me."

Now it would seem that the two of them had formed a bit of an unusual social circle, with the approach of both Samantha and Gotfred. The former received a brief nod and an easy smile from Everett, who held out his hand in informal greeting. "Lovely to meet you, Samantha. Everett Stone." His own accent sounded markedly more local, and it looked for a moment like he meant to ask the Ventrue a question, but then Gotfred approached.

Lux managed to look anywhere but at the Nosferatu Primogen's face. Everett, to his credit, looked the Rat King right in the eyes and held his gaze steady. A shift came over the Brujah's demeanor when Gotfred uttered that name (Greta.) No longer smiling. No longer open. The Nosferatu had asked if he intended to rejoin the fight, and Everett's answer was: "I am. On my own terms."

When Lady Adelaide entered, all eyes were upon her - including those of the Anarchs. When she drifted into their space to greet the Nosferatu Primogen, Everett held back politely and, if she happened to acknowledge his presence, would offer a respectful bow of his head. (Ever the courteous creature this evening, it would seem.)

He watched her move across the room, curious perhaps as to what she intended to do now that she had all their attention. Her speech, short and to the point, was met with a look of guarded approval. (There was a weariness to it though. So many years of politicians and their pretty speeches meant to cover selfish designs.)

Nonetheless, he stepped forward and approached Adelaide and Wenceslao. "I can't speak for all the Anarchs, but this city is my home. I came back to protect it and the people living here. The Camarilla can count me as an ally."

[Samael]

Kali wasn't one who took it upon herself to miss big Camarilla events...or even small ones, if she could possibly help it. A member of an independent clan who counted themselves part of the Camarilla didn't get to rely on an affirmative action assurance that they always had a spot; they had to try a little (read: a lot) harder than any of the Big Six clans to make sure they were counted when the time came. And so for the Ravnos woman it meant that any time there was a large gathering, she would make sure that she was there.

And so she is. Kali has dressed to look the part; she isn't suited up the way she was for her visit with the good professor but she wasn't all leather and lace either. Instead she's chosen something in-between; a crimson bustier underneath a worn but in-good-repair leather jacket with a short skirt and knee-high boots. She's left her hair down to spill over her shoulders, its ever-present unnatural red more or less matching the color of her top. She moves from circle to circle, playing the social butterfly and delivering some witticisms along the way.

She gives specific time to a few people, of course. Mercy gets a grin and a little wiggle of her fingers at one point while the Rroma woman stands with a small group of neonates, listening to her prattle. Jack also gets a smile and a wink; she will certainly be talking with them soon. One particular man who, for some reason, the Ravnos makes the time to make herself known to is Malcolm Redknapp. She doesn't approach him, just catches his eye at some point and gives a seemingly warm, amused and knowing nod.

She also makes sure to head over to Lux and Everett to exchange pleasantries. Kali is as comfortable with Anarchs as she is the Camarilla and she grins as she walks up, giving Samantha and Gotfred a quick look and smile just before she leans in to kiss both of Lux's cheeks. "Hey there, my impromptu tattoo artist. You look awesome, of course. How are you guys...weathering things well?"

Of course, that would be when the big entrance happens. Kali takes the opportunity to move and find a spot to stand, watching as Lady Adelaide walks in. Kali is a woman for whom it is rare to find without a smirk, a grin or something approximating amusement, unless someone can knock her off-balance enough to wipe that smirk off her face (or it serves her best to be serious). Tonight...it serves her best to be serious. She's not solemn, but she recognizes the gravity of the situation and she treats it as such. For once.

When Adelaide speaks, she listens closely. She nods a little at the idea that the Sabbat will not find a home here; above all, that's something she agrees with. She isn't the kind to swoon and be swayed by flowery speeches, but she is a pragmatist and she knows when she can find points to agree on, and leave the rest behind. When Adelaide calls for Kindred to make their allegiance known, domains declared and such, she waits for Everett to finish and then she steps forward to speak.

"Lady Adelaide...I am Kali, from the Phuri Dae jati of Clan Ravnos. While most of my clan remains neutral, I count myself as a member-in-standing of the Camarilla by choice. I have been many places in my time on this world, but I now count Denver as my home and I have no desire to see it usurped by the Sabbat, so the idea that they will not find a home here is, frankly, music to my ears."

She cocks her head a moment, pausing. "I claim under my domain my financial assets and operation as a drug baron within the city, distributing all variety of such to the kine. Obviously I will fight any efforts by the Sabbat to assert themselves in that business and I can use my methods of bringing contraband into the city to help import resources if needed. I maintain an apartment within Denver and a warehouse in East Colfax which are both under my purview; my dealers operate all over town, though I don't claim where they sell under domain and would like to see them allowed to operate within those areas without violating anyone else's domain. The majority of my feeding is done in the city of Parker to the southeast. And finally, I claim a ghoul as part of my domain, a woman by the name of Bo. She is mine and I will contest any and all claims to her, as well as defend her."

It's not a threat, of course...merely a declaration, as Adelaide requested, of all her assets and territory so no one comes up to clash against her without knowing it. And this way, none can claim ignorance. That's an important part, after all.

[Cellatus]

Oh, his eyes see many things. As much as he was enjoying the music, those eyes sweep over the Giovanni's suit, his shoes, his build, and finally that face with those thin, nearly frowning lips.

"Not comedy. It's never comedy." He says with a disappointed shake of his lumpy head. "The misunderstandings are hardly amusing, there's rarely any mistaken identity, and it never ever ends in a wedding."

Those eyes sweep around the room, to Jack and then, following Jack's gaze to the others. Oh...now those are interesting people.

"Tragedy now...tragedy requires two things: Fear and pity. Now the fear presumes that the audience is aware of the impending doom, but the protagonist stumbles into it blindly. Which forces you to ask yourself, are you the protagonist here, or are you just a minor character? No one wants to be a minor character."

No one usually wants to be a minor character. Which makes the one stuck to the wall, the one the Sheriff seems to be keeping an eye on, an interesting anomaly.

"And pity...well, pity requires we feel sorry four the protagonist. We have to like them. Well...I dunno how much of that is floating around this particular room."

Then, the main event begins. The real main characters enter and Donkey Teeth is watching with great interest. And a soliloquy! No, no. Denver will never fall. How rousing. How inspiring.

"Satire?" He whispers. "Uh..I...you didn't hear that from me."

[Joey]

"Something light, and more of a short story than some drawn out epic. We can only hope," he nods to Jack, and then looks to Donkey Teeth as the Nosferatu finished his own analysis and predictions. "A minor role... Yes, I'd rather take part in the chorus. They spend less time on the ground playing corpses."

Samit only looks up as Jack's elbows come down to rest on the piano and even then he continues playing. The strength of the tune begins to taper off like the pulse of one whose veins are slowly emptying. By the time Adelaide is at the door he has withdrawn his fingers from the keys, swinging one leg over the bench and then the other so that he is facing the assembly and its newest and most dangerous addition. Will the Assamite refuse to rise for Lady Adelaide's arrival?

Of course not.

The assassin rolls forward onto his monk strap shoes, a dulled back hatch of woven leather. Circles to the side of the piano, to join with Jack, Donkey Teeth, Oliverio and the necromancer's nameless (barely seen and never heard) body guard.

As if he hadn't missed a step in the conversation, his smooth baritone voice finds an exposed moment to pierce itself into. "Oliverio, we both know you, as I, will take this more as the reading of a ledger."

The familiar tone he takes seems to hint he looks past the religious condemnation much of his clan might place upon the Giovanni in order to find a common ground. Still, he entirely ignores both of the Nosferatu, offering neither even a nod as his attention goes to Adelaide. He only seems to pay her much mind when she is through with her introductions and addressing the entirety of Elysium.

Then Donkey Teeth whispers his last quip and it manages to get a rise out of the Assamite, who fold his arms to hide the subtle shake of laughter is summons.

On the other side of the hall Narcisa seems almost glad for that rumble that emerges from Mercy, and even more so as it's followed up with a question. It's a distraction from the steady flow of Kindred now stepping forward to make their presentations, claims on domain, and pledges of fealty to Denver, if not to the Camarilla directly.

The Malkavian turns and takes a few steps so that she's maybe a yard from where Mercy is crouched. She wears a linen blazer, black with only white stitching along its hem, lapels and cuffs to break up its darkness. It's her only nod to the formality of the event, a plain black t-shirt, a pair of dark navy jeans, and black jackboots rounding the outfit out.

She turns her head and returns the outlander's glare with her own. "I know you, but I don't know you. I'm wonderin' if you plan on bringing any of the wild from out there in with you, s'all."

Everett's assertion to Gotfred gets a nod, hands out and fingers open, from the Nosferatu Primogen. “Of course. From a childe of Greta's I would expect nothing less.”

When the Brujah Anarch advances on Adelaide and those accompanying her, all the arrayed eyes go to him as he is first to out-and-out break the (relative) silence in the wake of the Ventrue announcements and ally with the Ivory Tower. Adelaide returns them with a nod once Wenceslao has leaned over to whisper something into her ear. Rasmussen, on the other hand, again appears more moved by Everett's words and gives another nod and a pleased smile in his direction.

Kali's introduction comes with a more thorough regaling of pedigree and intent, and the look on Jun's face hints she may be the one chosen to take notes.

The Settites step forward next, as if in response to some measure of that intent and purview the Ravnos outlines.

Kamal stands at the fore, with Atef a step back and to the right.

"I am Kamal Moussa of the Settites, and with me is my childe, Atef Karim. We have similar assets and means of distribution to the Ravnos who spoke last, as do other Kindred in the city," and though that Ravnos is present, the Settite never turns to regard her.

"Where, outside of our havens and storefronts in Park Hill, our personnel come in contact with any who would impede our business interests we will leave the kine to settle the disputes by whatever means their bands find effective," his voice a harsh and gravely thing that continues reverberating through the chamber. "We find this an even playing field of power that does not endanger the Masquerade your Camarilla holds so dear."

"We are also pleased to see the Camarilla express such an interest in keeping Denver a bountiful city where all vampires can pursue profit and power undisturbed by the vagaries of war. We offer our own strength to this alliance," now one hand folding over his stomach, the other out, as he gives a bow toward Adelaide. Atef does not mimic it, only nodding – perhaps with even a little hesitation. The older Settite continues: "We hope that with it, the Camarilla will see fit to reverse its tightening of law enforcement's grip on the city, at least where it relates to those pursuits. It will allow us to bring our full strength to bear in defending our domain and Denver as a whole."

A few more neonates, a Brujah of consequence, a Toreador of notable siring, a Malkavian of laudable brevity, and still others step forward to claim this block and that game, this high rise or that office building, this vice or that business, until...

The three Tremere with Marguerite Hill step forward with Jeremy now at their helm.

"Jeremy Cabot of the Tremere, subordinate to Lady Hill," and first he gestures to Malcolm, "Malcolm Redknapp," and then to the female Tremere with her short cropped hair and tuxedo jacket, "and Anne Benton." His voice has a certain solemnity to it that seems uncharacteristic for such social proceedings.

"The Tremere claim Ives, Sullivan and Company, a publishing house of Lady Hill's, and the University of Denver with its surrounding territories – bars, dormitories, and other businesses – as our domain and feeding ground under the new established praxis, whenever it is decided. We are in the midst of establishing a chantry, but with the city at war it will be our haven, and we find it best to keep its location private." With this Malcolm finally returns that amused look from Kali with one of his own.

Probably because he knows what is coming next.

"We also thank Lady Hill for accepting us into her newly established chantry. We were placed in Denver for a reason. We are trained and ready to fight the Sabbat that harry Denver," and this time a look to Samantha, Jun, Jonas, Wenceslao, Rasmussen and finally Adelaide before he continues. "We are experienced in fighting the Sabbat because none fight them more than they fight amongst themselves. And all of us, Malcolm, Anne and myself, once counted ourselves amongst their number," letting is sink in, his hands folding before his waist, lips thin, and none of them are smiling. Even Malcolm has wiped that smirk off his face.

Adelaide first merely nods, as she waits for the ensuing din to die down.

Oliverio takes this presentation (announcement) as his cue, the Giovanni never stepping forward to make his own introductions, leaving his clan as neutral as before the Elysium's beginning. He gives Donkey Teeth and Jack a final nod and his own rasp of lengthy murmurs, lost in those that come from around the room at Jeremy's words:

"I think whoever wrote tonight's feature presentation is trying to surprise us, and using blunt force to do it. Not very effective; an ax where a pinprick might do," shaking his head. "In any case, I was mean to be more eyes and ears than voice. And I must now be going," turning toward the door and walking to leave, his bodyguard stays close.

And when the room regains a quiet semblance of order the eldest Ventrue speaks again. "We welcome you all," to Jeremy and the two ex-Sabbat flanking him, "and thank you for your candor."

[Shayla]

So many of the Camarilla spoke in double talk, triple talk and sometimes beyond, their machinations were far reaching and deeply driven and as Narcisa approaches and utters her words Mercy seems to attempt to figure out exactly how much [if any] of that sort of skill that the Sheriff was employing at that moment in particular. She rose then, slowly rising off the ground without any assistance from her arms, relying entirely on the power of her legs until she was standing before the Sheriff instead of crouching.

She regarded the woman for a long, silent minute before an answer is forthcoming, the growl sightly reduced, the narrow line of her eyes however does not do the same.

"With all these predators, the Wild was here long before I arrived." She says with a gesture to the general assembly. But her features narrow as she takes two steps towards the Sheriff now, unconcerned by whatever social moors or power structures she might be insulting in the doing so.

"If you mean otherwise however, speak, your, mind." She says with intensity as she burrows her gaze into Narcisa's. It would seem Mercy believes the Sheriff is employing some of that double talk now. Oddly enough, the growl fades as she speaks these words, leaving a clear, concise and certain voice, if perhaps not the most friendly.

[Kai Wren]

And... when did Eliza get here?

The 'young woman' (but who can truly know how old one is amongst vampires?) has projected an aura which seems to say 'no no, I'm not here, don't pay attention', but now she chooses to step forwards and make herself known. Short. Dark beret, cream jacket, slim. She's got a washed-out look to her, as though standing up in front of all these people is literally draining the color out of her.

"I am Eliza North. Childe of The Broken Mirror, of the great Family Malkav." She says, "I... I helped in Round Rock, and Kent. Even Spokane, where I could. I don't know that I made a difference... but where there are Sabbat, I'll be there, to cut them out. For fifty years I've done what I can, and until I meet my Maker, or see the death of the last of them myself, I'll keep doing it. That is my, oath."

The last word is spoken with a certain seriousness, and then she does her best to shrink backwards. But she doesn't completely disappear. Her eyes are focused on the Tremere who just announced he and his compatriots were of the Sabbat in the past. The meekness has fallen away from her features, and there is loathing there, deep and abiding. Her anger is making it quite difficult to become once again part of the scenery, with her whole form tense and disturbed.

[Joey]

[ Anyone wishing to make a Perception + Alertness roll at difficulty 9 can pick up on this interaction with a success. Those with Auspex can make the roll at difficulty 8. ]

Narcisa looks like she's about to answer much more plainly, casting double talk to the wind, a flare in her temper evident.

She even begins to.

"Don't start any fuck-" and then, Oliverio passed, and catches her gaze for a moment. It might seem, to most eyes, he's simply amused at the interaction playing out between the Sheriff and the outlander. Though he doesn't venture to look in Mercy's direction.

Except for when his finger goes up to his nose. His index touches its tip for just a moment, a gesture of understanding, before he continues out of the hall and toward the front entryway into Richthofen, bodyguard still in tow.

It halts the Malkavian, though it's really only Mercy who's close enough to notice it, all the others in their clutches and fancy-worded struggles, or otherwise paying attention to the presentations going on.

"I don't have time for this," Narcisa continues a moment later. "Just don't start any trouble," a thick Mexican accent bleeding more profusely into her speech at her frustration and the splitting-in-twain of her attention, and with that she breaks her gaze from the Gangrel's, ready to head off and attend to...

Something.

[phil]

Lady Adeleide's entrance eclipses all interest that Samantha might have had in the two Anarchs. With a fleeting smile, she steps away, and drifts to stand with the other Ventrue, such that by the time the elder begins to speak, she is positioned beside Jun, her chin raised, arms crossed over her chest. She listens avidly to Lady Adeleide, turning her attention away only briefly to take in the reactions of others: Rasmussen, Gotfred, Lady Hill. Finally, when the Ventrue Elder has spoken her piece, she seems to relax, as if the tension of having waited for this moment was heavier than the moment's actual arrival.

Different independents speak, and some walk away. Camarilla members make their claims, pronounce oaths of fealty, and still Samantha watches, gauging, attempting to divine the currents that run beneath the surface of the gathering.

When the moment is opportune, she steps forward, and inclines her head with grave respect to Lady Adeleide.

"My name is Samantha Balbec, of Clan Ventrue and childe of Nicolas Montmorecy, grandchilde Gustave Flaurent, and great grandchilde of Adelbert the White. I am but recently arrived in Denver, but lay claim to the fifteen buildings owned by the RedPeak Group, and to the Group itself." Here she tallies their names and addresses; all of them are residential high rises, some incredibly prominent in the downtown core, others more far flung.

"I am opening 1265 Downing on Capitol Hill and 515 Clarkson by Governor's Park to those in need of temporary accommodations on short notice. Primogen Rasmussen has indicated to me that we are sorely lacking in infrastructure and resources following the Sabbat siege. I hope that these two buildings may help ameliorate that problem. Those seeking shelter need only tell the front desk that they belong to the Harrowstone party, and will be shown to prepared rooms, free of charge."

A beat, and then unless anybody speaks up, she bows, and steps back.

[Samael]

Kali doesn't quite step back after she's done as much as concede the floor to others. From there it's a more gradual slip backward to take a sideways lean against a vertical surface of some kind. She listens as the others declare domains, pledge their support...or don't. The point is, many of them are coming forward to be heard, which means that Kali has an opportunity to hear them all.

She grins a little, albeit with an arched eyebrow, when the Setites step forward to announce that their business is the same as hers. It's nothing new, but the fact that she is just "the Ravnos" seems to amuse her. As they announce that they will leave turf wars in the hands of the kine involved, the Rroma woman gives an acceding nod.

"Best way to handle it," she says during the break between her rival drug lord's sentences. Even if he refuses to pretend she's in the room, that's just not the way she does business. She'll impress that upon him later. She does take note of the way he pledges support...in vagueries. Something to take note of, because it gives the Setite wiggle room that Kali wants to make sure narrows some.

Then there's Malcolm, the Tremere and their ex-Sabbat status. To her credit, the Ravnos with her own, strong proclivities against the Sabbat does little more than narrow her eyes at the revelation as the din erupts around them. And even that is brief, before she smiles widely right back at Malcolm and offer her applause, ostensibly in support of the new Warlocks. She gives Malcolm a big, warm smile and puts her fingers up in mirrored 'L's,' framing him as if in a camera shot and tightening it in as if zooming. The meaning may not be clear to many, but it's probably clear to the two of them.

Ready for your close-up, shovelhead motherfucker? are the exact words that run through her mind, though not in that particular tongue. She certainly doesn't express it either; she instead just winks in a friendly manner to him.

Kali
[[Per+Alert for Elysium Scene!]]
Dice: 5 d10 TN8 (4, 6, 8, 8, 10) ( success x 3 )

John St. Germain
[Witnessed!]

And as things die down, her attention snaps to a few hostile words from the Sheriff and the local Gangrel. Kali subtlely looks in that direction and then slips back to come to rest next to Mercy.

"I love the way you make friends, you know that?" Her gaze shifts to the wild one, grinning with the tease inherent in that statement. She knows Mercy isn't interested in making friends and the tone the Ravnos uses makes it clear that she's aware of it. "You have such a people person nature."

She leans in, speaking quieter this time. Others might wonder what a Gangrel and Ravnos, clans never known for being on particularly good terms, might have to whisper about in Elysium. It can't be good.

"We should talk later. You, me and Jack at the least. I got a translation off that ring we got of Baja's client, and it's not the best of news."

And with that she pulls back out of the Gangrel's personal space, though she remains nearby. Perhaps just to make people wonder.

[tithe]

Jack:

Uh. Satire? Jack catches a chuckle in his teeth, turning it into a low snort, and as the clamor arises around the Tremere announcement, he looks for Kali again in the crowd, but says musingly to his clan-brother and the other piano-lover: "Ex-Sabbat, huh? Oh ho, so Denver is to be a work-release program."

Exit Oliviero. Jack's farewell is respectful, of course, because Jack is a courteous creature in Elysium (and elsewhere, too, let's not lie: he's polite, our Jacky boy). He says good evening like his mother taught him and he says that it's a pity eyes and ears don't get to take the voice out for a spin more often because the hand and the heart are greedy bastards, and he sounds like he's joking, politely!, like his mother taught him. He watches Oliviero go: just catches Mercy and the Sheriff, though that's not what keeps his interest oh no, oh no no, though it's more of once upon a time, more echoes of things going on (he thinks, he believes, with a mystic's surety), but it's Narcisa and Oliviero that makes him speculate. Still, he turns his attention back to the presentations.

The Nosferatu don't need to claim Domain. You know where their Domain is. Their Domain is underneath. Did you think that your Domain went deep? That those blocks and buildings weren't just scum floating on the surface of the Underground Kingdom, shadow and metal and stone? Darkness and rot and lost things unfound? Wet and rust and airless deeps? Secrets and shit and everything old? Maybe they fight amongst themselves for this stretch or that stretch. This is Denver, and the Nosferatu go above the surface as often as not: right? You just don't see them, lurking outside viaducts, hovering on the edges where nobody else wants to be, cropping up where everybody does. So Jack. Jack doesn't and doesn't mean to claim Domain. He stays just within the boundaries of etiquette.

Until, at least, something occurs to him, and he steps forward to make his bows. He introduces himself. Jack. His sire's name (Lily). All to the point. He makes the appropriate noise about the Sabbat being bad. He sounds very grave.

But then: "Should any wish to contact me who do not already know how, there is a 24-hour donut shop on [street] and [street], and whoever is working there Tuesday or Friday nights will take messages for 'Jack.' There is no need to deface public property."

That's all. He retreats.

Lux

Everett is one of the first to speak. Lux does not follow him in order to declare her alliances.
Not until the end, or near the end.
Let the Anarchs be Book Ends.

Lux hadn't much cared for the 99 Cent II Diptychon hanging on the back wall. But now, as Lady Adelaide speaks, she finds that it is haunting her awareness, those flattened and over-saturated colours, the forced perspective and the forced vibrance, the cheapness of what is actually depicted, 99 cent, 99 cent and everything in its place versus the silver-haired representative of the Inner Circle and the Ivory Tower + blue-blooded court. Appreciative Lux.

Interested, too. Interested in who comes forward and why they say they do. Court is for Toreador, and Lux looks like the perfect Toreador. The Tremere get a reaction from her. They officially claim their domain, and Lux leans in to say something in Everett's ear, though perhaps she is just guaging his reaction to learning that the Tremere are ex-Sabbat. Lux accepts the news of past allegiance without adding to the clamor and din. Easy target. Or perhaps she is just more liberal with her acceptance of creatures who would change their Sect allegiance.

Then: the end, or near the end. Lux steps forward and she is still the perfect Toreador. She introduces herself first and as she speaks her voice pitched smoke-and-silk low, just for those who are immediately there, not for the crowd -- let them talk among themselves or strain or look at the painting on her arm and side and throat instead.

"Denver is a city loved. Everett Stone chooses," (hey Everett, there might be something pointed about that choice of word), "not to speak for all the Anarchs, but if he had chosen otherwise I am certain that he would have told no lie. It is preferable to dwell in the kind shadow of a fantastical and stalwart Ivory Tower than the darkness of a festering and violent pit left behind once it has been razed."

"The leadership shown by this city's Camarilla kindred since the unfortunate winter has been such a thing of inspiration."

It's not that difficult to extrapolate the Fancy Anarch's version of Rasmussen for Prince 2013 from what she's saying. Then again, her tone is inclusive: she could also be complimenting the sudden initiative and descent of many others.

She doesn't claim Domain, she just leaves her implied support at that.

[ >.>

I'm totally gonna add more Jack & Lux flavor. This is I guess a placeholder, since I am tired. And want to put on record

Tithe @ 2:15PM
[Percept + Alert!]
Roll: 7 d10 TN9 (1, 2, 3, 6, 6, 8, 9) ( success x 1 ) VALID
Kai Wren @ 2:15PM
I witness that roll!

boom. For Jack who is watchy watching things with watchiness and also eyes. ]