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The Fifth Tradition [Attn: Joey mostly, but anyone else who wants to can join!]
#1
Kazimir made his way to Richtofen Castle, as any proper Kindred should (though he had trouble getting accustomed to the term Kindred), and he entered with a calm enough stride.

He was not armed, though he would freely submit himself to any checks if necessary, and he did not carry himself in an aggressive manner. He appeared calm and collected as he walked through it's halls asking, as he went where he might speak to the Keeper of Elysium.

Kazimir understood that the Prince was likely a busy man, however the keeper should be present in, or around, Elysium and the Keeper should, if nothing else, be able to inform the Prince of his arrival. This was not the world Kazimir was brought into, but this world, like any other, had rules which were necessary to maintain order, and order was something he understood well.

Kazimir's face was stern, one might even say mean, which isn't to say he actually was mean, he simply had one of those faces. In fact nothing really seemed to stand out about the man apart from that and the way he moved. His motions were fluid, comfortable, and well placed. He moved with an almost unnatural grace through the halls of the castle.

If security asked he would simply inform them he had arrived for his presentation, and wished to speak, first of all, with the Keeper.

[And I suppose I leave Joey to figure out where things will go from here!]
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#2
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.
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#3
He bows his head lightly and lowers his head slightly. "As-salamu alaykum." He says politely in response to the woman. This was less a sign of his religious views and more of a cultural sign of respect from the culture in which he has spent the last several decades. Formality was important among the Children of Haqim, ritual, organization... These things were essential in all aspects of life within the clan, and so even though he might stand apart from his clan, and the eldest active member, he still considers himself a part of that collective whole.

"You honor me with taking the time to see me Miss Dampierre," he continues, "and this home is lovely indeed." He says without jumping too quickly into business and formality. Oh, rest assured he was getting there but one never wants to appear too eager to jump into anything, it sets a bad tone, especially among the Kindred!

"It might surprise some to know that the Children of Haqim have always considered it our place to help establish order in a cruel and barbaric world. Our clan was founded on those very principles. The choice to join the Camarilla, you must understand, was a difficult one for many of our elders. I was not there, but I understand the reasoning behind my brothers and sisters at the time, and I stand behind their reasons for rejecting the Camarilla at that time... However, that was centuries ago, and this is today. Time has a way of mending old wounds, and in a world beset by conflict we would be remiss in our duties if we did not seek to take hold of the strength that the Camarilla offers in order for us to help carry out the task that our founder set out for us so long ago." His words were gentle and sincere, he didn't appear to be hiding anything, but it would seem as if he might have thought these words out and practiced them. He didn't appear the eloquent sort who could just spout answers like this on a whim.

"So I have come to this city to submit myself before your Prince, and pledge before him to preserve your traditions as I have always sought to preserve my own." He says with one more slow bow of his head. "... and if luck would have it, perhaps offer my own services to help keep this city civilized and orderly. A city which anyone would be proud to call their home."

Ritual and Formality were a part of every Child of Haqim. Even those who had turned the clan into a band of assassins for hire had rules which they would not dare break, people whom they simply would not kill, actions they would not carry out no matter the price. Kazimir was not of the warrior caste within his clan, he did not suffer the same blood thirst that defined much of his clan, but he was still one of them and there were rules that were not openly spoken to outsiders but no Child of Haqim would ever dare to break, regardless of what sect he or she belonged to.

He remained standing, a formal and rigid stance, he was not a warrior but he was a soldier of a sort. Comfort was a luxury he tried not to afford himself when he wasn't in the safety of his own home, and even then it was difficult to ever allow himself to relax. His eyes and ears had a tendency to pick up everything around him. From the scurrying of a mouse across his floor to the sound of people walking on the pavement outside... Little ever escaped his notice, he wouldn't have it any other way.

"If your prince would have me, then I would be more than happy to pledge myself to his service." He finishes, now that his reasons for being here were made quite clear. Of course, he was a Child of Haqim... Even those who knew them as only assassins for hire, even those who did not understand exactly what the Viziers were still understood that the word of an Assamite was something they did not easily break. Personal Honor was a principle the clan held highest of all, it was what separated them from the monsters many of the clan feel they were created to hunt, certainly Kazimir feels that way.
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#4
It just happens to be one of those days...or one of those nights, anyway. Kali is not someone who particularly loves spending time in Elysium but she shows up regularly regardless. It's important, after all, to make a regular showing at Richthofen and keep herself in the public eye, so that perhaps if something were to happen to her someone might take notice. And besides, she is a member of the Camarilla and it behooves her to make a regular showing so she can keep abreast of the latest and greatest news that the Ivory Tower has to offer.

Tonight, as her three-inch heels click on the hardwood floor of the Elysium, she has more specific business here. The Ravnos is, perhaps surprisingly, not in her usual hooker garb tonight. She had just come from another business dealing where she had to look...well, not like a hooker. So instead of the corsets and knee-high boots, she was dressed in a tailored women's business suit, her red-dyed hair back in a ponytail. Still, she wears her trademark smirk as she makes her way into the hall, having paused to say hello to Estelle and go through the rigamarole. She volunteered her gun if asked; these days, she goes nowhere without it. It saved her life in these very halls not so long ago.

When she sees Lucille in conversation with a newcomer, she slows her steps. Kali is a snarky little thing, but she knows etiquette and as much as people might assume otherwise from her because she has a barbed tongue and an occasional (okay, more than occasional) bluntness about using it, she actually follows the rules of etiquette around those people that it's important to. She's a creature of two worlds: the hallowed halls of the Camarilla and the harsh realities of the street. Putting on one of the other...it's just like masks to her.

And so she smiles a little to the duo but doesn't interrupt until one of them calls attention to her. Instead she turns her attention to the decor, looking it over for the umpteenth time. It may look like she's doing busy work while they handle their business, but in truth she's doing what she always does...observing her environment and finding ways that, perhaps some day, it can be of use to her.
"The anger of a good man is not a problem. Good men have too many rules."
"Good men don't need rules. And today's not the day to find out why I have so many."
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#5
Kazimir's features appeared European, Eastern at that, from a distant glance. He stood rigid before the woman, as if he were an officer standing at attention. Between his clan's respect of tradition and ritual, and his own sense of discipline, Kazimir gave off the air of a professional... Something. Those who knew his clan would be natural to assume he was a killer for hire, and they wouldn't be far from the truth, but Bertram was a somewhat more complicated man!

His rigidity was likely the most noticeable thing about the man. He stood like a statue staring back at the woman before him. He was well aware of the reputation of his clan, he was well aware of both sides of their history, and he wasn't about to give them the tiniest of reasons to suspect he was dangerous.

He heard Kali coming, he rarely missed the tiniest of details, but his eyes did not shift immediately. He tracked her location within his head, and the locations of anyone else who might be wandering about, however when she draws close enough, and the eyes of Lucille move towards the woman, he would also shift his eyes in her direction and he lowers his head in a slow nod of greeting, before immediately returning his attention to Lucille.
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#6
The Assamite has said many things and so many of them are right and true when it comes to the social order of the undead that pledge themselves to the Camarilla. As right and true, if not more so, than most of what he believes. By all measures he is a neonate walking the right path and with a practiced kind of poise. But he has also said many provocative things. Because that path, by its very nature, is meant to be a gauntlet. An unending test, despite its guise of civility, that maintains and establishes social order. An order with ranks that walk a sharp edge. That threatens to winnow a species-by-curse because without such a dangerous precipice how else would their population be controlled?

Other than the Assamites. Other than the Sabbat. Other than the lupines. Of course all but the last are simply different nomenclature for the chief threat to any lick walking this dark world's modern nights: another lick.

In any case innocuous-and-therefore-provocative statements, because anything that he had said would probably have roused the unforgiving bitch in the Toreador Primogen, mean that instead of her eyes going to Kali as one might expect...

They stay on him.

"I wonder what would happen should order, as we understand it, differ from your own and that of your clan-or whatever fragment of it you pledge yourself to,” and she of course wonders aloud when she begins to do so. What Toreador doesn't love the sound of her own voice?

“I wonder what would happen should you interpret them to find our Prince wanting. I wonder what might happen should the precepts of your founder differ-even if only in your own interpretation-from those of our Prince or of the Camarilla as a whole. I wonder if your pledge is wholehearted and full, or if you would expect some payment for your services, and if your eventual presentation before the Prince might only boil down to the negotiation of a contract,” she continues with a mask of curiosity, positing these possibilities and their outcomes.

“But you would be well served to know, so allow me to inform you, that while our Prince endorses all the mechanisms that keep the Camarilla whole... Prestation... The Traditions... The boons of Kindred and the praxis he holds... He also has a place in his own heart for loyalty. A place for justice. A taste for right and wrong that some are often unsettled by,” though the way she says it, Lucille must think these are some of his best characteristics.

Or knows she must seem to think so now that she has aired her observations.

“In any case, it is only my place to wonder and observe, not to judge. And though your clan might also believe to hold some domain over that right-that of judgment-in this domain?” The question is interjected with an unforgiving whip of her tongue. Almost a lashing. “That right is held by our Prince and one that those of your clan willing to align themselves with our Sect must relinquish with your submission,” that last word said with a savoring. Like wine tasted from the first pour. Rolling across the tongue and only its aroma making its way out of her mouth with the slightest reverberations.

“But your presentation is noted and the Prince will be informed. Thank you so much for your visit,” her tone saying that if he would give answer to ameliorate her wonderment at those many listed points, she would not really care to hear them.

“I am sure you will have the chance, in the future, to meet him and see how he would react to your pledge. Until then your presence in the city as a Kindred of the Camarilla will be made known to those who matter,” a nod.

And only a moment later an afterthought-not-an-afterthought, “And you may refer to me as Lady Lucille,” a final smile that continues its way to Kali, finally, before she spins the rest of the way and makes her way off.

[ This thread slipped my mind. Consider Kazimir presented. Hope it hasn't kept you from otherwise playing him. With that I'm stepping away from it, barring reaction or responses from him that need a response from Lucille, but Kali and Kazimir are welcome to continue interacting. ]
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