Grand Theatre - Déambulatoire Idle

Ghouls and servants prepared the Déambulatoire with tall round tables and seats.

OOC:

William walks into the room. He freezes for a moment, looking around confused.

"How..."

After a few moments his frown relaxes as he shrugs, closes the door and noticing a lone woman in the middle of the room occupying a rather large round table. He adjusts his glasses and strolls up to the table, he takes her smirk as an invitation to sit down, grins and lets himself drop onto a nearby chair. Something about the scenery making him drop his guard, even if only for merely small amount.

"It's a pleasant night, is it not?"

Miriel's glance catches William as he seats himself. Her eyes smile as he asks his question and kicks off the conversation, and she turns to regard her new companion with a more genuine warmth, Yes, I do think so. Her voice is smoky and pleasant to hear. She glances around the Déambulatoire, doubtlessly enjoying the scenery- The paintings, the gilded walls, the glow of the chandeliers, the murmuring and soft bustle of all those present all catch her attention in turn.

She turns and regards him again, her expression full of thoughtfulness. Smiling anew, she extends her hand, I'm Miriel de Boucher. Toreador.

Perception 2:

Auspex 1, Perception 3:

Auspex 2:

William leans forward and takes Miriel's hand, "William Wolvenheart. Tremere, " and pauses the smallest of a second to study the appearance of the Toreador's hand and then shakes it gently, nodding his head once with a smile and his grip loosened as he straitened himself, his eyes flickering back to her face.

Auspex 2:

"You are the first Toreador I've met since I've arrived in this town. Are all of them as charming or it just you?"

OOC:

OOC:

Gregory Darvault takes the same opportunity as William to sit as well, and offer a warm polite and friendly smile to both.
(Gregory) If you are going to rub a Toreador's back, you have to rub all of them, and I do not envy such task, poor childe. Gregory Darvault, I am the Toreador Primogen. So, you're Kersten's new.. hm.. victim ? I am not sure about the exact terminology.

"Victim..." William rolls the sound over his tongue "That would indeed be one way to put it depending on how you look at it."

Perception 2:

A smile plasters his face,

"Student would be the modern day terminology, altho our terminology is rather old fashioned among ourselves, but I shall not bore you with the details. But please do not misunderstand me, I'm a scholar, I just haven't been able to 'study' or interact with your clan up close before. I love to learn more about many aspects, magic, occult, modern technology, I like to diversify. And while I do not mean this in the old crazy Dr. Frankenstein way, I just find your use of the blood to appear very pleasingly human..." William glances at Miriel, "...hmmm how should I put it? Fascinating and if I might add, expertly done."

The Tremere repositions his glasses, "But I forget my humble neonate position, welcome Elder, I would buy you a drink, but it seems they are on the house," William glances approvingly at a glass filled with crimson blood which was placed on the table by a passing ghoul, "That, or I will be getting a bill in my mailbox soon. Altho I'll have to find that mailbox first, I've only arrived quite recently."

The Primogen listens with care and kind curiosity, and chuckles about the blood. He gives a look to Miriel when the Tremere does so, and nods to confirm.
(Gregory) Her traits are indeed more human than many of us, or she has vitae to spare. It happens... A few of us can eat and enjoy diner ; I mean, mortal diners. It will not affect in any way your status among us, miss de Boucher, but other clans look down on it.

He goes on and gives a few more details.
(Gregory) Whenever there is an Elysium night, Laure, he makes a hand gesture towards the blonde Elysium keeper which is talking matters with Claudia, takes great care into providing enough vitae as a treat. Of course she certainly uses Prince Gosuin's resources, Saying so he indicates Celine, the Prince's ghoul and seneschal, who is talking to Griffin.

A bit more curious, attentive to the reaction, the Primogen observes William as if he was analyzing him.
(Gregory) I've yet to imagine Primogen Kersten teaching anyone anything. Tarcisus, yes, I've seen his ways, but Kersten.. And I've known both for a few centuries now. I'd love to know more about your training, but I know it's subject to execution if you speak about it.

With another look to Miri, he smiles in a more open and futile fashion.
(Gregory) As for my clan, we are and represent diversity. Men and women alike of all backgrounds do join us. As for my particularity, my own specific skill, I am a novelist.

Miriel tenses slightly as William examines her, his hand grasping hers delicately; the nerves of a delicate personality under scrutiny, she may have blushed softly under his gaze. A soft chuckle escapes her as he pays his compliment; brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, she prepares to say something in turn--

Gregory arrives, and Miriel's expression relights with winsome vitality, Ah, yes. Backrubs: Share and share alike. He introduces himself to William and she smiles to the both of them as he seats himself and jests with the Tremere about his status of "Victim." Miriel gives a playful wink as William plays with the sound of the word. She finds herself the subject of William's immediate attention again, a self-conscious grin spreads across her face until he permits a subject change, greeting Gregory in a more etiquette-inclined manner.

Gregory discusses the particulars of clan Toreador's ability to mimic the living, even expanding a little on the topic of mortal food. She responds glibly with a permissive nod, Yes, I try not to alienate myself much more from the other walking dead; she turns and says aside to William, low, but still perceptible to the rest of those seated table-side, I admit I still have a fondness for whiskey, though. Gregory goes on while Miriel looks on contentedly, smiling as he expertly reopens the avenue to discuss the nature of the Toreador clan for the benefit of William's expressed curiosity, ending with information on his own background. Without being directly signed or otherwise spurred, she offers her own, looking to William with a renewed smile, And I study and play folk music, blues, and its derivatives.

William grins at the mention of food, "Well, I won't be one to deny that I sometimes do miss the food. I especially miss eating honey marinaded spare ribs, pizza as the occasional snails in garlic butter. Us Belgians have always been known as Burgundians, we like our food well cooked. Then again there is no denying the effect normal blood have on us, it's not as if there is no 'replacement' so to say." His eyes softly glaze over as he appears to be thoughtful about what he just said.

He cocked his head closer to Miriel, "Scotch" he states in a soft but cheerful whisper. "But while us tremere might not be as socially refined as your clan by default, I do appreciate a good jazz song in the background with a good book in my hands. Fantasy Novels or Science fiction of course, not much of a thriller lover, those kind of books always bored me after a good 50 pages or so."

The neonate seemed to remember he was holding a glass of blood and took a sip, put the glass down again and wiped the blood away with a red piece of cloth he pulled from his chest pocket. "Tell me, any work of yours I might be familiar with?"

The Primogen nods as he hears their tales and comments.
(Gregory) Blood still gives a certain pleasure, when the vessel is particularly interesting. It is, by all means, our own opium. It is all about how to get it, and that is the pleasure we get now. Like a well presented meal in a nice restaurant will always be more pleasurable than the same meal prepared at home. It will taste the same, yet it will not taste the same. The two -mortal food and blood- cannot be compared. Either way discussing food is something that you may only do with certain persons, lest it is considered a flagrant lack of etiquette.


He smiles gently, knowing exactly what he means. He has a certain way around images, metaphors. At least better than the ST's communication skills . He goes on.
(Gregory) It is true that not many members of your clan are the kind of people one would like spending an evening with. But they do exist. Monsieur Griffin for instance, while not the most charming and friendly of your kind, is the one to discuss novels with. Miss Vonigner is much more social, but should she be considered as one of you is another question. He lowers his voice a little, giving a slight look around. As for my own works, the latest I wrote was Red Velvet. It led to interesting consequences...

Red Velvet was a novel published in the 1950's by a one time author (a woman, Alicia Vandenstree, which was an actor and a model at the time). It was a huge success at the time, and while not a classical studied in schools, it is still in bookstores. It was a tragic love story behind the curtains of a theater play, mostly loved because of the deepness of the characters and the truthfulness behind the human relations.

"Really?" William asked as he raised a curious eyebrow. He sled his hand into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone. He uttered something in a foreign language. and briefly touched on his screen, reading.

Linguistics greater or equal at 2:

"I have to say, it seems you left quite the impression on the world then it seems. Besides that it is still sold regularly, even now it is still discussed. Not many books survive the flow of time like that." He pocketed his cellphone. "I wonder, based on a true story from a 'Darker' world"? Or fiction and mere observation of the human psyche? If you don't mind me asking that is."

Miriel gives William an pleasantly surprised look at his own admission about spirits, at last taking up a glass of blood for herself as talk furthers. She smiles and crinkles her nose at the last of what Gregory has to say about food before tasting from her glass. Her head angles softly to one side as she listens to the both of them; a look of gentle contentedness on her features as they delight themselves with discussion, and she is delighted also by Gregory's eloquence.

William uses his phone for something, and Miri can guess what. She smirks; she is interested, but doesn't understand the language he speaks. Commenting, he puts his phone away and asks another good question of the Toreador Primogen, at which Miri shifts her glance to better observe him while she also supposes on the topic with an inviting smile; she teases William aside, Now, now, William- Is there really such a difference between the dynamics of both worlds?

She glances back to the Tremere beside her, her smile partially obscured by her glass as she readies to drink from it again; she gestures slightly as she holds it, To say that the success of his book endures simply because the living can only be consistently seduced or entranced by events that happen in the world of the ever-living—or that conversely, Gregory is a master at observing and transcribing feelings for the sake of making a mirror of emotions so flawlessly stirring that it puzzles or interests mortal vanity—distracts one from appreciating his work for what it is: Alive and itself. With a wink, she drinks from her glass and continues her otherwise subtle participation within the trio.

The Primogen can't help a wide smile as he hears William give an oral order to his phone. The change of language attracted a few looks, but then again, everyone is having a good time, and no one intervenes, yet. Gregory gives a knowing smile to Miriel and observes the Tremere as he gives his comments, then observes Miriel as herself gives her own thoughts.
(Gregory) This young lady is right, Monsieur "Victim of Kersten" (you didn't tell me your name, did you ?). While its content was of pure imagination, as I am not one for even daring scratching our veil, it had, however.. caused a few consequences.

The consequences sadden, or at least, do not amuse the Toreador Elder as much. To illustrate, he signs towards Alicia Vandenstree, who looks like the picture of the author in the pages speaking about the book.
(Gregory) At least it was good enough to fool another who embraced its alleged author, to preserve her talents for eternity. My cover, really, as for obvious reasons, I cannot publish under my own name. Thankfully Alicia is full of resources and has merged quite well into our society and has remarkably reached the position of Harpy. I cannot say the same for her Sire, Urbain Delacour, whose credibility has fallen to oblivion and he became the latest gossip scapegoat. Half a century of humiliations can truly break a man.

While Gregory feels a certain compassion for Alicia's sire, he isn't lifting a finger and seems to enjoy the show as much as any other.
(Gregory) As for other Elysium missteps, this one does not take the palm. It reaches one very honorable rank.

Now he sounds mysterious and in a mood of talking.

William raised one hand palm upwards in an 'Ohhh right' gesture at the nickname, "William Wolvenheart," His gaze moves to Miriel, "and yes our comfy but complicated corner of shadow indeed posts a form of allure to the regular kine. Now the book doesn't not deal with the supernatural I presume, but it does make me wonder how the concept of Hollywood vampire has evolved from a creature of darkness, into poor tortured souls. I believe the Anne Rice books in the early 80's began the major changes from what I've read. She seems to have popularised the idea of a Deadly but romantic creature."

William turns back to Gregory as he continues his story, nodding several times throughout the story and at the plight of the ridiculed sire.

"I do wonder, how does one go about on publishing under a kine's name. Mutual agreement? Or more kindred based methods?"

Miriel's lips curl into a soft smirk as the exchange of glances and opinions ends in Gregory's approval. Playing with the base of the stem of her glass as it sits on the table, she continues to smile as William finally gets the chance to introduce himself and the group enjoys a slightly stronger degree of connectivity.

When his attention turns to Miriel, she gives him her undivided attention. Her irises are quite dark despite the lighting in the Déambulatoire, almost black. They gain depth and shine as she blinks softly to what William has to say; her eyes smile again at the mention of "Hollywood" and "Anne Rice"- She stops tracing the glass's foot with her finger, Mm, yes. Anne Rice answered the prayer of many a lonely housewife with her fiction, but that Renaissance of image started long ago, though perhaps not in the tortured, romantic sense. We can thank Mister Bram Stoker for his voluminous contribution detailing the seductive potency of the undead on the living. Most specifically, women. There is a faint sense of chagrin in her voice at the last of what she says. Still, it is just a moment before she looks bright-eyed and keen again, "Bosom" was such an exciting word to read, then. She seems to imply the image shifted because people of the Victorian era were perverts, changing the face of Gothic literature and horror to also supply the reader with smut, besides scares. She jests, of course, and goes on in seriousness, Pitting Mina's feminine helplessness into the center of the struggle of Jonathan's love against the oppressive, fatal force of Dracula's predatory advances set the subconscious of that culture to accept that the opposite of Love- "Jonathan," was something dark and mysterious, something magnetic, visceral, deadly—Forbidden. Something enticingly equal to love and life. The fear and longing to find out what that might really be may have inspired future writers to depict the image, this "opposite," as lust, and then as the antihero's tragic love in later generations. I'd say the root may lie there.

Miri was enjoying their conversation, but Gregory has a bit to share about real drama, pertaining to his creation. Having an ear for stories, Miriel turns and listens well. She takes a subtle glance in Alicia's direction, when Gregory mentions her; wearing a soft frown, she begins to picture the events as they are described. She takes a slow sip from her glass as Gregory finishes and lets the subject go. William asks his question of Gregory about working with kine in such a way; she stays silent until Gregory says what he will about the subject, placing her glass back onto the table.

After answering William, it would seem Gregory has more to say besides the story of Urbain Delacour's everlasting embarrassment; his change of tone sparks a visible interest in Miri, as she can sense some measure of storyteller's suspense coming off him, "Other missteps"?

The Primogen observes and listens. He nods every now and then, showing how attentive he is to the discussions and opinions. He seems to recall, but takes a time to answer William's question before talking about literature.
(Gregory) It is not hard to convince a person to let one borrow their name. It's a fair exchange for my point of view : I get to observe and enjoy my work being appreciated, and the mortal gets the fame and the pecuniary gains from it. Of course they never knew what I was. Except Alicia, when she was embraced.

He goes on with a slight smile, recalling what seems like a not-so-distant past
(Gregory) It changes so often, the kine's ideas on the supernatural. As you said, Bram Stoker did put a major change in kine's subconscious and new concepts, but locally, it was always very different, to the region's folklore. I remember ; it was somehow in the same mood of another book. It was back when I started writing again. I'm half wondering that there was someone else behind it, but a mortal's imagination can be prolific enough on its own. After all, reading was quite.. Exceptional. It did not reach the commoners' eyes until recently. Maybe this fantasy is a way of hoping for something better, or to grow as a better person, for the bourgeois and nobles young and proper ladies that were raised in convents to be married properly. It also calls for a special destiny, how one is so unique compared to the rest. You know, this whole idea of "he had been an evil monster for centuries, but I and only I can change him". Certainly being attracted to the unknown, to the danger is an interesting human trait to have been studied in literature for centuries. The fate of the characters in Dracula may show the reader a morale to think about, a morale that would keep the herd safe and easy to control. I never make references to our kind in my works, it doesn't interest me. I already live it every night, and it can't find it inspiring.

He lets out a sigh.
(Gregory) I disliked Anne Rice's works. They were so.. frustrating. Every ten to twenty years there is a resurgence of the darkest sides of existence, in all arts. The society now wants to clean itself, to seem more proper, more smooth, "holier-than-thou". Now it has got a little bit too far to my liking, when Primogen Kersten gave me a book to read a couple of years ago. I thought it was a joke, until I noticed how much success it actually had. When he told me there were actually other books of the series and that the movies were in production, I died a little inside.

He shrugs it off with a frown and smiles openly.
(Gregory) Missteps. Botched embraces, introductions, misunderstandings, good old harpy humiliations... What interests you ?

"Well, bugger me, I completely forgot about Bam Stokers. I will always remember that book, used to be my favourite fiction book. Still is actually. When I was a teen however, I remember reading the first few of the Anne Rice series. I heard the author turned to Christianity recently however." William snorts and softly shakes his head at an inside joke. "But you're right, the 'I'm doomed and I want to redeem myself but I cannot' is such an overused and worn out concept. Halfway the books I'm usually getting frustrated. Of course, it is nothing compaired to the '2 lover meant for each other but spend the majority of the book "I don't deserver her, she doesn't love me'- concept which simply doesn't excite me at all, it merely makes me think the said persona are simply stupid people." He frowns fustrated.

"But! Ladies first. " William referred to Miriel's 'Other missteps' question. "I have to admit, I love fail stories."

Miriel smiles like she can't believe it as Gregory expresses that the undead life is uninspiring; she says to him softly, aside, None of it? Really? He goes on, though, alluding to something that creates a grim and rather obvious frown of recognition in Miriel's expression, I've heard of such a book series, she announces vacantly.

She winces and blinks the look she gives away as William shares his own thoughts on Dracula and other works soon thereafter. Miri's eyes flit over from Gregory to observe as the Tremere speaks, and she smiles with him as he laughs and shares rumors about Anne being "born again." She raises her eyebrows softly to his view on tired, fictitious pining in some modern works, smiling anew as he says "stupid people," They say all the good anguish has been taken up in stories of romance past, but that doesn't stop a few ardent, though misguided, authors from trying to reinvent the star-crossed lovers wheel. "But I'm a werewolf" is decently creative, I guess. With a sigh, she raises her glass to her lips and takes what she just said back, seemingly uncomfortable with lying, But I'm being too charitable.

Sipping from the glass, the corners of her lips begin to curl into a new smile as Gregory lists and then beckons Miriel to pick her poison, in story choice. William seems as enthused to hear as Gregory is to tell, and Miriel can't deny her curiosity when Gregory asks "What interests you?" She places her glass back onto the table with a grin; her eyes communicate a craving, a compelling desire to know as her eyes meet his, All of it.

The Toreador Elder ponders the neonates' views on the subject of modern literature.
(Gregory) There is no true creativity, it is always the same story, always, all the time, every single night, week, decade, century... He gives a look to Miri with a slight sad smile and responds about how he's not inspired. Not even a little. Humanity is far more interesting than these corpses. Once they die...

He shakes his head and seems to think.
(Gregory) Where to begin ? How Griffin reached the role of harpy and humiliated his own sire, how Franz worked against the feminist club, and how his games earned him a slap in the face by a fierce Gangrel, how Urbain humiliated himself as one of us by embracing Alicia, Alicia's nerve to keep alive and reaching her position as Harpy, how the Tremere have denied priority to the Malkavian clan concerning an embrace right, how Marc Gillard learned about the blood bonds, the few decades of sneaky exchanges between two Ventrue harpies which caused a certain rivalry and cordial disdain, Victor de Sainte-Croix reaching the position of a clan that isn't his (or so he says), Igor's questions at the worst times possible... There's lots to say. Of course every other year there is a major misstep, while I'm no harpy I only wish to remember those to whom I was not involved, or those who have no major political frustration. Pick and choose, miss de Boucher.

Carrion walks in wearily, closing the door silently behind her. Her face covered by her customary hooded jacket to obscure her face but it's obviously not designed for warmth as it only covers her chest, upper back and arms. The rest of her skin is covered by a plain black vest top and her gloved hands. The only patches of skin really visible are her lower calves due to her three quarter length black khaki trousers.

Her right hand fishes around in one of her trousers many pockets removing an MP3 player to which she turns the volume down lower and removes the right ear bud so she can hear what is going on around her. The thumbless left hand shifts the strap of her satchel uncomfortably as her eyes scan the room. Seeing everyone so busy she decides to take up residence on one of the empty tables close to one of the corners in the room.

When she's made herself comfortable she pulls out a small sketch pad and mechanical pencil and begins to doodle on it. When someone offers her a glass of blood she accepts and thanks them but doesn't drink from it, merely giving it a sniff before placing it next to her on the table. Every now and then her head pops up to see what the others in the room are up to but she doesn't seem to want to force her company on anyone.

Auspex 3: