Logs:January Court 2022
Starring: Jeb, Phillip, Mickey, Claire and Grigory.
The salon is full tonight, and those who sit closest to the hearth in an unspoken tradition of visually organizing who is more important than the other is in full force. Winder stands right before the unlit artpiece that is the hearth in her painfully high Louboutins, and Farhad's quiet ghoul Eugene Nguyen is among the two on coat-collection and ushering duty to ensure that those in attendance find a comfortable place to be.
Jeb slinks in from seemingly nowhere, a thin but steady trail of small rocks and dirt trickle behind every one of the Nosferatu's steps. He stops suddenly to look up and around at the hosted location. A muffled whistle comes from the scarves wrapped around his face, a measure obviously taken to spare the world from his Masquerade shredding mug. He doesn't take a seat right away, his place and the place f his clan in this domain seemingly not obvious to the Kindred. He instead zig zags to a wall where he tenderly brushes his fingers against the marble as he inspects it.
Mickey's a new-ish face out of the crowd. He's wearing a nice (if not Ventrue-nice) dark suit, and swirling a glass of blood, as he kibbitzes amongst the crowd. One wag comments that this Tremere's neither hugging the walls nor acting sinister, so he MUST be up to SOMETHING - but for his part, Mickey just continues to make the rounds.
The entire Camarilla is in attendance, and the figures of the Praxis include ten vampires: Prince Winder, of course; Sergio DeSantis, the large Brujah primogen whose presence compensates for the burn marks that melt half of his visage; Seneschal Sassani, the curious Assamite choice of Winder's right hand, seated closer to the fire; Katy Cox, the whip, closer to the door. Camille LeFebvre, the Nosferatu primogen, is eternally awkard and unfortunate looking in her bespectacled mien; grim-faced Tremere Regent Luna Demian sits closer to the fire as still and inviting as a cemetery angel; Zora Pavlova stands by the door, and Primogen Pang to represent Toreador is none too far from his fellow Elders.
Batty can't count, that's nine.
Phillip strides into the salon with Willow by his side. The two Kindred would have never come to something like this separately. The Brujah is dressed in all his finery, expensive suit, vest, tie, and other accessories. Definitely not cutting the figure that one would expect of the usual member of the Rabble. The pair of them give a bow of respect to the Ventrue Prince and then, after finding a seat, head to it. Phillip lets Willow sit first and then joins her, unbuttoning his coat as he does so. Once he has sat, the Frenchman crosses one leg over the other takes a moment to scan the room, seeing if he can catch a glimpse of any familiar faces. Jeb catches his gaze and the Nosferatu gets small upnod.
Another glorious evening in the Golden City finds the tall Russian slipping inside holding a large black briefcase. Grigory passes his coat to one of the attendants with a slight nod before moving into the room as a whole to take measure of those in attendance. Moments later another figure follows in Grigory's footsteps, Claire, and passes her trenchcoat to the other attendant as she follows Grigory. As the Usovs move to take their seat, Grigory seems entertained by something unsaid and motions to Claire for quiet as he leans back and settles his briefcase on the ground beside him. A small nod of greeting is given to some before his attention seems to just flit from person to person.
Jeb tilts his head by way of greeting toward the Tremere. To the Brujah's greeting Jeb offers a tip of his hat to him and the female presenting Kindred with him. Once the Nosferatu becomes aware of the quality vampires littered throughout the meeting space he quickly removes the wide brimmed hat from his Fester-bald head. The Ancillae bows head deeply to his clan mate and Primogen. His eyes flit to the Prince and Seneschal but his boy language indicates a hesitation that suggests he isn't sure if he should address them directly. When the Usov's arrive he holds the hand not clinging to his hat to greet them.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the Praxis," Winder speaks, as she sees everyone getting settled in. "I declare this space..."
The door swings open, and Winder's spine stiffens at the late arrival: it's a face who has come to Court before, once. An older silvery-haired man with something of a bookish stature, but he carries himself with a quiet presence of confidence. Ehsan Khadem, Sorcerer from New York, scholar, collector, with no small academic interest in the country that is home to Alamut.
He does not apologize for his borderline tardiness, and he seats himself right next to Luna Demian, whose only reaction is to flick her gravedirt brown eyes to the older Turk, then straight forward to her Prince.
"...an Elsyium, for its sanctity to be respected this space for the duration of Court, out as far as Rozenkranz Court and the exits."
There, now I'm 85% sure we have nine. Batty can't count.
"Tonight we will be speaking on the threat posed by the Children of Athanasius. Mister Scarpia, and the du Valmonts, have been involved in their investigations. We will also be speaking on the Author, an item of some..." Her eyes move to Ehsan as she speaks this, and Luna near by, "...Interesting provenance, and then Miss Pavlova and Mister Pang will have their time on the floor."
Zora raises her hand once to petition permission to speak.
Winder's gaze and the slightest upturn of her chin is signal enough for her to take it.
"I commend Valmont's quick responsiveness in a time of urgent need to protect the Masquerade several nights ago and choose to bless them each with the gratitude of my proportional service."
The tardy arrival is not missed, likely by anyone present. When Ehsan Khadem arrives, Phillip's gaze takes in the man with an unhidden curiosity. As he then hears his name spoken several times by the Prince. This will cause any Kindred in their right mind to perk up. The first mention is easy enough. The second, causes the Brujah to straighten up just a bit in his seat. As Zora grants he and Willow her favor the Frenchman gives the Sheriff a slow nod that serves as a combiantion of acknowledgement, respect, and gratitude. That finished, the Brujah's gaze shifts back to Winder as he waits for more.
Grigory turns his attention to Winder as she begins to speak, then turns his attention towards the door as Khadem arrives. Interesting. Returning his gaze towards the proceddings, the Russian listens quietly as the Prince speaks of the topics for the evening. At Zora's petition, Grigorys lips curve slightly upwards as he listens to her speak, turning his head towards Phillip and Willow before nodding his head at the couple, then returns his gaze towards Winder.
Jeb looks around and relaxes enough to slowly start unwrapping his face from the layers of scarves that cover it. After he shoves the strips of wool into his pockets he runs a hand over his mouth, likely reflex more than anything else as there isn't any debris from the breathing he doesn't do.
The Nosferatu "Hmmm"s at the proclaimations and recitations of the things troubling the domain. At the mention of praise directed to the Brujah he nods appprovingly, tilting his head toward the other vampire to acknowledge his award.
Mickey seems... relaxed, leaning back in his seat, as he watches the crowd. He tilts his head and something about what just happens when the newcomers arrive - he leans forward with his elbows on his knees and laces his fingers together. Maybe the Warlock anticipates a bomb is going to be dropped.
Winder dips her head once in an acknowledgement of Zora's prestation, and Winder then resumes the proverbial floor. The Prince sits before the hearth in her modern day throne, a French Neoclassical armchair en medallion. With the caliber of the collection here, the delicate and feminine embroidery and the Greco-Roman profile of its structure may very well have been made by a master menuisier like Georges Jacob himself.
As Jeb gets comfortable and reveals that inevitably unfortunate visage, Katy Cox sits up a little straighter. Her eyes gravitate toward the Nosferatu with a morbid sense of intent scrutiny on the Ancilla. Her lips part just a touch. Then she looks off toward Winder with the tiniest smile, oddly inspired, and fills her lungs with a voiceless breath.
"Following the investigations of various vampires in the Praxis," Winder announces, "Including but not limited to funding from Primogen DeSantis and fieldwork by Sheriff Pavlova, and, to my understanding, the Du Valmonts and Scarpia, as well as research by Qurabi, we may release at this time what we know of them." Winder is careful to give credit where it is due, of course.
She continues, her smokey eyes on her aforementioned bankroller most of the time, and when she isn't gaguing DeSantis her attention is instead on Pavlova, as she goes on:
"We have collectively identified that the organization known as the Children of Athanasius is one of several names within a hierarchy of organizations that are spread throught he United States. They have several safe houses, some of which we have identified through the confiscation of a cellular phone from the house on Lombard Street."
"The Lombard house is a mixed blessing. The inclusion of the Gangrel known as Walter The Bloodletter nearly /destroyed/ the Masquerade when the fool saw fit to drain the hunters of their blood moments before police were arriving. Whether he knew they were en route makes the consequences we narrowly dodged no less relevant. Were it not for Mister Scarpia's pre-emptive communication we would not be having this meeting. The Gangrel is not a member of this Praxis, not subject to My protection in any form whatsoever, and should he mis-step again, I shall be contracting a reward for proof of his destruction."
She pauses here, potentially offering a window before she moves on from Walter and his apparently forsaken status...
"...It is my desire to secure the city of San Francisco by uprooting the local expression of this hunter cell. We know the addresses of many locations, and we only now need to be empowered to prioritize our assassinations and requisitions, of both lives, properties, and characters."
"The Lombard house has given us the most robust evidence. A Sabbat captive was recovered from there. George Otsuka was being used as some sort of relic to instill fear and conviction into the hearts of the hunters. Staked him. Interestingly, one man kept drawing blood from him. Perhaps for his own consumption. Perhaps for use in ritual. Being kept staked, Otsuka was never so sure, but this man is currently our primary target for destruction."
"But we can not simply exterminate the hunters, they have a structure to replenish themselves and we also can only afford to cover up so many murders. And so we will pick who we assassinate, and who we re-invent. Who among you may I first expect to contribute?"
Phillip listens attentively when the Blue Blood lays out the situation with the Children of Athanasius. The Brujah's hands rest on his lap, expression pensive, while the Ventrue recounts the tale of this mystical sect of hunters. The mention of Walter 'the Bloodletter' has him furrowing his brow. He clearly knows the man. Well, knows of him and has seen him. More than once. The mention of his carelessness with the First Tradition has this Frenchman's brow worried even more. The mention that his next misstep could lead to a Blood Hunt draws a faint but approving nod. Clearly this one is a big fan of law and order. After all, he may be a Brujah, a Clan well-known to be sympathetic to the Anarch cause, but even they obey the Masquerade and protect the Silence of the Blood. As Winder calls for volunteers he is first to raise his hand and do so, "Her Highness can count on my sword." There isn't a moment's hesitation on his part.
An arched eyebrow is given from Grigory towards the information about Lombard as he folds his arms across his chest and turns his attention towards Jeb for a long moment as if pondering something before returning his gaze towards Winder. Flitting his gaze towards Claire, both seem to nod in unison, before Grigory speaks with his rich musical baritone "While I still have many questions, Your Highness, you know that as always We are at your command. We will do what we must to see your Will done." With that his attention turns to look once more on Jeb with a passive expression.
Mickey finally says, "Clan Tremere is ever at the service of Prince Winder and the Camarilla." He sits back in his seat again, and crosses his legs, his fingers laced together in his lap.
The Prince acknowledges Phillip's raised hand with a nod.
"Will our Kindred truly benefit from exhausting themselves by chasing after these radicalized humans?" Ehsan, the man who was tardy, speaks up. And given his age -- suggested by his nearness to the fire -- it apparently seems to be perfectly acceptable for the implicit Elder to speak unprompted directly and in opposition to the Prince.
"They seek an artifact to end us, one which, like the Eye of Hazimel, commands considerable transformative and destructive power. We should be directing our resources towards ensuring they are little more than armed fanatics instead of letting their numbers intimidate us. They have not struck any of /our/ local Kindred, only the Sabbat, who practically beg for it with their reckless behavior. We don't go on pre-emptive extermination campaigns against the Inquisition."
"Okay," Katy speaks up, "But maybe we SHOULD go on an extermination campaign against the Inquisition?"
"Neonate," Charles warns of Katy. Apparently the privilege of unsolicited opinions is for those aged 50 and up.
Katy shuts up.
"Get the artifact they need," Ehsan insists. "It's an existential threat in the wrong hands, and in our hands, we will be able to empower our praxis such that these worries are no longer on our radar. The hunters can be dealt with as their threats arise. Conduct a security audit, instead of running around on these strike teams."
Winder fields Ehsan's objection with the most faint thinning of her lips, painted in blood red Yves Saint Laurent. "I would never be so ungracious as to not consider your opinions on what should be priority," she decides, but there's a certain warning in her tone for Ehsan having put her in the position on the spot.
Jeb tilts his head toward Katy Cox in response to the scrunity given for his purdy looks. His attention whips back fully to the center proceedings appearing to be taken aback by the condemnation of the Kindred Walter. The Nosferatu sucks some air through his teeth and shakes his head in disappointment. His eyes drift to the Brujah and nods before taking a step forward and holding his hand up, "I too can offer aid if it pleases your highness.". He takes the time to speak slowly doing his best to separate as much he can from his usual rural affectation. He raises a quizzical brow at Grigory when he turns his attention in his direction.
"I would be happy to answer your questions, Mister Usov," Winder assures Grigory, her voice a touch more genial for the fellow Ventrue.
Luna Demian's eyes flit Mickey's way as her fellow Tremere speaks. Again, the only motion from Madame Statue is the direciton of her gaze. Her unbreathing and unblinking countenance resettles on her Prince.
"Thank you, Mister Crowder," Winder says, as she collects the various affirmations from the Praxis.
Phillip watches as the Elder Ehsan speaks up in gentle opposition to the Prince. The Brujah can't help but let the corner of his lip curl in a gentle grin that might /almost/ be a smirk. That's normally the Brujah's job at these things. When the Russian Kindred speaks up, the Frenchman's gaze turns to regard him for a moment, brow raising at his suggestion of questions. The Nosferatu and Tremere's volunteering draws a nod from the man, seeming to approve of the blind faith. In his short time here, Phillip is already developing a bit of a rep as a soldier for the Praxis. A mercenary, if you will. This work seems right up his alley.
Nodding his head at something, Grigory turns his head back towards Ehsan and listens quietly to the man as he explains his take. A single finger taps along his arm lightly as he seems to nod once with the man, "There is merit in Mister Eshans words. Acquisition of this artifact would remove a dangerous piece from the board and deprive our enemy a deadly weapon in a single move. My only concern however, is much akin to kicking over an ant hill that these Children would begin to swarm without a purpose at that point." "As for assassinations of their upper members" Grigory continues as he bows his head towards Winder and even a glance towards Katy, "I believe that if both tasks are done in conjunction not only could we remove dangerous elements to this Praxis but we would also keep their command structure in disarray while we searched for this magical item." Turning his attention finally towards Mickey then towards Luna herself before adding the Elder Assamite into his question, "I am aware of the talent and control that is required for something like this, so here is my question. Would it be possible to search in...whatever way that you have available for this Author while the strikes are accomplished at the same time? Keep them distracted and unaware where the attack will come from?"
Jeb lets his gaze drift to the ground as he strokes his chin. There is an intermitten grunt or nod as he contemplates what role he could best play in the plans unfolding and taking shape on the impromptu Elysium floor. His body language implies that unlike the Frenchman he does not consider himself a soldier, his eyes darting around as he quietly contemplates what role he best could play in the nights ahead.
Ehsan's objection to the Prince's goals seems to crack open some murmurs among the Court. The ghouls in the back responsible for keeping the blood in glasses -- some of them a little pale and dizzy looking for the record -- look off to the murmuring amongst the gathered Kindred who number in two or three dozen in the lavish space.
Winder raises a hand and then curls her maincured fingers in a snap, her nude, talon-like acrylics pressing into the pale flesh of her feminine palm. This gesture to capture all the discussion and hold it still. She gestures to Grigory, and his questions.
Grigory speaks, and Winder listens.
"It would indeed be possible," Winder says. "If it is not possible for this Praxis alone with its current numbers, we would look outward. If a threat is truly existential, then it is not the sole responsibility of the city of San Francisco alone to address it, it is simply our responsibility to ascertain if the Author is /here/."
She leaves out that Ehsan Khadem came here all the way from New York. She does not refresh anybody's undead memory of the Author video that ciruclated the Internet and dropped the name of the Tremere Regent, Aisling Sturbridge. She does, say, however, "Between Clan Tremere and our other occultists, we do have the resources to evaluate whether the Author is here."
"And then we will return to the archives of the Tremere," Demian says, the first time she's moved anything but her gaze, and now it swings over towards Ehsan. "We were the ones to recover it from Ephesus first and our chantries command the most understanding of its history and workings."
"Khadem Ostad," Farhad speaks, a single finger lifted in a petition to speak. The Assamite may have joined the Tower as the pillar clan to replace the Gangrel, but within his Clan there is his Elder and his Scholar, and this Vizier would not dream of simply blindsiding the man with abrupt comment.
"Yes, Seneschal?"
"I appreciate your consideration towards prioritizing the Praxis's resources and a larger picture. Within that picture, however, is the Camarilla's functional duty as an organization to provide protection to the members of our Praxis, and so the issue of hunters in the city simply cannot be ignored. We would not be after ending the entire cult in its full scope, but ensuring our garden suffers no weeds."
"We have the numbers," DeSantis speaks. The Brujah Primogen's face is disfigured with old burns mostly on the top of his head and down the left side of his face, like perhaps something burning was dropped on him. "I don't know if we have the goddamn /brains/ among those numbers, but we have the numbers."
Mickey listens to the exchange, but other than his eyes tracking people's movements, his demeanor stays fairly relaxed, if keen. Someone sitting next to him says something to him and he uncoils a bit, before he gives a faint nod, and murmurs something back, but otherwise he keeps his attention on what's being said.
Phillip sits quietly while the exchanges go around between those ranked Kindred in attendance. He is a new arrival and of no real standing in the Praxis of San Francisco. Also, he is Brujah, a Clan not often skilled in the matters of administrating a city nor the matters of the occult. Thus, he does not weigh in. The Prince gets a special amount of attention as she mentions possibly finding a way to 'do both' the solutions but it is Farhad's sensible recommend to not let any weeds grow in the garden that generates an approving nod from the Rabble. His own Primogen DeSantis' words seem to evoke a long lingering /stare/ at the other Brujah accompanied by a vaguely disapproving look. Phillip seems to suspect he is among those unnamed 'numbers' and while the other Kindred is his Primogen, his Clan is not well known for taking insults, even veiled ones, well, and generally no one is immune to that. That isn't even counting the other Clans who he just did the same thing to. He glances to the room as if to get a read on the mood.
Nodding his head at Winder, his question seemingly answered to his satisfaction, Grigory listens quietly now to the other speakers as the opinions are made public now. Turning his attention to Claire, Grigory leans in to say something quietly to her before straightening himself once more in his seat, adjusting his suit. His attention focuses on the discourse between the Tremere Primogen and Assamites for a long while as he seems to tilt his head at something said before his attention is stolen by the Seneschal. The Russian nods his head along with the mans statement, seeming to be in agreement for the moment with the opinion of the Seneschal. He seems to be about to say something, when the Brujah Primogen speaks. An arched eyebrow is given to the man as he studies the Primogen for a long moment, before his attention seems to fall on Winder and the other court officials first, then the other members of the Praxis in attendance. When he finally speaks, there is a small smile that seems to play at the Ventrues lips as he says "I am aware that I have been away for a time, even if it is a flicker of an eye in our world. That being said, has the concept of etiquette and decorum become so lost during my absence? I mean no disrespect to Your Praxis, Your Highness, but I would be remiss in my duties as a member of Your Praxis if I did not speak up this breach of etiquette."
Jeb continues to stroke his chin as court continues. His shoulders rise and slump at some internal conclusion and the Nosferatu looks up at the general assembly then directly to his own Primogen for some indication on where his clan lies in opinion of the stated matters. Mr. Usov's statement draws his attention, straightening up a little emitting a cacophony of popping bones.
Sergio's comment definitely does drop a rock into the pond. The ripples flutter through the court, and it is Grigory who is first to speak.
Sergio may be a little too used to his high up station, because the Look he gives Grigory is tense-eyed indignance, a latent resentment from a confident man surrounded by yes-men who just felt the cold hard palm of a reality check. He stares through the cognitive dissonance of someone /actually/ telling HIM to watch his Ps and Qs. The room is quiet.
And then he spreads his arms, as well as his smile. "Ahh, Mr. Usov! I hadn't realized how long you had been gone at all!" The warmth in his voice serves a long time no see, but the undertones of a backhanded 'Oh? I didn't even fucking notice you had left, you nobody' are plain to read for those more attuned to the veiled exchanges of Court. "Welcome back, good sir, and thank you for the reminder."
"If I may get us back on topic," Ehsan says, and he frames his inevitable explanation in the courtesy of a pause that gives the social illusion that he's actually waiting for someone to dare to say 'no'.
Winder's throat tightens to the discerning eye, and were she a living person, she might perhaps express a more obvious tic of her displeasure, but instead a smile bleeds across her stained, plump lips, showing teeth in an expression just barely a touch too sharp. Please, do go on.
But she does say, "Thank you, Mister Usov. Mister De Santis, I normally appreciate your humor, but not in my Court."
With Grigory having placed himself keenly on the board, Winder gestures to Ehsan.R
The bearded, silver-haired historian with a complexion like an old mahogany tree goes on, then, gesturing about with his hands, his aura one of a man happy to explain how much /he/ knows.
"The Author is like a monkey's paw. It alters fate and coincidence to bring about your wishes. In this it is unfailing, but it is slow, not exactly designed for the impatient or truly the /living/, I theorize. It changes /shape/ when it is activated, to fool the world around it into interacting with it, but according to Viorel's diaries it always has the same maker's mark stamped into it so we should be able to identify it. It also requires another magical safeguard called The Muse to activate it, meaning we need to find two items. If you do insist on going on this hunting trip against all of these little enemies, hell, you could secure one of the two as bait, and ring the dinnerbell. Come and get it, Children."
"An interesting proposal, Khadem," Winder says, but she attempts to shut it down: "I wish you luck in your personal endeavors to fund your project in finding it. I meanwhile will be uprooting the Children in our home. We will be moving on..."
Phillip cannot do anything but sit there and watch as his Primogen drops rocks in the lake. The Brujah may not have exactly understood the complex social exchange that went on, but he gets the Prince's words to him -- Not in my Court. He shakes his head and looks away for a moment, raising his hand toward his mouth to rub it gently. Fortunately, Willow is nearby and she is very good at soothing the beast. Her hand on his arm and that would be enough to make this pass. Ehsan's words about getting one of the artifacts as bait seems to draw his focus, the Frenchman's face growing considerate. Could be a plan. But he's not going to be the one to even speculate about where such a mystical item lies.
Jeb drops his attention from his clanmate returning his attention to the general assembly of gathered Kindred. The Nosferatu ignores the sparring on the open floor instead looking to the side at the French Brujah and his companion offering them another acknowledging nod. He dips a hand into one of the pockets on his long coat removing a chunk of gold flecked quartz. The undead prospector regards the stone a moment before returning to his pocket.
Tilting his head slightly as he smiles fondly at the Brujah Primogen, "As always Mister Desantis, it is a pleasure to be welcomed back by someone of such station. It always brings a smile to my face" and it does, it is a warm inviting smile, though the warmth never touches the hint of mocking in those eyes before Grigory seems to lose interest in the conversation and returns to the matter at hand. Listening to Ehsan as he returns the topic to the Author, the Ventrue listens for a long moment before posing one final question before Winder moves on to the next matter. "If, out of curiosity, the Author had been recovered as it seems to want.. what happens if it is used without this Muse to safeguard?"
Ehsan is serving up the same interrupt-everything eager-to-spill vibes that Neil DeGrasse Tyson tends to smother interviewers with, SO GLAD you asked. "As a writer cannot put worthy pen to paper, the Author cannot write fate without his Muse. The writings that have been recovered from these houses keep pointing to all sorts of feverish theosophical and religious writings but they keep looking for quotes on deap sea mining equipment, I /believe/ that we will be able to find it by following /them/."
Winder moves the conversation along, now, with a lifting of the volume of her voice just so. Her voice naturally projects rich across the room. "Any further questions for Mister Khadem's /personal/ project may be asked of him after Court. Zora, you had announcements."
Zora has announcements indeed. She takes the floor, her personality and manner of speaking as dry as burnt toast, her resting expression a dreary look of what can only be called Resting Slav Face. It's the sort of latent, eternal disappointment and low-key lack of will to live that just belongs on Russians. "The Nosferatu Jebediah and Mister Scarpia have reported what I identify as a threat to the Masquerade which has some non-vampiric origin and I will be exterminating it. Jebediah." She turns her head and when she does it's literally just her head in an uncanny rotation, like a suit of haunted armor tuuuurning to look down a ghastly old Roccoco hallway. "I have already spoken to Scarpia. What is your testimony of the situation?"
As the topic changes away from the Author and the muse and Sheriff Zora speaks about the new threat, the Brujah turns to look at the Nosferatu, his gaze attentive as he listens for the story. Phillip's 'moment of perturbation' from before seems to have passed, his face returned to a calm and curious expression.
Jeb emits further cracks and pops straightening his posture up further when he is addressed. "As I reported Sheriff this unnatural fella is killin' folk 'round Fort Point. I have spoken to beasts of the sea and reckon I know where it rests 'tween killin's.". The Nosferatu looks a little confused, his exposed face being easier to read unwrapped seeming unsure if the Sheriff was asking for more.
Getting things going again makes Claire perk up some as she straightens in her chair while bringing one knee over the other and resting both hands atop it. She glances over to Grigory trying to get a read on him before Zora mentions a threat to the Masquerade. She turns her head to look at Jeb while waiting for the plot to thicken. A unnatural fella eh? Maybe she will have something to hunt and dig her claws into soon enough.
Grigory turns his head towards Zora as she takes the floor and listens quietly. Maybe its the threat to the Masquerade. Maybe its the non-vampiric in origin. Maybe its Zora is Russian. Who knows. Whatever the reason, the Ventrue seems to focus on her words intently before turning his unblinking gaze towards Jeb to listen to his statement. "I have been catching up with current affairs of late and had read a news article about this killer. What did your sea creatures tell you of this person of unnatural origins?"
The subject seems somewhat familiar already to some of the upper echelons of the Praxis, because Camille has a rather incongruous statement to make about it all. "Bastards, all of them," she mutters. Her voice is mild and quiet, and those 1970s spectacles that overwhelm her face are not the only thing that gives the French Nosferatu some Milton vibes. "First the Baths," she mumbles, like she's counting swingline staplers, "and now they pervert the shore with their satanic rituals. Baptised in the filth of -Satan-, this murdering wizard..." She snaps her head in Jeb's direction to hear more.
"...I feel vaguely attacked." Somebody drawls, from the throng, maybe a touch too loudly. Somebody turns their head to look at Mickey, who shrugs one shoulder, and he says, "Sure, sure... but I take a bath every day, so you it's not like I just walk around with it ON ME-" He clears his throat, and then falls silent. Hem.
For those who haven't heard of Camille OOCly, she is the Nosferatu Primogen. She has a tendency to wear many faces, but all of them are unfortunate, finished off by ever-present white gloves, and her cokebottle glasses from 1974. She wears luxury, couture brands like Hermes and Balenciaga, but listen. You've seen more tasteful beheadings than her fashion sense.
Phillip listens to Jeb and nods to the Nosferatu. He crosses his arms and seems attentive, particular to Camille as the Primogen speaks up. He looks about to say something, but yields in favor of listening to the prospector's reply to Grigory's query, or Jebediah adding more details to the story on this threat.
Jeb grunts and leans forward to stroke his beardless chin as he continues, "Whelp. They told me what I asked. If it had a lair which it don't to. When me and ol' Jack faced it..well it both came and retreated from the water. Those beasts I enlisted to aid. Well they just helped me figure out where it rests. Bottom of the bay. No lair...no master that sent it killin'. Leastwise none I've found.". He shrugs a little casting off a little cloud of dirt.
Luna has learned to ignore Camille's chic tracs, or simply not dignify them with a response. Her head turns to regard Mickey, and her eyebrows lift. The elder Tremere does her best to keep up with the times and the fast paced nature of modern fashion, and so, in her war against anachronism, she ... has plucked her eyebrows into those classic 1990s goddamn McDonalds arches because she is /on the pulse/ of human culture. Anyway, hers is a look of comiserable amusement, somehow able to see the humor in the other Tremere.
"It is under the water?" Zora seems intrigued by this detail. A small, thoughtful smile /actually/ graces her features, but only for an instant, lest anybody actually notice. "So perhaps we could act in force with no witnesses, under the water. How deep?"
Claire stares intently at Jeb for a moment as he speaks of this creature before her face relaxes some. "Something is just popping up out of the water and slaughtering people?" She says to herself mostly but not quietly, She goes silent when Zora asks her questions.
"I see. So we know of resting location" the Russian Ventrue says as he considers something before seeming to shake his head slightly and turns his head towards both Zora and Jeb, "Do we have any other information? Weight or height? Weapons? Gills" the smirk says it is...maybe a joke. To Zora, Grigory nods and says "That would seem to be a prudent idea, assuming we keep some forces on standby in case of night divers. Some ghouls perhaps?"
"It has blood like moonlight," Zora says, a gaze off towards the other faces in the crowd, perhaps in Scarpia's direction, "As Mr. Scarpia reports," and then she continues, "And it has an arm that turns into a blade. I advise extreme caution, as if facing against the talons of the Gangrel. If humans will find out about a man with glowing blood and transforming arms, then they will start thinking what else is possible and soon they will conclude /we/ are no longer the realm of imagination, and so it /will/ be exterminated one way or another."
Jeb nods to the Sheriff nolding his hat in both hands now. "Yup. Recent information uncovered. I promise not omitted from my first report. As for depth. Far as one of those sea dogs can dive? Far as a fella could stand? I could ask for them to show ya but not for a proper measurement I'm afraid.". He turns to nod a little to Claire then turning to the other Usov. Jebediah holds out his coat displaying foot and a half gash in the hide. "Took me near a fortnight to heal.".
"It has blood like moonlight," Zora says, a gaze off towards the other faces in the crowd, perhaps in Scarpia's direction, "As Mr. Scarpia reports," and then she continues, "And it has arm that turns into blade. I advise extreme caution, like to face against talons of Gangrel. If humans will find out about man with glowing blood and transforming arms, then they will start thinking what else is possible and soon they will conclude /we/ are no longer imagination, and so it /will/ be exterminated. One way or another."
"We need to strike the thing when it emerges," Phillip finally speaks, a look toward Jeb, "Do we have any idea of its patterns? Any idea why the victims were chosen? If we can understand why it is attacking we may be able to lure it onto land and force it into a trap. Since we have no idea what this is, we will need every advantage we can muster. There are few worse situations than going into a potential conflict not knowing exactly what kind of threat that you are facing." A nod is given to Zora as she fills in a few more details, "Sounds like a dangerous foe. We would need to be extra careful." A beat as he looks toward the Prince and other Primogen, "Is the destruction or capture of this creature something Her Majesty would seen done?" He arches a brow and waits on her reply.
"We will also need to pre emptively arrange a cover story in case something goes amiss, such as this ...Wizard, is it? Going outside of our control," Katy says, and while previously she was told to shut up, the Court affords her this one: she does have a point. "For instance, maybe we can drum up that there's a movie being filmed out there, and we can pose as an independent film studio so we can park trucks and equipment and so on, do I have takers?"
"So far, patterns have only been radius of attack." Zora says 'radius of ettek' with some kind of factual fatalism evocative of 'if he dies he dies'. "Victims are in the news. He kills homeless man, a woman who is tourist, then a man who is drone entusiast." Not enthusiast. "The police autopsies all say they are attacked with blades. One of them had arm removed. Very powerful. Dragon's breath gunfire did not burn him, but a pickaxe hit made it angry." She turns her head to Jebediah. "Did I miss anything?" At Phillip's question, Winder straightens. "We will do what is necessary. We will ideally capture it to discover its nature more easily, but the safety of those who go out is priority. If its destruction is necessary to survive, then so be it. I pre-authorize its total destruction, with my preference stated."
Jeb waves a hand back and forth at the Frenchman. "I reckon I can track it with critters. But the why and wherefore of the victims is a mystery. Leastwise to me. Ol' Jack might have better insight." he says regarding the moonlit blood. The Nosferatu stepped back when Katy asks for help with the cover, by his body language it's likely due to lack of resources than inclination. He shakes his head satisfied with the Sheriff's summary.
In the moment that the Malkavian who went out with Jeb may have had the floor, Camille goes off. "Why don't the wizards collect their own?" She doesn't mumble that one, she straight pipes up. "Do they know no sense of responsibility? Too drugged by their demonic, -concoctions- to stop and think! This is why you don't trust these Willworkers, drunk on power! We would put down one of our own for being so blatant because we know the worth of the system!"
"Camille," Luna says. "Camille. We need to protect ourselves regardless, please calm yourself."
Claire nods towards The Prince before saying towards the Court, "If a team is to be formed for this creatures capture I will gladly help." Claire isn't one to shy away from a fight, even with a suspicous fish man. She looks over to Katy for a moment, Claire has never been an action star before.
Turning to look at Claire, Grigory speaks quietly "If you wish to assist in the destruction of this beast, I will assist Madam Cox" he turns to look at Katy and nods his head at her question of help "with a suitable cover for this engagement. I am sure there are more than enough up and coming directors who are simply dying to put their art to film." Turning his attention towards Camille, the Ventrue simply listens to her words before nodding his head slightly, "She is not wrong however." Tapping his forearm with his finger, Grigory continues "I have had dealings with these 'Willworkers' in the past. I offer this only as an opinion. They are powerful and their skills varied however...they are mortal and thus prone to problems that mortals face. Without the time to take their preparations, they are no more difficult than any other mortal. Miss that opportunity and...well" he gestures towards Jeb and that cut. "This is all under the premise it is a Willworker and not something else. I suggest some sort of recon be done. Whether it be renting a glass boat or what have you."
Phillip nods after Claire's words, his French accent coming through very clearly, "I am in as well. For what it's worth." The Brujah chuckles, "It seems like I'm going to have quite a busy dance card in the weeks to come. Not that I mind." A look over toward Jebediah, "Let us get those together who want to make a move. We will need to make a plan. Obviously we cannot go into the water to fight it, so we will need to bring it to us." As the Willworkers are mentioned, he adds, "And, if the Wizards are involved, we will have to be extra cautious." As he finishes those words, he gives Claire a nod as well, an indication that the statements he made were meant for her as much as the Nosferatu Ancilla.
"With all due respect to you and your station, ma'am," Mickey says, "They might be. The Magi can move in directions and from angles many Kindred can't even *imagine* and they have as much reason to share intelligence with us on their actions as we have to share with them-" he puts his finger over his mouth and says, "They might even be watching, to see if we solve the problem before they have to expend resources on it. But that's all conjecture."
"Yeah," Cox says as she hears Grigory's buy-in, the young Neonate growing a little bolder in her rare and newfound permission to speak. "We can stage it like a movie set, we can have some of us on set to make sure any beach goers or other potential witnesses go somewhere else, look the other way, think something else. They were filming that um, that, whatever, Shenmue?" She doesn't remember the movie, but to her point: "And they just smashed an entire bus into all these cars and nobody bats an eye because there's some guy with a film camera. It doesn't need to be rolling, it just needs to /look/ like we're filming." But it's Grigory's chance to speak, so Charles gives her a tight smile that says "that's nice but that's also enough" because grownups is talking.
So far in all of this, Winder is listening to the back and forth of opinions before she sets her own in stone.
When Mickey gives his advice on those baptised in 'the filth of Satan', Camille turns to look and she fills her lungs to rebut, but she forces herself to listen. Her eyes narrow a touch at the prospect that these /dirt worshipping heathens/ may be watching. "If it is a Wizard," Camille says, after some time, "Once we have finished the matter and exterminated the beast. I will absolutely not cooperate with /any/ of those meddling little monsters."
"We may very well have to," Ehsan says, "If you consider the Children of Athanasius's sights are leveled on more than mere Kindred, but also the Wizards. Drag your feet, LeFebvre, and you will find yourself fighting off these hunters alongside the witches you'd like to burn."
While these discussions are going on, Farhad speaks softly into the Prince's ear. Finally, the Prince lifts her hand again and does that quieting gesture, capturing air in her sharp nails. "We will arrange a team to pre-emptively cover up any unanticipated breaches through the guise of a film set, and we will arrange a team to strike at the target of unknown, non-vampiric nature." Winder rises, and with her, Farhad. "Those of you who have volunteered are sanctioned to approach me on that business, or contact Farhad if I am not available, for the purposes of coordination and exploration. And!" She looks to Khadem with that 'and' lest she get Joe Roganed by his DeGrasse Tyson. "I sanction cooperation with Mister Khadem's personal project, but it shall remain a secondary priority. Good dawn, ladies and gentlemen."
Jeb edges just a little bit in Phillip's direction stopping suddenly to nod, "Yup. Sounds good. Best to be prepared. Certainly like nothin' I'd seen before.". When the Prince closes court the Nosferatu offers a crooked bow.
