Post by Thornstar on Jun 10, 2005 11:13:19 GMT -8
Dominic lounged, one leg pulled up onto the bed, knee jutting from the sheets. His other leg hung over the edge, idly rolling a fallen chess piece around in a half circle through a pile of spilled chalk dust. The Elysium had given him plenty to think about.
The Brujah Primogen and a Ventrue elder both went missing. The court seemed relieved that the Brujah came back. No mention was really made of the Ventrue elder, though. The previously missing Primogen’s Childe, Hideo, was seen apologizing to an Independent Gangrel named O’Keefe. The Fucking Assamites had a Fucking Primogen here. A three-Kindred coterie had just shown up from Chicago and begun talking about a taxi service for the Kindred of the Seattle Domain.
To what kind of ass-backwards town had he been sent?
He thought about all the comforting things he’d seen, as well. All the signs that pointed like big neon arrows toward the conclusion that everything was alright. Lady Elizabetha Daniels, the Seneschal, did not once leave the upper deck of the Elysium. That was her right, as the Mouth of the Prince. Yet it did speak poorly of her involvement with the lower court members. If there was a problem of any type, she would need to rely on her position alone to gain the assistance of anyone who did not already owe her a boon. And on that note, even though she was the Mouth of the Prince, she was not a strong Right Arm. He furrowed his brow unconsciously, then mentally scolded himself for making such an obvious tell to his mood without thinking about it first. He moved along quickly to another thought that had been weighing on him.
The Harpy.
Kenneth Ashland. That is one Kindred to watch. Despite the mere fact that he is the Harpy of the Greater Seattle Domain, he seemed to have a deadly quick wit about him. Yes indeed, Mr. Ashland had the legendary silver tongue and could just as quickly strip unwary kindred of a thousand years of reputation or build a pedestal under an ally so fast as to be dizzying. But separating him from other harpies I’ve dealt with, he’s a Ventrue. Actually a nice change from the Rabble and the Degenerates I’ve been putting up with. Ignorant Revolutionaries and Idle Hedonists. Mr. Ashland seems to be something else entirely. He doubtless has a number of the lower clans working for him, indeed, I did see others coming and whispering to him; sweet nothings of information for the sweet nothing of status he will undoubtedly never need to actually give them. They will stay on the hook for him anyway. They have their opportunity to chip away at their rivals, while not actually raising themselves. Meanwhile, Mr. Ashland can bequeath the admiration of the Camarilla upon whomever he desires. Thus, Mr. Ashland and associates are safe, while anyone who falls outside his view can go to hell at the whim of his Harpylings. Either way, those in power keep getting stronger while the commoners just become more common.
Dominic thought about the Upper Deck. Nothing physically kept the others out, just the implied threat. But the threat of what? I mean, nothing physically stops you from running a red light, but there is the understanding of the consequences. Being ticketed or sideswiped by some other driver. The obvious sanction here would be the direct ire of El Harpy Grande and his Harpyling Monkeys. That someone would dare to cross their invisible fence? Unbelievable. No one would do such a thing. They’d be thrown out. Or merely ridiculed? Hmm. What would the Wondrous Mr. Kenneth Ashland do to such a deserving Wretch?
Dominic decided to make some friends, then some enemies, and then he could begin to experiment.
He picked up his sketchpad and began copying the pattern of the chalk in hard, bold black strokes of ink. The play of light and dark intrigued him and he began to experiment with sigils, trying to find a connection to the curvature of the strokes. He knew nothing would come of such a simple experiment. Chance favored the prepared, and Dominic was not yet comfortable enough yet here to work sympathetically with the power of this Chantry. He’d rather take the time to work a relationship with the other Apprentices and the Chantry itself before he tried anything really new. He set down his work and put on his robes.
Time to meet the Cellmates.
The Brujah Primogen and a Ventrue elder both went missing. The court seemed relieved that the Brujah came back. No mention was really made of the Ventrue elder, though. The previously missing Primogen’s Childe, Hideo, was seen apologizing to an Independent Gangrel named O’Keefe. The Fucking Assamites had a Fucking Primogen here. A three-Kindred coterie had just shown up from Chicago and begun talking about a taxi service for the Kindred of the Seattle Domain.
To what kind of ass-backwards town had he been sent?
He thought about all the comforting things he’d seen, as well. All the signs that pointed like big neon arrows toward the conclusion that everything was alright. Lady Elizabetha Daniels, the Seneschal, did not once leave the upper deck of the Elysium. That was her right, as the Mouth of the Prince. Yet it did speak poorly of her involvement with the lower court members. If there was a problem of any type, she would need to rely on her position alone to gain the assistance of anyone who did not already owe her a boon. And on that note, even though she was the Mouth of the Prince, she was not a strong Right Arm. He furrowed his brow unconsciously, then mentally scolded himself for making such an obvious tell to his mood without thinking about it first. He moved along quickly to another thought that had been weighing on him.
The Harpy.
Kenneth Ashland. That is one Kindred to watch. Despite the mere fact that he is the Harpy of the Greater Seattle Domain, he seemed to have a deadly quick wit about him. Yes indeed, Mr. Ashland had the legendary silver tongue and could just as quickly strip unwary kindred of a thousand years of reputation or build a pedestal under an ally so fast as to be dizzying. But separating him from other harpies I’ve dealt with, he’s a Ventrue. Actually a nice change from the Rabble and the Degenerates I’ve been putting up with. Ignorant Revolutionaries and Idle Hedonists. Mr. Ashland seems to be something else entirely. He doubtless has a number of the lower clans working for him, indeed, I did see others coming and whispering to him; sweet nothings of information for the sweet nothing of status he will undoubtedly never need to actually give them. They will stay on the hook for him anyway. They have their opportunity to chip away at their rivals, while not actually raising themselves. Meanwhile, Mr. Ashland can bequeath the admiration of the Camarilla upon whomever he desires. Thus, Mr. Ashland and associates are safe, while anyone who falls outside his view can go to hell at the whim of his Harpylings. Either way, those in power keep getting stronger while the commoners just become more common.
Dominic thought about the Upper Deck. Nothing physically kept the others out, just the implied threat. But the threat of what? I mean, nothing physically stops you from running a red light, but there is the understanding of the consequences. Being ticketed or sideswiped by some other driver. The obvious sanction here would be the direct ire of El Harpy Grande and his Harpyling Monkeys. That someone would dare to cross their invisible fence? Unbelievable. No one would do such a thing. They’d be thrown out. Or merely ridiculed? Hmm. What would the Wondrous Mr. Kenneth Ashland do to such a deserving Wretch?
Dominic decided to make some friends, then some enemies, and then he could begin to experiment.
He picked up his sketchpad and began copying the pattern of the chalk in hard, bold black strokes of ink. The play of light and dark intrigued him and he began to experiment with sigils, trying to find a connection to the curvature of the strokes. He knew nothing would come of such a simple experiment. Chance favored the prepared, and Dominic was not yet comfortable enough yet here to work sympathetically with the power of this Chantry. He’d rather take the time to work a relationship with the other Apprentices and the Chantry itself before he tried anything really new. He set down his work and put on his robes.
Time to meet the Cellmates.
