2020-10-03 Camarilla Court IV
Camarilla Court IV
Participants: The Camarilla Court of Los Angeles Elizabeth
Storyteller: Summer Crawley Sundance
Location: Walt Disney Concert Hall ‒ Downtown Los Angeles
Date and Time: October 03, 2020 0000
Summary: Court.
Stepping into the Elysium comes a handsomely dressed German man, after whatever normal security precautions might be expected, whatever search may be necessary though he seems to possess no weapons on his person. There is, however, an unnatural level of sexual appeal and beauty to the German, arriving dressed neatly in a clean, sleek business suit and seemingly moving in just the right way that it's hard for him to not really turn heads. Both hands are neatly stuffed into his pockets as he goes, stepping with a distinct click, click click.
Oliver makes his way in, https://fangirlish.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/08/Ben-Barnes-Song-For-You.jpg Oliver seems to be in decent spirts, which is to say he doesn't look grumpy. It's not like the Ventrue ever get overly expressive one way or the other, but he has gone with the Ventrue version of smart casual which is to say he is totally still in a suit, but has decided today to forego the tie in favor of style.
The Sheriff walks in shortly after his Apprentices, having stopped upstairs to check in on his inbox before Elysium and to collect the lantern that contains the candles that the Tremere use to ensure the room is thaumaturgically secure. He looks refreshed, a lot less tired and stressed than he has of late. While there are few who have seen him actually relax, he does seem to have less weight on his shoulders. Taking liberties, or availing of his privilege, he gestures to Lydon to come to the forefront of the crowd. "I would prefer to get your introduction out of the way sooner rather than later, lest I forget," he says to the newest Apprentice in the Chantry.
Vy enters, quiet, understated, her head down. She's simply dressed in a black, sheath dress that hits at the knee and black pumps, her dair hair pulled back into a chignon at the nape of her neck. There's a small, black clutch in her hand, big enough to hold a cellphone and car keys. She glances up just long enough to scan the crowd, then quickly climbs to find a seat.
Schultz arrives promptly for court, accompanied initially by his bodyman, Jerome. Jerome, armed as he may be (allegedly), remains at whatever perimeter he is allowed to be, with proper disclosure of his weapon-bearing status. Schultz, who enters the hall proper for Court, is dressed in formal business attire, but with a bit of panache. His suit is a deep maroon, with a faint, slightly purplish check pattern. His shirt and tie are a lighter (nearly white) and darker set of pinks that create a tasteful offset. A flouffy handkerchief matches the tie and is tucked into the breast pocket of his jacket. Hardly one to cleave to strictly clan lines (or to seemingly adhere to the anti-warlock bias that grips many), he makes his way to sit near Lydon, at least to get a comment in before Lydon moves up for introduction. "You're looking positively breathtaking today, Lydon," he offers with a ready grin. "You *must* send me your beautician's contact information." Just a little quip before Schultz falls quiet, crossing one leg over the other, folding hands in his lap, and waiting for Court to begin.
Tonight it appears Quinn is not quit dressed up to snuff for Court, instead in her standard fitted black jeans, ribbed shirt, and leathered jacket -- complete with heeled boots. Someone clearly would be failing on the red carpet scores. Still, she makes her way on in. Instead of heading to the normal spectator section, the Blonde Brujah climbs her way up onto the dais and takes a seat in the Brujah Primogen chair. Settling in, her pale eyes fan out to watch as the others filter in one-by-one.
Elizabeth Tanner enters with the red-headed, muscular Meri along side her. The Toreador is dressed in a pretty red dress with off-white polka-dots while her hair game is on point. She leans in toward Meri and murmurs something while gesturing toward the row where most of the other Toreador have started to gather, then she turns away from the ghoul and surveys the crowd.
"Of course, Sheriff Lopez." Lydon turns at arrival of Alejandro, his lips curling into a pleased smile as he politely bows and inclines his head for the other Tremere. "The sooner we handle this, the better." He offers, and turns to sweep his gaze over the Kindred that begins filter into the room and then he smirks towards Schultz and nods. "I'll see what I can do, Mr. Schultz. You're looking rather well yourself." <English>
Shelly doesn't exactly walk in, as the Malkavian deputy was already her, in her good jacket which happens to be a black blazer with almost no holes in it. She lounges sitting backwards in her seat with legs criss-crossed, watching the main entrance instead of actually facing the stage, nodding as folks come in. Apparently those three seats next to her? Claimed. For someones. or some reason.
Maybe it's easier for a new face to slip into the crowd unnoticed when said new face isn't worn by a 5'10" amazon with dark skin and platinum hair. Maybe, but we can't be sure -- the science just isn't there. Regardless, there's a New Person at Court this week, and she's not any less conspicuous for her choice of attire -- skin-tight black jeans, heeled boots, a distinctly cowboy-influenced long-fringed suede bolero jacket over a white blouse, and to top it all off, a cowboy hat. With a hat band on it and the brim tilted up at the sides and everything. This tall drink of perhaps-unexpected C&W flavor is staying at the edge of things, back to the wall, arms crossed -- people-watching, though polite enough not to stare.
Avery arrives amidst a small contingent of Tremere, wearing a dressy (for her) black blouse, pale pink pencil skirt and heels. Her steps slow considerably at seeing those gathered, squinting a bit when she sees Lydon. It takes her a few moments to stop looking at him, and finally she inclines her head to him and Alejandro before finally moving to find a seat in the usual area her clan has been occupying of late.
Another new face arrives with a Zoya and a Dahlia in tow, the trio coming in together. At the front is aforementioned new face Solomon, looking rather proud of himself. He's got excellent posture. His hair is well-groomed as is his beard. He strides forward with chin held high... in his horribly, HORRIBLY garish suit. It's red, white, and blue. It's got stars. It's got stripes. It's quite possibly the most American suit ever made, and no doubt comes with a matching hat that the man is not currently wearing. Even his shoes are red, white, and blue. If the fashion police exist, Solomon's going to get arrested and thrown in jail for a long, long time. The Elusive Deputy Artemis has seemingly made time to actually appear at a court. Maybe the stars are in alignment, but they make their entrance quietly, moving around the throng of Kindred to find the Tremere's usually area and settling themselves down to watch the proceedings in peace. AS they pass, they offer nods to those few who they know. Their business attire is, as usual, immaculate, and there is not a hair out of place. They nod to Avery as they sit, quirking a small half smile as they do.
Violet is not too far behind Avery, adjusting her glasses when she steps through. Her hair is held in a low ponytail. She's dressed in a harbor grey, long sleeve crepe blouse with dark grey slacks and a pair of square toed, low heeled grey pumps on her feet. A heather grey & gold coach bag hangs from her right shoulder. There's a faint nod to Lydon, and the others, and she lets Avery ahead of her to take a seat before she takes one next to her.
Gretchen arrives without fanfare, quiet other than the scrape of metal. Already carrying her busby under one arm and with a flat face, she moves off to the side. Finding herself a seat to softly sit in and turn her attention forwards.
As is the custom to Courts under this latest Prince, the auditorium lights are up as others arrive and begin to take their seats in the places surrounding the central stage. As it it always is for Court, that stage is dominated by a large wooden chair with a high back; the seat of the Prince of Los Angeles. To either side are arrayed the seats of the Primogen. The symbols of each of the Clans have been carved into the chair backs: Ventrue, Toreador, Brujah, Tremere, Nosferatu, and the Malkavians. There are brighter lights that more intensely illuminate the stage where the chairs are set up.
The Seneschal, Peter Crawley, is seated not in the Nosferatu Primogen chair, but in the low chair to the right hand of the Prince's throne. The robe-clad sewer dweller has no mask, content to let the court see who he truly is. His blue eyes scan the room, watching the various Kindred arrive and situate themselves. The look upon his face is calm and relaxed, bearing little hint of emotion.
Svetlana Serova has been lingering on stage for roughly an hour prior to the start of court. She's dressed down compared to her prior apperances as stand-in for the Malkavian Primogen. A baggy gray-on-darker gray longsleeve thermal shirt hangs from her shoulders. Black, knee-holed skinny jeans lead into her usual combat boots, laced up tight. Her hair is unkempt and greasy, hidden beneath a ratty baseball cap. A few assorted necklaces hang across her chest, others hidden beneath her frayed collar. Her nail polish is chipped and fading. Dark, round sunglasses are pushed high up on the bridge of her nose, perhaps to distract from the lack of cosmetic application this evening. She's rebuffed any attempt at prior communication with terse little grunts, and has contented herself to watch the steady trickle of the city's undead in through the auditorium's main entrance.
It would appear that with the absence of both Primogen Kennedy, and the Whip Jenet on other matters of business - that Emily Cade, whether by coordination with Kennedy, or by her own initiative, has taken the chair of the Toreador's representative at the Primogen dais. She doesn't seem to find her place there to be anything particularly special - inasmuch as a perfectly obvious choice with neither Noah nor Harper present as well. Those being the only other two Toreador in the city that Emily have temporarily deferred to. In any case, she has made herself very languidly at ease, seeming to be in the process of carefully buffing her shimmering, almost diamond-like fingernails while waiting for the proceedings to begin.
Maybe it's because Solomon's suit is so bright that Zoya is forced to look away. Her eyes trained toward her phone's screen as she walks up the stairs. Barely looking up as she enters. The red, white, and blue suit seems to act a bit like a lighthouse, perceived from the corner of her eye. Just enough that she never really needs to look up. Faux-leather pants. Leather boots, heels on. Faux-leather purse. Black hair pulled into a tight, high ponytail. She radiates boredom. But something about her keeps the staff well away. Or maybe that's the suit, too.
Arriving just before Court beings with Beth and Coop, Zane makes his way in and moves towards the seats that Shelly has saved for them. Tonight he's dressed in a black suit over a red collared shirt with no tie and polished leather shoes. Settling in and unbuttoning the single button holding his jacket closed he gives the Malkavian at his side a wink, waving to those he knows that catch his eye.
Never late, Grayson comes in just on time, Maria, as always at his shoulder. She leaves him at the door to the auditorium with a nod. He?s dressed much better than his usual wear, which is saying just flashier. A dark blue suit with a lighter shirt, and similar tie, gold tie clip, and gold cufflinks. Always is the case, not a thread is out of place and black shoes are freshly polished. He makes his way down towards the throne. Bowing his head to the Seneschal as he passes, and a formal bow to the Prince, if she is seated. With that, he moves past and towards the Ventrue Primogen seat, face as it often is during court, expressionless. Lacking that well known smile of his.
Following along, behind Solomon and Zoya, Dahlia appears to be wearing a dress as well, is it the 4th of July? Her's looks like a swing-style dress and she's wearing a pair of white heels. She looks rather stoic, kinda the 'yeah, I'm wearing this, what of it?' look and follows along with her chin held high and her lips pressed firmly together. https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/61znq23K+ZL._AC_UX466_.jpg
Meri is little more then a silent shadow at Elizabeth's side, listening intently to anything that the woman has to say. Mostly, the Ghoul just seems to be keeping a general eye on things, as her gaze moves over those gathered.
Elizabeth gestures for Meri to sit before she glances toward the stage, and Emily Cade, who resides in Clan Toreador's chair. "Keeping it warm for Kennedy, Emily? Come now, she'll be along soon enough. Come sit with me." She moves off to an empty row separate from the rest of the clan and takes a seat on the end.
There he is: Zebastian.
The Westside Anarch has rolled in with little fanfare, and positioned himself in the 'usual' spot, way over in the 'nosebleeds' -- that is to say, unfavourable seats out in the peanut gallery towards the back of the auditorium. He is entirely alone.
Dressed in black. It's expensive, stylish, and ... suitable for mourning. No garish colour here -- just a small sprig of something pinned to his lapel, secured by a twist of black ribbon. The kid is not speaking - no waving or chattering - Zebastian is just sitting there; finger combing through the ends of his hair, staring off into the middle distance with an expression which is either preoccupied, or? Entirely dopey-blank zoned out. Hard to tell.
Summer drifts in from one of the side doors, dressed in a royal blue dress that clings to her statuesque shape with weighted sequins and gauzy mesh. Her hair has a dramatic side part, exposing a pair of dripping earrings on one side with a wave of auburn hair falling across the other. She offers a genial smile to those present, her hazel eyes flitting about the auditorium while gently waving and wiggling her fingers, before turning to approach the sunken dais in the center of the room. She lifts one side of her dress, avoiding tripping (how embarrassing would that be?) while making her way down the stairs in her high heels. Once she reaches her seat, she draws her skirt to the side and lowers down. Beneath the hem of her blue dress, her ankles primly cross whilst her hands fold delicately atop her lap. Once settled, she casts a look to the Primogen and murmurs a few words -- likely good evenings and other such pleasantries. Emily is greeted as well, her unexpected presence met with a delicate lift her her brows and a warm smile. Then, a look toward Crawley and a small nod that they should begin.
Shelly spins around as Zane and crew arrive... or perhaps cause the Seneschal and other Primogen begin filtering to the stage. Zane, Beth and Coop all get nods of greeting as she waves lazily to the saved seats. Sveta's rather unkempt appearance does get her smile fading though, a momentary flash of concern.
The tall stranger in the fringe and the cowboy hat doesn't actually take a seat. She's standing off to one side still, even as things get underway. Present in the moment, yet separate from the crowd -- almost certainly the woman's intention, anyway. Her expression doesn't change as Court begins its session. She's still watching... taking it all in, like she's studying for a test.
Meri sits as instructed, hands folded neatly in her lap.
As Vy climbs toward a seat, she glances Zebastian's way. Taking in his appearance, his expression, his state of dress, she nods, her mouth twisting into a worried expression, but she doesn't approach. She finds her own, off to the side, out of the way part of the auditorium to occupy, and sits. Smoothing her black dress down over her knees, she crosses her legs, folds her hands in her lap, and waits, attentively looking toward the dais.
When the Prince has entered and then situated herself, the Seneschal, who seems to still be serving as Herald this week, raises his hand. The lights in the auditorium dim a few times to signal that it is time for Court to begin. Kindred who stand and late arrivals begin to scurry for a seat. Crawley rises from his low chair and shuffles out toward the center of the stage. He waits for a moment as the room grows quiet, his gaze sweeping the chamber as if to demand that silence. "I call the Court of the Praxis of Los Angeles to session," the Nosferatu says with a firm voice that echoes into the darkness of the room. The lights have now darkened and shrouded the seats in shadow. He then says, "We shall begin with our Announcements," Crawley intones before looking back to the throne and the Prince. He bows his head and adds, "First, with Her Highness, Prince Summer Hastings of the Rose." He then, like a good little rat, scurries backward and gives her the stage.
When the Officers of the Court begin to appear and make for their seats, the German Tremere, Lydon Vogel, smiles politely for Schultz again, and then turns to greet the assortment of his Clan that has recently arrived, bowing for the full contingent of Tremere as they make their entrance. One hand pulls out from his pocket, and he gestures for them to take the lead. Particularly, he claims his seat once Court begins officially.
Artemis retrieves a phone from the depths of their suit, tapping away idly at the screen as they wait for the proceedings to begin properly. The dimmed light only serving to highlight the pallour those inflicted with the curse rapidly achieve.
As the court begins, the phone is locked with a quick click, and placed on the table in front of them. It will probably be back in hand in short order, but for now their attention is firmly on those on the stage.
Zane looks over to Beth and Coop as they wave to the other kindred they've made friends with. There is a slight smile as he gives his head a little shake then looks to Shelly, leaning over to speak softly with her. Nodding to Quinn up on the stage he motions for the young kindred with him to quiet down as court begins.
Emily Cade smiles right back at Summer as if the Toreador Prince were a beloved friend. Then she endures Crawley's scenery-chewing as if the Sewer Prince were less beloved. And then she beams at Summer in expectation of the announcements. Schultz has connected.
Emily definitely has a smile for Grayson as well. Given that out of all the Primogen that she might prefer to be sat next to, the Ventrue is definitely the most preferable! By a substantial order of magnitude, given the alternatives.
"Thank you, Seneschal," Summer says, offering a poised smile to the Nosferatu, "Tonight I would like to begin by discussing the recently acquired territory of Glendale. As most of you have heard by now, the area was originally secured by the Gangrel known as Judas, along with a small cluster of Kindred who were contracted to lend their assistance. Unfortunately, Judas embarked on this mission without my or any other pertinent Kindred's knowledge, and he soon found himself overwhelmed by Sabbat forces before further resources could be dispatched to offer aid."
Summer pauses for a moment, any trace of a smile now gone except for the faintest upturn at the corners of her lips. "I have heard some...interesting...rumors of late; rumors that his recent death somehow makes him a martyr. So, let me set the record straight right now--" Summer leans forward in her chair, "--Judas was a /traitor/ to this praxis and the Tower in general. After forcing his way into Glendale, he cut a deal with South Side's leadership and ceded the territory to them, intending to join their ranks. This, after he sabotaged the *last* Archon's weapons shipment by helping those same Anarchs pilfer goods meant for our praxis' defenses. This, after he purposely withheld Eastside resources meant to combat the Sabbat unless I made him Primogen." This last point is met with a delicate wrinkle of Summer's nose, an expression of obvious distaste. "It is painfully obvious that Judas chose to live up to his namesake until the very end. To which I say -- good riddance."
Summer's lips hike back up, once more securing a smile. "With that said, I would like to emphasize that only Judas should be held in reproach. The others who worked with him on securing Glendale likely believed they were doing something noble and brave for the praxis, unaware of his intended treachery with the Anarchs. In the meanwhile, I have appointed Grafin Gretchen Von Eisen to take his place and claim domain over Glendale. She will lead a coalition to permanently secure the territory in a way he could not. For that, I thank her and all of the other Kindred who will be making haven in the area. I will acknowledge them by name once the roster is finalized." She looks over at Crawley to offer a meaningful look, demonstrating that she has finished with this announcement.
Elizabeth adopts a thin little smile as her comments up to Emily go unheard or at least unanswered. She settles in to her own seat and crosses her legs elegantly before directing her attention to Crawley and Summer. She listens quietly to the entire announcement without a change in expression.
Better late than never, right? Along comes Lunette, her steps quick to bring her to the room just in time to catch what Summer is saying. She slows her steps then and gives a quick glance about, gaze scanning until she finds Meri and begins to move in her direction so she may sit next to her.
There will be angry murmurs among the Ventrue and Toreador neonates in attendance. Including one or two choice slurs reserved for the Gangrel. After giving a small smile in greeting to her clanmates, Avery's attention moves to the stage as the lights dim, listening quietly then to the Prince's announcement with lips pressed gently together. Her gaze drifts momentarily to the other Tremere, then returns to those on the stage. Gretchen's eyes turn to Summer, giving a small nod to her.
Quinn's lips pull into a firm line as she listens to Summer's announcement. Her hands sliding into her jacket pockets. Those pale eyes of her sweep out to survey the room, gauging the various reactions to the news, as she maintains her silence for the time being.
Considering the explanation of Judas' behavior, Lydon Vogel nods softly, drawing in the information but otherwise remaining quiet for the moment. His gaze drifts from Summer, to the Nosferatu Seneschal, mostly simply curious and appraising.
In what might account for a flurry of movement from the generously statuesque or conservatively comatose Svetlana Serova, the Malkavian whip lists sideways, rests an elbow on the chair's armrest, and plants her chin in her fist as the announcements begin. Her hat's brim casts a shadow across her face from the stage lighting above. Coupled with the glasses, it might be hard to get a read on her other than severely disaffected with any of these revelations.
Artemisraises an eyebrow at the news about Judas. That.... would go a long way towards explaining their absence in. Good riddance indeed. They seem completely unsruprised by the Princes announcement, only nodding in acceptance. At the pronouncement of Gretchen as holding domain in Glendale, there is no reaction from the Stoic Tremere.
Well, the first Judas was pretty well known. As Oliver hears of Judas 2.0, he raises a Spock-like brow, watching the reactions of those about before settling back. His hands settle, folding across his lap as he unbuttons his suit jacket, and then looks back to the Prince and Seneschal to await what more may come.
Grayson certainly delivers Emily a warm smile as he passes and a similar uptick of his brows in surprise, but nothing more. Once seated, and the festivities begin, he turns his quiet attention to Crawley and then the Prince. He listens, none of it surprising to him, nodding here and there, but little else is read off his expression. Not even anger for Judas, it?s hard to say how he feels about the entire thing, and that might be on purpose.
Schultz furrows his brow for a moment, lips drawing pensively. His gaze flickers to Gretchen, then back to Summer. His fingers drum faintly on the opposite hand for a moment, then stillness.
Dahlia watches what is going on with a curious gaze. She stands near Solomon and Zoya, her arms wrapped around her waist to just hug herself while she observes what is going on. Her curious gaze sweeps here and there and everywhere, never lingering for long and definitely not looking people in the eyes.
Zebastian's shattered focus is pulled, somewhat, by the shift into formality -- as Crawley introduces Summer, and the Prince begins her speech. Up in the nosebleeds, the kid blinks slowly and turns - listening, presumably... Though, who could say? The finger combing of his hair continues, along with the blessed, blessed silence from his muted figure.
It *does* seem that Emily Cade is keeping Kennedy's chair warm. She even seems to have Blushed tonight to make it so! Elizabeth's comment will earn her a rather dangerously knowing smile and a cat-like lidding of her unnaturally pale, ice blue eyes. Either way, her attention will soon be distracted by Summer's announcement. The revelation of Judas having been on the verge of selling out the Camarilla to the likes of Skelter and Trace will earn an incredulous sneer that mars her otherwise delicately beautiful features. Such treachery! Kitty has arrived.
Zoya looks up from her phone long enough to prove she's paying attention. It's not a particularly convincing ruse. Her back settles against the arm of a chair. After the Prince was talking for long enough, she manages to drag her attention away. Dropping her phone away with the sort of sigh one needs to decide to make.
When Violet hears the Prince's words about Judas, she turns her head to look over at Avery, not the others just... Avery for some reason, watching her as if to gauge her reaction, and then she nods her head before facing forward, not saying a word.
"Thenk you, Your Highness," Crawley bows his head to the Prince and steps forward again. He pauses and situates himself in the stage's center. "A few items," the Nosferatu says, "and I shall try to be brief." The Seneschal's voice remains even as he speaks, gaze focusing nowhere in particular, "By now many of you have heard about the failed attack aginst the Sabbat in Huntington Park by the allied forces of the Anarchs. Two matters of concern that I have heard come out of this. First, that there were Camarilla Kindred present on this raid. This is true. Toward that end, I wish to clarify that those Kindred involved in that raid, did so with the permission of the Praxis, but did so as volunteers to aid in that attack. This was, in no way, an officially sanctioned or supported raid, nor did our leadership have any hand in the planning or execution of that raid." He lets those words sink in. "Secondly, it was said that there was a possibility that spies or someone possibly leaked the plans and led that group into a trap," Crawley continues, "While I am in no place to confirm or deny the veracity of that claim, I will say that we should all take this as an opportunity to remind ourselves that agents for the Sabbat can be anywhere among our ranks, particularly in certain unpoliced populaces such as the Anarchs. If you have information you believe to be sensitive, guard it very closely. The situation with Karner Blue has proven that agents can look like anyone. Even a friend." There's another pause, the Nosferatu not rushing his topics, "Next, I want to take this time to caution the Kindred of this Praxis about visiting Griffith Park. We are still in discussions with the Anarchs over transit rights, but it is currently being claimed by Shawna Weber, of Clan Gangrel. A Hollywood Anarch. Use caution visiting there until we have sorted all this out. If you need to visit the park, I am available to arrange a visit the the park. Expect updates on this in the near future." After more speaking, he pauses again, then says, "And finally. Many of you saw the fires in Skid Row. While we do not have specifics on what we on there, our preliminary investigations tell us that the area remains dangerous. I would give that area an extremely wide berth for a few weeks until we have been able to ascertain exactly what the continued level of danger is to visting that place." The Sewer Rat turns to look toward Alejandro and says, "The next announcement will be from Sheriff Alejandro Lopez of Clan Tremere." He then backs off and lets the Tremere take to the stage.
Shelly may have a few mutters of her own for who a few had been calling 'martyr' along with a very firm nod in agreement with the Prince's Good Riddance but also gives a look over to the two fledglings sitting near her and gives Beth and Coop both a finger to her lips and a silent shush just in case anybody needs a reminder for extra-quiet-you're-at-court-voices. Although at the mention of the fires of Skid row, she freezes and then slinks back in her seat, huddled up with legs to chest.
The tall stranger dressed up for Amazon Cowgirl Rodeo Camp -- this tall stranger's name is Chanel, not that most anyone here would know that just yet -- listens to the news of Judas without batting an eyelash. Though considering that this is her first time showing in DTLA... why would she? No one she knows. She shows the same dispassionate attention toward the next items, even the ones about death and destruction. She takes it all in, but none of it seems to touch her on any level that could be described as 'emotional.'
Alejandro remains stoic throughout the announcements, nods at Crawley when it comes to his turn to speak and addresses the court with the polished repose of any good Tremere. "I would like to take this moment to address the Traditions in general. I have posted an outline of my understanding of them as they pertain to the Praxis and while I am willing to /discuss/ my interpretations of the Traditions; what I am not willing to do is *debate* them. Among my training for the position of Tremere Whip was a full five years spent doing nothing other than studying various interpretations of the Traditions. Somewhat controversially, apparently, is my interpretation of Domain. This Praxis formally recognises the Domains of our Anarch neighbours and should I be informed by their Barons that violations of the Traditions have occured there, I will investigate fully." Though there are political nuances to what he's saying, stresses on words that indicate layered meaning, there is a coldness to his eyes that would imply that he appears to be serious.
Solomon remains in his seat next to Dahlia and Zoya. He leans over briefly and whispers something softly to Zoya in what those nearby might understand is Russian. He then leans over to Dahlia, whispering the same thing to her.
There's some dork here. Very long hair, huge round lensed glasses. Tonight she has had her hair done up in a braid. She's seated next to Gretchen. Dressed for the occasion, too, but nowhere near as fashionable as anyone else, but Kitty dressed for the occasion nonetheless and remembered to take the Amazon Prime labels off her clothes. She's quiet, because she's a little shy, probably. She has only one cat with her tonight, which is sitting in front of her. This is good, since she usually has a swarm of them.
At the discussion of Judas, Vy just shakes her head, apparently in agreement with the Prince's assessment of the man. The Huntington Park information is of more interest - she leans forward, listening closely. At the mention of spies and more Sabbat, she shudders in an involuntary sort of way, as if she couldn't quite catch herself in time to suppress that visible fear response.
Artemis nods at the Sheriffs pronouncement. They had a noted aversion to the Anarch territories, and did their utmoost to not visit them unless absolutely necessary, or in the pursuit of her duties.... so unless absolutely necessary. As such, they had little to complain about here.
Sheriff/Whip Lopez speaks next, and the German Tremere otherwise briefly inspects, listening to their senior Clan member, listening intently and then peeking back amongst those nearer to him as though observing their reactions to the commentary regarding the Traditions.
Gretchen for a moment, turns her attention to Kitty, speaking a few words before her head moves back to watch the court.
Emily Cade crinkles her nose at something said - but between the Nosferatu concluding and the Tremere beginning, it's difficult to pinpoint where exactly her displeasure blossomed. In any case, she has no interest in interrupting. Instead, she'll return to studying her polished nails with a studied attentiveness until a more pleasant topic surfaces. Anarchs are so boring!
Zane listens to the announcements with a serious expression. Looking to the various members of the council he then turns his attention to Shelly and nods in her direction. There is some quiet discussion between the Brujah as questions are asked from Beth and Coop.
"If it please the Court that I take a small indulgence," he says with a bow to the Prince, "the Chantry has been considerably blessed by the Addition of Lydon Vogel. He has been quick to learn the lay of the land and to provide his services where he can. It is my privilege to Present him to your Highness to request your consent to live here in accordance with the Tradition of Hospitality. I understand that this is out of turn, but the Chantry has need of his particular services at present. He is working on something that is quite time sensitive."
Leaning forward to listen to Solomon, Dahlia will nod at his words, her expression serious. She straightens, still standing behind and slightly to the left of Solomon. When the Seneschal and Sheriff speak, her attention goes from one, and then the other, watching and listening to both with interest.
Elizabeth's gaze moves from Summer to Lunette as the woman enters late, then back to Crawley and she arches a brow as she listens to the Seneschal's updates. Her gaze then moves onward and pauses on Emily and Sveta each before settling on Alejandro. The frail woman's hazel eyes hone in on Lydon in the crowd as he is introduced and she observes him with a curious smile before returning her focus to the stage.
"It is out of order, Sheriff Lopez, but the Court will hear Mister Vogel," Crawley says as he gestures for the new Tremere to come forward and do his introduction before the Prince upon the stage.
Something about what Alejandro says, has Grayson?s lips thin ever so slightly. His neutral expression doesn?t change, nothing more than that. It?s hard to say what it means, but his eyes flicker from his statuesque form in his chair. Mostly to glance around ant various reactions before turning them back on Alejandro.
Avery nods a bit at what first the Seneschal says, and then the Sheriff - hands moving to rest clasped in her lap as she looks on with a mostly neutral expression. As he continues on to announce Lydon, her gaze drifts towards the German Tremere, watching him quietly.
Shifting her attentions slightly to Alejandro when he takes the floor, Quinn listens in silence, those hands of hers still in her pockets. Sometime during the mention of it all, her gaze drifts sideways to give Grayson a slight lift of her chin before glancing back out about the flock of gathered masses to survey their reactions.
Oliver listens curiously, watching the exchange. Under his breath he does quietly say, though to no one in particular, "I enjoy a good debate," though it's not likely he's going to go fluting against the Sheriff anytime soon, and certainly not tonight. He does glance to see the person being called up next for their introduction.
When attention is turned his way, the German Tremere, a fresh faced arrival rises to his feet and bows politely for the Officers of the Court. "Thank you, Sheriff Lopez, Officers of the Court. Your Highness, Prince Hastings, it is a pleasure to finally meet you." He greets cordially, rising and bowing politely as he steps out into the aisle to be more available for the attention that may befall him. He presents himself, stepping forward until he has arrived at the stage, repeating his polite bow. <English>
Violet has the faintest of smiles on her lips, watching her clan-mate in Lydon and giving him a few nods of her head. It must be silent encouragement from her. She sits up straight, watching and listening to his introduction.
Artemis leans back in their chair, one single hand drumming along the top of the table in interest as to how the rest of the court proceeds. It was always interesting to watch the reactions as a new Tremere joined the fold. Or at least, newly arrived. While there is no particular flicker on her features, there is the slightest nod of encouragement as the German is speaking.
Summer looks prepared to say something after Crawley's announcements, but contents herself to wait while the sheriff has his chance at the spotlight. At his conclusion, she nods her head and says, "Indeed, thank you, Sheriff. To ignore the territory of our Anarch neighbors is to ignore any peacekeeping efforts made by myself and the Council." She pauses as the Tremere goes on to introduce the newest Warlock, affording him a warm smile. She looks to Lydon and says, "Welcome to the praxis, Mister Vogel. I'd normally keep you in the hot seat a little longer, but I recognize that your duties in the chantry require us to hurry along." She looks to the German Kindred in question, her brows delicately arched. She takes a moment to look him over, pleasantly curious, and then says, "To ensure we don't hold you up, I am happy to grant your request to take up residence in Los Angeles. I am certain that we will enjoy a longer chat at another time." She dips her head to the man, acknowledging him.
Schultz listens attentively to the words of the Sheriff, nodding once at the point about investigations. at Lydon's introduction, he raps a fist against his thigh, about as quirt a sign of approval as he can muster given the austere procedings. Shelly's still a little shook from the Skid Row trouble mention, huddled up in her seat. She may face towards the speakers, it's a very distracted nodding along that continues well after each speaker actually finishes talking. Alejandro nods to Crawley "I do beg the indulgence of the court and thank you," he bows to the Prince again, "your Highness for your forebearance." He curtly bows to the court before leaving the podium and taking his seat in the Tremere Primogen seat on behalf of Primogen Strauss. There, he does his best to remain stoic and impassive, but attentive.
Finally, Svetlana Serova has some more signs of life come across her. She reaches up and plucks her sunglasses from her face, taking the time to gingerly fold then hang them by their arm from a steel-chained Petrine cross necklace. She uses this freshly unshaded view to regard the city's latest introduction, and then, finally, to scan faces, and perhaps more, in the crowd. Her brows knit in faint concentration. Solomon, Zoya, and Dahlia are lingered on, followed by the bulky figure lurking by the wall.
"Thank you, Your Highness, for your Hospitality and Acknowledgement into your Domain. I do apologize for the hasty introductions, however." The German Tremere presents politely, bowing deeply for Summer with a warm smile. "I do look forward to a more long form conversation, and hopefully soon the business I have been attending to will see some conclusions. I have been working on a ritual of the Tremere that I believe will benefit the Praxis as a whole, and would like to offer my services further to you, the Court, and any Kindred of the Praxis, with the proper prestation." "I would also like to formally thank Primogen Grayson Mitchell for his assistance in my project. Normally, the services I would provide, I would ask that the material components be provided for the ritual. However, since I've been operating in some level of sercrecy, and you are of course a busy woman... I have asked him and Mr. Schultz both to acquire components necessary for the ritual, and they have both proven exceptional at doing so, and have done so of their own good will." "Thank you again, for your Acknowledgement, and I look forward to future conversations." With that, he removes himself from the stage, and begins for the exit, apparently to see to the Tremere business being discussed. <English>
As the Introduction is finished up the Nosferatu slides back to center, saying, "Before we conclude Annuncements, we have one final matter that will be addressed by Her Highness." Crawley's tone seems to have taken on a bit of a somber note as he once again retreats so she can speak once again.
Emily Cade turns just a little in her big wooden Primogen chair to widen ice blue eyes at Grayson with seeming faux surprise. As if the notion of the Ventrue Primogen engaging in some blasphemous rituals with the German Warlock were somehow deliciously scandalous! She over-sells it a little just to tease him...But not by much. Shiver.
And there Sveta's gaze remains, until Crawley digresses. Sveta seems to anticipate something, slips her sunglasses back on, and lists back in her chair. She sets her boot up on her chair, cocking a knee up, and folds her arms beneath her chest.
When Sveta's gaze lingers on Chanel, Chanel looks right back at Sveta. Doesn't smile, doesn't grimace -- the Cowgirl: Size XL just returns the gaze with a quiet, unspoken, 'yeah, I see you' type energy.
Grayson's attention comes around to Lydon, the man quite familiar to him despite this being his introduction. He listens, though the mention of his name and the acknowledgement egts nothing more than a dip of his head. He does seem to catch Emily?s antics out of the corner of his eye though. And while it?s rare for him to show much emotion here at all, that doesn?t change, save for one thing. He may have to just given the woman a quick wink, before turning back to the Prince and Senechal.
Summer looks a little curious and admittedly baffled by the mention of ingredients, but then again, he *is* Tremere, so the Prince says, "I am glad to hear that you have found allies to work with already, Mister Vogel." She looks over to the Ventrue in question, Grayson and Schultz, affording them a meaningful look and smile. Looking back to Lydon, she says, "I am also eager to learn more about you and these...secretive services." She stares down at the Tremere for a moment longer, giving him a chance to make his departure, and then looks back to the auditorium. By now, Summer's expression has grown somber, her usual smile replaced with a frown. When she speaks, it is in a heartfelt timbre -- soft and genuinely remorseful. "One important fact missing from the Seneschal's report on Griffith Park was that Baroness Cheyenne Spare was killed during the raid." The Prince pauses, letting that announcement set in. Her hands unfold in her lap, instead smoothing down her sequined thighs until resting atop her knees, as she says, "While we are always bound to experience disagreements with our Anarch neighbors, the Baroness always worked *with* the praxis to ensure peaceful relations between our factions. During her tenure as Primogen, she represented Clan Brujah admirably, and when the time came to cede her seat to downtown?s Brujah, she wished them well and returned her focus to bulwarking the Westside. During my brief tenure as Prince, I found her to be remarkably intelligent, sincere and heartfelt -- a Kindred that I am glad to have known and will certainly miss." Summer pauses for a moment, the corners of her lips twitching up to produce a sad smile. "I think she would want everyone to know that whatever her origins, she was proud of what she made of herself by the end of it."
There is a gentle stirring, from where Zebastian is positioned, up there in the cheap seats --- it is Summer's mention of Baroness Cheyenne that does it, of course. The Westsider's rather compulsive finger-combing of his hair slows as he blinks, and turns his head a fraction -- face momentarily obscured, as he brushes a hand over his forehead. What, cat got his tongue? Zeb fidgets in his seat, though it's easy to miss, what with being ... rather out of the way and all. No interruptions or outbursts - the kid settles down, head tilted and expression half hidden by his hair as he stares at his hands and listens, empty.
Schultz offers a smile back to Summer, bowing his head before falling still again.
Elizabeth's thin, ever-present smile wanes before vanishing at Summer's news of the Baroness of Santa Monica's passing.
Avery smiles a bit more as her newest clanmate's introduction sails along without much ado, but it fades after a few moments as her attention falls back on the Prince. There's a slight set to her jaw at what the Prince says, but she doesn't seem at all surprised by the news of the Baroness' death, and looks around at those in her immediate vicinity.
Quinn's brows visibly furrow at the mention of the fall of Cheyenne, lowering her head in deference for the fallen Brujah. She gives it a few moments before slowly lifting her gaze once more, glancing this time back out to seek the rest of the Brujah peppered throughout tonight's audience -- giving each of them a simple nod.
Crawley listens patiently to the Prince's eulogy for the fallen Anarch leader and nods, his expression remaining serious and flat. On the wake of those words his eyes search the auditorium and find Zebastian. He says, "Emissary Oygard. Perhaps you can take a moment to address the sitaution on the Westside? It is know that the Baroness Spare was a major figure in helping to maintain a fragile peace. There have been some .. concerning rumors of late. Of strife and potential turmoil waiting in the wings."
If one was to open a window into Chanel's head -- through the cowboy hat, presumably -- and see little cartoon representations of the thoughts currently percolating within her brain, they would probably translate into some variation of: '...the Anarch Baron was a Primogen? What the hell city have I arrived in?' Outwardly, she just purses her lips a little bit in thought.
Emily Cade's delicately beautiful features are initially a mask of indifference as to Cheyenne's unfortunate fate. At least until Summer should glance in her general direction, and then she'll offer a sympathetic moue of her lips, her ice blue eyes glistening with unshed tears of empathy with the the Prince's loss. Her words are softly coached, "She died as she lived." Whether she means 'carefree and courageous' or 'confronting an insanely dangerous, soul-sucking, three-eyed Salubri swordsman alongside a bunch've random Southsiders' is not specified.
Violet's gentle smile for Lydon also fades as the conversation turns to the slaying of the Baroness of the Westside. She listens to the eulogy delivered by the Prince and then turns her head. Meeting Avery's gaze when she looks around, Violet briefly nods her head before leaning over to quietly whisper something brief to her.
When she hears Zebastian's name called, again, Vy winces, empathetic, not wanting her sectmate to be bothered should he still be raw. Her lips press into a thin line, her posture stiffening, and she cheats a glance toward Zeb, worried. Shelly stirs a bit more from her protective ball at the mention of the Baroness' death, giving a bit of a sympathetic elbow nudge to the suited Brujah sitting next to her, Zane, but as Crawley calls out Zebastian, her eyes are all for her Anarch clansmate.
Gayson gives the Prince a bowed head when she looks his way, but again nothing more. The eulogy seems to be no surprise to him, but he also didn?t know Cheyenne in the least either. So his expression doesn?t change, though it?s a wonder if it would, even if he did. Instead, his eyes just rise to where the gentle stirring of Zebastian just happened at his mention.
It takes a moment. Zebastian doesn't stir at first when Crawley mentions him -- but how could Zeb miss the reference to the Baroness? The kid blinks... pauses... moves to stand, hand trembl--- smoothing out the front of his black clothes, before he pipes up.
"A, takke ja -- ah, thank you..."
There is another slight pause, as Zebastian takes a moment; attention drifting out across the auditorium, glancing over the swathes of courtiers seated before finally sweeping over the dais --- through from his position far in the back, it's hard to see who -- if anyone -- Zebastian is addressing, as his hands smooth at the cuffs of his sleeves, and he projects that Nordic accent out in saying;
"Westside are deeply pained by the events that unfurled at Huntington Park, as Baroness Cheyenne Spare is, was, continues to be so revered throughout our boarders. These events are tragic, and if they had been prevented we would all be in greater spirits. The courage and determination which Baroness Spare showed in the face of terrible odds will no doubt grant her a fortuitous rest in the afterlife; her selfless sacrifice allowed others to retreat, and in doing so carry her resolve onwards. We are grateful for her guidance and service, and will continue to autonomously enact her vision - shred by so many of us - of libertas, now and forever."
Ah yes, there's that motormouth --- with no need to take breath, Zebastian's pause seems like it means he is done ---- but oh no, no, the kid chatters on; tone taking on a softer aspect; "It is as they say, nei? 'Platinum, platinum, platinum; gotta look at self and ask what happened'." Zeb's hands lift, gesturing in gentle sweeps to accentuate, "'I made an oath when my comrade told me to go in - then he died on a cold bench'; so it is known, ja? Just as they say: 'all my old friends livin' life on a slow end; gotta keep shit rollin', it's deep' --- and it is, terribly, nei? Deep. Ja. So we roll on, ja - we rolld deep. The depths of this loss resonate, but we are resolute, resolved and remain steadfast, take courage -- if there is strife and turmoil, ja? We turn and will face this, unbound and head on."
With that, Zebastian bows his head a fraction, like he was stating a given --- then turns, his focus on Summer, head tipped a little lower, as if in thanks - for recognition, and for time. A beat, then fingers fidget with the cuff of his sleeve, and Zeb sits back down. Schultz listens respectfully, turning in his seat to watch Zeb. He offers a wan, bracing smile and a bow of his head, before turning back to face forward.
Sveta is still and stony-faced throughout Summer's delivery and Zebastian's liberal interpretation of Crawley's question. She does focus on the latter as he speaks, but if his words leave any impression on her, it's lost to the aether.
Emily Cade appears unspeakably moved by Sebastian's quotation. Indeed, it is as they say. Platinum, platinum, platinum!
Chanel's pursed-lips thoughtfulness briefly becomes parted-lips astonishment as Zebastian's words continue -- and then continue to continue. The real moment of when she goes mask-off 'what even is this praxis, what is going ON with these vampires' comes when she starts hearing Future lyrics delivered in a Scandinavian accent.
Alejandro nods at the appropriate times as Zebastian speaks. It's a little forced, as the Tremere Whip is not rich with an abundance of social grace. But he is earnestly attempting to be polite.
"Given the Hollywood Anarchs no longer have an emissary here," the Nosferatu speaks in the wake of Zeb's words, "I have been told that Baron Abrams has moved into the Sunset Strip, including Sunset Plaza, the Norma Triangle, and the rest of West Hollywood." He lets those stark words settle in silence. The last of the Announcements being completed, the Seneschal moves on with the agenda, "We can now move onto Appointments." Crawley looks to Summer and does a retreat to let the Prince speak.
Avery's brow furrows a touch as Violet leans over to whisper something. She considers the other Tremere a moment before whispering something in return, falling silent then to simply watch and listen.
They've all moved on, and Zebastian is not such an absolute raving lunatic that he would interrupt further -- though the kid's head, it does incline just a smidge after Crawley speaks; a hand coming up to trace the edges of his jaw... Eyes drifting, focus scattering out across the middle distance of the auditorium, then that fetching and absolutely massive pipe organ that dominates the rear of the stage. No concern, no anxiety -- but not much of nothin' on that face, except tapping fingertips.
Summer fixes Zebastien with an encouraging stare as he starts to speak, meeting his stammers and signs of nervousness with nothing but patience. She doesn't need to blink, doesn't need breathe, so he will find her to be the world's most attentive statue. At the end, she smiles -- a sad, small smile to be sure -- and says, "I am sure the Baroness would be glad to hear you remain so steadfast after her passing. Thank you for sharing those words with us, Emissary Oygard." Summer's hazel eyes flit over toward Crawley when he adds that footnote about Abrams and the territory in question, her response being a delicate *press* of her lips as they form a hollow sort of smile. Rather than comment, she moves along with the agenda.
"There are quite a few appointments to mention," Summer says, forcing herself to stir out of the heavy mood afforded by her last announcement, "Firstly, a change in Clan Brujah. Quinn Gallo will now be taking the mantle of Primogen," she looks to where the Kindred sits on the dais, flashing her a smile, "...And Zane Grey will serve as her Whip and my Scourge." She turns her head, finding him in the audience, and likewise affords him a warm smile, "I thank them both for continuing to serve the praxis so capably."
"Next," she says, delicately straightening in her seat, "I am naming Luke of Clan Ventrue as my new Herald. He has proven himself to be a Kindred with peerless manners and an affable nature, and I look forward to working with him." She briefly pauses, one finger circling atop the armrest of her chair, "I *also* look forward to naming a Chancellor, just as soon as the Harpies settle on one." With this said, she glances over at Emily, cheekily arching a brow, and then turns to the front around once more.
"In the matters of Domain," the Prince continues, "I am affording the region of Glendale to Grafin Gretchen Von Eisen. Given its recent acquisition, it is a dangerous and difficult area to manage and I thank her for taking on this challenge."
"Lastly," Summer says, drawing a breath to fuel her words, "I have granted the domain of Bunker Hill to Keeper Harper Campbell. She has served this praxis for many years, dedicating her own personal resources toward our safety. For that, I thank her with this bestowment of territory."
Alejandro applauds at the appropriate times and for the strictly polite durations during Summer's speech. His etiquette is, at least, on point.
Gretchen herself only gives a slight nod to Summer when she speaks. Her face still politely blank, a reception of orders, then back to stillness.
Quinn remains silent and still within her chair upon the dais, letting her gaze shift from person to person as they are named in Summer's speech.
While he might not see it all the way across the auditorium, after Zeb's speech, Shelly does shoot a sympathetic smile his way and a thumbs up as well. As for Summer's appointments, the Malkavian shoots another probably unseen wink to the Brujah on stage. And nods as well at the announcement of the new Herald and smaller nods for Domain announcements.
Emily Cade regards Summer with a charmingly acquiescent smile when her Prince and bestie glances in her direction as to the notion of Chancellor. No doubt the Harpies will be right on that! She then seems quite fascinated by the revelation of Keeper Campbell finally receiving her adored Bunker Hill after all these years and months...and as to Glendale. Well. Emily tries to look happy for Gretchen. But it would certainly require a gun to her head to get the Toreador Harpy to relocate to that side of the river!
Once more, Zebastian's speech doesn't stir much in the Ventrue Primogen. Maybe he just doesn?t feel like that, or maybe whatever he does is always perfectly hidden behind that mask of neutrality. His normal, vibrant smile suggests it probably is a mask. Grayson then turns his attention to summer. The change to the Brujah gets them both a glance at a slight raising of his brow. The rest though, doesn?t seem to draw anything else, either being aware of it, or not finding it all that interesting. Impossible to say.
Oliver follows along with the list of appointments, a smile given towards the other Ventrue as he hears that Luke was named to that of Herald, and then settles back with his eyes also trailling over towards the Bruah section. Dahlia has connected.
Elizabeth Tanner remains ever silent in her empty row, a few rows back from Meri and the rest of Clan Toreador. Her gaze hones in on Zebastian and remains there through the extend of the Malkavian Anarch's words, then toward Summer for her reply and appointments. Her smile starts to return and it is first directed toward Quinn as her title is announced, then Luke as his appointment to Herald follows.
Sveta Serova lets the news wash over her. She doesn't look much cleaner for it.
Zoya remains where she's seated. Her head tilts up at a name she recognizes. But it's hardly news. She shifts herself, tapping her nails across the arm of her seat. Barely able to keep herself to even just a low level of disengaged.
There's a look of confusion on Violet's features during some of Zebastian's words. Was he rapping a moment ago? She leans towards Avery, then nods in acknowledgment to whatever was whispered back to her, turning to face forward once more and listen to the Prince when she begins to speak. She remains still in her seat, just listening.
Schultz listens silently, though he arches a brow at the news of the Hollywood expansion. He brushes some imaginary lint from a pantleg and then stills again. He's almost like a respectable Ventrue.
Crawley rises from his lower seat as the Prince finishes her appointments and naming of the new domain.
There is a moment of stillness and then words, "Next, we shall move on to Rewards." A bow to the Rose, "Your Highness.." With practiced decorum, the soon-to-be-replaced Herald passes the baton.
"I award Clan Ventrue my first two favors," Summer says, allowing her smile to finally ease into something more relaxed, "For their ongoing loyalty to the praxis and for a considerable amount of resources devoted to both downtown and Glendale's security. I would also like to personally thank Primogen Mitchell for overseeing these matters," she looks at the blank-faced Kindred in question, "And as Primogen, it is within his discretion to decide how to spend the resources I have afforded him." She peers at the Kindred in question, gaze hovering, and then dips her head toward him.
The Prince then turns her face away with a smile, seeming to look for someone else in the audience. The search ends with Schultz, whom she likewise dips her head toward, saying, "And for my last sign of favor, I would also like thank Mister Schultz of Clan Ventrue for diverting his personal resources from Century City to our securement of Glendale. Given the unexpected suddenness of the situation, we were forced to turn to him without much notice, and he eagerly answered our call. "Thank you, Mister Schultz."
Further polite applause from the Sherrif, with nodes to each recipient of the Prince's gratitude.
The Ventrue fledglings and Neonates in attendance seem to be somewhat surprised by the Prince's generosity to their Clan, after they've largely been boned the previous couple months. However, having one of their own named to Herald, another awarded Glendale, and all three boons from the Prince herself seems to provoke a round of...polite smiles, clapped hands and sensible chuckles. Indeed, more than one Ventrue fledglings eyes are pulled away from their FOREX or Crypto app in pride at their clanmate's acknowledgement.
In light of the awards, Quinn actually pulls her hands from her jacket pockets to give a mild applause, her expression still fairly somber. Her gaze continues to watch the crowd as she does so, listening to the proceedings.
It's not a large number, but Shelly still breaks out her fingers to tally out the favors to the Blue Bloods, nudges Zane in the ribs and holds up those three fingers. Three!
From up there in lonely Anarch island, Zebastian's attention is stirred away from the glorious pipe organ just long enough to ... probably pick up on what's going on? Maybe? There is a flicker of attention towards the Ventrue - or at least their Fledgelings fidgeting with their phones - though the kid withholds the instinct to check his own socials, by simply smoothing his hands over his sleeves and fidgeting with his cuffs instead. A thread pulled on, but not broken.
Crawley waits until the Prince has concluded with her bestowments and then slithers back out to the center of the stage. Once there, the shrewish goblin says, "And, now, for our Introductions." He looks next to Quinn and says, "Primogen Gallo, I believe you have some new Brujah?" A nod is given to her as he steps back, again retreating, and letting her call the new Rabble forth to the stage.
Alejandro profers a bow to the Prince and nods to each of the Primogen, excusing himself quietly, similarly called back to the Chantry to tend something that his personal attention requires.
Elizabeth's smile is directed next to Grayson in the Ventrue Primogen's chair as Clan Ventrue is awarded favor and she mirrors Quinn's gesture while offering her own light applause. The smile and gesture are aimed in Schultz's general direction after before the Toreador quiets as business moves on to introductions.
Slowly rising from her chair, Quinn nods to Crawley before looking out and gesturing to both Solomon and Zoya to come forward, "Sokolov, Korolyova..." she calls out to them in a strong voice. Their surnames sound a little awkward spoken with her non-accented tongue, the Brujah Primogen clearly lacking anything close to an accent. As she waits for the two Brujah to come forward, she turns to look towards the rest of the Court, "Tonight, the Tower is fortunate to gain two newly arrived members to Clan Brujah all the way from Russia. They are the first of what promises to be others. They're bound by our Traditions and will uphold them and are willing to lend aid where needed. I present Mr. Solomon Sokolov and Ms. Zoyo Korolyova..." she pauses before turning to look towards the new Brujah, "You guys have the floor. Introduce yourselves." She adds before sitting back down.
The tall stranger in the cowgirl hat -- it's still Chanel, she hasn't been replaced by an understudy -- lifts her brows at the news of Russian Brujah being welcomed into the DTLA praxis. Suddenly, Chanel is watching with a much more attentive gaze.
Solomon, who had been waiting patiently it seems while only quietly whispering with his compatriots, rises to his feet and adjusts his collar. His collar of that aforementioned very, very, very red white and blue American flag suit. He nods to Dahlia and Zoya and once they rise with him he makes his way to stand in the open before the Praxis. "Greetings." He begins in his thickly accented English. "Thank you for having us, Your Excellency. I am Solomon Sokolov and this is my associate, Zoya Korolyova, and my ghoul, Dahlia Petrov." Solomon speaks, gesturing to Zoya and Dahlia each in turn. "We have come from Moscow to ask to join your glorious American Praxis of Los Angeles. Your city is beautiful and vibrant, and we hope to make a home here. With your permission."
Zoya peels herself from chair. It seems like a force of will to get her to stand. But she does, tossing herself onto her feet. For a moment, she stands there, looking around. Clearly trying to read the room- and finding that simply standing was nowhere near enough. So, to the stage she goes. Though she doesn't seem much more interested in being up there than she was in her seat. She stands, trim and pale and silent. Waiting for whatever this was to end.
When Solomon finishes, Zoya looks at him. A shrug lifts her shoulders. "Is... Yes?" she points toward the man in the flag suit with an open palm. Apparently, she agreed.
Avery's brow arches as she continues to listen, held tilting slightly at the introduction - more Russians? Her gaze moves to Solomon and then Zoya, taking in each in a curious, but studious, manner.
A hint of mild concern flashes over Whip Serova's face. She listens silently.
Grayson seems a little surprised by the awards, or one of them anyway. Maybe he?s feigning it for the crowd. Both brows fly up, and he looks at Summer, not unappreciatively though. In fact, for the first time in a while, his big, warm smile appears in court and he bows his head to the Prince deeply. As much at the mention of his Clan as himself, maybe more so. He even turns to glance at the section of Ventrue, and nods to them. Lastly, his eyes land on Elizabeth, and for some reason, like her Toreador counterpart earlier, he winks at the woman. He then falls silent to let the Brujah have the floor..
Emily Cade seems to be studying Sveta's mildly concerned features...for whatever reason. Something of a feline smile just barely finding her pale pink lips. Aha! The Malkavian has competition for shady Russians spooking around!
Gretchen, in the end, shifts only a little bit. A movement of eyes mostly, from the Prince, to Serova.
Already standing, and dressed in that 50s swing dress of red, white and blue, Dahlia follows Solomon as they're introduced. She'll bow her head to Summer, but otherwise, she remains very silent. Her eyes remain lowered, although it's pretty obvious she's glancing askance at everyone around her, it's hard being the center of attention in a room like this.
Summer turns her attention toward the Russians, her posture gently straightening. She smiles at them, warm and welcoming, while waiting them to rise and approach the dais. Once they have positioned themselves thus, the Prince acknowledges them with a dip of her head, saying, "Welcome Mister Sokolov, Miss Korolyova. What a long journey you must have had to reach this praxis." She takes a moment to simply study the pair, first looking with quiet amusement at Solomon's garish yet patriotic suit and then turning to examine the lovely Zoya. When Dahlia is also referenced, she cranes her head to the side, smiling Shelly just has a single mouthed word for that one-of-a-kind suit the latest Los Angeles Brujah is wearing. And apparently that word is W.O.W.
Zebastian's attention flicks away from whatever twilight-zone he was staring off into as that focus drifts beyond Elizabeth and those gathered in the auditorium, over to where Solomon and Zoya stand with Dahlia -- studying the three of them --- and that suit --- with a slightly distracted and no doubt hazy expression of ditzy thembo consideration, before the Westsider looks briefly to the dias -- looking past Sveta, to Crawley and Summer in turn. Listening. What a polite and most importantly silent Anarch he is.
"My Sire, Oleg Petrenko, is dead. His plane crashed on his way to Los Angeles. He had small interest here. A few business interests that were used for import and export and other small, meager things." Solomon explains with broad, sweeping gestures of his hands. He is far more animated than his companions from the look of him. "He was very important man in Moscow. Several childer are fighting over his holdings. I am a simple man with simple dreams. For many years I have dreamed of coming to America. Disco. Cocaine. Rollerskates. It is truly a wonderland of possibility. So I am coming here with my people. Instead of fighting over a patch of ice and snow and probably dying for it. I am not as ambitious as my siblings."
More talking? Zoya's head tilts toward her shoulder. Watching Solomon talk more than she listens. When he finishes, she takes a beat. "Why does anyone come here? Going to work on tan," she speaks with an extremely thick accent. Like she just learned English on the ride over. Her hand rolls through the air for a moment, vamping for time. Taking a moment to find words. "It is... Go with him. Moscow sucks." That last bit said with more confidence and mastery than any other words she'd otherwise managed.
Dahlia is practicing how to be a statue. No movement from her whatsoever. Breathing? Not really, she's holding her breath. She watches those on the dias, well, more specifically, she stares at their feet, that's safe, right? Feet can be pretty, well, at least, her shoes are.
Serova looks unamused now, more than concerned. Her fingers drum along her bicep as she listens to Oleg and Zoya, but if she has any concerns, she fails to voice them.
"I see..." Summer says, her smile fading at the mention of a plane crash. She stares at Solomon for a long moment, merely considering the Russian with her delicate head-tilt, and then says, "You have my condolences. Was he planning to settle in Los Angeles as well, then? And what sort of import and exports? You chose the right city for that, what with the ports nearby." The mention of disco, cocaine, rollerskates, are met with a small hah of amusement and she follows up by saying, "Combine all three vices and you have the making of a /great/ time, I'm sure." Her posture is relaxed but attentive all the while. She looks to Zoya next, the mention of a suntan met with a delicate *wink* before looking back to Solomon, since he seems to be the spokesman.
Crawley watches as the Russian bratva approach and introduce themselves. The Nosferatu has settled back into his lower seat, hands folded on his lap, a hideously twisted mask of dispassion. The mention of disco, skating, and drugs draws a faint smile from the Sewer Rat. He says to the Brujah, "I fear that you may be a little late for the heyday of those habits and hobbies, Mister Sokolov." A pause as the small smile fades back to a placid expression, "But I think you will find that the LA Kine have replaced them with entirely new and interesting pursuits for you to discover." The Nosferatu glances over at Sveta Serova for a moment, then back at the pack of Russians. He clearly seems just a bit curious, but seems to have held the majority of it in check. For now at least.
Schultz resumes his neutral expression after offering a warm smile and an appreciative nod to Summer for her graces. He had, after that smile faded, glanced toward Grayson to observe his reaction, but that was all the reaction from the Ventrie of Century City.
Quinn is seated again within her chair, letting the two Brujah speak as those eyes of hers sweeps from one to the other, and then even onward to the Ghoul. She does nothing to interject, content to let them say anything they want with absolute freedom -- the Prince asking her questions at leisure. Her gaze does deviate momentarily to find that of Zane, Coop, Beth, and Shelly out in the audience, giving them the faintest dip of her head before eventually looking back to the presented Brujah.
"He was not settling here. He had business here. Import and Export of weapons and... unfortunate mortals was half of it. That... I am handing off to the local mortal Bratva. I do not wish to connect my businesses back to Russia, and there is too much risk and conflict with the living authorities. I will be building on his smaller interests. Gambling, prostitution, and protection will be our focus. Turning a profit and using the connections in the underworld to benefit us all. We Russians are famous for our Communism, yes? But I will take some for myself. A little taste." Solomon grins as he says it, heavily implying that his taste will be quite large. Unabashedly. He gestures widely with his arms. "I have been told that disco is dead. It is a shame, but that which is dead? Perhaps it will not stay dead. As long as American children dream of apple pie and freedom, there is hope for disco too."
Gretchen does stiffen a little, her eyes moving back to Summer as the intro happens. Silent as her hands move to the busby in her lap.
"There's a disco chicken at the Moroccan. I've //seen// it," Shelly loudly whispers towards her seatmates. Disco may be mostly dead... but perhaps it also still has a tiny slice of unlife still left in the city?
Zoya answers with an eye roll of epic scale. It starts with a deliberate sigh, eyes off to the cat's eye corner of her eyeliner. Then it turns, up, until only the whites are visible. Resting at the peak for a moment before it comes down on the other side with such force it might throw off her balance.
Over there, in the cheap seats? Zebastian listens to introductions like a good quiet not-screaming Malkavian ... and his expression? Neutral, totally -- his eyes may flicker over Solomon's suit and his ears may take in the guy's introduction, but the kid does not respond beyond that - just watches with hazy and idle attention. No pot shots from the peanut gallery. Just a slow smoothing of his fingers over the cuff of his sleeve, and a tugging at that loose black thread.
Chanel is still attentively observing these introductions. Her arms remain folded under her breasts, though with the long fringes on her suede jacket, it's not like what she does with her arms makes much of a difference.
The statue that is Dahlia is still present, although she takes a large breath and just closes her eyes for a moment before opening them again and looking down at the ground.
Given her attention being faced front and center, Summer is ignorant of any concerned looks from the Malkavian Whip. She does, however, have a vague look of disquiet at the mention of human trafficking -- her nose wrinkling in absent distaste -- but given the fact that Solomon does not seem to be engaging in such himself, there is no actual commentary on it. Instead, she says, "Mmm. I am sure the 'taste' will be flavored like apple pie -- or almost as sweet." She looks over at the other Primogen then, perhaps only then noting the Malkavian's fretful stare, which makes her briefly pause. Then, it's back to Solomon and Zoya. "The Brujah in this city have been remarkably capable," she finally says, a smile returning to her mouth, "True pillars of the the Tower. I am glad to have more of your ilk here, especially if you are willing to pitch in as much as they have. Welcome to Los Angeles Mister Sokolov, Miss Korolyova. And also--" Summer tilts her head, finding his ghoul, "Miss Dahlia. I look forward to getting to know you three better." She nods her head, indicating that they may take their seats when ready. As they do, she casts another sidelong look at Sveta.
Solomon raises his fist in the air and gives it a little pump. "Alright. We are going to be number one American kindred. A-O-K. Thank you, Your Excellency." His enthusiasm is almost comical... in fact, given his suit, it might even be comical. With a flourish the man makes his way back over to the seats he, Zoya, and Dahlia previously occupied and prepares to plant himself back in for the remainder of Court.
As the formal Introduction wraps up, the Nosferatu rises from his chair and says, "There are no petitions coming before the Court tonight." Another pause as he steps forward, blue eyes scanning the auditorium as if searching for something or someone. There is then this long period of silence. "Are there any other Kindred among us tonight who are unknown who wish to step forth .. of their free will and make themselves known to this Court?" Crawley pipes up as the Seneschal is very careful to not invoke the mandatory nature of the Fifth Tradition that causes so many LA Kindred to chafe.
The speed with which Zoya returns to her seat, and buries her nose in her phone? It's almost supernatural. But only almost.
Dahlia finally moves, giving Summer another bow, she's trying her best, it's painfully clear. Turning, she quickly follows, without any flourish at all. She's a robot, following as fast as she can.
Quinn actually smirks at the fist pump and glances back towards both the Seneschal and Prince, shaking her head slowly. She's said her peace for the night.
As those introductions go on and the back and forth between the Prince and the Russians, Grayson's expression is stilled again to neutrality. A brow lifts slightly as certain parts of their business, but once more, his expression barely flickers from the set neutrality. Though once they are done, his eyes linger on the three of them for longer than necessary, as if in study, or for some other purpose that is only known to him. Finally, he turns to Crawley as the man speaks again, eyes searching those gathered.
The tall stranger in the fashion-conscious cowboy hat pushes off of her spot on the wall when the call goes out for anyone who would like to put themselves out in front of the Court. It looks like Chanel has pulled the crosshairs right over herself! The woman walks up toward the stage, removing her hat as she does so and revealing straight platinum-blonde hair. She doesn't actually /take/ the stage -- she hasn't been granted permission. "If it pleases Her Excellency Prince Hastings and the Officers of this Court, I'd like to buy a minute of everyone's time -- I promise I won't waste it." She smiles, a big, broad grin, revealing fangs that are already deployed. "Name's Chanel Duvall -- of Clan Assamite."
Several nearby fledglings and Neonates seem to express a certain lack of perfect happiness at having been unknowingly sharing the same immediate space with an Assamite assassin. But. Assamites are kind've like spiders in that it's rarely the ones you see that you must be worried about. So there's that.
As Dahlia slips behind Solomon again to retake her place, she'll glance around briefly and then slip a small flask from a hidden pocket and 'sneakily' take a quick sip before putting it back in her pocket. Now she looks like she feels better.
"Welcome, Chanel Duvall of Clan Assamite," Crawley intones as his gaze turns to take in the tall woman, "You are welcome among us. Speak your peace." There is a sense of formality about this.
Slowly turning those pale eyes of hers on the approaching stranger, Quinn leans forward a little with interest. Sparing a sidelong gaze towards the direction of the Seneschal and Prince, she again lets her attentions fall back upon that of the recently revealed Assamite in silence.
Summer looks over with interest as Chanel announces herself, her attention ensnared just as much by that fashion-conscious cowboy hat as the Kindred herself. What Toreador doesn't like a flashy entrance? She patiently waits for the Assamite to approach and settle, then fixes her with a wide and welcoming smile. She does not seem at all perturbed by the notion of her clan, but then again, they are all tucked away in the safety of Elysium and not finding themselves suddenly *alone* with the assassin. "Greetings, Miss Duvall. And welcome to Los Angeles." She briefly looks the muscled woman over, affording her as much interest as she did the star-spangled Brujah before her. "What brings you to Los Angeles?" she asks, staring with the standard line, "And where do you come from?"
Sveta watches the pair of overeager expatriates settle back in with dour indifference having taken the lead on her visage. Despite the many side-glances that came her way, there didn't seem to be any recognition between the kindred who allegedly share a city of origin with the Malkavian Whip. Weird. In other news, Serova's curiosity has dragged itself to the walking weapon that's positioned herself for a court introduction. Notably, she seems less perturbed than the former introduction's initial response.
Elizabeth's attention is immediately drawn toward Chanel as she proceeds forward and curiosity is quite visible on her face as the new arrival's clan is announced. Her lips part in an open-mouthed smile before she peers toward Summer for her acceptance.
Avery's gaze follows the band of Brujah as they return to their seat, then immediately moves to Chanel - taking in the Assamite just as studiously as she did the Russians.
Oliver briefly finds himself wondering if they make that jacket in a men's tall, though realizing that such is not fitting in the Ventrue look, he then goes back to listening to the introductions and proceedings as they continue.
"Much appreciated," Chanel says toward Crawley, keeping her grin in place. For someone who represents herself as being from a clan of hardcore murderers, she seems awfully easy-going. Then again, it's very easy to be easy-going when one knows that the commandment of 'thou shalt not kill' turns out to be more of a /suggestion/.
Chanel's dark eyes then turn to Summer. She answers the first question first: "Business, Your Excellency. If you know my clan at all, you know what that business is -- and that while I have the /utmost/ respect for you and your position, it's not /everyone's/ business." Her grin brightens just a bit, as if to say -- 'but you know I'm not talking about YOU, Summer, right? I'm talking about the REST of the riff-raff' -- and then she continues: "As for where I come from: Bed-Stuy, originally. My sire goes by Suliman Abdurakhmanov -- splits his time between Boston and Grozny, so I spent a lot of time in both of those places. As well as wherever work took me."
"Speaking /of/ that work, though -- I'm gonna be in town a while. That business I mentioned? It's long-term." Chanel is speaking to the whole room, even though her eyes are just on Summer. "I found a little spot for myself out in the Simi Hills, up a little ways north of Chatsworth -- not territory claimed by any particular faction, far as I can tell, so now that little spot's claimed by me. I trust it won't be an issue."
Grayson?s reaction to an Assamite is almost non-existent to though, he does pay close attention to the introduction, and gives her a long study. Never hurts to know what one of them looks like. His gaze ping pongs for a second between the Prince and her. But as she gives her little speech, eyes settle quite directly on the Assamite. Lips thin ever so slightly, and a brow lifts in an expression that is not particularly impressed. It?s more of an ?excuse me??.
Some time after, the German Tremere returns to Court, Lydon Vogel stepping in with his hands in his pockets. Otherwise, he's quiet.
Shelly head tilts one way and then the other as she considers the latest Assamite to introduce herself to the court. And after assessment? She just offers a shrug.
There is more quiet conversation with Beth and Coop before Zane looks to the dais and those up there. Gauging the reactions of all that's been said he turns and looks to Shelly, leaning over to speak softly with her, one brow lofting a bit. Seated quietly in those far away seats and listening, Vy reaches into her slim little clutch, extracting her phone for a quick check. Brow furrowing at whatever awaits her, she slides the phone back into the bag, then rises, slipping out as quietly as she can.
The Prince squints, no doubt calculating where that location is on the broad grid of Los Angeles. Eventually, her expression relaxes and she *flits* her pale hand in a careless motion, saying, "North of Chatsworth? No. That shouldn't pose an issue. And of course -- I wouldn't expect you to reveal the...hrm...details of your business in the city." She gently leans to the side, her lovely face tilting against one fist. "I appreciate you taking the time to introduce yourself to me and the Court -- something you needn't have done." A delicate tap on the armrest of her chair. "No doubt doing so will garner the delicate interest of at least a few Kindred tonight." She glances briefly to the auditorium, perhaps looking to see who amongst them are keen to make use of the muscled assassin. Then, back to the Assamite, saying, "In any case, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Duvall. You are welcome to enjoy our city." She dips her head, then looks to Crawley.
Chanel doesn't quite bow, but she does give a deeper-than-a-nod Nod to Summer. And again, she's looking at Summer but speaking to Everyone: "Sometimes it takes many hands to hold a blade, Your Excellency. Members of the Los Angeles Camarilla who're inclined to help a new Kindred in town get the lay of the land? Well. There are much worse things to have in your back pocket than a grateful Assamite, as the old saying goes." There is no such old saying. Chanel is lying and she made that saying up. She is also way too big and muscly to fit in the back pocket of anything except the most /outrageous/ JNCOs. With a nod toward the Primogens and Primogen Substitutes, she then turns and returns to her spot -- putting her hat back on as she does.
Aside from the clicking of his shoes, Lydon Vogel quietly makes his approach to reclaim a seat near the rest of the Tremere, peering thoughtfully at Chanel, as she seems to be making her Introduction.
As Chanel finishes up Crawley glances to the Prince and nods to her, then looks around the auditorium and the assembled Kindred, "There is no more. I now formally call this Court session to close." His voice takes on a sincere but formal air, "Go now in peace and walk safely in the night during these most dangerous of times." the Nosferatu finishes and then raises one of his hands. The lights go on in the chamber slowly as the ceremony of Court is finished allowing everyone to depart.
