2022-07-16 The First Rule of Debate Club
The First Rule of Debate Club
Participants: Alexis, Avery, Beatrix, Calla, Cheree, Clara, Dante, Edith, Esther, Jack Scar, Khadijah, Lukas, Lunette, Olivia, Pris, and Zebastian
Location: VIP Area - Walt Disney Concert Hall - DTLA
Date and Time: July 16, 2022
Summary: A Ventrue parlor game from New York City is introduced to the Kindred of Los Angeles.
Mood Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ERaKq5A9t5E
VIP Area - Walt Disney Concert Hall - DTLA
This upstairs VIP area represents a suite of rooms, seating areas and offices that are reserved for the LAMC's most elite patrons. All are discreetly accessible from a single opulent, circular corridor.
The most accessible room is a large and richly appointed box seating area has been set up here, with a wide window offering a view of the auditorium below. Speakers pipe in sound from the concert and louder noises from the seats, able to be turned on or off with the flick of a switch. The flooring is dark wood laid in a herringbone pattern across the floor with rugs here and there to muffle footsteps in high traffic areas. Two rows of large, comfortable reclining seats are aimed at the auditorium for luxurious viewing. Each seat is also outfitted with a small touchpad that one can order refreshments or summon assistance through.
Calming, placid, tranquil music -- the kind of music suited to a New Age spa session or go-at-your-own-pace Montessori yoga. That's what's playing in the VIP box of the Walt Disney Concert Hall. It's all about atmosphere. About making sure everyone stays nice and chill.
Things have been rearranged in the VIP box, but only slightly -- small tables, big enough for parties of two to four and useful basically only for holding up ashtrays and giving chairs something to ring around; these tables have been scootched around to offer a space at the 'head of the class,' so to speak, where two (un)lucky Kindred are able to put forth viewpoints that they may or may not actually believe.
Off to the side is Cheree Crowley, greeting people as they enter, wearing a tight-fitted turtleneck sweater covered in tilted Balenciaga logos and Ass Appearance +1 modifying houndstooth slacks. As people file in, she seems rather pleased with herself, though there's the slight tension that comes from not knowing whether or not some heated debate is going to trigger anything more, uh, troublesome to deal with.
Debate club.
Name a more iconic Olivia Carmichael place to be.
No, I'm serious. It's probably super easy to name a more iconic place for Olivia Carmichael to be. What is, actually, an iconic place, it turns out, is where she currently is located. Which is, dear reader, perched atop Lunette Faucher's lap, cozied in and murmuring any number of sweet little nothings into the Toreador's ear. She is dressed as what she is, which is exceedingly expensive arm candy. A shimmery gold dress -- sequin, it turns out. And the sort of sequin that flips when you push up on it. And there are most assuredly Lunette-faucher-sized finger trails up her tummy towards her chest that turn that gold sequin dress into something that is a rich, ruby, blood red.
"Are you going to debate?" she coos to the Rose she's currently cuddled atop of. "You should go out there and say that we should've dropped a third nuke on Japan, or something."
Perhaps Alexis almost felt fully obligated to join in this competition; she does debate for a living, after all. But it is also possibly a pleasant night out, away from the office for a minute. She is dressed as she often is, in businesswear, though there is a bit more jewelry in evidence tonight than usual, and the cut of the suit suggests it might be from the more expensive part of her closet. She'll move over to Cheree to exchange little air kisses as they usually do, then take a seat somewhere nearby as the games are beginning to be arranged. Her hands will be folded in her lap; she is being unusually demure--and yet also deeply severe, just in the way the lights of the room seem to try and avoid her. Olivia and Lunette receive polite nods, but she isn't talking much yet--that is coming soon.
Lukas arrives wearing a white t and jeans, covered in dried blood splatters. He isnt armed, but whistles as he takes a seat. Is that the kill bill song?
"Ohhhh no. Not here. Not tonight.. I'll just be quiet and listen.. Maybe murmur my thought to you, Mm?" Lunette asks Liv as she relaxes there in the seat they share. She's strumming one hand slowly up and down the front of Liv's dress, up and over tummy and chest and back down, petting her the way one might a cat.
Shes wearing a simple black dress, nothing that extraordinary compared to Liv, and her hair is down, slightly wavy in its natural state. Lu's occasionally nuzzling her nose into the back of Liv's head, breathing the ghoul in while she waits for the debate to get started.
"So you -do- think we should've dropped a third bomb on Japan?" Olivia asks while Lunette noses the back of her head. "Noted, noted..."
Avery makes her way in at a casual pace, dressed in a white summery dress with a colorful floral print. It's been a rare sight of late to see this particular Tremere in Elysium, but she's here tonight. After all, who doesn't want to listen to a debate?! A smile is flashed Cheree's way, and a hand lifts as a few fingers are waved in greeting. "Good evening, Keeper Crowley. Tonight should be quite... interesting... shouldn't it?" her smile grows a touch and she continues further in a moment later, gaze drifting around the room to find the most prime spot to settle and watch what's to come.
Beatrix arrives wearing a little black dress. It's not that little, given her height, but it's in that genre. She seems pleased to be here, though she may be thinking better of it between when she hears what Olivia says (which is much less pretty than Olivia-in-general) and the sight of Lukas. After a pause, she asks him, "Did you catch that in theaters?" as she goes to take an appropriate seat, hands folding in her lap.
Where's Zebastian? Over there by the window overlooking the auditorium below, dressed in various shades of luxe black and looking o' so dreamy - o so dreamy - the dreamiest, really. Guess that Malkavian is really vibing with the music best suited for a New Age spa session at the self-directed Montessori yoga class.
Wait-- what? Zebastian's head tips-- turning to look out and over towards Olivia and Lunette -- surely pleasantries were extended earlier during an arrival, but something has piqued their interest and--- oh it's probably the glittery shimmer of that Ghoul's dress. What could they possibly know about nuclear conflicts? They're not even American.
Gold glimmer is mirrored in the gleam of those nail-shaped bracelets, as Zebastian lifts a hand - fingers wiggled towards Alexis, that dreamy smile persisting across their features. "...Hallo..." The casual chime is echoed, first to Avery - a touch shy - before the Harpy gives Lukas a finger-wiggled greeting too. for good measure. No alarms - just resounding tranquil. Was that a crystal gong?
Zebastian glides towards--- where are they supposed to be going? Whatever; the Malkavian just drifts through the tastefully arranged table areas, like a breeze through ripening wheat. So Elysian.
Never mind that the Malkavian is neglecting Edith. It's all so -chill-.
What the hell. It's Saturday night, things are moving slow in Los Angeles. Khadijah shows up to this shindig, not even planning to debate. And then she inexplicably gets sucked in. ...Just when she thought she was out, they pull her back in!-
She's in Armani tonight. A gift from a friend. ([1]), a draped, Milano stitch midi dress in black with a plunging, yet modest neckline and 3/4 sleeves. As she enters, she waves to everybody then finds a quiet seat to try and mentally prepare for this impending bloodbath.
Avery's expression brightens at seeing Zeb, and she echoes the greeting that carries in her direction. "Hello, Harpy ?ygard," is offered his way in return, and then she more directly moves towards an available seat, settling into it while scanning those mingling and still arriving, a friendly smile offered to all she has familiarity with.
Olivia is happily peering around. She looks a little bit like... oh, I don't know. A barracuda, or something, who has her little nose pressed up against the fish bowl across from another fish bowl where a bunch of minnows are about to rip each other into little fishy bits. You get it. There's a wiggle of her butt on top of Lunette's lap, and she leans backwards enough to splash her back up against the kindred's front while grasping at either side of the armrests the two are sharing. Zebastian's gliding about, Lukas is covered in blood, Alexis is politel nodding, and even -Edith- is here. "Oh my God," she says softly back to Lunette. This is going to be a blood bath. "I am, like, -actually- excited for this. We should make it a drinking game--err, oh... right."
Beat.
Olivia, for better or for worse, seems entirely oblivious to the fact that her Words Have Consequences. Keep in mind, dear reader, that she was not even born in the same century that the twin atomic bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki respectively. She wasn't even alive for nine eleven.
"Is that Armani?" she wonders over her shoulder to Lunette, about Khadijah.
Yeah yeah, whatever. Edith's being neglected by her domitor. She doesn't seem to care, though (though she probably deeply cares) as she follows behind them, her face impassive and her hands folded in front of her lap. As usual, her spine is spirit-level straight and her gait is confident.
Tonight, the ghoul's wearing an outfit that could best be described as elegantly secretarial -- white silk blouse, black wool skirt, and black velvet court shoes. Her make-up -- always minimal -- is especially light, and her hair is... still glassy smooth, but not quite as straight as usual. There's the lightest bend of a wave to the dark lengths.
Faint shadows under Edith's eye have been almost entirely covered by skillfully applied concealer.
Finding somewhere to sit, Edith lowers herself onto the seat with a brush of one hand pushing her skirt smoothly beneath her thighs. She sits with legs off to one side, pressed together, with her hands folded on her lap.
Olivia and Lunette get a little wave and smile. Lukas? A slow, bland blink-blink at his bloodied attire. Then Edith's watching Zebastian, quietly attentive of their presence. Her hands link in her lap again.
Lukas sits quietly and watches and listens
"The wonderful thing about a night like tonight, Ms. Thornton, is that it gives people a real opportunity to show off." Cheree bounces her eyebrows once and flashes that too-perfect grin.
"Thank you all for coming tonight," Cheree purrs. "Tonight might give my poor old friend Ms. Grace flashbacks to the Ventrue Salons of New York City, where true legends like Prince Hellene Panhard -- and, well, my own personal Sire, our Herald Bastian Fox -- honed their skills in /respectful/ debate of the issues of the day. Of course, there's always a trick to it. I've a list of topics from which I'll be choosing at random, and your positions will be equally so. After all, this is to flex your ability to articulate position /without/ having the advantage of preparation, et cetera, et cetera..." Cheree claps her hands together to end her own nattering.
"So! Let's make things exciting for the first bout. The first topic is... the Harpies. Zaint Zebastian, you will be arguing the position that the Harpies are a necessary piece of a functional Praxis's social order. And, mmm, Deputy Khalid, /you/ will be arguing that the Harpies are an outdated method, prone to the toxicity inherent in all gossip."
A face that has not been seen in quite some time arrives from the world outside. Clad entirely in black: black shirt, black trousers, black leather trench-coat, black mirror-shaded sunglasses, Dante ascends the stairs. A solemn full nod is given to Avery, and a half-nod given to Cheree then Khadijah. It appears his time away has not made him any more of a social creature, choosing to distance and place himself far from whatever congregated groups of individuals there are.
Zebastian's absence of attention towards Edith is awash with the gentle confidence of someone who--- oh fuck it, they're probably just stoned, right? Definitely Malkavian - and oh so distracted by something in the angle of that table over there and--- wait, what?
There's a finger-wiggle back to Avery, and Zebastian looks midway through a prelude to the beginning of a wordy greeting, when there is further distraction: it comes as Keeper Crowley invokes their name, and they look over to Cheree like: what? Oh! Oh... They were totally listening to the preamble, totally, for sure.
Turning, Zebastian shares a dreamy smile with Khadijah -- hand lifted to tuck a lock of that ludicrously long hair behind an ear, "...Deputy, please--" A gesture to--- is there a podium or-- where are they supposed too-- no matter! A gesture of invitation is given to Khadijah regardless, as the Malkavian chimes; "--beauty before all things, you take the lead, by all means..."
Smiling, smiling so dreamily as they drift to, to, to the spot Zebastian's are supposed to drift to - are directed towards? - to stand, and enter The Debate.
"Well this should be interesting." Alexis murmurs to no one in particular as she watches the proceedings begin. "I remember when they made us debate on the merits of the facade of democratic rule in the city versus simply keeping the political class in check, regardless of party." That's to Cheree. "When we were merely fledglings and anything we said was ultimately going to be wrong, one way or another." There's a sort of fond smile from Alexis there, as she references memories of Ventrue School.
"We can debate things on our way home," Lu murmurs to Olivia as she rests in that seat, leaning back in the comfortable padding as she lazily glances about. She catches sight of Edith and sends her a little smile, and then she's back to looking.. looking.. Khadijah.
"You know I'm awful at knowing designers.." said the Rose. Who probably owns nothing designer. She quiets down and gets snuggles into Liv again, eyes drifting closed as she listens.
Catching her clanmate's arrival, Avery shoots Dante a smile, and it's a faintly amused one at that. Then her attention flits to Cheree, listening as the Keeper describes the first topic up for debate, and the duo who will be tackling it. Green eyes drift to Zeb and Khadijah in turn then, interest piquing at how the two will present their stance on the Harpies.
"We should debate ghoul rights," Olivia murmurs to Lunette, slinking back against the kindred's lap. "Talk about whether or not ghouls get a vampire-vote. Or, like, if we're allowed to pick what clothes we wear. Or if..." and now Olivia's voice is dropping into a low murmur. But you can all rest assured, based on her expression, that whatever she's whispering into Lunette's ear is, like.
It's like, really inappropriate, guys.
Pris walks in a bit after Dante, wearing a black velvet Dior dress. She looks a bit guiltily to the hostess and offers a soft nod, before she quietly makes her way to a an inobtrusive spot to watch the debate that is starting, which inevitably leads her to stand next Dante. Eyes on the podium, she murmurs to Dante, "Good evening, Mr. Bishop." As if it hasn't been like.. months? Since she's seen him.
Beatrix settles into her seat. Zebastian is up first. This, Beatrix may be thinking, could be a bit of a clan embarrassment.
She isn't actually thinking that (it's hard to REALLY embarrass Malkavians-as-a-bloc after all), but it's something adjacent. She nonetheless gives Zebastian her best encouraging smile, as well was waggling her fingers to Alexis in passing.
Lukas remains quiet. Watching and relaxing.
There's a nod given to Pris -- a greeting which doubles as an agreement to whatever she murmured to him. In truth, Dante's not the most sociable person -- not even when he's been gone for an extended period of time. Attention is spared to her, and whereas a normal person -- even a normal kindred -- might try to spark up a conversation, he just looks at her. Pris' reflection within both lenses of his sunglases, and not a word spoken otherwise.
"I remember when that one boy... what was his name... Donato, or something Italian... remember him? He suggested to Hellene Panhard how she might have approached a topic, without being bade to do so by his Sire -- or anyone, really -- God, do you remember the look she gave him? I think he spent the next two months hiding." Cheree stops reminiscing with Alexis so that she can quiet down and watch the verbal bloodsport.
Edith smiles back at Lunette, and then sends another wave Olivia's way. It's a bit more wave-wavy, more vigorous. Her lips are lightly pursed but in a good-natured kind of way. Notice her, Carmichael!
Zebastian has just drifted to that indicated spot where Debate Clubbers are supposed to stand; their fingers combing through the ends of that ludicrously long hair of theirs as they look out away from the main social fray and all the various chatter and appropriate bon mots.
A distracted moment is given to study the gleam of window overlooking the Auditorium -- and then with a ditzy blink, Zebastian turns to give as much of that fractured focus as they can muster in the moment, and share with Khadijah as she readies to take the lead on her portion of this debate and kick things off.
It's all so chillaxed.
Khadijah quietly stands and reaches out to shake Zebastian's hand if he's up for that before she begins. "Having been a harpy, and enjoyed all the gossiping that comes along with it, I found this topic hard to defend. However, Islam is very important to me, and I'm trying to be a better Muslim. So the plain and simple reason why harpying and gossiping is wrong is because it is Haram."
"The worst of all sins are those that are greatest in harm and danger to humanity. Backbiting and slandering, or gossiping are quite negative and destructive. These are forbidden by Allah because they sow enmity, evil and discord among people and lead to destruction."
"Gossip and rumors erode trust. They alienate friends, ruin reputations, and even lead to ostracizing behavior and other forms of relational aggression. Have you ever been gossiped about? It can be very painful. And before people start saying 'But you gossip, Khadijah!' -- Well, I am not perfect. Not by a long shot. But I recognise the evil of gossip and I'm trying to do better."
A debate? As a social event on a Saturday night? "What, you couldn't just go to temple?" At least, that was Esther's line when she learned about it. But still, here she is. All pink and blond and only a few minutes late. Oversized bag hanging on her elbow. Picking her way down the stairs, fingers giving a wiggling wave toward Cheree as she tries to stay quiet.
Cheree's brows lift at Khadijah playing the haram card, the same way that one might lift their brows at a fighter throwing an unexpected kidney punch. She does, however, offer discreet waves and upnods at those who enter late.
Calla quietly slips into the debate while adorned in her dark patchwork dress. She moves with the quiet grace of a hidden clan ballarina. She turns to the debate, seeming curious. She gives Edith a wave and dips into a curtsy that is directed to Cheree.
Avery's attention is focused on Zeb and Khadijah now as things kick off, and the Tremere leans back in her seat, hands loosely clasped in her lap. What she hears causes her brow to furrow, more thoughtfully than anything else, and she looks then to Zeb as she waits to hear his side.
Olivia watches Khadijah's position with a curious tip of her head to the side. It almost borders on... incredulous, really. Like she can't quite reconcile the words the woman is speaking and that must be some sort of preconceived notion. Oh well. It's just ghoul stuff. Olivia claps politely when Khadijah is finished, indicating that she is hoping to do better -- about gossip! A polite little clap clap clap of her hand against her palm. M'yes, quite.
Olivia leans back into Lunette and turns her eyes over to Zebastian, giving a thrummy little purr in her throat at something the kindred says to her. There's no way it's acceptable for debate club.
Jack Scar slinks in. He's nearly silent on his bare feet and it seems like this time he might actually hope not to be noticed rather than simply being shoeless. He steps sideways out of the doorway and looks around from out of the way.
Edith is also raising her eyebrows a little, lips still pursed as she tilts her head aside a fraction to listen to Khadijah's argument as to the pernicious impacts of gossip. She sends a distracted nod and smile-wave over to Cheree, and then to Calla, but then it's back to watching and waiting for Zebastian's counter to the Ventrue's position.
Beatrix crosses one leg over the other as Khadijah speaks from a position of faith. Islam, it seems, is the light, even if you cannot look to the Sun. Beatrix frowns in thought, leaning back in her chair.
Pris gives Dante a quiet glance, a smile showing in her reflection in his shades. She turns back to listen to Khadijah, and when the other Ventrue finishes, she says something quietly to the Warlock, while clapping and offering Khadijah a gentle smile.
Lu mms low in her throat as she listens to Khadijah, and she, too, claps politely when the woman has finished her turn. Lu nuzzles into Olivia again, grunts a soft sound at whatever is whispered, and then she's hugging Liv a touch tighter while settling in once more.
Khadijah can't help but laugh a little at Cheree's judgemental look. She steps over and stage whispers, "I was a harpy- it's hard to have a negative outlook coming from where I was! Like, self incriminating!" She sighs, then steps back out of the spotlight to give Zebastian his turn. Jack Scar makes his was in and Khadijah offers him a discrete little finger wave in greeting.
Jack Scar grins at Khadijah from his place near the entrance. He gives her a wink.
Lukas continues to listen.
Clara makes her arrival wearing something rather interesting, although a few Kindred in attendance have seen her in this particular get-up before. The tall Nosferatu is clad in an outfit that was clearly inspired by the movie; The Fifth Element. Straps of white leather keep her decent. Barely. Meanwhile, the revealing outfit allows those gathered to see her 'floating ribs' in residence outside the desiccated flesh of her body. With small silver bells attached to the tips, which jingle merrily as she moves. On her feet, there are a pair of white stilettos.
Click-click-cling her way into the room, Whip Cadaver glides towards Calla and offers the Ghoul a warm smile. "Well, hell there darling. How are you this evening?"
Once the actual debating begins, Alexis becomes a bit more serious (somehow) in her demeanor as she focuses on the efforts of the debate. Later arrivals are acknowledged, Clara receives a nod and a bit of direct eye contact, before she returns her attention to whatever Zebastian may muster as his rebuttal.
A 'look' is given to Pris after he's whispered to. Then again, Dante is constantly tossing out looks and is very stingy with the words -- as is the case tonight. There's nothing said in response, because he seems to hate doing that thing where his lips move and sound comes out. Arms cross over arm, and the figure, clad entirely in black, seems content to stand next to Pris in complete silence; passing out looks and attention to whomever speaks.
Calla lifts her gaze to Clara, seemingly flattered at the hidden clan whip draws near her. She even dips into one of her graceful cursities. "Greetings Whip Cadaver, I am very good. Jut got here myself." She says softly.
Zebastian's head tips, as they listen to Khadijah --- the finger-combing through the ends of their hair slowing, but not quite ceasing. Listening, the Malkavian -is- listening, right? Sure; there's even a rather curious - bemused - amused? Contemplative quirk to that dreamy smile, as they ... presumably ... take all of Deputy Khalid's argument in.
When she finishes? There's a glance out to the crowd -- Cheree? Yes -- taking in the emotional temperature perhaps, then turning back to consider Khadijah for a moment. Just a gentle study of her -- brief furrow to that brow, considering that deep-v neckline of her designer dress for one, two, three beats -- then back to the crowd.
"...While there are many things Deputy Khalid and myself - all of us? Could take opposing positions on, I will admit she raises a fair point on the matter of imperfection and best efforts to smooth over past error -- in any civilised society, there will always be conflict - but there will be a social flow, too. If we imagine our niche of the night like a body of water? There's no denying the chaotic shift of social tides, creating currents which threaten to sweep even the most surefooted off their feet --- this can be a curse sure, but a blessing too...."
At least Zebastian has a melodic voice, eh? Seeing as they certain can chatter up a storm; hands gesturing abstractly as they chime on to those gathered;
"The role of a Harpy is like that of a sluice - a lock - a levee which protects our Praxis from overwhelming surges of uncertain torrents and nasty little runoffs from poisoned wells alike, from overwhelming the tranquil waters we all must wade within... The Harpies clear away trash - wipes reputations clean - brings everything into glittering illumination..."
A swoop of their hand, and Zebastian chimes along with that easy-breezy dreaminess;
"...when we do not know but wish we did, who do we turn to? The Harpies. When we are concerned that niggling offences may transform into garish grudges, who addresses the hurt and supports resolution between parties? The Harpies. When it becomes time to account for our highs and lows, and tally the Boons owed for all endeavours, who ensures fair impartiality and good value? The Harpies -- because this is what their duty is about, isn't it? Setting the tone, for Praxis values as voice of the people - ensuring tolerance for what can be tolerated, and firm refusal for that which cannot -- to act otherwise, it would be so gauche - no?..."
Zebastian tips their head, their shoulder rolled in a shrug as a hand is flicked to the air -- and turning back to Khadijah, they share a dreamy smile.
Take a seat. Legs crossed. Pink gel pen in hand. Esther has pulled a book of crossword puzzles from her bag. The perfect accompaniment to an evening of spectating. She looks up when Zeb starts speaking. "Why can't he be that cogent all the time?" she mumbles under her breath, before she fills in the next word.
Khadijah watches that dreamy smile of Zeb's and returns her own. "Well said." She offers quietly then looks to Cherry to see if she can escape now.
Olivia quietly observes Zaint Zebastian's defense of the harpies with a fairly neutral, inscrutable expression. There's something uncharacteristically serious about her face as she listens, those pale blue eyes flicking over the Malkavian's features as they speak. Her lips thin and she leans backwards once again, this time electing to sling an arm behind Lunette's head to wiggle herself a little closer. It's also... well. Going to tug Lunette's face into the nape of her neck a little. But that's probably fine.
"Right? Sometimes it's even clearer," Beatrix remarks to Ether.
Here, Cheree steps forward. "Now, the rules of the game -- such as they are -- don't really call for rebutting back and forth until one position is completely outfoxed by the other. Instead, it's more about being able to think on your feet, display your mental agility, do a tap dance if you must -- but the 'winning' and 'losing' of it all is done entirely within the eyes and ears and minds and hearts of the beholder. By the way, Deputy Khalid, that was a bold move -- setting the bait for anyone who argues against you to risk making it seem like they're arguing against Islam. I mean, not that most of us hold any religious principles at all anymore, I imagine, but... it's still such a hot potato that I have to respect how underhanded a tactic it was~."
The Keeper of Elysium grins. "But let's spice things up a little now, mm? New topic, new participants. And the topic is... let's say... thin-bloods. Those poor unfortunate souls whose vitae is /so/ distant from the source that you could barely call them Kindred at all... the ones who /previous/ Anarch regimes saw fit to /fill/ Beverly Hills and the Westside with~."
Cheree scans the room. "Let's go with... ah. Ms. Alexis Grace, my friend. /You/ will be arguing the position that the thin-bloods represent a threat to our Masquerade and should be exterminated, or some such thing. And... Edith! /Your/ position will be that thin-bloods should be able to integrate themselves with Kindred society, on a meritocratic basis."
Jack Scar raises a brow at the topic, laughs softly, probably to himself. Then he finds a plush armchair behind most of the audience and perches on its back, sitting neat and upright with one ankle on the other knee.
Look at Edith here. She's clasped her hands together over her heart, almost prayerful, and she's smiling quite serenely -- albeit with a bit of a twinkle in her eyes. Obviously Zebastian won't notice a bit of it, but she's clearly so pleased that they came out with the killer rather than the filler on this occasion.
But then she's called up to argue that thinbloods should be able to-- oh my god, they should what now? The ghoul's eyes widen as she stands up from her seat, but she smiles with polished, faraway composure as she moves to the allocated spot where shes going to presumably get absolutely demolished by Alexis. She gives Cheree a polite little dip of the chin, and then the same to the ACTUAL LAWYER she's going up against.
Clara leans over and presses cold lips against Calla's forehead, before giving the top of her head an affectionate pat. "It is always a pleasure to see you, Calla darling. Oh. What a juicy topic," she says delightedly, as she turns her attention towards the debate.
"Brings everything into glittering illumination... indeed," Avery murmurs quietly as she listens to Zeb spin his stance on the Harpies. Her hands lift to offer gentle applause for both debaters at the conclusion. It's then her head turns a bit as she looks around the room, moments later zeroing in on the blonde that is Esther, and a small smile slowly forms as she watches for a brief moment, then her gaze goes back towards Cheree as the next topic is announced.
Calla nods in response to Clara's words. "Oh, very much so." She says softly in her direction. She rises a bit to her balls of her feet in curious excitement.
Pris gives Khadijah a quiet glance, and nods to the Ventrue for her excellent efforts. Edith is given a smile of encouragement, before she settles on Alexis with a quiet curiosity.
Zebastian gives Khadijah a little nose-crinkle of amused recognition, head tipped -- and another glance to her dress? It's so tasteful! A hand is batted in the Deputy's direction fondly, and then the Malkavian moves to drift out of the hot stand and-- oh, there's a chair there. No that way--- which?
Drifting, Zebastian shares a dreamy smile with Cheree -- hand briefly lifted to brush over their mouth, as they glance from her to Edith--- o' the amusement, laden in that quick study. Off the Harpy goes to stand by the auditorium window again - giving Alexis a little eyebrow raise, before attentions drift and--- oh is that Esther?! Finger wiggles of greeting give, before a hand musses at that hair and---
They're zoning out a little, alright?! Almost shy, or apologetic - embarrassed? Did they overhear Avery?! Look. Being vaguely coherent for more than three phantom heartbeats can be exhaustive - and the Norwegian Malkavian remains muted by the sidelines, just taking it all in.
Alexis listens through both arguments, weighing them as thoughtfully as she can while trying to piece together all of Zebastian's words--but she's accustomed to their style of conversation to some degree at this point. She lets that settle into the air, and then pauses. She goes more still than even is her usual as Cheree calls upon her, eyes hooding for just a moment before she rises. Her thoughts are collecting as she moves towards the front of the room, giving Edith a polite nod as she approaches the "stage" such as it is.
"The Siring of a Childe is a matter of great importance and great commitment within our society. It has always been so. And with each generation the blood becomes thinner, though the hunger does not wane. With that thinner blood, we are met with increasing challenges of simply trying to keep these youngest among us in check from breaking the Masquerade through clumsiness in their attempts at feeding and lack of ability to conceal their actions."
Alexis's shadow swerves around behind her until it is somewhat lurking behind Edith while the blonde lawyer speaks. "They have in turn very little to give back--we are quite well served by ghoul companions who are able to straddle the two worlds they must inhabit, while the thin-blooded struggle to exist in merely one, ours. Indeed, the curse becomes so weak at the latest point that it cannot even be passed on. This at least limits the ability to spread, rabbit-like, across the world, but while we of the Tower are concerned with the dignity of our position, there are other sects who are...less so, and in these rampant creations they place us all at risk."
Esther is quick to return the wave. Patting the open seat next to her to invite the androgynous Clan-mate to take it. Shifting, folding the cover back as she continues on with her puzzle. Listening on as she works.
Lunette still has her eyes closed as she listens to the debate as it continues. She grins a little against Liv's neck, then snuggles in more with her, giving a few pecks before resting her chin on the ghoul's shoulder. Her eyes give a lazy open, and she sighs faintly, looking perfectly content.
Zebastian's zone-out is diverted by Esther's gesture - considered with blank incomprehension before something clicks! and they drifts -- moving to sit alongside her, with enough decorum to not outright peer at the puzzle she's working on.
There's two beats of silence, stillness -- and then with a little tilt of their head, hand brushing hair out of their face? Zebastian dips, to share a quiet word with Esther. Damn it, Zebastian! Can't spend a single extended instance without neglecting the wider world?! There's a /debate/ -- focus...
And they do - after a second or two; looking back to Alexis and Edith with dreamy eyed-- what were they debating again or-- oh! Zebastian's fingers tap against their mouth, pale peepers pivoted to peer at Edith with unblinking dreamitude.
As Alexis and Edith are duly given their topics, Beatrix leans forwards slightly. (Zebastian gets a cheering smile as they come closer, which is, perhaps, a good sign on several levels.) Her eyes flick after the shift in Alexis's shadow when it comes, frowning in thought as she steeples her fingers before her lips.
With Alexis and Edith at the ready, Avery's focus rests on them, attentively watching and listening as Alexis starts things off. And then those green eyes shift to Edith, curious as to what the ghoul's counter will be.
Pris listens with interest, otherwise remaining quiet while awaiting Edith's response.
Khadijah makes a concerned face -- you know that look; when you can't remember if you left the iron on or not? She waves to Cheree, pointing at the exit - not wanting to interrupt the festivities -- then makes for the door, whispering her apologies and goodbyes.
Zebastian's head tips - dips - turns distractedly in Beatrix's direction -- eyebrows lifted for a moment as dreamy smile is shared, before they zoink out and--- debate, focus on the debate! Alexis' image is taken in for a short spell -- head bopped in the other direction - bemused? Contemplative - before the Malkavian turns to take in their Ghoul's rebuttal, fingers tapping at their mouth absentmindedly...
Leaning back a smidge - sharing a quiet word with Esther? Zebastian's focus has fractured out across the crowd, awash with idle social speculation or--- who knows what goes on in that broken mirror brain, and who the hell'd chance it to find out.
Jack Scar follow's Zebastian's gaze to Beatrix and for a moment she holds his attention. He tilts his head very slightly to one side as he considers her.
Standing in front of Alexis, Edith tightens her hands together and continues to smile. She doesn't look back at Zebastian for long; she doesn't have the nerve. Instead, a little breath in and out, then she begins: "Ms Grace makes the very valid point that the Thinblood population is ever rising, and the consequent threat they pose to the sanctity and security of the Masquerade. However, the threat they embody is the product of situational ingorance and a lack of guidance from their sires -- if said sires are even present."
"Were the Camarilla to open the door to Thinbloods," she continues, "it would also open the door to the opportunity to mentor these lost individuals, providing them with the education they need to uphold the vital practices and principles of the Masquerade."
Edith takes a pause here' another breath in and out: "This would also prevent them from falling into the hands of the Camarilla's enemies, who might employ them as valuable assets. In intercepting Thinbloods before they can fall into the wrong hands, it might possible to reduce the threat of Masquerade breaches, and it also keeps these assets from falling into the wrong hands."
"Also, many thinbloods were Embraced in relatively recent nights, and might possess skills and knowledge that make them a useful tool to elder Kindred. In a meritocratic system, the skilled few will rise to the top, and the rest will remain safely confined by the laws and codes of the Camarilla." A look to Alexis, then to Cheree. Rabbit in headlights.
Edith brushes hair behind her ears with both hands. She's actually blushing now; likely because she's put herself right in the corner of the ring. "Finally, it's possible that they possess powers that are unique to their generation. With study, it might be possible to harness these gifts, or at least shed some light on unknown horizons of Kinded evolution."
"Anyway, what I'm ultimately saying is that the boom of Thinblooded embraces is no reason to deny them membership, but a chance to show them a certain noblesse oblige -- especially if it makes them useful."
Dante remains in complete silence, as is his norm. Mirror-shaded sunglasses first reflect Alexis as she speaks, then Edith as she speaks. Whoever he sides with is kept close to the chest, as nary a sound is made in appreciation to either argument.
"Well spoken Ms. Lee-Prescott." Alexis says simply once Edith finishes her piece. She makes no statement of whether she agrees or disagrees with the sentiment expressed; it's a debate, she was given a position to argue, and she argued it. "It is after all a duel of words, where we are to stake our place, and defend it, even if it is a hill we might not prefer to die on." She will offer the ghoul a hand to shake, before moving away from the front of the room to allow the next debaters to have the floor, and resume her seat.
Lu glances over to Edith and sends a little smile her way after listening to the debate. She looks as though she agrees.
Cheree claps politely for both participants! "Now. Some of you might think -- 'But Keeper Crowley? Wasn't that a bit /unfair?/' After all, I chose my Clanmate and close friend of twenty years to argue the position that aligns with the beliefs of our Prince, and a ghoul from another Clan to argue something that might be considered borderline heretical, especially if a /Scourge/ was in the room." Cheree winks at Lukas.
"And if you're wondering such a thing, well... congratulations, you're starting to get how we Blue Bloods like to play games~."
"Though on the matter of Clans -- something that comes up every so often is the question of whether or not the Los Angeles Praxis should welcome a Primogen of Clan Gangrel. This would give the Outlanders a voice in our Praxis, but also take our Council from 8 seats to 9, and potentially even necessitate some gerrymandering of the map..."
Cheree scans the room. "Scourge Lukas Young, you shall argue that Los Angeles would benefit from the addition of a Gangrel Primogen. And... Deputy Beatrix Lee, your point will be that Los Angeles should keep Clan Gangrel /out/ of the Primogen Council."
Avery's lips purse thoughtfully as she considers Edith, affording the same attentiveness as she has the other debaters thus far. And as before, gentle applause is offered at the conclusion, but no commentary escapes her lips this time.
Edith shakes Alexis' hands and then makes a quick pace back to Zebastian, where she plunks herself down next to them. She's not quite sweating as she looks at the floor, but she's twisting her hands very, very tightly together. Her eyes are extremely wide. Whether or not she agreed with what she was arguing is beside the point; what she said was probably very, very dicey.
Pris regards Edith softly, a warm smile rising as the Malkavian ghoul goes through her arguments. Another warm look to Alexis as the Ventrue settles the duel with the offer of a handshake, and then... her ears perk up at the mention of the next topic. She looks to Lukas and a measuring expression is fixed quietly upon the Brujah.
Zebastian's head tips -- glancing towards Esther, then something on-- are they looking at that puzzle page?! Well, chances are the Malkavian can barely read -- it takes a moment, but the Malkavian clicks their tongue and murrs some hushed word to the horror-flick starlet.
It comes with a bat of their hand though, hitting air near Esther's shoulder because touching is gauche -- Zebastian turns, paying mind to Edith as the Ghoul puts her best argument forward and... Huh. Zebastian's expression of dreamy bemusement persists for a moment -- eyes pinging from the Ghoul to Alexis, taking it all in before they turn and speak sotto voce to Esther;
"...She's always been one for the qualitative over quantitate -- it's charming, no? To have someone who can give perspective on the potential value of something, without worrying about the actual cost -- //so// Beverly Hills..."
Is Zebastian teasing? Yes, in some way--- and oh look, Edith has arrived! She gets a dreamy haze of a smile - so incredibly relaxed to the max -- and as Cheree's words filter through Malkavian sync'd time bend, the Harpy turns and looks towards Lukas and Beatrix -- giving the Deputy a bright moonbeam smile, before turning to Esther again.
"...There's like... One Gangrel? Saint Jubilant-Trousseaux? But she's just visiting from New York or Chicago or St Louis or who knows? //Imagine// -- unless there's more? Where are they all--- they must have the loneliest..." One two three half beats of ditzy word-searching, and Zebastian's nose scrunches. "...Do they even party? Have you ever been to one?..."
Zebastian: shhhhh.
Beatrix is called to the table. She raises herself upwards with an exhalation, looking towards Cheree with an expression behind her Zenni-special glasses which says: You chose your hardest battle for your strongest soldier, huh?
After this Beatrix makes her way up. She doesn't really race, but that's because she's probably trying to think. Coming up there, Beatrix takes a deep breath, lets it out, and takes *another* deep breath, before saying, "So: Be it resolved that there should not be a Gangrel Primogen in the Praxis of Los Angeles."
Beatrix looks around, smiling faintly. Her eyes unfocus for a moment, then refocus.
"This is not due to any failing of Clan Gangrel," Beatrix continues. "Their way of life as a family group is idiosyncratic in some ways, yes, but the same could be said of our own; who among us in our bloodlines could say that we don't have shared habits, even if all of us have marvelous diversity in the details? They reside in places that suit them and their Disciplines; is it different to do so through arts of Protean instead of Domination?"
"No," Beatrix says. "Nor, to my own knowledge, have the Gangrel shown any exceptional traits of negative nature. They have not ruled cruelly, they have not given themselves over to the Sword, they have not betrayed the Camarilla... no, none of these are true."
"The reason that there should not be a Gangrel Primogen," Beatrix continues, "is the same reason that there should not be a Malkavian Primogen, nor a Nosferatu Primogen, nor indeed a Tremere, a Toreador, and so on. Because to be first among equals, to hold Primogeniture, is to serve as one of the most able and puissant Kindred in Los Angeles - correct?" Beatrix says, gesturing around. "And if we should have, let us say, two Nosferatu of great wisdom and power, should the Praxis only have one of them granting their strength? Or if there are two Tremere, both wielding their terrible (in the Biblical sense)! magicks? No, no," Beatrix says, shaking her head.
"Adding a Primogen, solely for Clan Gangrel, makes the same error; it simply puts another layer of cement and bricks on the big garden folly. Let the strongest rise in the eyes of the Prince, and we'll all be better off; until then, let us keep things lean, and strive to treat our more rurally-oriented cousins in the spirit of the Kindred."
Esther returns to her puzzle. The next word quickly snatched, written across the cheap, muddy gray paper. Peppered with the bright pink of her solves. She glances up again, enough to show she's listening.
Maybe Edith heard what Zebastian just said about her to Esther. She turns to them (Zebastian) with a look that straight up fires daggers of betrayal, hurt and disappointment right at their eyes. It likely took her everything she had to get up there and debate in the first place, let alone to be confronted by a question like /that/ -- because look at her. She's got the aura of someone ready to walk out.
But not yet. Edith shifts on her chair, folding her hands neatly on her lap as she distractedly watches the next two quibblers at the table.
Pris is given a nod. Dante then maneuvers out of the Elysium proper, without saying anything to anyone else; he vacates the premises without ever saying a single word.
Clara's cloudy white gaze follows Dante as he leaves Elysium, before she turns her attention back towards the debate.
Pris glances quietly to Zebastian, stifling something, her demeanour self-selecting to good-natured. Which is beneficial, because, as she follows Beatrix's BIRT, it is a roller-coaster of small emotions. Starting with soft engagement, as the Malkavian talks about the diversity of bloodlines and Gangrel integrity, then vague curiosity as Beatrix mentions that there should /not/ be any Primogen, to soft quiet as Beatrix lands on that, firmly, in her conclusion. Her lips are still slightly parted when Dante departs --- she gives him a distracted, but warm, smile, before settling her attention back to the podium
Avery nods slowly a time or two to what Beatrix says, not so much as in agreement with her words but more an acknowledgement that they were heard. A brief glance in given in the direction of Esther, which includes Edith and Zebastian, then shifts to Lukas, the Tremere's expression turning curious to hear what the newest Scourge has to say about the current topic.
Lukas claps his hands in sarcastic applause and stands. He begins talking before even reaching the speaking point. "A show of hands, who absolutly loves those animals?" He raises his hand in show. Coming to a stop he continues. "Tradition.... Tradition states that each clan can vote for a representative. Sure the Prince could choose one or none at all, but how does that make the Prince look...? Not only does he lose respect of the clan, but he also loses another tool, a source of information, a powerful ally. We each have our strengths. Clan Gangrel has one of the greatest. One that most would love to have."
"I could go on for some time about all the reasons... But to close my brief arguement, I have met many. Each and every one has blown my mind..." A pause with a grin in thought. "Besides, they make the best back scratchers..." He now moves to sit.
Zebastian passes a side-long glance towards Esther's puzzle -- sneaky-sneak! Though if there's any brilliant acts of enigmatic realisation--- no. Maybe the pink ink just tickled a fancy. No matter--- they turn and look out towards---
Oh. Is their ghoul shooting figurative arrows their way? It's not that Zebastian blanks Edith - they don't, no, nothing like that --- it's just that the Malkavian tilts their head in her direction, and soaks up that look like a glacial fjord taking in a hurled pebble: barely a ripple on the surface, just a flicker of cool pale blues and a pale crescent smile waxing across their lips as they study her.
"...---- ---- -----, ---- - ------ ---- ---- - -------..."
What was that? May as well be melodic babble from a frost rimed springwell -- ///besides///, Beatrix is voicing her position -- and Zebastian has turned to take in what she has to share, their hand lifted and fingers tapping against their lips -- wouldn't want to spoil the debate with that terrible penchant for babble now, would they. Who's up next?! Pale peepers pivot to try and take in what Lukas says, blissfully without comment.
...Just a pause, before those fingers lift a little -- just wiggling. Hard one for a raise, but hey: absolute love is hard to come by, eh?
Edith distractedly applauds for Beatrix and Lukas, though let's be honest: she's so self-absorbed right now that she missed a lot of it. Highlights for the ghoul seem to include Beatrix's glasses, and Lukas' general thing: though the former is met with a bit of perplexity rather than any disagreement. Back scratchers?
Edith peeks over at Esther's puzzle as her breathing returns to a nice, even pace. She uses the opportunity to lean closer to Zebastian to murmur some carefully spoken words.
Avery's head tilts a bit to one side as she listens to Lukas, lips pursing yet again as she considers his side of the debate. Then gentle applause for him and Beatrix, as she's done for each pair to take the hotseat so far.
Cheree applauds both Lukas and Beatrix. "Who /doesn't/ love animals, indeed," Cheree purrs. "Though I /do/ wish that more Outlanders would show a little more... /variety/ in their feral forms, mmm? Everyone wants to be a /bat/ or a /mountain lion/ or /whatever/..."
Cheree's gray-blue eyes scan the crowd again. "Let's move on to a little bit of lighter fare. Kine. We all know at least one of them. Some of us, why, we even /befriend/ the poor dears. One thing that /cannot/ be disputed is that /we/ are the apex predator in their food chain... and /most/ of us still at least /kind of/ remember what it was like to /be/ one."
Cheree grins, and rests her hands on her hips. "So. What do with all these kine, mm? Ms. Esther Rosewaffer, here's a different kind of brain teaser than your puzzle... you shall argue that Kindred interests must always come first, and kine interests not at all -- they are here for OUR feeding and convenience. And, ah, Ms. Priscilla Albret, my dear Clanmate -- you shall take the position that Kindred should be good shepherds toward kine, nurture them, support them, live in harmony with them, all that stuff."
There's just a cough of laughter from Alexis, and it's not really clear at what exactly, she controls it swiftly as she looks over at Cheree, then over towards their next contestants.
When she's called on, Esther stands. Her book closes. Pen hooked into its card-paper cover. The whole affair tucked back into her oversized, faux-leather purse. Hoisted back onto her elbow before she makes her way toward the aisle, and down toward the front of the room.
"Against Pris? Jeez. Cut a girl a break, Cheche," Esther says as she passes by. Swatting toward Cheree, a grin on her lips. "Sorry I took so long," in a teasing tone.
"Fair enough," Beatrix remarks to Lukas on her way back towards her seat. She lingers as Esther is called to the paint. "Knock 'em alive," she tells Esther, pushing her glasses up her nose as she resumes her previous seat, looking benignly upon Zeb and Edith as she settles back down.
"I hope the sudoku was worth it," Cheree says back to Esther, her tone airy and light, obviously joking.
Zebastian settles back in that chair easily, as Esther moves to take her stand -- considering Pris for a moment, and then back to Cheree once she's set the tone for the next debate. Does this mean that they neglect Edith, as she poises herself neatly by the Malkavian and leans in for a word?
Of course not! The Malkavian's head inclines a fraction; hair flicked back with an idle swoop of their hand as they listen to the Ghoul -- and with a dreamy smile, there's a soft hush of a reply; "...It's as they say, no? Check the tides before you walk out too far..."
Gently expressed, to not pull focus from the main show on the debate floor -- though Zebastian's attentions drift, glancing towards Lukas and Beatrix -- flashing their clan-cousin a moonbeam of a smile, nose crinkled. Finger wiggled, gentle amusement all effervescent on their features. "...What shape do you think it'll be built? The garden folly, I mean -- grottos are so played out, but obelisks are just obviously laughable -- do you think it'll be an arch? Can't go wrong, with an arch -- or a clocktower; keep things ticking..."
Shh, shhh Zebastian.
Rearing away from Zebastian just a little, Edith gives them one last look. It's not exactly glacial as much as it's a touch stony. Possibly a bit pissed; possibly a bit hurt. Standing from her seat, she pushes her skirt down smooth, looms over her domitor, then presses a kiss to her fingertips. Said fingertips are then rather stiffly pressed to the Malkavian's forehead -- or at least they would if they actually touched skin. Instead, they hover an inch or two away from actual contact.
For a second it looks like Edith might jab her fingers right into her domitor's head, but she doesn't.
EThe ghoul just stares down at Zebastian with a laser-focused gaze, and then she's off to another part of the room, turning and walking away to get some distance between herself and the Malkavian. She doesn't want to be around them now, maybe.
Pris moves toward the stage, giving Esther a soft smile for the comment to Cheree, inclining her head to the other Kindred, and getting started. "Stewardship is a topic of great importance to me, and I hope I will represent it well. Also, having this opinion, I am interested to hear my opponents arguments, as I think she got a very difficult side on this one."
"What are Kine, beyond a source of sustainment?"
"Mortal humans long ago mastered the art of domestication. Modern cows, sheep, and chickens are stunning in their uniformity, their mute dependibility, their utter dullness. The ability for a stalk of wheat to grow is as boring as it is simple. There is a reason Kindred are not farmers."
"Give me the pulse of a heart, pounding from the thrill of a sultry dance."
"Give me the preamble of a decent conversation, before I am sated."
Give me a garden of pretty flowers to choose from, give me the thrill of the hunt.
"I will not be sated with a stalk of wheat."
She pauses, then adds, "There are, of course many other reasons to treat mortals as a special kind of resource. They are our source of childer; they have proven themselves capable of great ingenuity in science and art, they remain our muses, our sources of entertainment. If we don't nurture them, creativity, mortal spirit and all, we stand to spend the rest of our nights in a very bleak, and unpleasant surroundings."
"Sudoku?" Esther sounds genuinely insulted. The idea of a sudoku? Blasphemy. She shakes her head, fingers up. Pushing back a few stray, extremely blond strands. She takes a moment, gathering her thoughts. Forming an argument with a few flutters of her lashes.
"Um. I don't need to convince you that what matters to kine doesn't matter, because you all already believe it," her tone is surprisingly relaxed. The thoughts seemingly fully formed already. "Kine aren't Prince. They don't get a vote. They don't even get to know where the meeting is. If their interests were important, they'd be somewhere in the mix, right?"
A pause, a beat, as Esther looks around the room for an objection that the format disallows. "Saying the kine have interests the Camarilla should hear is saying they need to have a voice here. Or at least listen to it. And that's breaking...." Esther pauses, running a bit of math in the air, "At least one or two Traditions, right?"
"The opposition would mean that, basically like the entire structure of the Cam would need to torn down. And who would want that?"
It ends with a little huff, "Sudoku."
Alexis is listening to the debate, watching as Pris and Esther speak. She seems genuinely interested in the discussion, even as she shows no particular reaction to either side--partly training, and probably partly lack of firm opinion in a direction as far as that goes. However, one other event draws her attention--she moves to gently try and intercept Edith as the ghoul is moving to leave. "I think I have one more performance to make, if you would linger for it?" She inquires. "But I would make no impositions upon you, as I am not your domitor."
Pris listens to Esther and offers her a warm nod at the end, her eyes smiling, offering a hand, before she vacates the stage, and wanders over, vaguely to take a seat next to Lukas.
Avery's gaze drifts evenly between Esther and Pris as they take their turns, listening thoughtfully to what each as to say, and then offering another small round of gentle applause for their efforts.
Once more, Cheree applauds. "A very interestingly twinned set of arguments -- and again, I have to respect the willingness of both parties to set one another up as mincemeat for the Harpies in order to gain ground in a fight." Cheree doesn't seem to be joking.
"Let's do one last one just to end the night on a positive note, mm? Ms. Grace, my darling friend, I call upon you to once more put on a clinic: you shall be arguing that words are the most effective tool of them all, in any possible situation -- and, don't think I didn't see you there -- Calla, you, the graceful dancer, the ghoul of the king of skulduggery, you shall argue that action will always defeat words."
Jack Scar chuckles softly, almost sleepily.
Esther is happen to take the hand before she exits. Smile big. It's all a performance. At least for an actress. "That was actually kinda fun. Oo," before she heads back toward her seat, and Zeb. Only to find, well. One few person to crawl past.
Edith stops when Alexis intercepts her, then smiles in an absent-minded, preoccupied fashion. It's still a pleasantly attentive smile, but she's elsewhere right now. She turns just in time to hear Calla's name announced -- at which point Edith applauds gently for both Ventrue and fellow ghoul.
Edith also applauds in Esther's direction, a polite pit-pat and smile given, but she doesn't look at Zebastian now that she's fucked off away from them. That'd be awkward. Back to Alexis, smile smile.
Zebastian doesn't stir as Edith starts-- fidgeting, or whatever she's doing; though for all the attention that's focused on the debate floor, there is the smallest of concessions for the Ghoul's gestures -- the Malkavian's head tips, offering a greater expanse of possibility for Edith, when that fingertip-smooch is stiffly pressed in the general vicinity but not actual material embodiment of their forehead.
How indulgent!
No look as Edith takes her leave to go brood elsewhere in the room - she can look at them and their curious expression as Zebastian takes in Pris argument; a flicker of a twist broadening that dreamy smile of theirs. How contemplative - droll? Present! It's parried by a subtle furrow of amusement to that brow, when Esther steps up to share her angle on the argument -- oh, such words!
Silence from Zebastian though -- just a tilt of their head once the two split, and Esther heads back over. Eyebrows? Up! Air? Droll! There is a silent movement of their mouth, as they echo without speaking: 'believe?'. The tongue click is audible--- but the world turns, and with it the Malkavian's attention-- over to Alexis and Calla and--- wait.
What's going on? Zebastian looks lost.
Pris says something quietly to the Scourge, offering a soft smile, while the match sets up between Alexis and Calla.
Lukas nods and says, "Ill mention it." He stands and offers. "Have a good night everyone..." He offers a wink to Pris and then heads out.
"Well, for those here that know me, and for those who don't--I am a lawyer. Words are my weapon. My only weapon. I have never raised a hand in anger as an adult, and certainly not in my life as a Kindred." Alexis states, once she has moved to the stage area again, speaking as she walks up. "And yet, with those words, I can have persons detained, have property seized, have bsuinesses closed. With the strokes of--at this point, given it is the modern world--a pen. I can also, with said words, receive enough money to employ security measures such that simple action becomes impractical without making a breach of the Masquerade were other Kindred to attempt it. At the end of each day, our words and our actions fall into a ledger--and the ledger wins on the side of words."
Calla was daydreaming more than she probably should be and she suddenly looks up. "Oh, wait me...Oh, sure, I can go first of course, either way." She says to Alexis and drops into a curtsy. She then goes silent for a moment, but maybe is just thinking up her words.
Calla sucks in a soft breath. "People rarely say what they really think and feel. It is the actions that pair with the words that bring true meaning. One looks for the every so subtle eye roll that joins a compliment and knows that words are not true. Some words are true of course, but is the actions paired with where the real truth lies. It is the warmth in a smile and not the good morning that makes a greeting sincere. People say one thing and do another so very often. It is important to never listen just to words, but instead watch the actions. Results matter more than intent. Results matter more than words. The words that really matter are only the words of real action. Anyone can give empty promises, they support the latest thing, write up a social media post about how good they are and what they are going to support. It is those that bleed for what they love who who truly love, not those who just say it."
"And there you have it, folks," Cheree purrs. "Both are fine points, finely spoken -- and, yes, again, it was unfair of me to ask Calla to use /words/ to defend the superiority of /actions/, but... that's the game for you. I never promised it was fair." Still, Cheree gives Calla a bright grin. "This was a lot of fun -- I do hope we can all enjoy more of it sometime. Thank you all for coming -- and be safe out there in the night~."
