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The blind haunt perked up her ears and listened just barely catching the sound of the recless driver and she though the might be coming closer. She turned to the others and especially to Mick before speaking.
"Well, that's either party crashers to be concerned about or a late arrival. Lets give it a few moments, unless someone wanted to go take a look? I'd offer but, well, you know..."
"I will." Mick assented, and got up, stepping out to observe the van and the driver. Immediately, his Beast snarled forward as he caught sight of the man, finding something it could consider inferior for once. Mick squelched it, and walked up to him cautiously. "Here for the meeting?"
Scott glanced at the guy who appeared at his side window. He didn't feel any of that instinctive need to flee, but then, that happened sometimes. He didn't seem like one of the Kindred, but how many other pale dudes would be at night time meetings in a sleazy place like this? Scott didn't want to find out, but he had to take the chance.
"Yeah, that's me," he said, locking up the van behind him, and shrugging on a charcoal grey sport coat. "Where's it all at, upstairs?"
Mick nodded quietly. "Just follow me." And quite easily remembering the path back to the room, he promptly and smoothly led Scott back inside. "Let's hope this is our last to swing by. I'm Mick Mason, this is Brenn, Anton Flores, and Hierophant Dirge. Welcome to the clan meeting."
Scott nodded first to the blindfolded woman first, she sounded important. "Lady Hierophant." Then he acknowledged the others. "A Pleasure. Name's Scott. I'm, uh, kind of new. And not in the 'just moved to Sacramento' sense. So that's why I showed up so late, sorry for interrupting and all."
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Anton Flores leans back in his seat, devouring the last arrival with glassy eyes.
"Take a seat, Scott. Let us continue."
He sounds a mite impatient, and the inflection he puts on 'Scott' suggests that he isn't particularly comfortable with first names.
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Amelita Cardoso|Striking Looks •• (Curvez)|Presence ••• (Miss Thang)|
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"Well," Brenn said, leaning forward as though she was about to deliver dire news. "The first order of business should be choosing our Priscus. That way we have a center point to spread from, a sense of leadership, or at worst an intermediary to guide the flow of our discussions. I'm not familiar with the usual customs involved in this but I find myself agreeing with our, normally existent, Carthian kin in this case. Perhaps we'll hold a vote and those wanting the position could present their cases."
Sidor arrived late and eyed the hookers in the parking lot. The Beast in him snarled and grumbled, hungry and restless. He considered the area. His Haven was nearly as light secure as he'd like, but he'd been distracted by finishing off patching up small, ground level windows along one wall. He cursed his folly- he would ensure he did penance for his inattention. His cousins in the Reqiuem were important. Otets had taught him that.
He entered, his shadowed face seeming to be scribbled with strange, disjointed shapes. His voice, smoothly if lightly accented and pleasant, was a stark contrast to the shadowed suggestion of a gaping maw.
"Good evening, and my apologies. I hope I am not too late."
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"Hierophant or Dirge is fine. I'm not Invictus afterall so Lady isn't needed," Dirge smiled faintly in polite amusement.
She turned to everyone ready to continue where she had left off only to be interupted by another new arrival. She avoided expressing the sigh she felt like giving, and instead turned to the man.
"We were just getting ready to begin after the influx of new arrivals. I'm Hierophant Dirge of the Circle of the Crone." the blind haunt raised her hand and pointed directly at each member present as she listed them. Coming from a blind woman it my come across as a bit odd or disturbing.
"That is Mr Anton Flores, Miss Brenn Lawrence, Mr Mick Mason, a Mr Scott...I'm sorry he is a new arrival and didn't provide us with a last name. I hope you all will forgive me for speaking up for you all, I only wished to speed things along we have many topics to discuss including naming a Priscus, discussing the formation of a necropolis, and I have a special request to present as well. What would your name be sir?"
Hasty woman, Sidor thought. Not smart enough to play polite, too impatient to play the charade that they weren't all hiding frothingly insane monsters inside them. His roared down at the others in the room, proud and strong, bellowing its challenge and strength. He cocked his head.
"My name," He said, letting his accent seep a little so that his voice slowed. "Is Sidor Rurikovitch Grigoriev. I am not quite so new to the city that I recognise no Nosferatu here. I know who you are, Heirophant." He had seen her duel. Crone. He kept himself in check. The shadows still gave him a cast that implied a feral, insolent challenge that his voice did not match. The maw vanished, replaced by a sharp, carrion beak in the darkness of his profile. "Welcome to our new arrivals, of course. I do appreciate knowing that we have more family in this city."
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