Reeve's night out, but never off

[Chris Wooding]

Chris is still thinking about all that Lance spoke off, when the scene suddenly changes. Apparently, they're going to play... 'Oh, ehm.' That sounds like a confused Mekhet.

He studies Conner and Lance with his eyes. Something inside of him wants to ask, how many subs can you handle Mr. Greyson? But he keeps himself from saying that. He wants to try something, which is visible on his expression, but he isn't sure if the vampiric way is the right way to learn this.

The movement next to him, Sidor sitting down, is something he hardly notices. As the Haunt speaks all Chris says is: 'Yeah... but educative too... in some way.'

[Martha Villiers]

Dillon Connery
Aspect of the Predator
The Blush of Life

In the dainty hand of Martha Villiers, is the arm of her assigned Deputy, Dillon Connery. He cuts a strong figure, looking even bigger because of his comparison to the tiny Herald. His Beast rumbles at the familiar others only as a bored dog sniffs at those in greeting.

Dillon's costume for the evening is a wool tweed ivy cap, held fast by goggles, a linen duster over a plaid vest and club collar shirt and bow tie. His slacks are tucked into tall leather captain boots, his hands barely clad in driving gloves. The sideburns, are real. Either he'd focused the conscious effort into growing new hair, or he simply didn't shave them this night upon his rise.

Intrepid Motorist is what the website called the outfit. Once Martha had seen that, and read the description, there was nothing for it. She had her own way of insisting, with innocent hints and subtly applied rationale that the Gangrel had eventually relented to. The 'debonair mustache' never made it to his lip, however, thank God. He'd endured a few pouts for it, but won a small victory in the end. It was a decent compromise.

In truth, Dillon doesn't mind in the slightest if Martha wants to use him as her undead Ken Doll. Crafty by nature, he secretly enjoys the costume scene, and everything that goes into it. He probably wouldn't get an excuse to bust out the Captain America outfit again, though. Oh well.

Dillon classy steampunk statement

Martha Villiers - Blush of Life & Mask of Tranquility

Martha, arm in arm with Dillon, was looking and feeling a little overwhelmed by the whole evening. But she was dressed for speedy automotive adventure. Having seen the steampunk site, there were too many options for her to choose from.

Sporting a long lilac scarf tied neatly at her throat, it draped long down the front of her durable lilac double breasted trench coat was buttoned up fast and neat. Her long, light blonde hair is tied into a curling ponytail. A pair of goggles are perched on top of a sturdy and pink 1920s style motorcycle crash helmet. A metal walking cane held tight, tiny Martha has rounded out her attire with pair of motorcycle dispatch rider's gauntlets, a sturdy belt tied tightly to her already slender waist gave a clue that the almost impossibly waspish waist was aided by a corset beneath. A pair of black riding boots are knee high. Her almost pink trenchcoat stopped an inch or two just above her single knee. No matter what: she found the notion of wearing riding breaches a step too far, so the pale flesh of her athletic knee showing, it hinted at the presence of a short skirt or shorts. The robotic C-Leg is almost in theme: the boot of her false leg has not quite made it kneehigh. Unused to walking in the boots with heels, her limping gait is unusual. An attentive observer might suspect her costume is a steampunk version of Penelope Pitstop: they might well be right.

All sweet and innocent with smiles, Martha and Dillon patrol the club. Taking in the sights and sounds of the other steampunk explorers.

Wide eyed, she clutches tighter to Dillon's arm as the presence of the Beast of others is noted. Nodding to Dillon, she smiles, giggles as she grips tighter to her cane and whispers to him to note the others.

Together, they made their way through the crowd to greet the Regents and Deputies.

[SrsBsns]

It takes a few moments for Lance to remove his Jacket and undershirt, which he leaves at the table. When he stands he's revealed as someone that obviously took care of themselves while alive. The Blush of Life mimics the healthy tone of the living and the only flaw on him are a pair of scars on his back over his kidneys. Where Conner touches him goose bumps rise up in reaction.

When the silk tie is affixed over his eyes, his face drops into a lazy smile "I use it if I want you to stop, Sir."

Remember to breathe.

[Martha Villiers]

Martha nodded respectfully to the gathered deputies and Regents. She nodded and dipped a curtsy to Ariana. Limping over to the booth, she watched as the men prepared for their session. Watching with wide, innocent, eyes as Lance took off his shirt and was led over to the cross. Not daring to say anything in case she interupted, she hobbled closer to the booth and, leaning on her cane, steadied herself to sit close to Ariana...clearly delighting in the sitting motion, smiling as she does so. Martha caught Ariana's mimed words and nodded. Crossing her flesh leg over her C-Leg and adjusting her trenchcoat to maximise the length of it her knees, she smiled meekly to Ariana and waited while Dillon joined them...preparing to watch the unfolding session with obvious wide eyed interest. "Good evening, ma'am! I say: this will be facsinating!" she whispers to Ariana, leaning close to share her furtive words.

[SrsBsns]

The blindfold blocked out sight. It might just be his imagination, but it seems to amplify the sensations he's getting. The feeling of the silk of the blindfold on his face. The hot light of the lamps on his exposed skin. The cold metal of the cross and cuffs against his skin. The sounds of music and various conversations all blend together into a susurrus that surrounds the bound Daeva and dances across his skin like a breeze.

He can hear Conner leave clearly, walking into the ocean of noise. Anticipation builds and he takes a deep breath, breathing in the smells of leather and sweat and other things. When someone approaches out of the noise of the club, he continues to look ahead. But when the clasps unsnap and the zipper unzips he looks over to the location of the sounds out of pure reflex.

When the water hits him, he lets out a hiss as gooshflesh erupts across his body and his nipples harden. The cold water runs down his skin, across his muscles and drips from his hair as he shakes his head slightly from side to side. The movement sends the water down into his pants where it trickles its way down his thighs and legs. The blindfold is cold and sticky, adhering to the skin around his eyes.

It feels good.

"Ah... ahch. Woah."

[Dillon Connery]

Dillon escorts Martha all the way to the booth, and nods to those already present. If there is any reaction to the scene Conner and Lance were setting up, it doesn't show. What does show, barely, is his sizing up of the man in the mask beside Ariana. The wheels turn quickly, but one who's paying close attention can follow the logic behind his hazel eyes:

Familiar Beast, wearing a mask in public, he's the right build... The eyes shoot to the scarred hand for confirmation. The amused guffaw stays in his head. Instead, he offers a friendly nod.

"Good evening, everyone. Enjoying ourselves, I hope?"

[Chris Wooding]

Chris is still captured by the stage. This isn't his first time here, similar things had been done. But somehow the ever present feeling of Beasts makes it all more exciting, and earlier dates, he had never really paid any attention to the scenes. A short moment he feels silly for having looked at the people that walk around only.

That moment is interrupted by another Beast coming closer. 'Good evening Mr. Connery, Miss Villiers.' He nods to them both with a smile. He spares a short glance to Lance before he replies to the question. 'You may easily state that witnessing this interesting play falls under "enjoying myself" indeed.'

From Dillon he slightly turns to Martha. 'What brings you to the Asylum? If I may ask?' He asks it in a way that both last arrivals can answer, yet the Mekhet is more curious what brought the tiny Herald to a place like this.