(Seneschal) Session Hours 3

[Cameron]

A distinct shift in atmosphere occurred within the office of the Seneschal of Sacramento as Daedalus Vathek appeared within the open doorway, preceded by the everpresent aura of unease which so surrounded the Haunt. He looked to be within his mid 30s, short blond hair which was just long enough to look disheveled, his hard features lightly covered in stubble. His clothing looked ragged and worn, black cargo pants with leather patches amateurishly stitched over the knees, an old bomber jacket over a grey undershirt covering his torso. A cheap walking cane was gripped tightly within his left hand, and with his right he lightly knocked on the door.
Perhaps the most striking feature of the Haunt was his eyes. The left was dead, milky-white, and his right showed only a small tinge of hazel, otherwise filled with the same cloudy substrate as its twin.

"Excuse me" spoke the quiet voice in what seemed like a vaguely British accent "Is there anybody available to meet with?"

His Beast raged, wanting nothing more than to turn tail and flee. But he ignored it, snapping back at the eyeless animal. He had expected to meet with a domain official, and anticipated a Beast more potent than his own. He refused to let the clash of will show upon his face, remaining silently near the door as he awaited an answer. With his good eye he squinted at the women before him, but could only make out the vague shape from this distance.

[Cameron]

The Haunts expressions were minimalistic; his smile but a slight curvature of the lips. He nodded his head in recognition of her invitation, and began moving slowly towards one of the highback office chairs. There was no limp in his stride, rather, it was as though the simple act of walking took the majority of his concentration. His steps were careful and deliberate, leaning hard on his cane as he moved forward.

"Ah. Then this is a most fortuitous meeting" *Tap*step..step..step*Tap* "I go by Daedalus Vathek, of the Ord-" he paused, both midstep and midsentence "...Ah, I should ask first, do the walls have ears, or may we speak freely?"

Regardless of the answer, Daedalus took the offered seat, easing himself into it slowly. He turned his face so that his good eye was facing the Seneschal, the distance almost short enough that he could make out details as minor as facial expressions. He squinted again for a moment, trying to complete a mental image of the women.

"I am sorry" spoke the quiet voice in its usual reserved tone "I have dealt with the Unconquered before, but never within their own domain. How would you prefer I address you?"

[Cameron]

"You are welcome, Madame Seneschal Donovan" replied the quiet voice "I apologise for not sending prior notice of my arrival, I lacked the means to do so" he stated bluntly, his tone perfectly even.

The Haunt paused for a brief moment as he chewed over his reply. His standard answer was simple, but his condition had developed to the point where it was no longer earnest. He could no longer hide it behind pure bravado, he knew he was unable to travel much further. It was hard to tell how long he had left at this point, but he was lucky to have made it this far. In the end, he knew full-well what would happen should he lose what little sight he had left in transit between domains.

"Ah. I am on a pilgrimage, of sorts, Madame Seneschal Donovan. It is related to my work within the Ordo Dracul. Under normal circumstances I would request leave to remain within this Domain, for a period lasting no longer than a month. If it is permissible, however, I would like to request the right to dwell here longer, perhaps."

His eyes stared blankly forward, and his countenance gave no hint as to his thoughts. The man looked about as alive as a marble statue, albeit one who had mugged a street youth for its clothes.

[Cameron]

"Certainly" stated the quiet voice "I am of Clan Nosferatu, though I suspect you may have already guessed as to that affiliation." There was no trace of sarcasm in his tone, nor any malice or ill-will in his inflection. It, in the same manner as the rest of his speech, was all but completely devoid of emotion. Eerily so.

"Ah. But it would seem I have inherited my Sire's Baddacelli blood. My requiem is yet young, and began in the sewers beneath the town of Branson, in the state of Missouri. I have visited numerous domains in the past year, but as my vision has degraded my capacity for travel has lessened...There is little else for me to add, Madame Seneschal Donovan, though if you have any specific questions I would be glad to answer them." He listed each fact in his usual taciturn manner, his expression blank and unchanging.

He turned his head towards the papers she held, but he could make out little even from such a short distance. That, more than anything, frustrated the young Haunt. A scholar who could not read was no different from a lame horse. His expression shifted ever so slightly. His jaw seemed to clench, but quickly returned to its usual state, a momentary glimpse into the frustrations of Daedalus Vathek.

[Cameron]

"If possible, I would greatly appreciate it were you able to arrange a meeting with Priscus Grigoriev, and Grand Wyrm Heinz. Ah. For indeed, I had been hoping to meet with my Priscus this evening, should he prove available, to discus the more mundane matters of my stay here." stated the Haunt quietly, giving a nod of gratitude in the direction of the Seneschal.

"I am unsure of how much you know regarding our order, Madame Seneschal Donovan. On a fundamental level, we pursue internal change. Each of us approaches this different, I found the method of divorcing myself from the external via constant motion to be most useful. I fear there was little else to my pilgrimage, I simply sought to learn from those abroad, and to avoid stagnation as best I could."

"Ah. But I do thank you, for the offer, Madame Seneschal Donovan. It was most kind." A second nod of gratitude, and his face shifted into a slight smile. Daedalus was quite impressed. Certainly, he had no doubt she found his presence as unnerving as any other, but she had the grace to mask it well. Her motions were blurred, but he managed to get the vague impression of a smile, or perhaps a grin. Few bothered to hide their contempt, and fewer still would do so behind a smile and kind words.