(1405) Ordo Dracul Spring Forum

[Aileen McFarlane]

While Aïleen wasn't much of a meeting girl, she had still come to like Ordo Dracul's ones. People were usually civilized, she knew all the people involved, and the topics were intellectually stimulating more often than not. And she was not looked down because she kept to herself.

But tonight she had come for another reason. She had come because it was David who had set the meeting, and she wanted it to be a success for him. As she parked in the courtyard, she rehearsed what she had accomplished in the last few monthes, and realized none of it was linked to the Great Work. It was a preparation, sure, but she still had nothing to show for it but attempts and time-lost.

Shaking her head, she dismissed the thoughts, and walked up the familiar stairs into the library, where their host was already waiting for them.

"Good evening David." did she say with a nod, and a smile.

[Princess]

Ana's crisp business casual, the stark black of trousers livened by blood red top (in case she spilled wine... or something.) Added a certain boldness to the figure the little Daeva cut in the night, as she slipped into the chapter house and proceeded to the library. Once she knew all the steps, remembering its location was simple enough.

Nodding in greeting to the assembled pair, she says, "Good evening, Supplicants. How do you both fair?

[Hildegarde Bingen]

The sound of a car pulling up outside heralded the arrival of a Lord. Hildegarde appeared in the doorway, moving like a model on the catwalk, hand on hip just so. On this occasion she had opted to ware something approaching corporate attire - a grey suit with skirt. Pinned on the lapel of her blazer was a broach that cunningly cried her affiliation to the Order without actually breaking the Traditions.

"I see the Academy is gathering tonight," she said with a certain weighty formality. Passing into the room, she nodded to each of the Dragon's in turn and found herself a seat. She sat primly, curiosity struggling against the confining prison of her pose.

[Martha Villiers]

Martha struggled up to the library.

Taking her time, she was now behind schedule. Looking pale and drawn from her recent studies, she leaned very hard on a pair of simple wooden crutches...tonight she'd shunned using her C-Leg. There's a very obvious gap where her leg should be.

Dressed in her school uniform, with straw hat and blazer and short gymskirt to just above the knee...Martha, smelling of an antiseptic lotion, offers Aileen and the others gathered a shy smile and hobbles on her crutches to carefully close the door to the Library behind her.

"Good evening, fellow students. I do hope I can be forgiven my delay in arriving." a humble smile follows.

[Michael Redfill]

Between his various duties and studies, Supplicant Redfill has lost track of time. There were Haven arrangements, Regency duties, lectures, Protean practice, park patrolls. The only reason he remains sane is that he doesn't think of it all.

A faint smell of flowers accompanies him as Mike arrives wearing worn-down (actually new and given the appearance of being old) jeans and a light-grey shirt. He walks shortly after the Grand Wyrm:

"I apologize for the delay, fellow Dragons. Summer nights are too brief for all the work to be done".

Another reason to hate this steaming pot of a season.

[Aileen McFarlane]

After her fashion, Aïleen greeted each of the newcomers in turn with a short bow, made slightly deeper for the Grand Wyrm, of course. She didn't know what would come from this gathering, but if such was His Plan, then she had all faith she would learn what she needed.

As it was, she sat deep in a corner, content to wait and let everyone settle.

[Wolven Pryde]

The door darkens again, probably for a final time. No coat this time, nor even a jacket. The DraMorris slips into Sacramento's Chapter House in a charcoal vest and slacks, with a jet black shirt and tie. Sleek black handmade shoes click against the hardwood floor. The perception of him carries no press of Beast.

What it does carry is an unnatural coolness, and a breeze that is not there. Not really. Otherwise, the sheets of raven hair cascading down his shoulders and back would be billowing. Some might expect them to be.

When Alzaire's clothing hits the light, it is revealed to be richly textured, though not gaudy. It helps break up the spectral, wraith-like appearance of him. Granting substance to his form beyond the colorless, greyscale palette. Without the Blush of Life to add vitality to his skin, he looks as though chiseled from creamy white marble.

Not having been seen in the Domain but once, several months ago, the gathered Dragons might wonder how he knew to return in this particular night. As the Dragon that introduced himself to Alzaire is no longer around either. Well, the gathered Dragons will have to ask him.

"Truer words," he comments just behind the last man to speak, but doesn't bother finishing the phrase. The voice that comes out matches the man's presence, rather than his stature. So perhaps not entirely unexpected.

That seemed to have also been meant to say: Hello.