Confession Service I

[Thomas Galilei]

He's nervous, sitting in his empty church, if it could even be called that . . . yet. He likes to think the disrepair is inviting, not intimidating in the way grand cathedrals are, with their stained glass windows and their . . . budgets, ones without graffiti and puddles of water. Although, he likes to think many things--among them, that he isn't wasting his time.

He'd lit incense to mask the smell of mildew; had swept the dirt from the places that weren't actual dirt showing through the broken floorboards; he'd even put on a collar and shaved.

It had been a couple days since his announcement, or had it been a few? And no Kindred had come . . . yet. But he's a man of faith; he trusts that God will send those still fighting for their humanity, exactly when they're ready, exactly when Thomas can be of greatest use. And so he waits, sitting in his side of the confessional, the first thing he'd repaired. Ready when you are, God.

Confession Mechanics

Upon role-playing confession, Kindred receive three phantom experience usable towards the repurchase of humanity for sins not to include diablerie.

[Michael Travis]

Tonight would be like every night so far for Michael. His mental inventory of the city was one of his highest priorities. Where to shop, where to feed, where to be safe during the day sleep and where to meet the right kind of people. Kindred of great power. His dilemma lies in knowing which particular Kindred would suit his master's purpose.

His casual and innocuous meanderings this night had him walking down 17th St in one of his newly acquired outfits - an expensive looking pair of jeans and a v-neck tee under a blue zip-up sweater with that 'vintage' look. Michael was shooting for 'typical college-age male' tonight. As he passes by a little side-street called Solon's Alley, Michael notices a church building in a state of sad disrepair. Michael stops and shakes his head. Such a waste. Imagine what that place has seen. Michael has a keen interest in history; he simply cannot resist paying the seemingly abandoned place a visit. What is the harm in a little pleasant diversion? Michael turns down the street and makes his way up the beaten pathway to its front door, carefully making sure his approach goes unnoticed. He eases the door open and takes a sweeping look of the interior. Taking in every detail of the once glorious decorum, his eyes fall on an unexpected inhabitant.

Michael's Beast snarls from within, but Michael is patient and calm. It would not do to provoke a fight. After taking a moment to gather his composure, he announces himself.

"I wasn't expecting to find anyone here so late. I hope I'm not intruding." he says, with a practiced courtesy.

[Thomas Galilei]

Thomas grits his teeth at tired old routine, an anger to keep him humble he supposes, but one that never ceases to unnerve: base, murderous, the jealous, competitive brand of his damnation--the mark of the Beast. He approaches, uncertain who the Kindred before him is: casual dress, unassuming presence. It occurs to him that he should speak, a fair indicator that the Beast is gone, or subsided at least. "There are no intruders here, friend. You have my blessing, and God's too, to come and go as you please." He offers the stranger an outstretched hand. "Thomas Galilei, local Priest and poor decorator, as you may have noticed." He guesses by the man's surprise that he hadn't expected Thomas to be there--doubtful that the man hand come for confession. God may have other purposes for leading the man there, reasons Thomas hopes dearly not to miss.

[Michael Travis]

Michael's gaze seems to flit to and from Thomas at his approach, as if he was searching for something unseen. His hazel eyes seem all at once distant and keenly aware. As Thomas offers his hand, Michael glances down at that, too, for a brief moment before accepting.

"Michael Travis. I was actually drawn here by this place's appearance." he says, releasing the hand and looking around at the decor in various stages of repair and disrepair. "I was curious to see if I could find hints of when it was built." Michael's tone was flat - mostly - but his interest was difficult to hide. He stood with his hands clasped together below his waist as he spoke, reminiscent of his brief military experience.

[Thomas Galilei]

Drawn by the place's appearance? There's a thought. "Yes, she's . . . a work in progress, not unlike myself I should think. We Damned are full of time though--given enough it, who knows what will become of this place, or any of us."

Thomas gives him a moment to look around, appreciates the man's eye for potential unseen. "Walk with me, Mr. Travis. I'll give you the grand tour." Thomas clasps his hands together behind his back, first leading Mr. Travis to the center of the Sanctuary. "Some day I hope to have pews, and then--perhaps another day, several after that--those pews might be filled with fellows, no agenda, just a place to congregate."

Perception Roll: Thomas recognizes Travis' military bearing.

59665 2014-09-24 20:54:54 Thomas Galilei rolls 1 to Perception: 2 (Wits) + 3 (Composure) = 5 DP (10 Again) 8 1 success
59666 2014-09-24 20:55:46 Thomas Galilei rolls 4 to Perception: 2 (Wits) + 3 (Composure) = 5 DP (The other 4) (10 Again) 2, 9, 6, 8 2 successes

"Your movements and postures declare you, Mr. Travis: a military man, but not a marcher, no. That leaves us with Air Force or Navy; I was Army myself, it seems a lifetime ago. So which sin have you come to confess?" Thomas flashes a playful smile--always fun to tease up old rivalries.

[Michael Travis]

Michael nods, appreciatively. Time is sometimes all we have. Michael seems taken by the notion of a tour and follows suite. His eyes trace the room as Thomas speaks, imagining the pews full of Kindred. Novel, if you believe that sort of thing is possible.

At Thomas' accurate assessment -and playful jab - Michael cannot help but smile. He decides, at that point, that he liked the man. He seemed educated and well spoken. Careful, Michael. You aren't in Sacramento to make friends.

"I was an Ensign, in life. Embraced at my first duty section. While on watch." he shakes his head, self-deprecatingly. "If I hadn't been such a good shot I might not have been spared."

[Thomas Galilei]

Ensign. Marksman. Thomas commits these to memory, the little details being the substance of life. "I was a fair shot myself--deadly when it came to Coke cans. But it's been a while since I've squeezed a trigger. Part of my vision for this place is to foster an environment where Kindred can share life, skills included. Perhaps I may call upon you in the future--if you're sticking around that is--to show some others the 'how-to'?"

Thomas leads Mr. Travis to the office, or what will be one slash is becoming one--it's dusty and for the most part empty, but not empty of possibility. "I imagine this room as an office work space, so naturally I'll want to finish it last. A few desks, with paid people dedicated to life-on-life contact with the community: fundraising for city improvements, pro-active spiritual support--a headquarters for the Lancea Sanctum to put their weight behind the Prince's vision. What do you imagine your future involvement in our Domain will be?"

Thomas continues his study of the man, subtly and when he can, getting a sense of who he is and what he wants--divining his purpose.

[Michael Travis]

Michael rubs his chin, considering the notion.

"Always a possibility. Once I know for sure if I indeed am sticking around I will let you know." As they walk and Thomas talks, Michael's eyes are ever on the move. Appreciating an archway one moment and seemingly scanning for movement in a corner the next. As interesting as this is, there is always a possibility this man might become an enemy. At their approach to the would-be office, Michael takes it in in silence. His head snaps towards Thomas at his next question. He matches the priest's gaze for half a moment before answering.

"Time will tell. For the time being, I want to learn this place as well as I can in case I do need to stay here for a longer duration. I've been offering services, where I can." Michael smiles a small smile at some internalized joke. "It doesn't always secure trust, but it keeps my encounters relatively civil. I rather enjoy this freedom of being unrestricted by the passage of time." The emphasis Michael places on 'enjoy' held an edge. Michael hoped the man understood the veiled statement. I'm not easy prey.

[Thomas Galilei]

Prudent. Specialty service provider. Non-committal. Thomas continues to sculpt his impression.

Catches Sinister Emphasis

59690 2014-09-25 14:02:55 Thomas Galilei rolls 5 to Discern Emphasis: 3 (Intelligence) + 2 (Empathy) = 5 DP (10 Again) 4, 10, 8, 6, 2, 9 3 successes

"That seems wise, learning all you can so you can make an informed decision." He leads Mr. Travis next to the small meeting room, though "room" isn't an accurate descriptor at the moment--it's filled with stripped floorboards and chipped paint, serving temporarily as an over-sized dumpster. "For this room I want a large central table and a dozen chairs; I want to be able to offer it as a neutral meeting place, where clans or coteries or covenants can meet if they like, where even enemies might meet and reconcile under established truce."

This time he watches Travis' eyes, looks for the things he looks for: he might as easily be appreciating the ancient architecture as be assessing the building's vulnerabilities. "I feel you can imagine the services I provide. I was wondering if you would enlighten me as to yours? If nothing else, I might be a networking aid." He had his guesses from the man's sinister emphasis, but prefers to know for certain.

[Michael Travis]

This felt like a dance, of sorts, to Michael. Words were spoken, but what wasn't said was often much more important. He imagined the man to be doing exactly what Michael was doing; sizing the other up. Michael had not, thus far, seen reason from the priest to find him untrustworthy. But we are monsters. Michael was a survivor, if nothing else. Anyone could become an enemy. Michael holds his personal feelings at bay while assessing the situation.

The man probably wasn't armed. He was here alone, at night. He was a priest; a shepherd among wolves. He had described his hopes and plans to Michael, which was expressing a vulnerability.

"People have a habit of enlisting me for physical security, for reasons you can probably guess. The rest is an array from asset recovery to surveillance to simply delivering messages. I am on such an errand, now." he says, anticipating the following question that would likely arise.