Knock on Any Door

[Kenneth Gilroy]

Gilroy entered the Nox feeling very out of place. His wardrobe was fairly limited so he was wearing corduroy pants, plain button up shirt with a thin plain tie, and a cardigan. And his crucifix as well of course. With the rich and higher class interior and fashionably dressed club goers, this was not Gilroy's normal 'scene'. If his information was correct though, he would be coming here quiet often. Well, probably not the upstairs section but even just walking through with an ensemble like he had now enough times was bound to make him stand out and be remembered. Though there was a chance this wasn't Elysium. His grandsire had told him to start his search at Avalon, which had been renamed and as far Gilroy knew was under new ownership. Still, it was a start point.

He headed downstairs and felt his unbeating heart sink. His beast mind stayed relatively still with only a nagging need to feed. No writhing anger or terror at recognizing another vampire. A couple near the couches did catch his attention though. His shoulders slumped slightly and he avoided eye contact as he slowly approached.

"I beg your pardon, sir; ma'am. My name is Kenneth Gilroy," breathing in to speak he briefly felt like gagging from the putrid stench in the air. While horrid, it was a very strong point in favor of one of the two being not only a vampire but possibly one of his own Clan "I'm sorry to interrupt but I'm looking for some members of my family. You'd remember if you saw them, there's a pretty strong clan resemblance." To most it would simply be odd wording but a vampire would key in return the hint. Call and response, action and reaction.

[Kenneth Gilroy]

Rather than relax upon hearing the woman’s words Gilroy actually stiffens and stands a little straighter before going immediately into a lanky bow. Oddly, it somehow comes off more as a cringe in a strange way.

“It is my honor to meet you Priscus Angel Ducard, ma’am. And you as well, Mister Lukyanenko, sir,” he straightened though his shoulders remained hunched. He wasn’t too surprised at hearing the man was Nosferatu, having had another several seconds he could say for certain the decaying smell came from him. It was unexpected to learn the woman was the clan head. Looking at her now with downcast eyes he could somewhat see it. The dull grey of her eyes, the sheen of her pure black hair. She was beautiful to sure but it was offputting.

“Thank you for your time. I am Kenneth Gilroy, Lay Brother of the Lancea et Sanctum. Mr. Gilroy or just Gilroy is fine," he could have said doctor but he knew a Kine title was not something that Kindred needed to address him by "I am the childe of Tabitha Jarius who has recently released me. I have only just arrived from Boston to take up a research position at the university’s science department. I come seeking acknowledgement and to learn about the local Domain.” That covered the basics. “As Priscus of the Nosferatu Clan, I am, of course, also at your service,” he added, his long gangly neck inclining in way you'd almost think would need extra vertebrae.

[Parable]

"You are most gracious," he says as Ms. Ducard thanks him and welcomes him to the domain. Her countenance and politeness around him was almost unsettling. He was used to Tabitha deride his every action. If not for his grandsire, Gilroy doubted he'd know how to respond to kindness. Then again, the neonate knew even Elijah expected something out of the relationship in return.

"Of course Priscus," Kenneth replied as the clan matriarch texted the Whip. So far the scientist had found his Priscus, the Prince's name, and would soon learn the Whip's identity. It seemed his night was going well. He didn't contradict her 'happy family' comment. Lowly he might be but he was not an idiot. Any who truly believed that were fools. While his Sire had drilled into his head for years the importance of standing with family against outside forces (it was expected of him given his position), Gilroy had few illusion about how 'happy' they would be doing it.

Gilroy moved back a slight step as Mr. Lukyanenko moved towards him. The young Nosferatu was able to suppress the instinct from backing him into a wall or over a couch. However, the movement still gave the impression of an insect being flanked. The man's odor flowed over them. Never had Gilroy been so happy he did not have to breath. Then when the Russian asked his specialty, his posture seemed to shift every so slightly, like a scorpion displaying its stinger.

"Originally it was biochemistry. At the time of my Embrace there had been a lot of exciting things happening in the field. I've expanded over the years into many of the related biological and chemical fields. Molecular biology, genetics, organic chemistry, physical chemistry, anatomy, and of course hematology to name a few. I have a solid foundation on most natural sciences as well." In truth expanding his knowledge of other fields was not the most difficult task. Keeping up with advancements was the wall he often needed to surmount. It required constantly reading the newest publications. Having just recently moved, Gilroy supposed he would have to set up subscriptions. He didn't mention it for fear of appearing less useful, but he planed on conducting more research into applied sciences like the chemical engineering or biomedical.

[Cameron]

It doesn't take Julian long to arrive. He'd considered doubling back to his Haven to change into something more...academic in nature. But he couldn't justify it, even if the joke amused him so, for the Haunt was only a few blocks away when he'd received the text.

He entered the Elysium with the usual lazy smile carved into his features, his attire smart casual. The atavistic dread he exuded turned his dull green eyes into an unspoken threat - uncaring and cruel. It announced him for what he was - his Beast may have been masked but he appeared every bit the bored predator.

"Good evening, Priscus Ducard; gentlemen. I do hope this evening finds you all well. Julian Durand, it's a pleasure." He said cheerfully, offering a hand first to the older man who smelt like a charnel house, and then in turn to his disgusting compatriot. He wanted to gag, deep down, but he knew he shouldn't. It wasn't their fault. He'd just have to apply a lot of disinfectant when he got home.

He let his gaze drift over the men; trying to a form a first impression. They were more than merely their curses given flesh - they had to be. The crucifix in particular caught his eye, but he was careful not to let his gaze linger to long on it.