The Grand Dame

Curled up like a serpent perched on a chair within the Solarium, the Grand Wyrm reads. Or, perhaps it's better to say he waits. The lights are turned down low and cast warm light upon the cream colored walls; more comfortable in the relative darkness. Nimble fingers move across the book held in his hands, a gift that finally arrived from his Mentor, but eyes aren't caressing the page. David searches his own memories within his mind palace instead, renewing and reliving the treasures found within.

A pea-green aluminum bike isn't too far away.

They call the House, the Grand Dame. Older and defiant in the face of time and entropy it is much like the Kindred themselves. Perhaps she serves as an allegory. However, the Order is small and she stands largely empty save for a few pockets that David keeps up himself. He is a mortician after all, and it is his duty to make sure that dignity is maintained. The house, itself, holds dignity in spades despite the work that remains to be done.

Briefly, David wonders what has taken hold of Nell Cooper and wonders if the Mortician has found something to ensnare her ever working mind.

At the moment, his is a Gold Rush of one.

David was a serpent, no doubt about it, lying in the tall grass of his intellectual bayou. Luca, on the other hand was something else, like a tiger stalking his prey. He was dressed in all black, something that was his right - certain privileges came with rank, although not many in the Ordo Dracul, in Luca's experience. His heels gave a soft clack as he walked through the august grounds. He is calm, but also determined. Earlier that night, or was it the night before? It all bleeds into one..., he had talked to Tatiana, planning about clan Nosferatu in Sacramento. From the outside, the house lacked one crucial part - A tower. Yes of course, there was a chimney, but Bonanno needed an elevated domain to call his own - this was tradition, and in his ever weakening humanity, he needed something to cling onto.

When he approached the door, a memory flickered into life. Instructions he had given to his pupils back home in New York. [I]Always arive a couple of minutes later than your master, that way you have a small insignificant thing to apoloise for - which will show humility and respect. He had lectured. A smile flickered to life on his lips. Luca took the compas from his pocket and placed on one of the walls, an old flowerbed right beside the main entrance, to signify to any and all dragons that he, their Sworn of Mysteries, was present. After this small ceremonial gesture, he knocked on the front door. Four sharp sounds, after which he folded his hands behind his back, waiting to be invited in.

Luca knew that this would as much his, as it was Regan's, Otherwise I'll make it so, but still, the first time he entered the Chapterhouse, he wanted it to be a formal invitation.

Sharp knocks, echoing through the house, rouse the Mortician from his reverie. The book is closed and set aside while David gathers himself to his feet. Too-smooth movements carry the Shadow forward, through empty hallways and emptier rooms. Rooms that are ready for renewal and rejuvenation. Rooms that ache for lectures and the buzz of activity. Rooms that miss individuals touching random objects in an attempt to see the difference. David's mind slows and his body readies itself, braces itself, to be confronted with another beast.

Quickly and without much fanfare, the door is opened and light spills out from the house, illuminating the Gangrel. Slowly and in cold, clockwork movements, David's fingers release their hold on the door. For moments that could stretch into eternity, the Shrike desires nothing more than to rip the weak intruder down where he stands in an action that recounts the Tower of Babel. The Grand Wyrm, though seemingly plain, forgettable, and bland like IKEA furniture, is far stronger than he lets on and he smothers the screeching of the millions of birds crying out for blood in his veins.

David offers, after a deep cleansing breath is taken, “Onyx Scribe Bonnano, welcome and be welcome. Please come in, I apologize for the dust. Our Academy here is small and the House is demanding.”

Luca raised an eyebrow, but it ever so quickly becomes a smile. It this it? Where are the formal introductions? Where's the grand ceremony? Why has he not told me his title yet. "Thank you, Grand Wyrm Regan, it is indeed a pleasure to finally behold the Chapter House. The dust is not a problem at all, I would hazard that this is something we shall soon have remedied. I've got some free time on my hands after awakening."

He feels nothing in his blood. No fury, no fear, no nothing, just plain silence - which makes him assume that the Mekhet is a feeble neonate who conceals his true weakness behind a layer of lies. Luca enters with an accepting nod. As the two men stand beside each other for a short moment, it is a weird contrast. The Gangrel with his handsome features and striking presence, and the Mekhet who looks as if he would like nothing more than to become one with the house and it's darkness and stillness. This is not lost on the dragon, but as it would be crass to point out Boy, this is gonna be a grand friendship, dontcha think, Mr. Mekhet Man?. Instead Bonanno simply smiles and puts on his best manners, trying to earn the favor of this, soon resigned to a reading desk, august Dragon.

Luca let's himself be led whereever the Shadow goes. The light and darkness of the Chapter House drawing him in, but only enough to look in a few glancing strokes. Whatever the Mekhet says or does, Luca listens to, and follows - Like a good soldier. The clackclick of his heels, being Italian and all, breaks the silence that the Mekhet obviously cultivates, the hallmark of a politician, or just someone who puts on an appearance of being just that... If they walk for longer than half a minute, Luca starts humming ever so slightly.

Assumptions are funny things. Some people put so much stock into them that they forget to look at all of the angles. Perhaps it is pride, as tempting as it is, or maybe it is simply disbelief. The way people react to the Mask is usually different. Dog thought it was unnatural to hide it. Others become paranoid at what they don't know. Others still, become comfortable in what they assume.

“I am David Regan, Traveled Azure Scholar of the Sanguine Sleep, holder of the Star Card and a member of the Libitinarius lineage.” That 'august Dragon' may not use his titles often but the scales he does have are certainly there and tell a story. David's voice floats through the hallway as he leads Luca's shiny, heeled loafers through the House. “I am the child of the Onyx Navigator Johan Fisher, Initiate of the Sanguine Void, holder of the Temperance Card, and also a Libitinarius. His sire is the Dragon, Dr. Henry Weeks of London. Finally, I am apprenticed -- if remotely -- to the Dragon Vincent Temple.”

The Invictus have a term, 'blooded.' David's is certainly a blooded line of the Dragon.

Rounding a corner, David continues, “We are an Academy of a few, given that Sacramento seems to be a way-station of a sort for Kindred great and small.” Which begs a question. “I myself have been the only constant, chronicling the Change within our Chapter. It's become a rather fascinating study. So,” The Solarium returns to view and David raises the lights, “tell me about yourself, if you would.”

Luca smiled. Could the Mekhet read his mind? If so, this would only get more interesting. "I am Luca Bonanno, Blessed Unearthly Scribe of Dedicated Pain, Mentor to Tatiana, Supplicant of the Dedicated Void and many others like her." He paused for a moment, choosing to not divulge his card, or his former mentor for that matter - it might get ugly. He repeated the mantra viciously in his mind that he was not, in fact, a Locust-Sworn just because he was mentored by one. "I was sworn into my oath during the war, although we weren't terribly involved until the very end, it did prove a time of change within New Yorks academy. I was very grateful for the opportunity to serve as first Seer, then Oracle, to the Academy of New York. The Philadelphian rite was what I grew up with, so you'll excuse me if I seem out of touch with your way, I'm sure I'll get the hang of it with a bit of study." Bonanno left out the Navigator part. The Sub Order of the Mysteries was a secret for a reason, the fogs of slumber would tamper with even the greatest minds, and if it got out exactly what the navigators did, he would perhaps not find himself welcome at the side of the Shadow. The entire point of being a political figurehead to the Order was the image of stability in an organisation known for change.

Luca stops in his tracks for a moment, taking in the solarium. The view of the grounds and the moonlight making him stop his train of though for a moment, serenity creeping across his face. Relaxation for a few seconds, after which his attention snapped back. "As for myself... Well, what would you like to know? I am excellent cook, and enjoy long walks through criminal neighborhoods." His attempt at a joke was very dry, something he thought the shadow might appreciate, atleast he did not think that David was the sort of man to enjoy funny voices and knock knock jokes. "If the Academy is in need of recruits, I'll send word that some of my other pupils should get their act together and move west, if you would like?"

Patience is a word that rests on David's brow like a crown. With it, he listens to the scales Luca rattles off and starts to put together a narrative of the Gangrel. It's an imperfect narrative and one that David expects he will have to write and rewrite, but it is useful nonetheless. An Onyx Sworn that is now clear across the country, away from the House that offered his Oath, is a point of interest.

“You'll find that our Rite has its roots in the Philadelphian Rite, given that it is the rite I was embraced into.” Though some might think he was embraced into some of the more far-flung rites, Damascene or Oriental. The truth of the matter is far simpler than that. Unlike Bonanno who makes a subtle mention of his age, David does not. Let him wonder. Let him assume.

Instead, David perches himself on a nearby chair, ankle to knee as is the Shadow's custom.

“While I appreciate the offer,” though, if they are already initiated into the Path of the Dragon they wouldn't be recruits, “it's not necessary.”

In a way, David does appreciate the dry as the Sahara joke. But, it doesn't answer the question. So far, the Grand Wyrm knows what Bonanno is but not who. If Lisette's get is going to be effective at all, David will need to know where he's most suited. “I don't want to waste your time in telling you things about the Domain you have no interest in,” David explains as though offering Bonanno a boon. “Knowing about you and where your political leanings are, gives me an inkling on where to start. As the longest serving Priscus, I might have some insight for you.”

Patience was something that Luca knew himself, although more from the fact that he did not move on the political scene, or the personal for that matter, without it being absolutely necessary. Belphegor, the demon of sloth, might as well have sired Luca - if you believed that sorta thing, but Luca didn't. To him, the curse of the Lord was as he needed to refer to, when talking about the curse.

He bowed his head, but said nothing when David talked about the Rite, he would have to study and understand, if he was to comment further on the issue. The fact that David keeps quiet about his age does not bother Luca, the information network he was building would need something to work on, and the age of this Regan fellow, would be a perfect place to start. He made a mental note of it, and did nothing more. When Regan sat so did Luca in another chair. He rested his back and placed his legs firmly on the floor, not some flimsy coiled pose like the Shadow, but the pose of a man of power and respect - who demanded these things. It was not concious, but his looks, his appearance and his ways with words had given him these things for longer than he could easily remember, and thus, it was easy to get used to it.

He smiles and makes a small wave of his hand, as to suggest he understands Davids reluctance to induct new Dragons - I wouldn't want anyone to bring an army either unless I was certain it was mine. He thought to himself.

Luca cleared his throat as he prepared for a rather large exposé on his political view. "Currently I am working on making inroads into my family - it might prove a useful powerbase, also I have made contact with certain members of the First Estate and The Movement. I'm doing a bit of research on Kindred of note, through mortal contacts, so if there is anyone I should look into, just let me know, I'm sure I won't find anything new for you, but the offer stands. As for future ambitions-" He paused, even though he did not need to breathe, it was rhetorical ploy to seem more calculated and strategic. "- I do believe that our primary concern should be expansion of our powerbase, not necessarily outward, but downward. It seems that, atleast from my view of things, that we do not face any imminent dangers to our projects or our safety, meaning that what we need is to keep this, in short, we need more bargaining power, we need to offer a service and we need to ally ourselves. I am sure this is not news to you, but given that we currently are only 3 Dragons in town, we would not want to fade."

For a short while, he considered if the Shadow was that sort of Mekhet, and made the judgement call. "I want to provide an enviroment where people who can further our mission through intense study, such as yourselves, does not have to bother with anything they do not want to. If that is all I do, I will be satisfied, if not content." What exactly would make the Savage content, only time would tell.

David is preternaturally still as he looks at Luca. Without blood feigning life, there are no twitches to be seen, no movement of muscles, no need to shift his weight for comfort. It makes the Shadow look almost like a statue, waiting. And, indeed, David waits. Waits for something he hasn't heard before. Even the casual disregard for the years of work put into the Order already, is something David has heard before.

It doesn't impress in the way Luca, perhaps, wants to impress.

“You'd be incorrect on the point of danger. This Domain is omnipotent. Assume that we must always be subtle. A few years ago, former members of the Domain showed their true colors and have murdered Dragons. I have been working to find them ever since.”

A pause, as David shifts gears, “This Domain is a meritocracy and values individual achievement. This then reflects well upon families and covenants.” The Grand Wyrm allows that to sink in. “Serve the Domain and you will be recognized. And that recognition will reflect well upon the Order. It's as simple as that.”

Briefly, David isn't quite sure why Luca uses we and not he.

“Also, it's a good thing we have an environment where people can further our mission of transcendence.” David notes blandly, “If you would like to enhance our Chapter House, you are welcome to. This Grand Dame of a Chapter House has served the Academy of Sacramento for sometime, well. I'll be adding in a workshop soon on the grounds soon.”

Luca leans forward as he listens to Davids story, his face clearly displaying the fact that he does not agree with his superiors thoughts of how to run an academy. He wants to do what exactly? Hide like kids behinds closed doors, waiting for ... what? Luca's thoughts are many, but he does not say anything. After the Mekhet is done explaining, he simply says: "If you find that to be the best course of action, then that is what we will do." Which might as well mean: You are the captain, but that does not preclude you from being an idiot.

"I'll make something happen within the next couple of moons." He says and nods as if to illustrate that he understands, a slight gesticulation revealing his Italian heritage. With that being said he leans back into his chair, checking his watch. Tatiana should be here any minute now, if she showed up much later, it would reflect badly on his skills as a mentor. Yes, he had instructed her to arrive late, but only as to give her a social advantage, not to disgrace herself. A slight frown showed on his face for a moment.

Luca often refered to any organisation which he was part of as we. We, the family - We, the Order - We, me and mine. David would do good to respect this, and to understand that even he was a solitary fly, Luca was the leader of his pack, whatever that pack might be. For now though, he lacked the formal power to challenge this idiotic, and stagnated, Mekhet, so it was best to show deference, and that he did "Would you rather that I maintain lodgins outside the Chapter House, or should I make myself at home here?"