Prisci Palaver

[Patience]

It is the agreed upon date, the one proposed in her letter.

Patience waits for Lenora in a conference room at Elysium as agreed, stationed at the table.

Lenora will surely notice it is the same room used for the recent meeting of the Lords, though it is now devoid of all decoration. Just a table and some chairs. And Patience of course, impassive and foul, like the still waters of a fetid swamp. Hands folded in front of her, eyes unblinking. There is blood under her fingernails. Her dirt-brown hair hangs loose, tangled and unwashed.

She wears the black dress she typically reserves for court. It is an oddly conservative garment, but its state of disrepair lends it a menacing aura.

Patience waits. Her unsettling gaze is fixed upon the door.

[Lenora]

Lenora enters at the appointed time having prepared for the evening by pushing other affairs to different dates and times, just as she had relayed in her response.

Dressed in a fashion that suited her usual tastes, Lenora had elected for a black turtleneck alongside a pair of gray slacks, low-profile black heels, and a matching blazer. Aside from minimalist makeup, the Lady bore no additional embellishment. She didn't need to.

Eyes settled on the decidely unsettling Haunt before her, but Lenora's usual cordial smile adorned her lips as she greeted her fellow Priscus with a nod. Patience was assuredly foul, but Lenora found her personality - and ambition - admirable. It helped that both appeared to have separate interests.

"Good evening, Patience," she says, "I trust your evening has been satisfactory?"

[Patience]

At Lenora's appearance, Patience stands. It's as if invisible strings have been yanked by an invisible hand. The chair she's been sitting in is pushed back violently, though it does not topple.

Kill, the thing inside demands. Weak. Kill. For a moment, there's a buzzing in the Bishop's head. A swarm of angry insects, the kind that bite and sting and drink the blood of the living.

She grips the edge of the table, squeezes. Empty veins and tendons stand out under the pale, dead flesh of her hands.

Finally, she smiles. It is meant to be welcoming. That effect is not achieved.

"A blessed evening to you, Lenora," reciprocating the informal address. "It has been...productive" She glances down at her hands, the blood under her nails. Looks up again. Her eyes are empty, thought there's a touch of amusement there somewhere.

"Please, sit." She gestures toward the seat across from hers at the table, remains standing until Lenora settles herself.

[Lenora]

Eyebrows raise at the aggressive push, the gripping of the table, and finally the grimacing smile of the Haunt. It causes Lenora some pause, pushing away the pleas of her Beast to flee as she nods once again.

A chuckle follows as Patience glancies to bloody nails her sense of amusement more plain on her feature, "I'm certain it has been," she offers as she begins slipping out of her blazer in preparation for the inevitable invitation to seat herself.

"Certainly," she replies once the request is given. Placing the blazer on the back of the chair directly across from Patience, Lenora slips into it. "I trust you can forgive the informality. I am uncertain which capacity you wish to be addressed considering the circumstances. You've been quite busy, after all. However, given our privacy, I am open to keeping our conversation casual should you consider it appropriate."

The invitation to set the tone of the meeting was given, Lenora allowing the busy Haunt before her to establish it to her comfort.

[Patience]

Patience pulls her chair back to its place at the table and, once Lenora has taken her seat, the haunt joins her. She sits straight, rigid, her back held away from the chair. Her hands, resting on the table before her once again, seem oddly disconnected from the rest of her body.

"If you had displeased me, you would know." She tilts her head, staring at the Lord. The movement is utterly alien. "But you have not. We are colleagues. Prisci." A wicked smile flashes across her lips. "We can be...intimate. Under the circumstances."

The smile disappears.

"I apologize for the lack of refreshments. My herd is small and...very private. For the moment. In the future, we will drink together. I promise."

She looks down at her sleeve, plucks a long strand of blond hair from the dirty fabric. Lets it drop to the table. Finds Lenora with her unsettling gaze again.

"You have been busy as well. I wonder," sounding genuinely curious "how did you manage your new-found position?" With a Herald and a Hierophant in your way?

[Lenora]

Lenora's smile tugged slightly wider as Patience affirmed the informal nature of their meeting before returning to its usual expression.

"I am pleased you have found our brief interactions pleasant," Lenora replies, "You will find the feeling is mutual."

The compliment was a genuine. Despite their vastly different circumstances, there were certain values Lenora believed they were likely to share. Both had shown an adherence to certain formality and respectful communication. Most of all, Patience had shown prudence in most circumstances among the Kindred that Lenora had witnessed. Her violence towards the Kine was of little concern for Lenora. Each Kindred had their way of hunting and some were more bloody than others.

"No apology is needed," Lenora says as she intertwines her fingers and places her hands on the table. Like Patience, the Ventrue sits straight, her expression showcasing her intent to listen and engage, "It would have been poor form on my part to enter this meeting without first seeing to our most basic need."

Lenora was not hungry.

"I was selected via an assembly of my cousins," she offers before understanding that statement, while technically true, was unlikely to satisfy the Haunt, "Admittedly, there was one obstacle. The Hierophant resisted my assignment when he learned I intended to exercise my authority. In what I believe to be a bid to force my abdication before my tenure even truly began, he attempted to intimidate me. He found that I do not wilt easily and will learn the consequences of his defiance."

[Patience]

Had she said 'pleasant'? Last Patience checked, there is a difference between lack of displeasure and pleasure itself. Still, no need to antagonize. Yet.

"I am glad to hear it." Patience looks anything but glad. Her mouth is drawn into a prim line. Her lips, pursed together, turning pale.

"And you are right, of course." Lenora's etiquette cannot be faulted. "Still, I find it...most instructive. To offer up the blood. To drink together. To remind ourselves of what we are." What the Lord has made us. "There are certain members of our domain who would rather drink tea." Her tone hovers between dismissal and disgust. "It is dangerous. To forget. To pretend, beyond what is necessary for The First Tradition." Not to mention impudent. Blasphemous. "And it achieves nothing."

Pale hands unfold on the table before her, palms up. A gesture of openness. "Still, it is good that you see to your needs," she says matter-of-factly. A predator going about her business without compunction is refreshing at this point.

She does not look surprised as Lenora unfolds the details of her appointment.

"Thomas," she will not use that heretic's title, "entertains certain fantasies about his own power. He once told me he aimed to be a God." A sound, something approximating a laugh, escapes the Haunt's lips. Terse, brittle, ugly. "And what consequences do you have planned?" Patience always enjoys hearing about punishment.

[Lenora]

An amused huff leaves Lenora's lips as Patience mentions the wasteful habits of some of their peers.

"I have spent more than enough time among the Kine. Considering my youth, my tenure in that condition was... unnatural," she admits, citing her time as a ghoul, "However, when the final die was cast and the Embrace endured, there was no mistaking what I had become. My sire ensured I understood that much before bringing me through the door."

"It is prudent not to expend our resource in the blood on such things in our own company," she said, "Regardless of how one views our place in the world, it is simply a waste. A wolf should not attempt to appear as a sheep among their kin. Exceptions exist, of course. In the course of maintaining the First I have had to burn the blood for such things. Or in the course of the hunt, but I am sensing the way we stalk differs."

A nod follows at Patience observation over her habit. "To be irresponsible in maintaining my feeding would prove me an unreliable scion of my lineage," she said plainly, "And I am not irresponsible."

A laugh, clearer in tone, sounds alongside Patience's own. "Did he?" she asks, "I would say I'm surprised, but, frankly, I am not. Considering the man's hubris, I am surprised he hasn't boasted his goal to the whole Domain." Then a thought crosses her mind and she tilts her head to the Haunt, "I'm curious though, Patience," she said, "what do you think is my goal?"

"I believe when discussing consequences it is best to look at an overarching authority," she says, "The reality is that, though the matter is private, the consequences of Thomas' antics have irked more than just the Lord. Therefore, my priority was to instruct my Whip to inform Her Majesty that the Clan as a whole is displeased with him, thereby separating ourselves from his failures. Having done that, I will abide by the laws governing Her Majesty's covenant and seek Prestation. Should the Prince find it agreeable, I would also have Thomas' tongue ripped from his throat and forbid him from repairing it for a season. It is his tongue that has gotten him into this state and so it is his tongue that I seek to take. In this way, the pain he feels goes beyond simple sensation. He will be starved of the very attention he desires and his forced silence will remind him of what powers are truly in control."

"However, there is also a chance he could seek not to save face," she said, "In which case the easiest route for him is to flee. Nonetheless, that move would still reflect on his nature. Either way, Patience, I've already won."

[Patience]

The mention of Lenora's unnatural tenure among the kine is noted, though passed over in silence. "My own sire was...insistent. When it came to my training as well. It is a gift, don't you agree?" A painful, terrible gift. "So many of the Damned seem ill prepared to accept their proper position." She sneers. "A waste."

The way her mouth moves when she's speaking; it's as if her jaw comes unhinged on the vowel sounds. Her hands lay, palms up, on the table. Like two dead things.

A wolf should not attempt to appear as a sheep... It is music to Patience's ears. Perhaps too sweet? Could this Lord be playing to her Faith? Well, staged or not: an opening is an opening. "You are right, Lenora. We are wolves among the living. And we should not debase ourselves by humoring them more than is necessary." A pause. "And yes. We hunt differently. I'm sure. But our predation serves the same purpose. I would not try to guess your goal. But I can tell you about your role. As a predator. A hunter. Do you know what that is?"

Patience stares intently at Lenora. It has been a long time since she blinked. Her eyes look filmy.

When the Priscus of Lords begins detailing her punishment, a horrible smile begins to creep across the Haunt's face.

Yes. Yes, this one knows herself. And she knows discipline.

It is sweet, so sweet, to hear Lenora's plans.

"I agree. You have won." And that's your goal, isn't it? To win. "It is much deserved." It is unclear whether she's referring to Lenora's triumph or Thomas's fate. "If you need someone to take his tongue, might I humbly volunteer? I have...practice with such things."

She'd agreed never to interfere in Thomas's covenant, or his role therein. But this is political, not religious. And Patience is a deputy after all.

[Lenora]

Lenora's forearms cross on the table, her body subtly leaning forward. She is invested, perhaps even intrigued by the Haunt before her.

"Indeed it is," she offers as Patience refers to their instruction as a gift, "The unfortunate truth is many Kindred take to Embracing another too quickly, I fear. They are simply not prepared to instruct another on what it means to be Kindred. It is as much a sire's responsibility to teach as it is a childe's responsibility to learn and accept."

Priscus Black glances to the side, clearly pondering Patience's question for a long moment, before her eyes return to the Bishop's filmy gaze.

"A predator hunts, surviving by the consumption of Prey or, in our case, the consumption of vital lifeblood. A successful predator engages in the hunt by striking before the Prey fully understands they are being stalked or lured," she states, her tone matter-of-fact, "Kindred have argued for millennia about what that means about our role on the grand scale. Given your covenant, Bishop, it is within my assumptions that you believe we occupy a space that is meant to test the Kine while seeking penance through service to God."

At the offer to cut out Thomas' tongue, Lenora chuckled.

"Should Her Majesty deem it agreeable, I see no issue with it," she says, "After all, given your place in the Domain, it seems most appropriate. I need not be the one to cut it out in order to prove my dominance."

I already have.