042022 Ventrue Meeting Lady L

[Jacque]

Sacramento's Yacht Harbor was just as prestigious as it was conveniently remote. At the end of the longest dock moored the Ventrue's meeting location- the Lady L. The 146 ft yacht lit the water around it in a dim ambiance.

A gangway was deployed to the dock allowing for boarding to the stern's deck. At the end awaited Jacque's ghoul to greet each of the arrivals and direct them to the appropriate sections of the boat to lounge in. Kindred were led up to the flybridge, which had a few dolls waiting to the sides, in the hot tub as well as one tending the bar. With the first Kindred arrival, Jacque gave a glance towards the tub and some of the herd quietly left the deck back down the stairs. Other ghouls and any accompanying herds were eventually led to the lounge at the bow.

Regardless of where anyone wound up, the areas were richly stocked with liquors, champagne and wines... the service of course willing to infuse any beverage to satisfy Kindred tastes.

Matt William Walker Jake T R Quartermain Endymion Milton

[Jacque]

For now, Jacque sat behind the lower table of the semi-circle seating, enjoying a glass of champagne with a swirl of crimson suspended in it. His attire was not much different than usual- a white dress shirt under a purple paisley patterned vest. He had a Rolex on his wrist and cabochon amethyst cufflinks.

Friendly note that while moored we are in a public area and should be protecting the first!

[R Quartermain]

The car pulled up to the dock and Xan glanced up at the massive boat.

“Holy shitballs this looks swanky,” she breathed.

“Composure, Xan,” the soldier replied. “There is likely free food and drink to be had for attending ghouls and blood dolls. Eat some, drink less. Remember to keep your eyes and ears open and speak as little as possible.”

“But boss,” she replied, the hint of a whine in her voice.

“But nothing,” he replied. “You are still new to this world, and your actions will reflect on me. A misstep in word or deed is a misstep I have done by bringing you. You must understand this is part of our society and the price of being here with such ‘shitballing swanky’ people.”

The young woman rolled her eyes. “You suck at modern swears, sir,” she noted.

“Well, when ‘pox-ridden louse’ comes back into fashion, I will be in my prime,” the soldier replied wryly as she brought the car to a stop and came around to get his door. He closed his eyes a moment, letting the vitae suffuse his skin with warmth and color before getting out of the car.

“I mean it,” he continued, albeit gently, “Eat and drink and chat, but do not lose your head.”

He could see the desire to retort cross her face, but as soon as the blonde woman came up to greet them Xan’s face stilled into what she had once told him that she called “Courtroom Poker” face.

With a gesture from Jacque’s ghoul, Robert followed, making his way to the yacht.

The suit was new, Jacque might note – razor edge cut and in a modern fashion; done in blacks with a rich purple shirt underneath. A set of elegant gold cufflinks match a similar tie tack and create an elegant, if understated, presentation.

“Seneschal Jacque,” the soldier intoned formally, offering a bow from the shoulders in greetings. “Thank you for the invitation.”

[William Walker]

The black BMW pulled up to the docks, it took a few moments before a man in his early 30's exited the car and opened the rear door. William stepped out and observed the yacht as Renly closed the door and locked the car. Well nothing says a dick measuring contest like a 140ft yacht. Internally William smirked.

William had decided to dress a little more formally for the meeting. Part of him wondered how this meeting was going to go, the worst part... they were all stuck of a Yacht so there was no escape.

He made his way up the gangway, Renly a couple of paces behind. Renly made his way to the area with the rest of the attaché. William made his way towards Jacque and another kindred he had briefly seen at court. He observed the seating arrangements. So he has chosen the lower table? Interesting... is his intention for this to be a more informal meeting? If it was, it was not what he was expecting but he approved.

As he arrived he gave the Priscus of Lords a respectful bow of the head "Priscus Jacque" he turned to the Gentlemen next to him. He had seen him at court and overheard bits of his conversation in an attempt to start learning peoples names. "Alder Quatermain" he paused briefly. "I hope you are both well"

[Milton]

Milton makes the long walk down the dock texting. He passes between benighted rows of floating monuments to capital gians with little concern. The light of his screen illuminates a slight frown, his default expression. At least when alone.

About twenty feet away from the illuminated gangway entrance, he pauses in a pool of shadow to turn off his phone. Slides the device into his pocket. Hands find his tie, graze his hair, smooth his suit (predictably bland, corporate): the ritual of a man who no longer relies on a mirror and so has memorized those points along his person that must be double checked. Lastly, he turns his wrist ever so slightly to see that his cufflinks (a recent gift from an eminent personage) are in order. The whole process takes a matter of moments.

That done, Milton continues his approach. The frown disappears and is replaced by a smile so practiced it has lost any semblance of real emotion. It stretches his re-vivified skin uncomfortably, reminding the Lord of the Vitae wasted on mere contrivance.

Oh well. Some things can't be helped.

Out of the dark, he appears at the foot of the gangway. Does not greet Jacque's ghoul who's name he has yet to bother learning. Just gives her an expectant look and off she goes. Aptly trained. Milton follows.

The Yacht is well-appointed. And well stocked. He would expect no less.

He comes upon Jacque and Quartermain in the company of an excruciatingly handsome fellow. Milton dislikes him almost immediately. Perhaps it is the way this stranger's Beast inspires fantasies of jumping overboard.

The Man silences the Monster without letting the mask slip. "Gentlemen," he greets. "Good evening." Keeping to general address, cognizant that they are still (for the moment) in public.

A deep nod to Jacque, a shallow nod to Robert, a glance to William. He does not introduce himself. No recognition of any ghouls or blood dolls that may be lingering.

"A fine night for a fine occasion." One might almost be convinced that he believes his words. Indeed, for those who have had the time to adjust to Milton's...stilted demeanor, it will be apparent that he is in rather high spirits (relatively speaking, of course).

[Jacque]

One by one the Kings arrived. He felt the rile of his own beast with each and every one of them. The seeded anger and primal instinct to eat. conquer. eat. He turned his attention to his glass, twisting the stem methodically between his fingers as he pressed the beast back to its cage.

He acknowledged each of his cousins in kind as they arrived, until at last they were all present. "Good evening. Thank you for being prompt in your arrivals." A purposeful pause as his gaze fixated on the stunning gentlemen, "And... your required discretion." The First was everything, and the boat at night could draw eyes to the dock. The Lord broke his gaze and gestured to the bar, "Please help yourself to whatever you see, and sate whatever appetites you have arrived with." Or developed with the scenery. "Have you all met before tonight?"

"It is a fine night," the Lord agreed. Shortly after the statement, the moorings were loosed and the hum of the engines pressed the boat slowly down the river.

[R Quartermain]

I could almost mistake him for a daeva, the soldier thought, turning to the man addressing him. Practiced care had prepared his beast to be chained, barred, and locked, but he still could not still the faint tremor that ran through him and the resultant internal annoyance at his own weakness. Compounded only by the fact that this newcomer King had learned his name and he was none the wiser.

“Thank you for your invitation. I do not believe we are not all acquainted,” he replied to Jacque, clearly indicating the new arrival, “though of course Whip Northbridge and I are.”

The bland man in a blander suit was given a respectful nod of greeting, and some part of the soldier’s mind began to trace the lines of the evening. Jacque and Milton, the strongest tie – Milton’s sponsor into the First Estate. Milton and himself… not allies… not enemies… but the potential for either remained, which meant that there was a thinner connection there. Jacque and he had no tie outside the Estate, and this newcomer was a complete unknown. Perhaps it was paranoia, or perhaps it was the training of a live lived Requiem as he ran those mental calculations, playing the odds of who would play against who.

[William Walker]

Prior to the meeting William had wondered how the meeting would go. Would the Ventrue of this city be all against each other, polite on the surface and ready to thrust the knife in at the first opportunity. Did they all get along and avoid making enemies at least within the family or was it a mixture of the two. Time would tell and by the end of the night he would have a better idea.

"My apologies" William smiled towards Quartermain. Internally he smirked Observe, Listen and Learn he said to himself in Baroness Lancaster's voice. "William Walker. It is a pleasure to meet you both." William moved round to take a seat behind the higher table. He thought it was best to leave the position next to Jacque open for the Whip.

[Milton]

The boat pulls away from the dock. For a moment, Milton feels a sense of freedom. But then categorizes this as mere sentiment. Leaving dry land does not unbind you from your commitments. The Laws of one's world follow everywhere. If the unmooring of a vessel inspires a sense of liberation, it is only an illusion fostered by certain, repeated tropes found in literature and cinema. Pleasant, but ultimately meaningless.

For instance, Milton will never be free of his bloody desire. On land or on water. At Jacque's offer, he peruses the...selection. The Beast clamors to feed. But the Lord is a private sort. He will attend to his needs later, out of the public eye.

"Yes, thank you," Milton echoes the Alder Soldier's gratitude for the invitation. Glancing toward Quartermain and then William.

The introduction is...brief. Milton responds in turn: "Milton Northbridge," laying a hand briefly on his chest, "Whip of Lords." The hand now gestures toward Robert, "Alder Solider Robert Quartermain." Using his Invictus title if only to indicate that Quartermain has a measure of status is some, important quarters.

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Walker." At least for rhetorical purposes. "From where have you joined our fair Domain?"
Keen, unblinking eyes stay locked on the impossibly good-looking gentleman.

[Jacque]

A purposeful pause as his gaze fixated on the stunning gentlemen, "And... your required discretion." The First was everything, and the boat at night could draw eyes to the dock.

Jacque was thankful for the boat's movement. The quicker they left the docks, the faster the risk would decline. "Mister Walker, I had hoped you would recognize the risk the public docks posed. Even if not initially, I would have thought seeing the precautions others took would lead you to understand." The Lord waited before continuing. Waited for any question or any clarification needed- or the simple act of counterfeiting life.

Once that was behind them, and other small talk concluded the Lord looked to each of his cousins. "It is refreshing to have enough notable Kings to have a quorum. I am even more pleased that we were able to do so before any of you found a reason to be at each other's throats." He flashed a grin, the group no doubt in understanding of their own tendencies, "I find it is important to know what was before we get to what can be. The first meeting of our blood I attended in Sacramento, the Priscus saw fit to rectify our neutrality towards each other and pit all of us against each other to earn the title of Whip."

"That singular act ruined our position in the Domain for years. It was a poison that divided us... stoking the fires of our pride into a senseless act of seeking an unobtainable revenge. I was the one selected to be Whip that night, and through all of the disaster that followed- I am the last man standing."

The Lord's fingers pressed on the foot of his glass to slide it away from himself, "To prevent history from repeating itself, I want to be clear that I have selected Mister Northbridge as Whip due to his many merits and achievements within the Domain. He achieved standing and recognition at a pace that will bolster our family for the foreseeable future and I expect him to guide you all on a path that can help earn you the same. This selection is non-negotiable, non-debatable and unquestionable."

His arms opened, stretching his hands out to the side in an open invitation, "My position, however, is open to debate with no threat of retaliation from me. If you believe you can best serve the family as its Priscus, then you and anyone backing your claim are free to make your case at this or any future meetings of our Blood. I believe this is a fair and open approach to prevent stagnation. I only require that outside of this regular opportunity to challenge, we are united wholly."

Confident steel eyes traced between his cousins, waiting for anyone to take him up on the opportunity.

Challenging will initiate Social Combat