{V:tM - IC} New York by Night

[KitanaVorr]

Antiquities Nightclub, Manhattan
Wednesday 11th December, 2003

The crystalline tears slid down her cheeks with the silence. Her heart struggled to return to its normal pulse, her breath already straggling far behind.

That had been so close...was it but a harbinger? The discomfort of the snow chilled her as much as that thought did. What happened there? Was this how it was like for the others?

Then a voice. "You're a very good singer."

Singer. Music. Her only release and yet her current torment. Someone who remembered her...who was he? But she wasn't ready to talk, not quite yet until she had calmed the fear within her heart.

Slowly her mind began to put together the steps - logical musical steps - building back each section of her mind with every note. A song - one of many - that she kept in her thoughts and pulled out when she needed soothing...because singing had always soothed her before.

Right now I feel like a bird
Caged without a key

Her soft voice reverberates in the nook, warming it with echoes, soothing echoes. But her cage was one no one understood or knew about, no one could help her...did anyone even know her torment?

Everyone comes to stare at me
With so much joy and rivalry
They don't know how I feel inside
Through my smile, I cry

Why had Nathan acted that way? Had he seen...why...what was that look? Why had that moment when they seemed so happy had that voice intruded? What brought that horror, that anger to his face? Did he see within her? Were those thoughts so visible on her face?

I know why the caged bird sings
Only joy comes from song

Caitlyn wondered if she should escape now like a coward or find Nathan again. With a start, she realized she had given all her money to the homeless man who saved her and Nathan had brought them all here.

Maybe that man can help... she thought absurdly dwelling for that moment in the fantasy of flight. Spinning around, she headed toward the door in a rather reckless fashion. "Sir...?"

 

[Tory Adore]

Alphaville – Forever Young

She focuses on Maria’s lips at hearing the accented words rolling in question from the Sire’s mouth. Vych tips her head to the left, closed her right eye, and curls her lower lip, incisors dimpling the moist red flesh. Attempting to translate, then looking back to Maria with questioning eyes, Vych thinks to herself, “no, that translation can’t be right…cleansing of the blood…that can be done…and how could a Tremere help Sabrina…shaping at will?” Vych’s eyes wander to Carrick.

Eyes widening, taking a little gasp of air and abruptly placing her hands over her left breast as the vibration fills her chest, she says to the handsome group with a light sense of urgency to her tone,
”Please forgive me. There is something I must attend to.”

Though it is extremely difficult for her to tear herself away and causes her pain, Vych takes two rushed steps backwards nodding to Maria, Carrick, and Sabrina before she spins around to take her leave. She quickly retrieves the phone from between her breasts, flipping it open and placing it to her left ear, right hand plugging the other.
”Hello…?”

In a graceful and fluid rush, Vych heads toward and moves through the double hung doors leading to the foyer so she can hear a bit more clearly. She stands in the amber-lit foyer to the right of the doors and faces the corner with her back turned slightly to the main entrance from outside.

 

[Catulle]

The Warrens
Wednesday 11th December, 2003

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Once more, the buzzing of the bulb was the single continuous noise, mitigated on occasion by a shuffling from one shadow or another.

The dry-voiced speaker broke the impasse first, "What if Tess were to make the contact? This... Max has connections to her sire, no?"

"True (true). I agree with this plan (plan)"

The seated figure drew forwards a little in his chair, throwing his pallid dome into the light and in turn sending a cascade of shadows over his face. He looked to the far end of the room, his eyes mere black hollows, and sniffed in twice through a hooked nose.

"Yes. If she will 'elp us, she should go. Mulligan can get 'er into the building. She can wait for 'im there." The sitting monster rotated his head, throwing the jutting teeth that thrust from his gaping maw into the light for a mere second. "What do you think, ma reine?"

 

[Catulle]

Antiquities Nightclub, Manhattan
Wednesday 11th December, 2003

Caitlyn caught the stranger just as he was finally turning to leave, his face betrayed a little surprise when she stood up. He was neatly, though not ostentatiously dressed; a blue colarless shirt, dark trousers. His wardrobe certainly didn't stand him apart from the crowd.

"Yes, Miss?" His accent... a faint brogue, well-hidden but lurking behind each inflection. Scots, perhaps, or Irish. He leaned his head a little to the right as he spoke.

 

[KitanaVorr]

Antiquities Nightclub, Manhattan
Wednesday 11th December, 2003

Caitlyn nearly ran into him, stopping just short with surprise etched on her face. Had he been there the entire time listening to her? A faint blush touched her cheeks but she composed herself.

Well...you can't just ask him right out, that would be rude. Besides, you don't even know what you want yet, just a way to escape if need be.

"Oh...well, I'm Caitlyn Tran. I didn't catch yours," she spoke if a bit flustered extending one slender hand in his direction.

His voice - that's a really interesting accent...Don't get distracted!

 

[Catulle]

Antiquities Nightclub, Manhattan
Wednesday 11th December, 2003

Carrick, Maria, Sabrina and Vychtorya

The elder nodded her approval as Vychtorya backed away, and Sabrina could see her hold the departing woman's back in those farsighted eyes. When the crowd suged around her, concealing her from view, Maria turned back to her favoured childe and the neonate in his arms.

"It happens that, sometimes, a sire Embraces..." she let her voice trail a little, pensive, "...inappropriately. They choose poorly or for the wrong reasons. In cases such as these, it is normal that either the sire, childe or both will perish. Of course, this is in a city with an established leadership. I wish you all the best fortunes in the nights ahead, Sabrina. My house seems keen to afford you protection in addition to Mr Montague's... however your pedigree stands." To the child, there seemed an edge of indulgent pity to the lady's tone, whether a genuine sadness or one inspired from the connotations for her childe's status seemed irrelevent. She met Carrick's eyes, who miled in return.

"Speaking of whom, I should introduce you to Nathaniel in person. He was very keen to meet you when I informed him of your impending arrival and I trust he will be done on the floor soon enough" He offered his free arm to Maria and as she entwined hers about it, the group started, slowly, to make their way towards the mezzanine's spacious sweep. The better for the view, it occurred to Sabrina. She caught sight of Vychtorya as they travelled, by the doors in with a telephone gripped close to her ear.

 

[Catulle]

Antiquities Nightclub, Manhattan
Wednesday 11th December, 2003

Vychtorya

"Mazz!" The voice on the other end of the line was effusive, though when she spoke, the speaker, male, paused for an uncomfortable period. The crowd was close about her, but thinned as she reached the oasis of relative clam by the club's entryway.

"Who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?" The accent was a refined one, well up the social classes as she recalled such things. "And where might Maslowe be?"

 

[Catulle]

Antiquities Nightclub, Manhattan
Wednesday 11th December, 2003

Caitlyn

He took her hand, warm to the touch and dry. He smiled as he shook it, and his eye contact wavered with a hint of awkwardness "Mike Shiels. Pleased to meet you, Miss. I kinda play a little myself. Not professional, though." The undertone of the earlier accent was submerging beneath that of a local, though there remained a discernable cadence to his words to which he seemed, himself, oblivious.

 

[Catulle]

Antiquities Nightclub, Manhattan
Wednesday 11th December, 2003

Framed in light, the creature watched the moves play out beneath it, experiencing life, as it had through all these recent years, vicariously. Shrouded from mortal and immortal alike, it tried to think, to select a course of action that would force it all to make sense. A way to reconcile the press of insanity into something... beautiful.

It never stops. It can never be allowed to stop.

The child in the fair man's arms caught its sight, and it smiled.

 

[Tory Adore]

Vych’s voice poured into the phone with a comfortable yet proper eloquence,
”My name is Vychtorya-Lyn Fayrchyld, Sir. I do apologize that I am not who you had hoped to reach. Mr. Maslowe was kind enough to let me borrow his phone for the evening while he is here at my club, Antiquities. If it do please you Sir I can try to locate him for you, and if it is not an intrusion of your privacy, might I ask your name?”

Vych could feel the welcomed chill of the night rush at her spine, and the chiffon of her dress whirled and clung about her legs everytime the entry doors opened and closed. She rotated her body more into the corner and leaned her right side and head up againts the wall. Her right hand still resting against her ear so she could hear clearly with the other.