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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Catulle" data-source="post: 939585" data-attributes="member: 9942">Antiquities Nightclub, ManhattanWednesday 11th December, 2003Carrick, Sabrina and Vychtorya"She calls me even now. I can sense her presence again, though it has been a long time since we last met face-to-face. But that was another country and another group of Kindred. I was incomplete then, and stumbling. It was, as I recall, shortly after your mother..." His smile faltered, for just long enough to register on the two other Kindred's senses before returning as splendid as before. Carrick took the lead, drawing them back down the stairs, past the sea of humanity towards the bar where Maria had been playing court.She was a wondrous thing, small-framed and of a statuesque perfection. Flawless skin covered fine-sculpted and delicate seeming bones, taking to the pallour of Kindred age as paint to canvas and standing in contrast to her deep, dark eyes. She wore her black, lustrous, hair high with tresses escaping the crown, falling as shadowed coils around her face. The devotion in the eyes of those closest to her stood in mute testimony to the overall effect, love uncomprehending reflected on some faces and the misery of defeat etched deep on others. She was as a goddess among them, yet they seemed heedless of the real danger.At Carrick's approach, she slid artlessly from the stool and awaited her childe's advance, an enigmatic smile on her lips as she stood to receive the small delegation. At perhaps five feet tall, Maria Santa Lucia, architect of Cordoba and sire of Carrick Ashton, posessed a gravity that far outstripped her stature._____________Caitlyn and NathanielSo rapt was Cate in the music, the ebb and flow of it all, the eddies that it left in its wake amidst the crowd, that she didn't notice her motion until she was on the dancefloor. Perfectly coordinated, in harmony with the music, she swept across the room as if on dark wings. And he was beside her, as lost in the delerious swirl as she, raven hair training behind him, and keeping her measure step for perfect step. The lyrics tugged at her, an undefinable something beneath their rippling surface, as if the singer were stood just behind her shoulder, in harmony with himself, a softer gallic lilt behind the beautiful, horrible, song.Yet still it compelled them, ever onwards. Nathan's eyes reflected her own, his lips moving in synch with the words, and something stirred deep within him, spurring him ever onward... but to what ends?When the song shifted, the sensation was dulled, yet the presence lingered after, diminished but enduring, the knife hidden for now.</blockquote>

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