After the new start for the Council of Neonates

[LittleBird]

Kira takes her brothers hand gladly, her finger tips quivering as they feather along his hands. Being lead once again in confusion. These words, rigging something else from the depths...she follows where he leads the pair too...is this that poison jealous again. Talk of marking trees. Talks of games-her shoulders slink in and huddling a little...her mouth dry opens to beg no games...yet no sound comes out as he continues...she blinks and stands next to Christine.

Yet another toy of his that another soul cannot dare to dream of, let alone touch...No! What is this?! History lessons? Woven between such ill hidden veil of a night of desire? Kira doesn't move from her spot. One hand shakes, reaching and padding along the wall behind her, struggling to find a single thread against her brothers speech and the singers rhymes.

[Regulus Grey]

Regulus looks towards Lunaris, his eyes hooded. He opens his mouth to speak before the song reaches his ears. His brain slows, his eyes droop and he keels over. One hand faintly clenching and unclenching.

[Dorian M. Black]

"Kira," Dorian whispers. He discovers speaking quietly makes it easier for his voice to stay even. "There are nine prop javelins in the corridor near here, from a production involving Roman soldiers. Could you please grab six of them?"

[LittleBird]

She looks up to him, and nods-her eyes still completely lost, her mouth moves in silence yet she nods none the less...hoping an explanation will come later.

Hurriedly she separates herself from that feigned safety of the wall, taking a chance to let her eyes drop onto Mr.Grey as he's kneeling-tis not even a linger, barely a sweeping glance before she heads to the cluttered corridor. She lets her fingers patter along nervously, trying to find them, she certainly won't break whatever the fuck this is with a list of questions-though a part of her is pleading her to do so! Six! Definitely six. Why not al-NO QUESTIONS! Kira gathers them and hurries back to her brother, presenting them before him, despite her eyes still wide with confusion, despite appear to be the only one lost on this injoke, she still goes before him...still follows him, still wholly body and soul-wholeheartedly, trusts him...if only he could trust himself.

"Anything else Night Light?" she whispers, quickly and quietly proving to him she did in fact gather six of them, automatically doing so, subconsciously needing to prove every instruction is followed.

[Dorian M. Black]

Dorian takes them after adjusting Regulus, his gaze catching Kira's briefly, and hands two to Lunaris.

"There's morphological convergence in the patterns of birds to bats, and fortunately, close phylogeny shared by all mammals. We maintain the same system of limbs for bone origin. Skewering a wolf is much the same as skewering a human, if you know the anatomy."

A pause, and a deliberate offer to Christine and Kira of a javelin each. "You do not need to join in with this, if you would rather not. If you do, take a leg each. Thigh, preferably, and high up. When he comes under any physical damage, the trance he's under will break. So this damage needs to be done all at once, to pin him." Should they not take one, he'll simply prop them against the wall.

Dorian's gaze lifts through the fall of hair, settles on the Scot. "The sternum. Don't miss, and don't push to the right. Clean through the center. If the bone buckles back, that's good; it'll just be that which clips the heart. There's no point if he's staked on wood. For your second strike, aim for just above the pelvis."

Dorian takes two javelins and puts two gleaming boots on the floor either side of the Gangrel's head, readying the wooden tips over the relaxed biceps.

[Christine Daye]

Christine takes the javelin offered, her gaze distant. For a moment, there is something wild and otherworldly about her. Shades of the Wild Hunt, the Siren, the Valkyrie.

Still singing, she positions herself next to one of Regulus' thighs, javelin point down and ready.

[Eric Lunaris]

There's a moment of confusion as the Gangrel drops. It clears quickly, seeing Dorian having no surprise, and is replaced by a great desire. An urge fuelled by the aura of power radiating within the room. It had be contained though, with some effort, for no doubt the beast would not be down for long enough to sink into these feelings. At least Eric could look forward to loosening some muscles later.

While waiting for the javelins Eric decides to pour the two still in the room and himself a drink, knocking it back. Eric takes the two javelins and lines them up with their intended targets. Determination fuels him, knowing if he fails it'll probably mean a pair of claws in his leg at best. "What's the signal?"

[LittleBird]

Kira's furrowed brow softens at the gaze...and the gesture, the offer of involvement despite the unknowing of the end goals. This...this is not like before. There is no research. This is a lesson. This is indulgence. This is...this is not worth the effort and the show. Whatever outcome surely cannot be worthy of the lasting impression such would have on those in the room, malkavians or not!

She does take the javelin, her fingers opening to take it the moment it is offered. Always giving in to what he offers. However it is abundantly clear by her stance...by the way her knuckles are turning white as they clutch onto the pole so, that she will not strike. Holding it so tight. So tremendously tight as if to steady herself and anchor herself. To ensure she watches. Pinned to the spot. Almost to ensure she herself doesn't stop this, doesn't turn away from this. Observes all who do partake and all who somehow suck some delight from this insane and unknown act. No, no, no, not right...after all tis her brother, don't be foolish, there must be a reason to this-

[Dorian M. Black]

Signal?

Dorian's lips quirk, his gaze on Lunaris. The dark eyes move more deliberately to Christine.

"You'll feel it."

And after what couldn't be more than three seconds, at the closing end of its downward parabola, he plunges two javelins through the meat and muscle of the Gangrel's arms, his pupils widening against the gaslamp, swallowing the blue. His eyes don't leave Christine's as he does it; from across the prone figure he smiles at her, cruelly sweet, an ecstatic tension before the snap that throws the link into glaring crimson heat.

[Christine Daye]

Christine holds Dorian's gaze, her eyes dark, dangerous.

She moves as he does, slamming the javelin point into Regulus' thigh. She's not practiced, so the point slips, sliding around the flesh to pin his trousers, rather than his leg.

Her lips part in a silent gasp as she shudders, her head thrown back, eyes closing. She forces her eyes open again, and looks at Dorian, licks her lips slowly.