The First Council of Neonates

[rhiann90]

There it was again. That blasted fist. The fist that started this madness. Lilliana had struggled this entire evening to control the raging beast within her. First, that drunkard at the Long Drop. Comments by Dorian Black pushed her to the limit. She knew the signs. It was the only good thing her sire had her warned about the changes, before his eventual demise. Issac Black had reminded her prior to the events that occurred that evening what would happen should she lose her grip. Lilliana lost her grip. It cracked through the mask that she struggled to hold on to. It cracked like her jaw after it was hit with that blasted fist again.

How did she hit me? Break her jaw. She's too fast! Burn her then! How can I burn her? I'm not powerful like... like... SUN!!!!

Sunlight started pouring through slits of the walls. The girl that had just hit her crumbled into dust. Ash particles floated all around her. The doctor had collapsed into a heap on the floor, then exploded into a grey mist. Tallow was heading towards Lilliana but started crisping, cracks split his face and he too joined the piles of crumbling monsters around him. George was getting scars across the places where his skin was exposed.

The sun must be rising! We need to flee! But killing... WE NEED TO FLEE!

Lilliana's eyes widened. To those around her, it would appear that the petite platinum blonde had scared her with one punch. No one had successfully hit her. The monstrous beast became a quivering creature in a split second. Within that same split second, a dash towards the outside. The dirt from the streets blew up, causing a few gas lanterns to extinguish.

No more howling. No more fire. No more blood gushing. Now the clean up begins...

[Viktor]

That was unexpected. Something happened that wasn’t just a punch from a slender arm. The only the Idiot was behind the bar with the Blonde and that certainly wasn’t his fist that bloodied the Rebels nose. Which meant it was probably him. There would be time later to consider things more deeply but right now it was time to leave. The fleeing form of the Rebel was a sure sign things were over.

Pain lanced through his side as he pulled himself back up to his feet, broken bone stabbing into charred flesh was an experience he had long wished to avoid again. The bar was a ruin. It had been a while since he’d seen The Masquerade ruined quite so well. Brilliant. Just bloody brilliant. He glared at the Idiot on the other side of the bar. His expression alone quite plainly stating that if the Neonate even thought about opening his mouth he would be gifted with a fist sandwich that would be washed down with a pint of teeth flavoured beer; and that there would be a dessert course to follow.

He was about to say something to the Idiot and then Rebeka appeared by his side, her expression enough to cause him to stay his tongue. There was a time and a place for some things. Instead he turned away from the bar and made his way across the room with his charge, one arm held over his side, covering and hiding the wound under a picked up coat as he made his way out.

[Storyteller]

Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must remain silent.

Clans Nosferatu and Malkavian feed close in proximity, their territories not in fact separated by any strip of land but instead immediately bordering the other.

Unburdened and going at a sprint, a journey of a few minutes.

John Deer picked up the Good Doctor, slung him over his shoulders and set off. Spence barred the door while Watkinson blocked the window. Outside, the Obfuscated Elders Littlewood and Luke of Guildford formed a sharp perimeter around the Gentleman's Respite, moving like ghosts.

Another Elder arrived: Jackdaw, who immediately left to track down those kine that vacated the area before the doors were barred; once Deer successfully roused Taylor, they moved to assist him.

And finally, a Nosferatu Elder appeared with her silent ward: Erika Leroux and Christine Daye. The latter was eerily alert, a strange focus to her gaze as she and Erika moved towards the door. Constance Flaubert peeled away from the shadows before vanishing into the depths of the tavern after them, the doors closing firmly behind.

*

((And thus, dear readers, is where we leave it. Those questionably involved know what occurred and the rest, they say... is history.))