The First Council of Neonates

[George Williamson]

The Gentleman's Respite had a well known upper floor. From the landing, there were several doors leading into rooms which held a variety of business, mainly used by a different whore each night. Going even further up into the attic was a private poker room. The large table was an off-green from spills of food, "liquor", and blood. Otherwise is was rather bare. One shuttered window. One door. Only a pair of wall lamps to light the place on either side of the room. A dozen seats spread out up and down each side of table, each varying in a state of disrepair.

At the far end sat George, in a rough jacket but perfectly pink in the face. He leant on the table, keeping his eyes on the door.

What would even be the outcome of all this? Would they even bother coming? Why would they not? There were a lot of concerns flying through George's head. He'd found himself questioning most things now-a-days.

He'd had worse ideas.

[rhiann90]

Down the stairs, there is whispering. A female, obviously French, mutters to another nearby "Do not touch anything. Keep your head down. Stay by my side little one. We cannot risk him seeing us again. I'm trusting you. We all are." Acknowledgement comes through a slight sound and a nod.

Gentle steps are taken leading up to the room they had heard about. There is cackling of working women in the area. A gasp of shock as the unique aromas hit a sensitive soul. The girl is wearing a hooded cape, that has the marks of many years of use, but it cannot hide the youthful porcelain beauty underneath. She clings to the barmaid.

Caution Violet. Remember your last trip with Lilliana..

Memories of adventure into the dark billows of subclass society rise like a dark fog. The smells, the sights, the sensations all come flooding back entering this one place. The darkness she recalls frequently. The consequence of youth. Being locked in her room, starved, begging for freedom. A sire that commands and demands. The two friends haven't seen each other in what feels like an eternity. She knows the risk she takes going again with the barmaid. There is trust. Is it enough? Will it be worthwhile again? These adventures come with a high risk. Yes. She needs to know more. Violet affirms her gaze and continues.

A smirk creeps along the barmaid's face. Lilliana sees Violet half way between a daughter or a younger sister. She never had a sister, only brothers who died young. Too young to recall any affection. To be able to feel that sense of protection is uplifting. The barmaid holds her precious guest tight. Tight enough to bring a sense of peace, not to harm. This is unusual for her. Affection for kindred, let alone a different clan is bizzare enough in itself.

If Monsieur Black were here... No. Do not think of him. Keep her safe. Focus...

They press on through the Respite.

Squeaks and thuds of bed frames mask the opening of a specific room door. The attic. At the end of the room they see their host. They both look around. Lilliana nods her head and steps closer. "Ah... it appears that we are early. A first for me. Unless we are late, then I apologise. Also a first for me. I hope you do not mind, I brought a delicate little flower that is in need of protection and growth without fear of her glasshouse wilting her away. Violet, I hope you recall our dear friend Monsieur Williamson?"

[Becca]

The Malkavian neonate known only as "The Spider" enters the room a short time after the two women, his step on the stair light considering his size; silent testimony to a wealthy and privileged mortal life. He is dressed in greys and dark greens - worn brocades and silks indicating his indifference to his clothing beyond its basic function. His hood is down, revealing roughly tied back hair, pale skin and intelligent brown eyes. As he takes a seat nearest the door, he pulls out a notebook, quill and ink, settling himself fully before speaking.

"The Spider thanks you for your invitation, Master WIlliamson, and asks for confirmation of security of this meeting?"

[Samuel Taylor]

Thump Click Thump Click The sound of feet on the stairs creeps into the room. It continues and gets louder as the source approaches. A quick rapping on the door and a moments polite pause, then the door swings open to reveal a young woman in a modest black dress steadying the familiar figure of Samuel Taylor. His gait is ponderous as he walks forward leaning heavily on both his Ghoul and cane.

The change as he steps over the threshold and the door closes behind him is immediate. He straightens and his steps become light and steady. He nods briefly at the young woman who bows to him and withdraws rapidly. Looking around the room Taylor absorbs everything at a glance, his analytical mind noting the absences so far.

"Good Night my fine Ladies and Gentlemen."

[George Williamson]

Foreign, downstairs. The sounds of the establishment played like a comfortable backdrop to George's ears. He knew the regular sounds, but this... western European? Maybe it was a new whore come to ask for Richy's rooms or a companion of one the regulars. Some of them definitely had foreign tastes. George strained but he couldn't pick out the words they spoke. Two floors and several dozen people were a stretch for even George. The noise downstairs lost it's comfort when it became a trouble to hear through.

The door opens, and it was French George heard, but that was not what drew his attention. Violet?! The unrealised childe. Not good but could be worse. At least I didn't bring her.

George stumbled over his thoughts, "ahh, nah, don't worry ya not late." George smiled to Lilianna, it was best to be welcoming before the questions started flying, "it's just a bit earl.." Then the lightfooted Spider entered the lair. Too distracted to notice him coming up George was a little surprised, but he stil managed to share his smile to Spider while he was sorting himself.

"See, not earl.."
Thump Click Thump Click

When it rains, it pours.

Mr Taylor had now joined and now George had four things to respond to. This was never going to be simple.

"Good evenin' all. Come sit or loiter at your own wish," he said beconning them all towards the table. First he turned to Spider, "I was gonna bring security up first wiht us all, it's some'in for all of us after all," He looks towards the two who didn't recieve invitations, "but I 'ope ya won't mind me figurin' out this little thin' first?" George wanted to keep this relaxed. It was hard getting so many Kindred in one room. It wasn't going to explode at the first sign of unreleased childe.

Easiest first. George sat up and relaxed his shoulders before speaking, "Right, Mr Taylor, is she ya ghoul, from the house, one of us, or all of the above?" Gesturing to the woman standing by.

Then the more delicate, " 'N Miss Crowe, before we get onto the details, are ya happy taking Miss... Violet as ya problem if Papa comes knockin'?"

[Samuel Taylor]

Samuel nods, turning to the young woman he says quietly

"Take the rest of the night off Alice. I'll see you first thing at the Surgery tomorrow." Holding up his hand quickly to stop her leaving Taylor walks forward and hands over a small pouch. Coins clink within.

As the young Ghoul scurries out the room Taylor turns back to the rest of the room, nodding his head politely to Spider and George he regards the others with a cool gaze. Removing his hat and placing his cane down next to him, Samuel takes a seat.

[Violet Clyntahn]

Through out this Violet says nothing, even when asked a question by Lilliana, she just nods slightly making eye contact with Mr Williamson for just a second. She doesn't trust herself to speak for fear her voice may waver. She knows she probably shouldn't be here but she trusts Lilliana absolutely, she knows she will be safe. She remains close to Lilliana looking at her hands, only glancing up when George speaks again. When George mentions her she shuffles closer again to Lilliana, looking up at her wide eyed from beneath her hood.

[rhiann90]

After entering and greeting her lonely distant host, who reassures her that "it's just a bit earl..", Lilliana sees movement from the corner of her eye.

Years of living in rough neighbourhoods have taught her how to manoeuvre without appearing skittish. She goes to move out of the way to diagonally face both the shadow and host. Sadly, her counterpart made this motion, less than subtle. A step back with the little one attached to her arm. Shuffling.

Damn. Keep your composure. A smile and nod of acknowledgement. The dark insightful eyes stare as he reveals a notebook, ink and quill.

Damn it is a trap. Perhaps Zhaspar set this up? Is she in on it? Lilliana shifts her gaze to the hooded girl clinging for dear life. No. We need to leave now.

Thump Click Thump Click

Merde! Trapped.

Lilliana tightens the grip on the arm of her potential hostage. She sees a wince and knows that the girl cannot escape if her sire appears. Or worse, if Black appears. He forbade them meeting ever again. The man she values more than anyone, even... No don't think of them! If Black appears then I am dead. The very thought sends a chill down her spine. Widened eyes look up through the hood.

An unfamiliar woman steps in with Mr Taylor. Lilliana takes a relaxing breath, releasing her grip on her companion's arm. Relief. Two court members having a cane is problematic. Especially if one has concerns about "Violet as ya problem if Papa comes knockin'."

"Of course. Have no fear though," She gently smiles at George. "There are far more pressing concerns than a sire who cannot teach a neonate The Traditions." Lilliana motions Violet to a seat next to her at the main table, across from Spider. She winks at her ward. It's an attempt to relax the girl. "Perish the thought of a neonate being neglected."

She glances across the room, resting her hand on top of Violet's in a comforting manner. A change of topic is needed.

"Are we expecting any more?"

[George Williamson]

The scene of the Doctor and his aide was a relief. She was not staying and she was not of the house. Not George's problem. A smile of thanks to the Doctor for resolving the issue.

Distant memories were summoned into George's mind. 'Than a sire who cannot teach a Neonate.' It felt like such a long time ago that he had felt the same. Pleasant memories of a time before, they brought relief to George, his smile becoming more relaxed. "I'm fine with not lettin' another bein' thrown under the train tracks by a sire who don't know how t' be."

At least there were two in the room George could relate to. "Now come n' sit. You too Miss Violet. I'd guess another two or three will come. Dorian and a pair o' Gangrel to be exact. Doctors, do you know of any more of ya clan comin'?"

[Samuel Taylor]

Samuel shakes his head

"I don't believe any more of our kind fit the specifications of the meeting. Or at least....none I would desire to see at the present time."

Turning his unblinking gaze to Violet, Samuel looks. Taking in everything he can of her, when he speaks his voice is tinged with a slight gentleness. As if speaking to a frightened animal or a injured man.

"You have not been taught the traditions young one? I find that worrysome in the extreme."