September 1884

[Dragoș]

“I see,” Dragoș murmurs, and there does seem to be a light of comprehension (but also, wariness) in his eyes.

“I can relate this in part to the summons that members of Clans Toreador and Ventrue labour. At their heights, Toreador can affect the desires of another soul to such an unwelcome extremity, that the summons of a Presence is heightened by their mastery of Auspex; in such cases, to be summoned thus, is to experience a desire of obeyence so deep it hooks its call into your very bones, to the teeth in your skull and the heat of your dreams. The desire to respond to that summons goes deeper than anything you could imagine... in this world. Submission to the call is total, from the traitorous over-hot and fluttering body, to the invaded and aching heart. It is not a pleasant thing, in spite of the force of that need."

"You - lose - yourself to it, while you follow the call. You were in Constantinople. You know, then, of Mikael.”

Dragoș takes to studying the weir from where he is sat, let’s his profile catch a stray glimpse of moonlight through the tree’s susurrations. “I do not intend to settle here. I prefer to be unattached. Nominally I take Acknowledgment and Acceptance to the sect in London. But I am recently arrived, as yourself. When I attended to the court, a Keeper of Londinium’s Elysia, names Claude, accommodated my stay. I know him from some time ago.”

“Times are changing... Indeed cousin.”

[Gaius Olynder]

Gaius nods slowly

"The being that has caused this...thrumming of the cobweb...they are not calling me to them. For which I am thankful, I intend to establish myself first before forming any kind of attempt at communication. I would hope that an Elder of my own abilities would be able to tell if I were affected by such a power...but then again...much is possible."

His eyes flash at the name of The Son, and then The Father. "I do indeed know of Mikael...and the Dream that he tried to create. The Dream that was created and lasted for a time...by the time I was embraced Mikael had already become The Father."

Gaius shakes his head in disappointment.

"Ah, I do intend to visit Londinium in the not too distant future. I have heard that the Prince of that domain is another Methuselah?"

Tilting his head, ever so slightly Gaius tears his eyes away from the moon to look at Dragos.

"If I may be so bold, which of the family's do you hail from....Cousin?"

[Dragoș]

When Dragoș' attention swings to Gaius, it does so alarmingly fast and without pause. The white-haired traveller suddenly has his full focus, predatorily. When Gaius speaks now, Dragoș listens, his entire attention bent only on that one pursuit. He hangs on those words, his head tilted slightly, his hazel eyes bright on Gaius' face, his lips, his eyes.

"That - being - did not call you on that cobweb?" He seems to be digesting this rapidly. "Oh."

"You know, I told a colleague recently that to know this creature's motive we need speak to the source of that blood. He does not enjoy the company of the mad, however, and so was reluctant to fierce quarter that we approach no Malkavian. I thought long and hard on this. There are those who are friends of the Moon or - better - adopted into their number, who would satisfy a safe middle ground. But I know of only one who was taken formally by a Malkavian Sire, and he is a Gangrel named Beckett that my colleague loathes. So, that was out too. I may yet convince him, but the trial of bridging that conversation is genuinely more effort than I care for."

"But I did not realise that there are Malkavians kicking about with some measure of independence in their motives. How exciting."

The tone says it is, but those eyes are still fixed, and the tone is silky, and low.

It clears slightly as they change topic, and Dragoș watches Gaius out of the corner of his eyes when the Malkavian's demeanor changes. He tucked away matters of Mikael for another conversation.

"You have... heard that London's Prince is 'another Methueslah?'" For the first time Dragoș looks stumped, and more approachable for it. "Have you done no study before venturing across the ocean?"

"London's Prince is a Ventrue Methuselah named Mithras."

"As to family..." A long pause at the wording. "I am Toreador. Does the hair not give me away?"

[Gaius Olynder]

Gaius notes that apparent talk of Vortigern has drawn Dragos full attention, his expression once more settling into the small upturn at the corners of his mouth and calm, slowly blinking eyes.

"They did not call to me no. I felt the disturbance...and came to investigate. Not since The Great Prank has there been such an...event...that causes me to take notice of the Cobweb's thrumming."

Gaius nods slowly.

"You seek to know what They intend? To help, hinder or for curiosity's sake? Or none of those things? You're colleague does not trust the mad...or perhaps has no taste for the ways in which we act?"

A slow blink this time.

"I did some brief research, but did not feel safe to pause and do more before arriving in the city. With summer months coming in the time grows too short for meticulous research, lest I remain in Athens for another year. And with events changing as they are, I did not believe I could afford to wait."

Gaius nods, a genuine smile forming on his face.

"Perhaps an indication, but I have met others of the family's who take pride in their Appearence. So I did not want to assume."

[Dragoș]

Dragoș looks at Gaius a touch longer than he should rightly permit himself, although he covers his slip by settling more comfortably against the bench, his booted feet out.

"It's motive everyone wants, Gaius. I will be plain. Without motive, without knowing what.... 'They'.... intend, no one can know whether to help or to hinder. I am in the dark as much as any beyond your Clan. But being in the dark about something tends to make people nervous. And nervous people formulate strategies to become less nervous. Those strategies will not benefit this individual, mark those words."

"As for my colleague, he has had... poor dealings with Malkavians as of late. He's not prone to confidence in their behaviour. I wouldn't try to change his mind on that really, some of us are just stuck in our ways. There are things in this world I will never see differently, no matter what content comes anew to brighten my opinion of it; the old has scarred too much of the original slate to matter. It is forever damned."

Dragoș lifts one shoulder in a small shrug. "You are correct, hair does not become a Clan. You would hear Toreador say otherwise. Even were I not of the Rose, people would assume it by my appearance alone. Although, once upon a time, I would pass among Ventrue. These nights and everything is rather more about appearance. We can blame the Renaissance for that, more recently blame the Victorians."

"What say you - what Clan would you be if not your own?"

[Gaius Olynder]

Gaius tilts his head back once more, content to talk and enjoy the moonlight on his skin. The rush of water over the weir having an almost mesmerising affect whilst the calm clear night has allowed a sense of calm to settle some of the Elder’s worry’s.

“Motive...of course. All our kind desire to know whether ‘They’ has plans that may unsettle their own carefully plotted schemes. Change..not a thing many Elders I have known welcome, but often will come regardless of how they try to prevent it. Stifle change too much and there will be those who try to force it, by violence if need be. As for plans to be less nervous...I certainly wouldn’t want to be the first to fail at their plan. I have a feeling ‘They’ would look to set an example.”

His fingers move to one of the orange gems on his necklace, spinning both gem and metal absentmindedly. Gaius smiles

“I’ll grant the mad are not to everyone’s tastes, for fully understandable reasons at times. And when one has been burned before, it’s not unreasonable to avoid all that could burn you in future. I won’t try to change your colleagues mind, as you say, some of us are just stuck in our ways.”

Gaius frowns

“I’ve made a habit of trying not to think of things in terms of forever. I thought The Dream would last forever, but it crumbled. And yet, I also believed I would become a sad mad monster lurking in the mountains of Greece forever after I lost my Childer. And yet, I returned.”

Removing his spectacles, Gaius wipes at the lenses with one corner of his robe. Placing them back on his nose and pushing them up with one long finger.

“Appearance does matter more these nights, on that I can agree with you. Which is why I wore finery to the first night of Elysium, much as I find simple robes more comfortable. “

“Which Clan...hmm...possibly Clan Brujah in the days of Carthage...without the degeneracy of course. But then again...possibly a Nosferatu. They see much...”

Gaius looks genuinely stumped, the idea of a world view not his own a concept the Malkavian struggles with.

[Dragoș]

Dragoș looks very much like he's squinting at Gaius.

"You may be surprised then, to find that some of us are blandly free of big plotted schemes. And wish it to stay that way. Knowing that a Malkavian Methuselah is about to touch down and shove foot into this country's throat - or worse - I would like to know if only so I can make plans to leave. But I assume from that ramble that you mean the fellow intends to create mass change? And violently?"

He inclined his head briefly, though, on the matter of his colleague's opinion of Malkavians. There really wasn't point in trying to change that mind.

"As for change..." Dragoș grunts, for once in agreement. "Everything dies at some stage. The only domain within which all ideals and forms are static, forever locked in a limbo that cannot grow nor heal, is death. A pleasant place surely, for those who are adverse to change to the degree you posit."

"I am - sorry - for the loss of your Childer." And it seems genuine. Dragoș seems to desire a swift change to the topic, because he only says, "May their souls rest in peace."

[Gaius Olynder]

Gaius shakes his head

“Not what I intended, I referred to the Anarch rebellion. I am unsure of His motives...although I intend to find out.”

Looking at Dragos, Gaius tilts his head.

“My apologies if I ramble, it...has been some time.”

“Death...I cannot say I agree that it is never changing. For surly the underworld must be constantly expanding to accommodate the new souls that enter into that domain. Even the Christina god’s afterlife is malleable to a point. I do not believe all Elder creatures are opposed to change, but there are many who prefer the world to stay the way it is.”

Gaius nods

“Thank you. I’d prefer to move on from this topic however. Did you ever visit the city of Constantinople before the fourth crusade?”

[Dragoș]

Dragoș inclines his head passively. "Ah. I was fortunate to avoid the brunt of the Anarch Revolt. It's... waves hit me less than others."

"And I understand what it means to go without communication for a length of time; there is no need to forgive, but you have it, should it suit you."

At this point, Gaius has Dragoș' full attention again. "You're assuming that death - if such a plane really existed - is limited in spatial construct to the physics of our realm. Why should it be? Why should it need expand to accomodate more if space is of no finite resource there, or a factor in that dimension's material? Even in mythos Styx is everlong, with souls strewn across her bank. The bank does not grow, simply: more souls come to fill it up. In story, death is ever permissive of more."

"No I did not visit Constantinople much, I must admit. I was up to the eyeballs in my own home's politics; I found the Byzantines similarly consumed by their own. And there was much politic to be had there; I did not need to add to my plate. Perhaps, too, I conceded that stepping toe there would take my attentions too much from my own research and life."

"It sounded quite a city to behold."

[Gaius Olynder]

"I was also lucky, the majority of those in Athens at the time were pro-establishment, or at least recognised that fact that order was needed. Even if they disagreed with the state of affairs as they had been, I myself fall into that belief."

Gaius inclines his head slightly, a silent acknowledgment.

"I suppose I take it for granted that the plane of death follows broadly similar laws to our own. As the Greek stories tell us, the Underworld was created alongside the land, sea and sky. As with styles of architecture, I suspected that they would be built along the same lines. And yet, you make a good point. If, for the sake of argument we accept there is a plane of death, if it contains only the stuff of spirit and soul, then perhaps it can be expanded wth but a thought..with sufficient willpower it can be shaped to the desires of those who reside there."

A slow nod from Gaius.

"It was the closest thing to perfection I have ever seen in this earth...and I have traveled widely."

At the mention of research, Gaius perks up.

"If it's not too bold, what were you researching?"