New Kindred and Informants New Kindred and InformantsIC: ~Got it!~ A drop of water fallen from above lands directly on the stranger's forehead, and in the light from the streetlamp it glows ever so slightly. Yet it is enough to somehow trigger the memory that Christian has been struggling to recapture. "Shakespeare! That's where I've seen you! You've done Shakespeare in the park, right?" Again, Christian is struck by the glimmer of amusement in the man's eyes as he slowly reaches up and wipes the water from his brow.
"Why yes, I have on occasion done some Shakespeare. Now could you ever imagine a Scourge doing Shakespeare? What a thing that would be." Sydney releases her hold slightly on Will and says
"There now. You see? I told you." But Will still looks distrustfully at the actor.
"Scourge or not, I'll bet you're one of the Prince's spies! She sent you to see what we're doing, didn't she? She just wants to catch us with our pants down!"
Sarah, suppressing a giggle, blurts out "Oh Will, I can't imagine who would want to see you with your pants down." She looks over to her left and, with a mad look on her face, says "Oh stop it Becky. Be serious for once!" Christian loosens his grip on the gun in his jacket (strange that he's even wearing one in August) and pulls his hand out of the pocket, extending it toward the stranger.
"I don't care what Will thinks. Anyone who can interpret Shakey like you did in Othello is no spy. Granted, I'm no theater expert, but I've been around enough to know who gets it and who doesn't. And you get it. That's good enough for me." The tall fellow accepts the handshake and looks around at the others, then stands back a bit, putting his hands on his hips like an old and bold pirate captain from the silver screen, and says
"I am Tyrone, but you may call me Maestro." Anique rolls her eyes, Sarah suppresses another giggle and slaps at the air beside her, Sydney still holds onto Will, seriously considering sending him away on some errand, and Christian just beams as if he's found an equal among the unenlightened crowd. Taking the initiative that really is not his, he proceeds to make introductions all around.
Maestro frowned at Will but didn't say a thing. Paranoid people tend to be self destructive and were good at destroying everyone around them. However the beast within Maestros' stomach turned,warning him there might be more to this group of ragtag's than meets the eye, however Will's preoccupation with spies and networks troubled him and new that his sudden outbursts could cause trouble so Maestro with a smirk onhis face recited a nursery ryhme. Something to give Will to think about. He looke Will right in the eye and with a calm and soft voice recites;
" Little Robin Readbreast Sat upon a rail. Niddle, naddle went his head; Wiggle, waggle went his tail."
After leaving Will perplexed with a finger hooked into his mouth as if he were suckling for comfort, Maestro turned to the rest of the group. " Have a feeling you guys are in some trouble. Care to tell me about it?" But before any of them could answer Will suddenl;y beagan to blurt questions out.
"what does that mean, are you trying to trick us? That was threat! You threatened me!" Maestro sighed.
Ic: Anique watched the stranger as he stood in front of Sarah. Hummm...he sure was big, but he didn't FEEL threatening enough to be the scorge! Who had started THAT train of conversation in the first place? You don't just go around accusing people of being the scourge, she thought(unless you were ASKING for a beating!). Besides, if he were dangerous, he aleady had had plenty of opportunity to hurt them (or TRY to hurt them...).
Christian somehow recognized the guy from Shakespeare in the park... He was blathering all excitedly about Othello and looked like he was about to consider the stranger his new best friend. Anique relaxed, and but a hand on her hip. What, so this dude was more exciting than the rest of the rabble because he preforms Shakespeare...? Christian had just MET them...they deserved a chance. Hell, Anique thought...I'm certainly not BORING! He needs to give us some credit for that! And all this, just when she was beginning to give Christian a lot of credit himself. Well, prehaps she was being too harsh on the artist, she thought. After all, the stranger really WOULD make a good OThello. He certainly had stage presence. Now Christian was making hasty introductions. She smiled and tried to appear less annoyed.
This dude calls himself the "Maestro", apparently....for some reason this struck a chord with her. Her mind began to whirl as she tried to recall where she had heard the name "Maestro"......prehaps.....Paris. That had to be it! Prehaps Javier had mentioned him...that was so long ago, however. Weird. What the heck was this guy doing in Toronto in the first place, and how did he know they were in trouble? Will started ranting because the Maestro had said some poem to him. Poor Will. The guy was obviously trying to fuck with him. Something we all learn about Will, she thought, is that he is harmless, and really does try to do his job well, so messing with his mind isn't that funny...at least she didn't think so. She considered anyone who tried to mess with the mind of a Malkavian cruel and actually quite condescending. Well, she would reserve judgement until she found out more about this 'Maestro' character. Heck, she didn't even know what CLAN he was!
IC: Well now as Sarah listened to the dark man she move away from being behind the group and out to look more brave. Her headed jetted towards Will as he accused the new kindred of being the scourge and Sarah winced slightly waiting for a reply and was in relief when it was not violent.
Christian was searching the new kindred's face fro something that suddenly burst forth in some babale about Shakespere and seing him act. Once again Will goes nutz on the new kindred about being in league with the prince. His comment about pants being down was too silly for Sarah to hold in and giggled a bit about it.
~"i wonder what christian would look like with his pants down? do you think he wears boxers or breifs?" becky perks up and asks~
"Oh stop it Becky. Be serious for once!" Sarah glares at becky for a moment and then places her attention back to the group. With a handshake and an introduction with the new kindred Christian's whole attitude took a change then as if he finally found someone who was an equal. He became almost snobbish about it compared to how he treated the rest of the group.
~"maestro? what kinda name is that?" becky says softly to Sarah. Sarah nods and tries not to giggle about it. Maestro is a weird name~ Just then Tyrone starts to pick on Will again with some nursery rhyme about birds and Sarah looks at him harshly like a mother would to and older sibling who was picking on the less intelligent and more emotional little sibling.
"Boy for someone with such elioquent actions and speach you sure act rather savage picking on others like that" Sarah snaps back to Tyrone.
IC: Looking at the others after his hasty introductions, Christian notices that they do not meet his eye, instead looking at the stranger with distrust just as he had a few moments before. Just then, Maestro blurts out some non-sensical nursery rhyme which serves somehow to agitate Will even more. ~Well that was just plain stupid. Like Will needs any prodding. What the hell is he thinking? I'd think he'd have a bit more class than that.~ Sarah, looking bold and intrepid despite her diminutive size, strides forth and berates the dark man for being "savage" toward Will. ~Well, I don't know if I'd say savage, but it was certainly uncalled for. But then he's an actor. What did I expect? It's not like he really IS Shakespeare.~ Thinking back now, Christian remembers something that his old mentor Malcolm Black once told him. Acting is the lowest form of art, he'd said. Not much better than mimicry, merely reciting words that someone else had written, someone else had felt and experienced. Christian looks again at the stranger, now over his momentary lapse into star-struck mode. That light in the stranger's eye, instead of mirth now looked to be cruelty perhaps. His bold demeanor, nothing but swaggering arrogance.
~No, this chap isn't at all what I thought, maybe. What on earth made me so willing to accept him? Look at the rest. They don't see what I saw, or thought I saw. That's my eternal flaw, really, that I can only see the surface. I can recapture details in minute perfection after just seeing something once, but I can never quite get on the inside of anything. I can never get to what makes it real. Here I am, making myself an ass like the ambassador of the damn Malkavian state, while right in front of me is a group who, less than an hour ago, made me feel welcome to them. And how do I treat them? As if they were so many lumps of coal compared to one lousy actor. God, I can be such an arrogant ass sometimes. Overcompensation, the doctors called it. Making up for perceived failings by concentrating on a single talent or strength, and consequently becoming unbearable to be around. That's what the doctor had written on his evaluation. Never really thought he might have been right.~
Now standing a bit away from the stranger, Christian again puts his hand in his pocket, cradling the gun that he'd all but forgotten moment earlier. Whatever he may be, this intruder had come upon them at their weakest hour when they didn't know who to trust or fear. "Even if you're not this scourge, whatever that is, you could still be a spy. I know the Toreador do like actors. I think it's time you explained yourself, Maestro. Just how do you know anything about us?" Christian hopes that this little inquisition will do two things. One, answer some of his own doubts about the stranger, and two, serve as some sort of apology for acting like such an ass earlier in accepting the Maestro so readily.
IC: Anique watched the scene unfold before her. After this 'Maestro' character had insulted Will, Sarah had gotten defensive, and the little thing was standing up so tall, trying to steel herself to further bravery. Even Christian changed his tune. He looked the man straight in the eye and said: "Even if you're not the scourge, whatever that is, you could still be a spy. I know the Toreador do like actors' Anique laughed at that comment...she had underestimated Christian a moment ago. That was quite a good, witty remark...she let a smile crack her smooth exterior with that laugh....however, if everyone, including Christian, was on the defensive, she would not be unarmed. Christian was right...how DID the 'maestro' know anything about them? She drew her knife and ran it accross her palm, making a fist and letting the blood drip menacingly through her fingers, a silent warning. The droplets of her blood made dripping echoes on the night air.....
IC:Maestro looked down at Sarah and gave her his pleasing smile. "Hello, what is your name?"
Sarah Looked back with a little discust due to his seemingly condencending tone. ~"What is my name?" he asks me? Sarah thinks to herself pausing before answering. I hate being treated like some child that has no clue about the world. This guy is just asking for it tonight but we also don't need anymore enemies, damn i guess i better be nice~
"Sarah is my name, and we need to be going. We have an appointment to get to," she looks to Sydney who nods in aggreement. They've already lost too much time tonight running in circles and chasing their tails to sit and chitt chat with some kindred who they don't even know. Sarah turns to leave but pauses waiting for the rest of the group to follow. Will is still standing there looking like a ticking time bomb repeating the rhyme to himself repeatedly trying to figure out what it means. Sarah walks over to Will and touches his shoulder and will leaps into the air screaming. Sarah steps back shocked by his reaction and then almost hits her head with a 'duh' thinking she should have expected that reaction.
Lights in neighboring windows come on and people try to peer out into the night to see what allt he yelling is about. Sarah grabs becky and dashes into the shadows and using her blood hides herself there until the commontion has died down again.
Watching the young girl go, Maestro placed his strong hands on his hips with a look of confusion in his eyes. If nothing was wrong, then why the sudden urgency and what was up with Will being paranoid? Something was wrong and Maestro could feel it in his gut but he wasn't going to pester them into revealing their problems. "If you need any help, just come by and see me at the theatre." Maestro said as he tucked his hands into his pockets and resumed his walk.
IC: Christian stood by and watched as Will yelped like a puppy whose tail had just been stepped on, and Sarah drifted away into the shadows to hide as onlookers began to question the ruckus. ~Funny~ he thought, ~I'd gotten so used to New York where you could kill a guy in broad daylight and nobody would look twice at you.~ He didn't bother to hide, but did take Sarah's cue to leave the stranger where he stood.
The rest of the group evidently decided that the best course of action also, leaving him speaking a few parting words about "need help, come to the theater" or something. Christian tuned him out now. It was like him to go from one extreme to another just like that. It was almost like the most evident things on earth didn't quite penetrate sometimes, but when they did there was an immediate and perceptible change in his personality. Perhaps all artists are like that. Christian, in any case, now saw his duty as staying with his new-found comrades and somehow finding out what danger they were in. Embracing strangers like long-lost relatives was none too bright in their current situation. As much as he loathed the idea, he really needed to be a bit more like Teresa and let the paranoia out to play. A little control and tact, on the other hand, was a good thing. To that end, however, Will was proving to be a bit of a problem.
Slowly moving up beside Sydney, Christian whispers into his ear "Can you send Will on an errand or something? I think he's going to make this even harder on us than it has to be." Sydney, says nothing, just seems to think for a moment before nodding slowly. Then, quickening his pace, he catches up to where Will is walking beside Sarah and Anique, still repeating the silly rhyme under his breath. Christian walks just behind, looking around to see where they are headed so he can remember how to get home later, if there is a later. Just as they turn a corner, he looks back and sees... someone there, standing just outside the light. Perhaps this Maestro has followed them? He is not sure, but he wraps his hand a little tighter around the small but powerful revolver in his pocket. Whatever is to come, he is going to be ready for it (or so he hopes).
IC.The air was settling into a thick damp mist as they came to the correct address. Sydney exhaled a breath, and shambled up to Will, tapping him lighty on the shoulder.
"Aaaaugh!" Will yelped, interrupted from his obsessive chanting. Sydney jumped a bit too, and he turned, watching the shock slowly filter out of the others faces.
"False Alarms are bad, Will." Sydney muttered,
watching Maestro shake his head calmly. Sydney
blinked, wondering if Maestro's calm was genuine or a
highly practiced acting technique. Sydney shook it
off, and leaned in closer to Will, drawing Will's ear
close to his mouth. "Will, I need you to do something
very important. Can you do that for me?"
"Yeah, of couse, sureSydney,anything,
especiallyifit'llhelp getMurrayback!"
"Yes, it will, Will" Sydney said with the tone
of a frustrated parent speaking to a hyperactive
two-year old. "I need you to go back to my shop, and
go up into the upstairs storage room. The is a very
special book there entitled 'Secrets of the Toronto
Underground' I need you to find it, and wrap it up
very, very well, and guard it untill I come back, OK?"
"Suuure!!!" Will replied, bounding off.
They all waited, as the thin figure of Will wove
it's way through the back streets. Anique turned to
Sydney. "Isn't that one of those hideous romance
novels you get for me, Syd?" She queried.
"Yup. Will can't read anyways." Sydney shrugged,
and turned a corner into a thinner, gravel sided
alleyway. The pungent stench of antifreeze, oil and
nachinery wafted from the auto-repair garage on one
side of the alleyway. The other was a crumbling
white-washed building that proclaimed one avocado
scrren door that was an immediate callback to the
1970's. It opened up into a small storage area that
could be called a porch by a vomitously optimistic
person. Sydney weaved his way past stocks of canned
food that looked like it was headed for a soup
kitchen, and rang the doorbell on a modest door.
After several minutes, a small, palefaced girl stuck
her head out, and widened her eyes
"Sydney, so it
really is you! Hot damn! Are these" she motions over
to the rest of the party "with you?"
Sydney nodded his head, and the girl grinned, dropping mask. He face warped into an elogated, ratlike shape, with two close set beady eyes, jutting top fangs, and gray hair sticking out in miscellaneous tufts all over her face. "Welcome in" She said, motioning to a modest sitting room, done up in oboxios gold, orange and avocado colors, and grinning, gauging the reactions of the others.
He stood, high upon the building, out of the mist and the smog. He held his head high, and why shouldn't he? He was, after all, better that almost everyone else in this city. He smiled. At times like this the simple pleasures were the best in life. Silk upon cold, dead flesh. Wind rustling through your hair, and watching a group of psychos fight amongst themselves. He leaned forward and began to watch them, chuckling, and brushing off pieces of imaginary dirt off of his immpeccable ruffled silk shirt.
"Hey, Ellis, can we get out of here?" A voice
boke through his reverie. Such an uncouth voice. No
talent, no drama. He turned to face his less that
appreciative Ventrue companion.
"Oh, Jack, where is
your sense of fun."
"Certainly not in the torments of several
Malkavians." The man in the suit replied flatly.
And what a terrible suit it was. Well made, yes, but no style. No life. Oh, well, Jack was just there to fill a hole. Maybe in several thousand year he'd learn, but He doubted that. He sighed again. "Now, Jack, just think of how much better you are than them, and how much fun it is to see what a few of our well-placed words can do to thier frail psyches. Look at that. There even one girl down there slitting her wrists." He smiled and let sarcasm dribble down his chin. "Poor dear, so lost without our guidance. Maybe I'll go down and see if she's like to follow me home."
"No." the Ventrue demanded, grabbing Ellison's
arm.
"Oh yes, you're right. She'd mess up the
furniture. I bet she's not even housebroken yet."
"I'm leaving." Jack replied
"Goodbye, Jack, I so shall miss you."
"Aren't you going to come back to the elysium
with me?"
"No, I'm going to stay here and have fun. If you
could be a dear, could you tell the others of my clan
where I am, and that they might want to come, and join
me for an evening's amusement."
Jack set his face in a disgusted scowl. "Why
would I do that?"
"Because I'm you *presence* best friend." Jason
replied. Jack's face grew dark
"Go screw yourself." he shot back, glaring, and
turned briskly on his heel, walking towards the
elevator.
Jason shrugged, and turned back towards the Malkavians who were working thier way into a small alleyway.
IC: Sarah stepped into the room and her face dropped a little surprised by the apperance of the room. She shouldn't have been surprised considering Machi's room back in the Sabbat haven but the colors here were so strange. She stood and just looked around the room not entirely paying attention to what the Nos was saying excitely to Sydney.
~"Sarah?" Becky was tuging on her shirt, "What is with the paint job in this room?"~ Becky was also looking around as well but her attention on the room was short-lived because she went back to staring at Christian and following him throughout the room.
Sarah walks to Sydney after a bit to listen and find out the situation and what if any steps need to be taken.
IC: Christian walked into the small room with mouth simply agape. ~ Oh my God! It's so horrible, it's... it's brilliant! Who but a genius would put these colors together? A genius or a crazy person, and of course the distinction between is a thin one at best. Gold, orange, and .... what shade of green is that? Avocado perhaps. Yes, indeed the work of a deranged or tormented mind. Despite her looks, I think I shall like this Nosferatu.~
Looking around the room, Christian accidentally bumps
into a small table and comes dangerously close to
knocking over an equally obnoxiously gold-painted vase
with dead flowers, perhaps lilies in an earlier life.
He notices a definite lack of mirrors, or anything
reflective for that matter. Content that nobody who
decorates this atrociously could even remotely be
associated with the Toreador, Christian pulls his hand
from his coat pocket and pulls off his backpack,
settling down cross-legged onto a relatively
uncluttered spot on the (lavender?) carpet.
~Well, at
least my night isn't turning out to be dull.~
IC: Anique followed the rest of the group through the doorway and into a room decorated in the most erratic style possible. It was obvious that whoever lived here (most likely the nosferatu chick who let them in) was a bit eccentric. Being a Malkavian, Anique felt right at home....
The nosferat leaned back into the folds of the
couch and stared at the motley group. It looks like
you've got trouble, Syd." She murmured
"I'd have to agree" Anique muttered.
"And so you've come looking for...advice?"
Jennifer continued, eying Christian, and then letting
her gaze settle on Sarah.
"Information is more the tune I'd set it to."
Christian replied. Sarah fidgeted, and gave a glare
towards the side Becky usually preferred.
"Information or advice - all the same to me.
Neither are cheap." Jennifer flicked a ratlike tongue
over her thin nose.
"What do you ask for?" Sydney prompted.
Jennifer gave him a calculating gaze.
"Rodchester." Sydney folded his shoulders into his
body, and let his head fall to hide his widening eyes.
"I can't do that." he whispered.
"Why not? You do know that it's one of the only
things that the Camarilla in Toronto have to back
thier accusation that Malkavian's are responsible for
Dell's...murder. Information might just be in you
best interest."
"I can't do that!" Sydney replied, lifting his
face and clenching his teeth.
"Why do you pause when you mention Dell and
murder?" Christian queried, his eyes shining like
police searchlights.
~Damn, the artist is per-cep-tive!~ the nosferat
wrinkled her nose in thought, and then leaned forward
"Allright, I'm in the mood to give you a freebie.
Dell's not dead. At least he wasn't when he left the
throne. We are all supposed to believe that Dell went
nuts, Ran into a warehouse, killed a whole group of
Brujah anarchs, and then ran outside and brightened
himself a sunset. Got toasted for those of you who
don't talk the talk" she directed towards Sarah for no
good reason. "Anyhow, that explanation smells worse
than my sire's breath. Dell didn't brighten any
sunsets...nor did he kill any Brujah anarchs. That
was carefully planned. By who...hmmm...good question.
And where is he...Rodchester, Sydney, rodchester."
"He's in Rodchester?" Anique asked with
considerable fervor.
"No, dearest, nobody's in Rodchester besides
police and modern-day inqusitioners. But if you want
to know about Rodchester, I suggest you ask your
friend Sydney here. Oh, and here's a trip. If you
guys want the dirt on what's going down in the city -
go to the meeting tomorrow. It's sure to be fun."
Sydney let his body relax, and he looked up, pale
and tired. "Tell them where Dell is...and I'll tell
you about Rodchester."
Jennifer smiled and leaned back...
Maestro entered his apartment and hanged his keys on a brown stained hatrack. On his couch he sighed, as he played his classical music and begain reading the script of Othello that he had memorized countless times. A problem with immortatlity was the incurable hunger for action. The urge to go and travel the world and maybe rescue a damsel or two! Whatever those malkavians were up to, it could have been fun. Too bad among their insane minds they were also scaredy cats. What was wrong? What got them scared. They didn't want his help. Oh well. If they need him they'll come and find him. After all he did plant his card on Will when he recited the ryhme to him. Anyway, the theatre isn't hard to find.
