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t h e . w a y w a r d - e v e n t
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On the surface,
an Elysium of unsurpassed splendor. Beneath, something sinister lurks...
Vash Heh... *Vash suddenly sits upright and clears his throat. With a slight bob of his head he acknowledges Voracia* Err... Ma'am... LostBoy 'Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In what distant deeps or skies And what the shoulder, and
what art, What the hammer? what the chain? When the stars threw down their
spears, Tyger! Tyger! burning bright *FitzRoy of the Mnemosyne pushes the nose bridge of his glasses back up, a faint smile flickering across his lips, as he whispers a line again* 'Did he who made the lamb, make thee?' ------------------ Stercus /ooc Florindo Softly, he says: "Pupa ...paulo maiora canamus." OldanVisuce Voracia “Is there anything to waste?” A whisper. She traces the curving lines of etched Portuguese with strong fingers that tremble with (excitement? fear? exhaustion? vitae?) each elegant loop. Leaning close to the art, her face a few inches above the buffered finish, slowly: “O Domínio, Do Hospitality, Paz Eterno Parentesco” She suddenly eyes the expectant Vash, then traces each word singly. “Dominion...Hospitality...Peace. Eternal. Bloodline.” (Conspiratorially) “Which should mean ‘family’ in this context.” Back to the calligraphy, with the slightest of mirth mixed with remembrance of “…family by the “goodly kindness of fate which—“ And moisture strikes dully into the engraving, stealthily escaping the prison of shades to leap to freedom and death in the canyon of the blood-gold ‘E’ of Eternal “--brings us together...to enjoy the pleasure of...company.” The tracing stops. Her eyes peer quickly above the topmost edge of her glasses to Vash. “Oh...” Her hand flies quickly to cover her mouth, but it’s too late: the laughter breaks the walls of the makeshift dam and spills free, quickly rushing to assimilate and smother the wayward tear. “Oho...ohohohohooo, ay me, isto é longe demais para demais de repente…HAHA, too many, all right, all right little menino de mistério, I relent to this and to this alone do I relent.” She raps the counter quickly as a judge calling for order in a court filled with jesters, while the other hand performs something that looks remarkably like genuflection. One hand on the written credo, the other raised as if swearing an oath, she looks to Vash and pronounces, quite matter-of-factly, “Chamo-me ForAH-shya, então nomeou por meus pais que amou-me e quem me ama ainda.” A tutorial nod. “ My name is Voracia, so named by my parents who loved me and who love me still.” A bite of the lip. Another stifled giggle. “*ahehehehem*” Whether she intended it or not, another dark vessel graces the counter before her arm. She greets it with a resigned sigh. “Quite obviously I must require this…ah, well—“ To Vash, raising the flagon: “A sua vida longa de saúde!” And halfway through the process as she realizes what she’s just toasted, she’s forced to replace the cup upon the bar, as she utters a sharp, choked laugh—at which the heady liquid breaches her nostrils just before she covers her face... ------------------ Krouser "hmm. when did Prince Wyatt have this place built?" *said mostly to himself, anyone not caught up in what they're doing would hear it, though.* Vash And long life and health to you too... *Vash's eyes dart upwards as if he's trying to remember something* Err... Nao tem papel higienico
no banheiro. *Vash brings the book up in front of his face as he reads in a butchered accent* O que é seu nome bastante um? *Feeling over confidant, Vash tries another line* Há um wolverine no meu calças. *Vash covers his face with his hands and slowly turns around in his chair. He places the book on the bar and sets his drink on it* Why must foreign languages be so foreign? OldanVisuce In this corner we have the bloated ego of the Sabbat, the diabolrizer of god...Larson! And in this corner, weighing in with an ego just slightly smaller than Larson, we have the Defender of the Camarilla, the Raging Red-Skin....Krouser!! I put 5 dollars on Larson, anyone putting in for Krouser? Fatarik ------------------ Elijah Robert Marks "I don't think there's going to be any real fighting, Oldan. I think if they start swinging they'll find themselves in the alleyway or something like that. And Larson did promise he wouldn't make any trouble when he came in... and he's kept his word so far, though he has threatened to kill Szandor once or twice." He looks over at Szandor, smiling slightly. "And you'll notice that Szandor looks terribly concerned about it." ------------------ OldanVisuce Nikodemus "I do like watching a good hoop-kicking though." Fatarik ------------------ Stercus /ooc Found some more stuff, we like to infight it said Krouser "yes, Gangrel aren't know for social wit. Just like Ravnos aren't know for manual dexterity. And for the record, I'm not Camarilla, I just don't like undeserved reputations, especially when attached to Gangrel Antitribu, nor am I that fond of the individual bearing said personality flaw like a badge of honor." *returns gaze to the wall, deciding that it is just as interesting.* Nikodemus
"I dunno Oldan. Krouser doesn't seem to talk quite as much smack as Larson does...with that in mind, I'd be inclined to go with Krouser, but that could change." OldanVisuce The one time I want the ego around, he vanish. *Looking shrewdly at Niko* What are odds? If we are giving straight odds, then I would think smart money on Mr. Absent. He did diabolrize God, yes? If we are going 3-2 on calling Krouser long-shot, could also be smart. He hasnt said much, HE could be Caine, yes? Or maybe he diabolrize Caine? OK, OK, I quit stalling now. *hands Niko a five dollar bill* You win because my fur-ball no show. Now I have to figure out way to take Larson's money without dying. *to Krouser* Ravnos not known for manual dexterity? Maybe sometime I show you how to take watch, wallet, keys, checkbook, and boots before average Joe realizes what had just happened. Ok, Ok, maybe just watch or wallet. But in bar I could take stool they sitting on before they sober up enough to know what happen! *whispers to Krouser* If Larson come back, I bet big money on him. You take fall, we split 60/40. Yes? Nikodemus "I can't take your money...I don't know if it's real or not, and I'd hate to look stupid for taking fake money... "How's about bettin' for favors...and let's talk odds..." OldanVisuce I dont know, is tough decision on odds. I think Larson may have edge.....but he seem to vanish when more and more tough guys come in. I am starting to think that maybe Krouser is big shot in room. Hmmmm, we wait and see if Larson show his snout in here again. Krouser "exactly my point, ghostcaster. the two things are comperable. Gangrel are social animals, though we usualy socialize among ourselves." *whispers back in courtecy* "I don't usualy throw fights. 65-35, and I get top cut, and you might have a deal." *gets back to more engageing conversation.* Nikodemus "Hmmm...I dunno. How do I even know if Krouser is here. How do I even know if there is a Krouser. I've been hitting the sauce pretty hard...and, no offense, but your clan isn't known for their sense of fair play."
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