"Sounds good," Calliope says, nodding at Alexander. "Not my strength."
"After you," Jack extends an arm and mock bows.
With a nod, the Nosferatu slinks off toward the theater.
Slipping the chain off of the door, you enter the theater. Falling plaster and dust covered, well worn seats fill the auditorium. A stage sits at the front of the room.
As you observe the area you hear voices approaching the stage from what you would guess is the backstage area.
Steps behind crumbling post. Calls upon the blood, to mimic the hopes, dreams of Gary. To fade away.
Alexander silently stands by, waiting to see who approaches.
You see two males on the stage talking. "Man, why are we waiting here for some b@!&% from Chicago. Chicago folks don't give two s!+$s about Gary, why she startin' now."
The other says, "No f*~+in' clue, but Evelyn wants us here for the meeting, so we're here."
Evelyn?
The name Evelyn doesn't register as anything of note to Alexander.
Notepad, pencil. Evelyn.
Slow silent shuffle back the way he came. Rejoins his coterie. Slips out from Gary’s dissipative veil.
”Two men inside.” An ant’s cough. ”Waiting to meet someone from Chicago, at the request of one ‘Evelyn.’ They’re skeptical of the value of said meeting.”
”Didn’t sound like they’re expecting a group. Perhaps Maldavis has arranged to meet multiple parties here tonight, ourselves included?”
Int + Politics Hunger
Never before had Calliope had any reason to really care much about the inner politics of the Anarchs v. Camarilla, and she regretted her lack of knowledge now. She frowns at the name Alexander shares with them, glancing at Edwin to see if he has any insight.
"I should probably pay more attention to who's who around here..." She mutters, shifting her weight from one foot to another uncomfortably.
"Well then. Let's prove their assumptions about our value wrong. Game faces on, show no weakness." Jack says. He steps forward to enter the theatre.
"Evelyn has some association with the Anarch known as Juggler. Perhaps she has taken over for him?
Interesting, I wonder why Maldavis would invite her to this meeting?
Well, we've agreed to meet, let's meet. But just in case, let's be ready to flee. I'd prefer not to fight unless absolutely necessary..."
"Maybe she's putting some kind of crew together?" K's eyes light up a little at the idea. " I mean, if she went with our time and place, we're probably the most important people attending, right?" K pulls a pack of Bazooka bubblegum from his pocket, popping a piece into his mouth. As he starts to chew he carefully refolds the comic strip wrapper before sliding it back into the pack. "Unless she was already planning a meet in Gary. Probably easier for us to come here than Gary folks to come to the city."
He holds out the pack, proffering it to the group. "We didn't exactly give her a chance to explain what she wanted from us."
Edwin pulls a piece of gum from the pack and pops one in his mouth, "She probably is just looking for back up, she cannot be sure of our intentions just as we cannot be sure of hers".
Calliope takes a piece of gum as well, glancing at the comic within briefly before offering the slip of paper to K. "Unless we have anything else we need to iron out, we may as well just head in, no?" The Toreador says, eyeing the building once more.
If there are no objections, Calliope will make her way indoors after Jack.
Jack and Calliope are first into the theater (after Alexander's previous incursion, of course). The two men on the stage have been joined by a third, and a woman of middle-eastern descent.
The four seem to be in idle conversation when you come strolling in.
One of the men, a dark-haired man with perpetual five-o'clock shadow, looks up with a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth and asks, "Who the f$+~ are you?"
The other two men, one with dirty blonde hair and the air of someone who served in some sort of military capacity and the other a shirtless man in jeans and a cowboy hat, cross their arms waiting for a response.
The woman takes a step back behind the trio of men.
"We have an appointment and we are just on time.
If you do not know who we are, then you are either not with the person with who we have an appointment, or she double booked. That begs the question, was that by mistake or on purpose?
I suppose once she arrives, I shall have my answer.
In the meantime, greetings, I am Hans. I would not speak on behalf of my companions.
Who are all of you?"
Calliope positions herself near Edwin, crossing her arms over her chest nonchalantly. She smiles her best charming smile and gives a little wave in greeting as Edwin speaks, but offers nothing more than that until the unknowns respond to their de facto coterie leader.
Whilst the conversation goes forward, Calliope attempts to determine if these others are vampires or...something else.
Jack takes up his position slightly separated from the others, arms crossed over his chest. He focuses in on his blood, toughening his body discretely. Jack hopes there won't be a fight, but he doesn't want to be caught by surprise either.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
(3)
(3)
(1)
(4)
The woman whispers something in the ear of the miltary man, to which the man responds. "Okay, Hans." he begins with air quotes around the name. "Who exactly you here to see? For us, it's some uppity Chicago b!#%$ who calls herself Maldavis."
Following the question from the military man, from stage left a young african-american woman arrives on stage and says, "Hawk, that's enough. Give them a chance before you go making enemies out of them."
Turning to you, she says, "Forgive Hawk, he's a bit protective of our little slice of misery called Gary. It's not much, but it's ours."
With a grin, she asks, "Now who might you all be, and why have you come to our city?"
Edwin chuckles, "I understand, the world has shrunk the last few decades and from what I have learned in my existance thus far it was too small for many of our kind already. For what it is worth, we have no intention of seeking to take this little slice of misery as you call it.
We too are here to see Maldavis.
Let's call it curiosity. We are curious to hear what she has to say. Once we have heard it, we shall ponder it, elsewhere.
As for who we are, we are a curious bunch, eager to learn more about the greater Chicago area and those who dwell in and around it.
As I said, it is not for me to speak on the behalf of my companions as we have no leader. All are equal among us".
K lowers his shades so as to peer over them at the stage crew. "I'm K. Dig the hat."
The african-american woman nods at K's introduction. "I am Evelyn, and as I have said, Gary is our city. If you are here to meet with Maldavis and can do so in peace, you are welcome to stay. If we sense any sort of Camarilla shenanigans out of any of you - Maldavis included, well let's just say it won't be pleasant for any of you. Got it?"
Edwin puts his hands up, "We come to speak not to fight.
When you say "Camarilla shenanigans" can I take that to mean that you are not of the Camarilla? I presume you not to be Sabbat then, I have always been told they attack without speaking first, but then the youngest in society are expected to take many truths at face value, which may not be true".
"Jack," Jack says. "And you can keep Gary, just here to talk with Maldavis."
Calliope stands quietly a moment, unsure of how to proceed until her companions speak up. When she decides how to proceed, her body language changes--open, inviting, even flirtatious. She smiles widely, mimicking Edwin's movement to put her hands up, arms framing her body. "Absolutely not here to fight," She says, pitching her voice low. "At the risk of sounding repetitive, we're just here to talk with Maldavis. But if she's double-booking, I imagine she has something in mind that involves both of us." She lets her arms drop.
"New experiences are so exciting, no?"
Evelyn, seemingly convinced of the coteries motives, calmly says, "Have a seat, and we'll see what Maldavis has in mind when she arrives."
Edwin takes a seat and casually looks around the theater.
Jack leans against the wall, hands in the pockets. He prefers to stand.
Calliope settles in a seat next to Edwin, crossing her legs daintily and tapping her fingers on her thigh as she waits.
K gives a cheery smile as things seem to resolve peacefully and hops the front row of seats to sit behind and to the side of Edwin, propping his feet up away from Mr. Wagner to show off his kicks.
You sit and patiently wait for Maldavis to arrive, while Evelyn's crew waits somewhat less patiently.
Eventually, some thirty minutes later, Maldavis enters the theater, followed by a well-dressed stocky, middle-aged man with dark skin, tight hair, and a trimmed mustache and beard.
Looking at the collected gathering the man speaks in deep baritone voice tinged of French Carribean ancestry. "Good evening, what if I told you there was a time when the Camarilla and the Anarch factions co-existed in relative peace? What if I told you that was something that could happen again? Under the right circumstances of course."
He lets the questions linger for a moment before adding, "Where are my manners? I am Maxwell."
Intelligence+Politics Hunger
While the figure looks vaguely familiar, Edwin cannot quite fathom who this is, "Good evening Maxwell.
My understanding of the Sects is that conflict has reigned for centuries, perhaps even longer back. What solution have you now for such peace?" He asks the question without sarcasm.
"Peace? Or subservience of one to the other?" He waves his hand for the man to continue.
Calliope withholds comment, raising her eyebrows delicately at the statement. It is bold--walking into a room and making such a statement. She respects it. She doesn't, however, recognize the name.
"I, too, am interested in your proposed solution."
Maxwell smiles. "It is not a radical idea in the least. In prior nights, not so long ago, the Camarilla and the Anarchs existed in peace, well as much in peace as our kind really can. It was effectively a 70/30 relationship in which the Camarilla ran the night to night affairs of the city and the Anarchs were welcome as long as the Traditions were mostly followed."
He continues, "The Tradition of the Masquerade is a must, while we are stronger than the mortals, they greatly outnumber us." Turning his gaze to Edgar in particular he adds, "When the mortals find out about us, it tends to go poorly, just as it did recently in Vienna."
"The Tradition of Domain can be relaxed, provided there is no outright rebellion, there is room for discourse..."
"The Tradition of Progeny is a matter of of maintaining the first Tradition as much as anything. We have to make sure that there is enough food for all of us while remaining in the shadows. Rather than seek permission to Embrace, one would inform the Eldest of their Clan to make sure that we do not become overpopulated."
"The Tradition of The Accounting would remain unchanged. Without proper education by ones makers can we really be anything more than the savages of the Sabbat?" Maxwell noticeably glances in K's direction after that comment.
"The Tradition of Hospitality again calls back to the Masquerade and maintenance of that. To protect us all, a Prince must know who is within the Domain."
"Finally, the Tradition of the Destruction. The mortals have laws against murder and they are beneath us. Why should we not have the same?"
"To this end, I seek to regain my city and propose an alliance between the Anarch factions and my Camarilla for the betterment of us all. Questions?"
Notepad, pencil. Maxwell. Traditions.
A rat’s footfall. ”Why us?”
"Why not?" Maxwell responds somewhat sarcastically.
"Truth is, according to Maldavis here, you are virtually unknown entities within Chicago and as such are not as likely to have been polluted by Kevin Jackson or his damnedable Sire, Lodin. While I seek to return to the old ways, sometime that requires new blood."
Maxwell continues. "I do still have allies within Chicago proper, those individuals are known quantities. I require those who can work more...discretely."
Edwin plays it cool when Maxwell makes it obvious that he knows exactly who Edwin is.
"If it is your City, why not simply alert whatever Primogen is left that you have returned?
Assuming that is not an option, it seems that the Camarilla Inner Circle believes that Kevin Jackson is the proper Prince for the role. This may involve moving against US national and international Kindred besides just Kevin Jackson. There is of course, also the other members of the former Prince's brood who may also seek to lay claim to the city. Though I suppose if they had any better claims, they would not have deferred to the new Prince.
If the Anarchs chafe at the Traditions under Prince Jackson, why should they wish to abide by such rules under Prince Maxwell?
Understand that I ask these question not out of disrespect for what you present but for the desire to understand.
Politics aside, can you explain to me whether the Anarchs are part of the Camarilla or not? I presumed them to be the restless young, but still part of the Sect proper. Unlike the Sabbat who were locked in a final death grudge match with the Camarilla, a match they appear to have lost considering the presence of a Lasombra elder in Chicago".
"I have no love for my great to the nth degree grandsire myself, my connection to Lodin is tenuous at best and has caused me a great deal of trouble. But it is as my friend here says, what difference is their between you and Prince Jackson other than the color of the boot that is on our necks? Is this an overhaul of the system, or same place under different management?" Jack pushes himself from leaning against the wall to be fully upright. "Either way, I'm not opposed, I'd just like to know what exactly it is you're proposing. And of course, if you're strong enough to see it through, come hell or highwater. Prove that to me, and I'm in. My colleagues however," he jerks a thumb towards the rest of his cotarie, "Are substantially more complex than old Jack. You might have to work a bit harder to convince them."
"For one, I am not Ventrue, quite the opposite really." Maxwell responds primarily to Jack.
Turning his attention to Edgar's questions, he says, "In times gone by not so long ago, the Anarchs were essentially part of Camarilla. Times have changed, I'm afraid. The Ivory Tower has closed its doors to all that 'do not belong', and with the immediate threat of the Sabbat being significantly diminished, they have turned their ire to the Anarch movement. Easier to keep the masses in line if there is a boogey man to keep those not in power worried, you know."
"Kevin Jackson has bought whole-heartedly into this more hardline version of the Camarilla, admittedly one of my own Clan, Theo Bell, did nothing to help that when he tucked his shotgun under the chin of Hardestadt and pulled the trigger, but that is neither here nor there."
Addressing questions asked by both so far, he continues, "I have already given my position on the Traditions and my reasoning for those positions, including where there is latitude. I would seek a scenario where the Anarchs are welcome within the city, free of harassment as long as the small modicum of over-arching rules that have existed since the time of Caine himself are followed."
"Our continued existence requires compromise, often when we do not agree with a path of action. A number of the Elders of Chicago were there before Lodin, and would be happy to return to a previous status quo, particularly the likes of Critias and Khalid. I suspect I could even get Nicolai to come out of hiding should I be reinstated."
A small part of Calliope chafes at being referred to as an "unknown," -- her pride in her artwork and her fame within her niche would beg to differ. After a moment, she has to quietly concede - just because she's known in her niche doesn't mean she's well-known.
The Toreador leans forward and glances at her companions briefly before responding, her voice quiet. "I am, admittedly, ignorant to much of what's being discussed. I'm an artist. A hedonist. Not a politician. But I'm intrigued by the idea. I'm interested in hearing it out." She leans back, crossing her legs again, and then adds, more to her companions than the group: "Unknown quantities like us are expendable. Easy to use us as a scapegoat should things go awry."
Edwin looks thoughtful, "Quite interesting.
So the greater threat of the Sabbat is deemed dealt with while the Anarchs, the disaffected youth of the Camarilla are now the foe. I would conclude that the Camarilla felt that way all along and simply wished not to push the Anarchs into the arms of the Sabbat.
Still, if this coup was successful, would the Camarilla support Maxwell? And if they do, will Maxwell then turn on the Anarchs if the ivory tower dislikes the peace you have made and forces your hand?
Then there is the presence of the Lasombra, half of the leadership of the Sabbat, now being welcome into Chicago. Perhaps not with open arms but welcome nonetheless, would Maxwell welcome them too?"
He pauses for a few moments then turns to Evelyn, "What are your thoughts Evelyn, you have been quiet. Perhaps I am mistaken but it seems you and yours represent the Anarchs".
"Ah. A Brujah." Jack seems even more interested now, "I have far more respect for the average Brujah than the average Ventrue. Truer to themselves."
Calliope says nothing more for the moment and turns her attention to Evelyn as well. She fishes a small sketchbook from her back and begins to doodle--an unsettling, unending triangle pattern; a fang peeking out of plush, smiling lips; a stylized chaos symbol.
Anarachs accepted. Old days. C, K. N?
Eyebrows raise, forehead creases into flesh corduroy. Looks to Evelyn, curious.
K puts his feet down and leans forward in his seat, his knee bouncing with nervous energy. Smiling, he looks back and forth, watching everyone for their reactions. Oh man, an outside player putting together a move against the new boss? Friggin’ gnarly!
Evelyn is obviously not a poker player, and like most Brujah wears her emotions on her sleeve. "Look Maxwell, I want to believe you, but why exactly should I believe you? If you really are the O.G. Prince of Chicago, how'd you lose power and why the f++~ are you not dust?" the tone of her voice containing equal parts hope and suspicion.
"Maldavis hasn't led me wrong yet...if she's with you, I guess we are too. Just two things I want. There's a crusty old Toreador in Gary that had a long standing beef with Juggler. I want Modius gone from Gary. Second - I want some of that Chicago money coming toward Gary, the people here deserve better than what they got." Evelyn says, trying to bargain with the Elder.
"And where is your Sire, Childe?" Maxwell asks. "I have known him nearly since his creation. In fact it was me that sent him to Chicago after his Sire met an unfortunate fate in New Orleans long ago." the elder asks of his assumed new ally.
Turning his attention back to Edgar's questions, he says, "Would the Camarilla support me? I would thing they would, particularly with the backing of Critias, Khalid, and Nicolai any one of the three could have taken Praxis from Lodin's whelp should they have chosen to do so."
To the elder's question, Evelyn flattly states, "I don't know where Juggler is...he's been gone for a month."