2013.11.03:Graveyardconference

2013.11.03:GraveyardConference
Gwydion and Eloise give Damien a Talking to
IC Date	November third 2013
IC Time	Pre-dawn but not by much
Players	Damien (old), Eloise, Gwydion
Location	Mount Hope Cemetery
Prp/Tp	N/A
Spheres	Mage.
Theme Song	N/A

It's late at night; sometime close to morning, but the sun's nowhere in sight. Somewhere along a grassy knoll in Mount Hope Cemetary can be spotted a kneeling goth, cloaked entirely in black velvet, complete with matching cowl. From how he looks with his hands joined together, Damien is praying; his lips wordlessly whisper syllables that aren't spoken aloud. He's alone, and not paying attention to his surroundings.

Gwydion is looking around slowly, finding Damien with no problem but more checking the surroundings. Sure word might be that he's kooky and more of a danger to himself than anyone else but it doesn't pay to take chances. Eventually approaching closer Gwydion speaks up "Hello Damien, we need to talk."

Eloise murmurs softly to Gwydion as they approach and she frowns just a touch before they get TOO close. But she's right there beside Gwydion, anyway

Eloise is also NOT wearing a sundress. She's got on jeans and a t-shirt and... sigh... tennis shoes Eloise whispers "His aura isn't right. His aura is... dead.... but everything else is.. perfectly normal"

The temperature in the cemetary is noticably colder than the areas not with Damien in it -- unless they came from a freezer, that is. A cold wind blows through the air, and Damien's head sharply cants up at the mention of his name. "Mortal," he addresses Gwydion, and he doesn't know Eloise is there yet -- his velvet hood obscures his vision. "..have you sought the Lord of Blackness and Sin and Evil to inquire about the meaning of .. of death? of the hollow blackness, the pit of unwashed suffering?" He stands, slowly, and looks at two of them. As he looks, a hand grabs his cloak and arm ascends, using it to cover his face, with twin green eyes peering out.

Gwydion quirks an eyebrow at Damien when he speaks, standing there largely unphased with his hands in his pockets "Bonus points for being theatrical, and for however you've managed to modify your aura but you really need to be careful about who you say that sort of thing too. Doesn't bother me what you call yourself but eventually you're gonna meet someone really with somethin to say about death." Turning to comment to Eloise "Maybe we should have had Leila take this meetin?"

Eloise crosses her arms lightly over her chest, shaking her head a little bit at the silliness of it all. "See?" She says to Gwydion, her voice soft, pleasant even, "This is why my baby won't grow up with a TV. People get silly notions and dumbass ideas in their heads. What is he....." Her gaze moves over toward the man and then back to Gwydion. "... early twenties? Still playing make believe? I could CALL Leila. See what she's up to. That might be effective enough." A little grin slides over her face and she looks back to Damien. "You need a spankin'. And I don't mean the sexy kind."

"This is not theatrics!" says the drama llama, with a sharp twill of his voice -- as if truly offended by such an assertation. "Nor is this any game of make believe." He looks between the two, giving each equal attention time. "I know why thou art here, now; and I tell thee, truthfully: The fact that I am vampyre is indisputable. Lilith has caressed me in her arms, and now mine fangs must drain the life of the living upon hunger's cruel pains." He says this matter-of-factly, as if there is no talking him out of this. "Mine life is safe, it's the life of-- ACHOO," he sneezes, breaking off whatever he was saying in two; and a hand rises to hold over his nose. "Sorry, this cut grass really kills mine nose."

Gwydion smirks when the allergy sneeze ruins Damien's moment "Okay, you're not a vampire however much your aura might look a little bit deadish you still have a pulse and sinus allergies mean you still breathe. I've met a number of actual vampires and unless they're tryin to fake bein alive they don't. An other than your aura you come up totally alive."

Eloise shakes her head, sighing ever so softly. "And so inexperienced that he can't even get rid of his own allergies. Sorry, sweety. We're not buying it." She pauses for a moment and then the mom part of her kicks in. There IS a reason that Wyck calls her mom. It might be a little condescending to the Lord of Darkness and Allergies, and hell, it might even be intended that way. "Come on out of here and I'll set your allergies right and we'll go get some coffee. How's that sound?"

"There are no other vampires." Damien educates Gwydion in the occult, subtle truths of Vampyrism. "They are posers, conformist posers. They aren't real and true -- they don't hunger for the blood of innocence, they don't have infernal power begotten of sin; they don't sparkle in the sunlight as I do." Wait, what?

He doesn't expose his face -- he keeps it hidden, as those green eyes dance between Gwydion and Eloise. "Coffee would do nothing to wake me; only the precious heartblood pumping within thine veins would truly give me a jolt." He looks at her, hungry! Well. He looks at her. Hunger is implied.

Gwydion reaches up to rub at the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. "You really have no idea do you." Gwydion responds to the comment about sparkling. Then when he looks to Eloise implying he's going to 'feed' on her Gwydion frowns and reaches into his coat, drawing out his sword. Its a cruciform crusader's longsword with runes on the blade and the cross piece plated in gold. In all seriousness he says "Try it, I dare you. You might believe you're the chosen of lilith and that's fine, you might very well be. But the attention you attract with your dress up games and make believe is puttin both the local vampire community and the local mage community at risk. As long as you're mindin your own business that's fine but you threaten anyone under my protection or cause them harm because your delusions offended an actual vampire? someone of real evil and malice? Then we might have to have a very different conversation."

Eloise just grins at the man, shaking her head just a little bit. The blade? She glances over, then back to Damien with a little shrug. "I don't think that any vampire is going to take him seriously. Now, if he actually starts going around biting people... and making them bleed out and all.. well.. then we might have an issue. Damien, sweetheart. If you think that you're going to be able to have free reign in this town? You're awful wrong. This is a place of peace. We all get along or at least tolerate each other and if you come in and stir up stuff... well... we don't like that very much."

"Relax -- mortal!" Damien narrows his eyes; he is intimidated! Super intimidated, so he downplays it a bit. "Were I hungry; but I was just making a point. There is no need to fret; I have already subsided on tonight's feast," Which was his mother's lasagna, and not blood, but they don't need to know that. And of course, he's fretting -- not so much them, really. But the dark Lord of the Night's caress must save face, or something. "How will I stir up anything? It's obvious that I am the genuine blood thirsty vampyre, and they are but posers."

Gwydion frowns at Damien "You....If I hadn't been told you were one of the Awakened. And A Hollow One at that? I'd be more than content to walk away and let this go entirely but you need to understand, clearly what's really goin on."

Eloise has had enough. And the whole Mortal bit? That's gotta change. Damien will sense her awesome power. She steps forward rather quickly, baring fangs, eyes flashing, nostrils flaring. It's QUITE a sight for those not expecting it.... especially when she scores 4 successes on intimidation. She's RIGHT there in his face. "I've had just about enough of you BOY. Call me Mortal one more time and *I* will eat your fucking FACE! Do you hear me?"

His mouth hangs agape as Eloise transforms into, well, whatever she's transforming into. "I must leave -- fare the well!" The blood is burnt from his body, and he feels a momentary surge into his musculature; before that surge fades. He has no time to consider the why his vampiric prowess has failed him in his most desperate hour of need, he just vaults the tombstone and prepares to jet -- his velvet cloak impeding the process.

Gwydion lashes out with a foot trying to pin the cape as it goes over the tombstone. "Hold up there just a second we're not done."

Eloise reaches out as Damien begins to flee

As hands reach out to take hold, one would note that it's not just the air that's cold -- Damien is a iteral ice-cube, innately colder than the freezing point of water. "This is an outrage, I must attend to," Quick, make up a lie. "..the peasantry!" It makes no sense, but it's obvious that he's no longer having happy-fun-times -- when he realizes there are bigger badasses then him, right now.

Gwydion quirks an eyebrow at Damien but doesn't move his foot as he keeps his sword pointed at the creepy man's nose "The peasantry? you just like findin new an interestin ways to piss people off don't ya? Seriously, I got the phone number an home address of an actual Vampire Necromancer, I have a pair of real fallen angels on speed dial, I know where a werebear actually shits in the woods and I've met at least one honest to god extra dimensional space alien. You are a small fish and a rank amateur and I am rapidly losing patience."

Eloise has a deathgrip on Damien. His shoulder. She's still got them fangs. "You need a reality check, sweetheart." Her eyes are glowing in the light. Her gaze wanders to Gwydion, then back to Damien. "Now... how about you just calm down, breathe a little bit. Whatever your schtick is?... that's fine. But you're going to get yourself hurt." Her voice is low, scary as SHIT. Who would have thought a cute little hippie chick could be capable of such things? "Now... are you going to sit down and listen to us? Or do we have to do this the hard way?" She even feigns a little chomp in the vicinity of his neck.

Damien doesn't say anything else; but he does struggle. There's no doubt about it -- this gothling does not want to be here, right now; he wants to be anywhere but here. He's likely pretending to listen just to speed things along.

Gwydion is getting pretty fed up to and he scowls for a moment or three as he tries to think of what to say. "Listen, you do what you want and I'll try my best not to give a crap as long as you don't cross the line. Whatever you might believe about these posers they won't return to you anythin but contempt and they'll mark you out as one of us. If you wind up pickin fights? Have fun with that. You want to learn some subtlety and how to play nice with the other will workers maybe we can get along."

All this struggling? Ellie's getting a little tired of this. /SIT DOWN!/ "Sit down! Hold STILL, you little squiggly monkey ass." Whether he does or doesn't, she lets the little turdface go, though she does, admittedly, give him a little tug downward to try and make him sit too.

Tossed about like a bitch, by someone who should be living a moral code of peace, love, and understanding -- the goth plops down on the grass, staining that beautiful velvet. "Whatever! I'm not 'one of you'." Damien clarifies, totally disinterested in being grouped. "I'm me. Damien, the Vampyre. And if I die, then it's because Lilith wills it. May I go now, or dost thou want to repeat yourself again?" The strong-willed individual has everything figured out, and blatantly resents any authority imposed on him. Much like a teenager.

Gwydion drops his foot, releasing the pin he had on Damien's cape "I get all that. I'm tellin you what they'd see," he sighs and makes himself say it "however flawed their vision might be. Just be careful."

Eloise 'retracts' her fangs and kneels as she puts the boy on the floor LIKE A BAWS!!! "Listen, kiddo. We really are just trying to help. You don't want to be grouped in with the rest of us, that's just fine. Your paradigm is your paradigm. What we're saying is don't be a little bitch about things. Because if I hear one little peep about you causing trouble for other people? It's going to get ugly. My name is Eloise. This here is Gwydion. You're new. You don't get it. That's fine. But you NEED.... you MUST... be careful. Because whatever is out THERE...." SHe motions around, vaguely toward the exit. "... is nothing compared to what's standing right here in front of you. That isn't a threat. It's a fact. We don't like troublemakers. Don't be a troublemaker and you don't have a thing to worry about. If you need anything, go to Prospect Roasters and have Nina call me." SHe pushes to her feet with a little sigh and turns. "Come on, Gwydion. This won't get us anywhere."

There's distaste about his visage, and it remains there until well after Eloise and Gwydion leave. Conformists, coming into his graveyard and telling him to sit down? One day, he'll be able to put bullies in their place! But that day is not today. After they go, he returns to his prayers to the dark mother.

..at least they didn't give him a wedgie.