The weather in Vegas has been hot, a dry heat that made the air seem thick and stale, but this is as unchanging as the ages of those that rule this city; not the gangsters that followed the scents of sin or the investors that followed the dump trucks of money electronically wired in and out of this place or even the hookers that tended to follow both, but the people will real influence. The demigods that have made temporary home within the desserts little oasis and flourish beside the brightly lit up streets and buzzing humanity of the city of Sin. Each has their own reasons for choosing this particular location and some have no reason at all, but they can all agree that something is changing.
They don’t feel it. The mortals. The people who run around until their pockets are either empty or bursting. Even those that can feel the slight twinge in the air, even the immortals, are having a difficult time trying to put a finger on the change. It creates unease inside of them and ruffles them with a warning as if someone is watching them, and while these creatures are well aware that something is always watching, this something is different.
It came as no surprise when they each received a missive, perhaps a bit more forward than they had been expecting, but they had been expecting something. The letter was delicately written in the form of an invitation, but the curls of the letters that spelled out their true names was much more ominous than a simply invitation. It was a summons and it was from someone who truly knew them. The only reason this invitation would not hint towards conspiracy was the restlessness that had been drifting around them for days now, sometimes even riling up the nerves enough to interfere with their powers. At least once LaLaurie had felt the wave of turmoil and accidently injected a little too much wrath into one of her projects, ruining months time she’d put into it and requiring her to abandon that particular endeavor entirely. It had been decades since she had done something so careless.
An audience with yourself and your kindred is requested on the eve of this Friday in the south facing penthouse of the Venetian. While it should go unsaid, discretion is highly appreciated.
The letter had arrived on Thursday evening, most of them simply appearing by some means or another. Delphine had received hers while sitting on a large chase lounge, looking out at an encompassing view of the majestic chaos that scrambled around below the penthouse of the Venetian where she had been staying. Her brows had wrinkled in distaste as she read her name and then the location of this supposed meeting. While she wanted to be angry at the presumption that she would be willing to host she had little doubt about the identity of O. None of her fellow demigods would be as brash as the Oracles could be. And if an Oracle wanted an audience, you didn’t say no.
She sighed and her eyes swept around the room, there would have to be some arrangements made if she were to be having a party. Her delicate fingers wrapped about the classic phone that sat near her and she began on some phone calls.
The penthouse appeared immaculate and well furnished, none of which where things that the woman who would greet you at the door could take credit for. In fact, she felt that she was exerting her niceties enough by answering the door herself and it was a rare occasion that the large door was pulled open by that coy smiling demon herself and you were ushered into the foyer with a sweeping gesture that extended from the exceedingly over priced dress that hung on her deceptively sweet looking frame. It was all part of her charm, the smile as she offered to take each guests elbow and lead them into the main room. Even as the demigods touched each other’s skin a sort of static would trickle between them, their “influences” attempting to over ride the others in what usually ended in a stale mate. Tesla was the only one who was not offered the elbow. A slight tsking sound emanating from her lips as she pressed a hand down along her hair. ”You do the worst things to a perfect coif, so excuse the rudeness. Follow me.”
As she led each of them separately into the large main room where this meeting would occur she would lean in close as if speaking to a best friend, a social habit from her extended experience as a socialite. She waved an arm down the hall leading to the right. ”The bathroom, the study.” And then she waved another arm down the hall to the left. ”Best you avoid that wing. I had to hide my things somewhere and the overly generous owner of this penthouse needed a place to rest his head.” Her words could have seemed normal, but that smile that flickered across that lips was something that shared the same sterility that the hall way had, something that was put there to hide the debauchery but really only hinted at it more. The Venetian’s penthouse would probably have to be burned to cover up the secrets behind those doors, something that she would enact with absolutely no remorse.
But then they were out of the hallway and stepping through two opened doors into the main area. There were couches and chairs placed around with interior decorators flair that spoke of organized chaos and in the center there was a large glass table. The table was spread with a lavish display of wealth, borrowed to be sure from the man whom was sequestered off in the secret wing. There were trays of food, catered in from the hotel’s five star restaurant, which filled this room with an enticing smell meant to relax the guests. The bar too was there to calm their nerves, fully stocked, though lacking a bartender in consideration of the secrecy of this entire meeting. It would be imprudent to place a mortal in a closed off space with this much influence even if they could be trusted to keep the secrets of the occupants.
Each demigod is aware of the existence of the Oracles. It is not clear whether there is one oracle that takes many shapes or if there truly is more than one entity. If the power or influence of the Oracle could be questioned, watching the guarded respect that the Oracles require from even the Gods should abolish any doubt. They are ancient beings described in many religions as many different things. Their length of existence is impossible to surmise considering that there is nothing old enough to remember a time without the Oracles. In actual reception they are cryptic and puzzling, showing both concern and apathy towards most things.