Not long after Alistair had begun waiting did the street sound with the rumble of a motorbike decelerating in his direction. Mithias passed him to park along the street side. he got off, took off his helmet and replaced it with a nice hat and walked up to the clan leader with his hands in his pockets. "Greetings Alistair. You messaged quite a number of people. I suppose I shall see what my relatives are doing." He casually glanced at the Kingston manor. "You know you Blackmoores are going to marry these Kingstons."

The text message was unexpected. As far as Sandro figured Alistair didn't even know he was in the states. It had been far too long since Sandro had seen the man. Rumors had drawn Sandro from his latest curiosity (a failure that it had been) and now this message. He figured he might as well show up, it'd be rude not to right?

Sandro's vespa was in storage, with nearly everything else he owned, so he hailed a cab. The cab was stuffed with impressions, too many to focus on any one thing, and none of them strong enough to stand out amongst the crowd of passing thoughts. He found the home of the Kingston's with only a vague memory of the address.

He exited the cab, paying the fare with crisp bills. With a humorous grin Sandro strolled to where Alistair stood, impossible to miss, "Hello Al." The old joke never seemed to tire on the vampire.

Adelisa watched as Alistair left to prepare for the meeting. Her eyes wandered the house until someone came up to her with a change of clothing. The same girl from the bar gave her a long sleeved sweater and jeans. Adelisa smiled softly and escaped to the bathroom.

---

Adelisa stepped around the corner of a small shop, her hair tied up into a ponytail and her shoes clean of dirt and grime. She felt fresh and clean, but as she walked up to Alistair and strange men she never met, Adelisa felt self-conscious. She didn't know the men and she barely knew Alistair. She looked down at her shoes nervously. She wasn't excited for this meeting, as many strangers in one room freaked her out, but she really needed to get over her social issues if it meant people wouldn't get hurt.

Beatrix couldn't help but notice that Ali's words had a little more bite to them than usual. It appeared as though the night's events had ruffled his feathers a bit more than he was letting on. He mentioned going to put on his Sunday best and Trixie wondered if she had any clothing that really fit the bill. Even in her human life, Trixie was never much a church-goer, and she wasn't about to start dressing like one either. Modest dress was for prudes and pretenders. When you have goods to offer, you must put them on display, and when those goods are fetched for as high a price as Beatrix de La Croix, you have to make sure the buyers know that they are worth it.

Trixie shook her head to drive out the thought. No, that was The Madame talking, and she had put that voice to sleep long ago - or so she thought, but no, that Blod boy woke her up again. And what an immensely pleasurable way to wake up. No, it wasn't a good thing. Guilty, she must feel guilty for straying in such a way. What would he think? He? He being Francis? ...Alistair? Beatrix bit her lip and closed her eyes.

Instead of letting herself dwell, Trixie put her focus on the contents of her closet. Right, pick an outfit, that's where this all started. Her fingers thumbed through the varying textures of fabric until they settled on the perfect choice. A little black dress that was a cross between something you might see at a wealthy person's funeral, or see a Russian spy wearing. The most important features were that it left her cleavage just the right amount exposed and the open keyhole back offered easy access to her holstered weapons. After piling her ebony curls in a loose updo and putting on a light splash of make-up to make her ethereal blue eyes pop even more, she headed out the door to the Kingston abode.

She rolled up in her small, sleek hybrid car and stepped out, looking the picture of elegance. The Kingstons only knew her as savage and a killer, she would show them her classier side on this occasion... that is, until the politics get too boring and someone has to bleed just to liven up the place. Beatrix smiled at Alistair upon her arrival, hoping that his little blood meal might have lifted his mood some.

As Morven arrived Praetor opened the door and bowed to her. "Glad you could join us. The table is set, go have a seat the ghosts will serve you." Credit to Praetors power specter's floated around pouring silver goblets of blood and offering bottles of alcohol old and rare. Praetor himself was dressed perfectly in a white, metal armor over pieces of it. His sword at his side everything polished perfectly. "I assume your grandson will be here shortly... No doubt causing me more trouble. If you'll excuse me I have a mater to tend to, Auria see to the guests."

Auria walked dressed in white and black, her blade at her hips along with both her pistols. She bowed to Morven as she passed before rushing out to greet the others. She watched the Blackmoore's gather, her hands rest on her weapons. What looked to be a delicate little girl was much more threatening than she seemed. Her presence reminded other much of Praetor yet different, she seemed more ready to kill and maim and much more modern the guns indicated that much. Yet she dripped a power one that could make even the strongest vampire fear her. She seemed as unique and strange as Praetor. She looked at Beatrix and her... Lack of modesty, it was embarrassing. Vampires should not parade around looking like harlots, they were beings of great power and with that came responsibility they must look honorable and immaculate not like dime store prostitute.

Praetor stepped out. "Alistair, I see you invited your entire clan... Come in then. Though I warn you, if they upset my dinner... Well I've always wanted to try eating another vampire." He flashed a grin that showed just how willing he was, Praetor was not playing anymore he plan to fix his pupil and pity the vampire or man who tried to stop him. "Have your people come in... And do let them know that those that do not behave with proper manners will be tossed out a window. I expect you've taught all of them at least some manners, then again you are cut from barbarous clan aren't you. Auria see them in." He told her and she nodded turning the the Blackmoore's as Praetor re-entered the house.

The Blackmoores were invited into the Manson by a small, cute, light skinned girl who looked remarkably like Praetor. Presumably of his stock, no doubt. Mithias wondered at her name. He had no mind-reading abilities and so she would have to tell him verbally when she saw fit.

Mithias bowed as he was greeted, "Thank you for inviting us in, Praetor. The Kingstons have always been gracious." He followed the others inside and was led toward the meeting room, which was the dining room. It was quite a feat, really, that the Kingstons had managed to establish themselves to the point that they only drank donated blood. Quite honorable indeed, but it was an austere lifestyle. Mithias respected them highly for it. He knew better than to bring it up, even as a compliment, for it was a point of contention between the families.

The golden-eyed vampire looked around. Several of the others were dressed more highly than he. He would have to make up for it in personality. "How about those Knicks?" The high bred estranged vampire aristocrat made small talk about the local basketball team.

"I haven't been here very long." Sandro explained with a glance at his watch, "In fact a whole half an hour. I look forward to meeting any friend of Alistair." Now things were already interesting, but then they always were around Alistair. The hug was enough to let Sandro know in basic terms the last week had been busy for his friend. This wasn't just any meeting, and Sandro, along with who knew who else were there to antagonize these Kingstons. The name was familiar. A group of Vampires, of course, but they seemed to think eating live food was a sin. If Sandro had to keep to what everyone thought was a sin he'd have burned a long time ago.

Sandro followed Alistair inside, brushing his hand on the door’s threshold as he crossed it. The building was heavy with age, with the residue of everyone who had crossed through its halls. Ancient. Sandro shrugged off the feeling that bore down on him. He'd take stock of the situation before acting or speaking. Alistair would take the lead.

Sandro usually avoided the larger crowds of Vampires, for obvious reasons. There were too many residual memories and the older a vampire... well all the more they carried with them. Humans were easy, so fleeting. For now he was here for Alistair. As much as Sandro longed to reach out and touch something, anything, he didn’t.

Adelisa entered the house and looked around. Was everyone rich there? Obviously if they were all living in mansions and manors! She glanced at the two men that followed Alistair in and looked at Beatrice. She smiled in relief when another woman, though hated by said woman, was here. Adelisa looked at Alistair as he spoke of the Kingstons. A small giggle escaped her lips, but she caught herself when things quieted down. She bit her bottom lip in amusement as Alistair referred to them as wet blankets.

As they moved, Adelisa recognized Morven at the table and smiled excitedly. She brushed past Alistair to get to the girl and said "Excuse me". Knowing that Morven was her only friend, Adelisa sat down next to her. She laid eyes on Sandro for a moment both asking Morven "so… is he a Blackmoore too? I mean, him and Alistair seem to be close." She looked at the young looking vampire with a curious expression.

Mithias took a seat at the table as directed. He leaned back, appearing comfortable yet polite. He listened to Adelisa who seemed rather young, but youth itself was not a crime. Alistair was already stirring Praetor's ire, which was not very considerate behavior for a guest. If this ended up as a bloodbath, it would be a long time before Mithias attended any more of their parties. Morven appeared stoic, as per usual, but the paint was different. What she had to say would always be interesting. Trixy was looking fashionably presentable. Mithias saw it as an opportunity to take a stab at Alistair, and so he told her so. "Beatrix, you look marvelous in that dress."

Trixy watched as Mira Kingston's lap dog greeted them, albeit a bit rudely. There was a woman at the door that Beatrix had not seen before, but she looked a hell of a lot like Praetor in her style of dress, which couldn't mean anything good. Much like Praetor, the female vampire was so old that Trixy couldn't peer directly into her mind to tamper with it, she could just get brief rushes of feelings. Right now, judgement was dripping off of the stranger as she eyed up Trixy and her outfit. The jealousy of it made Trixy chuckle; either the bitch was jealous or attracted to her, whatever it was, she hid it with judgement. Just like Praetor.

When Alistair offered his arm for her to take, she might have blushed... you know, if she wasn't dead. She took his arm and smiled gracefully as they walked up the steps, making direct eye-contact with Auria as she walked by. The coldness in Trixy's eyes was so palpable, it was as if icicles were falling from her body with every step. She must have been gifted with the wrong vampiric ability, surely she was meant to be the snow queen - and no amount of love could thaw her frozen heart. But Trixy kept quiet until they found their seats, cool and collected, for now...

Adelisa giggled softly at the statement about humans. Of course she would be the one to point that out. She also took note not to let the bearded new comer touch her, as if she'd let that happen anyway. She smirked in amusement at what Alistair said and mumbled to herself "well, those topic choices are interesting start up conversations." She realized how sarcastic she sounded and she stopped herself from saying anymore. Of course, this was a meeting. They weren't there for pleasantries.

She looked over at Beatrix and smiled softly before looking at the darkly clothed man that helped them earlier. She said "she does look absolutely beautiful, doesn't she? Unfortunately, the eyes that are wandering her beauty are trying to use that against her own family. Now doesn't that just seem petty to you? Or is it that they are envious of her beauty, to which I say they do have a surgery for such thoughts." She smiled sweetly, but it was laced with poison. No one deserved to be a pawn in a jab to someone else's family.

Adelisa may have only been invited into the family for a short while, but they were kind enough to take her in. She would do anything for that kindness. Even if it meant standing up for someone who didn't particularly like her. Besides, the man was obviously trying to use Beatrice's feminine prowess to set off a fire, so she thought it best to slap it back at him.

The young one spoke up, inappropriately, and just like the others was only trying to cause trouble. Mithias knew there was no way to control his family's rude behavior. "She is a member of my family. I can compliment her if I wish."

Edit: I just realized Alistair didn't sire Trixie, so Mithias is only technically related to Alistair.

"At the expense of others? If it were just a compliment then I would not have said anything, but you tried to use Beatrix. How do I know? Simple: the look in your eyes tell tales. She is a beautiful woman, strong and incredibly intelligent, but the fact isn't whether you're her uncle and you can compliment her as you see fit or not. It is that you had other intentions that weren't just complimenting your niece." She rolled her eyes at how high and mighty the man made himself seem.

It was truly ridiculous that he presented himself in a way that made it seem everyone was lower than him. He may be older than her, but he did not seem wiser than a five year old with his little stunt.

Mithias exhaled a sigh. He said as kindly as he could. "Alistair, you value your family members very highly. I am sorry I hadn't told you earlier, but Morven's grandsire was my sire. So that makes you my great, great, grand-nephew, and any in your family I would also consider to be in mine."

"You are. Now deal with it." Clearly Mithias meant business. He had claimed his brothers descendents and wasn't going to backdown.