The central power of Indiana had never been completely certain among the world of the kindred. Last a prince ruled there, the man had been completely crazed. A life spent constantly at war had left him hating anything he perceived as alien, including things so simple as the race of the kine. At first, it was a simple eccentricity. When his racism carried over to the ranks of kindred, however, and he began risking the masquerade over his desire to 'purge the unclean' he was finally put out of the world's misery.

Since that time, nearly fifty years ago, the throne of Indianapolis has gone empty. In the absence of the Camarilla's guiding hand, the Anarchs were eager to take hold. However, while their presence ensured the continuation of kindred within the state, their lack of resources led to a number of troublesome foes going unchallenged in the area.

Local churches began turning to the ways of the Second Inquisition, creating small pockets of hunters with generation of experience to call upon. Protected by the power of true faith, they seek out kindred, and purge them from the world with zealous vigor.

In a state so full of open land and large pockets of wilderness, one of the kindreds' greatest enemies could take hold; Lupines. Physically powerful, and willing to readily work together for the common good, these beast-men seek out the kindred, to kill them without hesitation. Seeing vampires as a blight on the land, they make it their personal mission to end that blight.

Other threats also exist, from rumors of feral kindred who stalk the woods and risk the masquerade, to stories of powerful fey influencing the habits of those who live near them. There are even reports of a guild of mages, set up somewhere in the very heart of Indianapolis.

Against all these odds, one kindred has stepped up to take the throne. A powerful, seventh generation ventrue who has managed to sweep into the state and assert himself as the prince of the capital. Very little is known about him, his name not even yet public to the world, but one thing is for certain; Though his empire is vast, he seeks allies among his own kind, as the threats that stand posed against him will eventually break down his walls. As powerful as his fortifications may be, no king can stand without subjects to give orders to.

The night was a dark one, an eerie feeling befell most that walked about tonight. There were creature far removed from the natural forces of the world stalking through the shadows of man's perception. None of this mattered right now for Stanley "Steel" Kowalski however.

The fresh vampire looked himself in the mirror, giving his face a light smack to get the blood back to it, only to remember his current predicament. Not that much in his life had changed since being "embraced" (he hated that word) given most of his awake time had been spent at night and sleeping in the day. The biggest change was mostly his pre-show rituals which had become mostly null at this point. All that said, he was saving a killing on white face paint to make his skin look pale for shows. Shaking the jitters out, Steel put on the rest of his costume: dark shoulder pads with fake spikes, gothic looking boots and a pair of aviators.

The low rumble of chatter outside of the backstage of the bar he frequented got louder as he made his way up onto stage, guitar in tow. He gave a smile and nod to both Rose, his synth pianist, and Jared "Mathces" O'Neil, his drummer. Going to the mic, steel addressed the crowd, of which he now had their attention.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen. Tonight we'll be taking you on the ride of your life." Steel began as the rest of his band slowly began to bring in the beat for their first song.

"A ride through the annals of time where the hair was long and the rock was hard." with the last word Steel stuck his guitar, letting out a single drowning note.

"We are Rachit Jiraffe and we're here to rock. Your. World." Steel said calmly to the crowds delight as the band began playing their fist song of the night..

Elizabeth woke with a start as the sun crossed the horizon. After a brief stretch she threw a cursory glance at her clock, the face of which read 7:23. Perfect, she thought happily, shift starts at 10, I have more than enough time to do what I need. Even in the unlife she continued to leak any document she thought would turn the tide against the hospital - pricing schemes, markup margins, incriminating internal emails - and yet each day fewer and fewer new people seemed to chime in in agreement that the practices employed weren't just unethical but inhuman. Could these people not see that the system was broken, even when it was spoon-fed to them? It made Elizabeth's blood boil.

An alarm went off in the background, a shrill two tone sound that alternated a few times before falling silent. Elizabeth drew a deep breath, knowing what was coming. Rising from her laptop she forced herself over to the fridge, a few bags of red fluid rested on the top shelf. She drew one out, throwing it in the microwave, heating it to a more bearable temperature. As she waited her fingers clenched the worktop's edge like claws. It was with her, perched, waiting in her throat. The Beast had come to know the routine, feed before a shift and fast until the next, even if it did love to try pushing Elizabeth over the edge.

The gentle beep of the microwave drew Elizabeth back to reality, carefully handling the hot bag. As she bit through the plastic she could feel the warm ambrosia slip past her teeth and slake the fire at the base of her throat. Her talons gripped the bag tighter and tighter, eking any last remaining drips before discarding the wrapper. Again the discontent of the Beast could be felt, hating the bag diet as much as Elizabeth herself did, but nonetheless it was quieted for the moment as the girl regained her composure and control. A quick look in the mirror to check for bloody streaks on her face and collar, and she was out the door.

At the vehicle depot everything was fairly quiet. A few of the EMT's were huddled in the communal room watching what appeared to be a rerun of a football game that had aired earlier in the day. Elizabeth rolled her eyes at the very idea of calling that football. As usual at the beginning of her shift she went through the ambulance she'd be working in, ensuring that various controlled medical supplies were indeed still in the vehicle after the previous crew had signed off. Finishing up, she threw herself into the passenger seat and closed her eyes just as the radio crackled to life. "One reported GSW wound, Cold Spring Road by the golf course. Shooter believed to have left the area. Will keep you updated". Elizabeth shuffled herself over into the driver's seat as her partner clambered into the passenger seat.

Each step echoed on the empty streets of Indianapolis, with a rhythmic clack clack clack upon the pavement as a man strode along the sidewalk of a rundown neighborhood towards a building with a sign above it's entrance.

In big bolded letters the sign read St. Bartholomew's Orphanage, which easily stood out from the dreary look of the neighborhood around it. The building itself looked old and was made from bricks unlike most of the slums on the block where the poor lived in small dirty apartment complex's making a living by breaking the law or selling their bodies to those who would use them, no matter their appearance.

It was a disgusting life that sickened Jose Georgio-Lorenzo Martinez, whose pace slowed to a halt beneath the light of a lone lamppost, his hand dipped into the pockets of his long overcoat and pulled a lighter out in one hand while the other flicked a cigarette out of a package, rolling it around in-between his index and his thumb before bringing the cigarette to his mouth.

It was a bit billowy outside so he cupped his hands around his mouth as he lit his lighter with a shick shick shick, taking a moment for the fluid within his lighter to light his cigarette. He inhaled it afterwards and held his breath for a second as he tasted the tobacco then in a puff of smoke he exhaled slowly, flicking the ashes of the cigarette in his left hand. He smoked for only a moment longer before dropping the cigarette on the pavement, then ground it beneath the heel of his black slacks.

Smoking wasn't the same anymore now that he was what he was, worse that he couldn't innoculate himself on the drugs he peddles but better he not get high on his own supply like he once did. However he had new goals in life now, one of which would take a long time to reach but still the smaller goals add up. An errant hand dipped into his inner coat pocket as he felt the wad of bills he carried.

It was for the old lady who ran the orphanage, Jose had always had a soft spot for the elderly woman who looked after the children in the orphanage as she had raised him there after he was placed within her care. It was a shame she had lost some of her eyesight and equally her memory but deep down she was the same caring old woman who treated the children in her care kindly.

Jose walked up to the door, pushing the old wooden door open with a loud creak and the bell rang above it to let the occupants know there was a visitor in the orphanage.

Jesse looked down the track, his fist gripping the steering wheel of the beat up old volkswagen. His knuckles would be turning white, if they weren't already. Traditional rally race rules required a co-pilot, to read off the map and make sure the driver got in all the necessary lap types. This crowd, though, did not mandate it. The track, while rough, had no lap types. That meant it was just Jesse in the car, which was exactly how he liked it.

As soon as the engines fired, Jesse reached for his Beast. The power he pulled from it would cost him-he could feel himself grow hungry, as his skin tightened across his frame and his eyes briefly flashed crimson-but it would be worth it. Power flowed through him, his kindred blood rushing through his veins, filling him with speed far beyond anything a simple kine could hope to command.

Within moments of the flag dropping, Jesse was shooting from the starting line. Gravel spat under his tires, dirt flying high as he rounded corners and passed every car in front of him. Gears shifted and the engine purred as his near-instant reflexes let him respond to the slightest kick and pull from the road and the old machine he sat in. To onlookers, it would be like watching a someone running practice laps, his competition almost non-existent around him as he flawlessly cornered and drifted past them.

He finished nearly two full minutes ahead of the second place car. By the time he was done, the shocks on the old car were shot, and the transmission was close to giving out. Jesse had pushed the car to the limits with his powers, but it had won him the trophy. Really, that's all he had wanted. The thrill of victory, the desire to show people that he was better than them, was one of the few aspects of his humanity he had left. Even if the context for it had shifted.

As he went to the parking lot, he saw someone-a gorgeous woman, no less-leaning on his bike. It was hardly a new occurrence, though she certainly wasn't dressed like the usual girls who begged him for a ride. Before he could say anything, though, he felt a sudden, overwhelming sense of fear wash over him as the woman's eyes locked with his. That alone was enough to tell him that she wasn't normal, and that the manila envelope she was holding likely held bad news for him. Tossing the trophy in the trash, he approached, silently taking the paperwork to see what his latest orders from his Sire were. To his surprise, it was not her name written across the top of the documents.

Tonight's show wasn't the best.

Despite his best efforts, Steel missed a few cords and wasn't emotive enough to keep the crowd engaged. The bad played well enough to still get paid but the boss man said he wouldn't be hiring them back for next week "diversify the talent" he said. Steel took his cut of the cash in pride and headed for the door before a familiar face caught his attention at the bar. He sauntered up to the bar where the out of place socialite sat, idly holding her glass of whiskey that they both knew she had no intention of drinking.

"Didn't think I'd see you around here again. I thought grimey bars like this weren't your scene." Steel said, taking a seat next to the woman and laying his elbow on the bar.

"I can assure you I wouldn't be here if I didn't need to be Stanley. I'm just a messenger tonight." the woman said, fishing around in a large handbag before pulling out a manilla envelope and handing it to Steel.

"I'll be glad to leave this place behind for good after this." Steel didn't take the envelope initially, instead eyeing it and the vampire suspiciously.

"What's this?"

"Below me, that's what it is. Just take it so I can get on with my night alright?" the vampire asked, annoyed as she shoved the envelope a little quicker this time into Steel's chest. Steel finally took the envelope and the woman got up to leave.

"See you next year Sarah." Steel said, watching the woman walk away as she ignored the rockstar. He couldn't believe it had been over a year since he'd kicked the bucket so to speak. The former mortal chuckled as he tore into the envelope and look at it's contents.

By the time Elizabeth and her partner arrived at the scene a small crowd had gathered around the man with one attempting first aid whilst they waited for the ambulance. Taking over, she covered the wound with dressing, taping it down on 3 sides whilst keeping pressure on the 4th. The pair gently rolled the victim onto a board which allowed them to elevate him onto a bed then into the ambulance. As she was closing the doors Elizabeth caught the name of the location illuminated in bright light. Coffin golf course. That's not at all morbid she thought as the heavy doors slammed shut.

On the way to the hospital Elizabeth stayed in the back with the man. The sound of his heartbeat rung in her ears, a rhythmic thud thud in the background as an eager Beast took the time to remind her just how hungry she was, just how much she was dying for one more mouthful of blood. Elizabeth could feel the pressure building beneath her hands as air trapped in the chest cavity tried to escape. Carefully she released some of the pressure off of the untaped side to allow it to leave, before going back to fighting with her inner demons.

Elizabeth found herself in a daze as they handed over the man to the hospital's A&E department, rattling off everything the doctors needed to know to continue the treatment before finding a place to perch, breathe and bring herself back to reality. A small wave of relief washed over her, she'd pushed through once more without giving in. With a deep breath and a content sigh she returned to the depot with her partner, waiting for the rest of that night's shift to pass.

Exhausted, as she was after every shift, Elizabeth rocked up to her apartment to discover her door slightly ajar; a light unease spread through her as she pushed the door open silently and tread over the threshold. Very little had changed since earlier that night, all the valuables and expensive items seemed to still be in place, however Lizzie could smell the drops of blood scattered periodically across the floor. The animal within her stirred from its slumber, parching her throat as she stalked the trail, swinging open another door to find a kindred sat at the foot of her bed.

"Edwin?!" Elizabeth exclaimed, surprised to see the elder vampire there. It'd been a while since her Sire had dropped by to see how she was doing. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd grown tired of me" she added sarcastically with an exaggerated pout. As she finisher speaking Elizabeth realised where the blood scent was coming from. There was an oozing blood bag in his hands, with at least two of the corners torn up by teeth, and yet most of the blood remained in the bag. She made a mental note to steal an additional bag this week to replace the waste.

A gentle chuckle escaped the kindred's mouth, followed by a smirk. "I don't think I could ever grow tired of you my dear". Edwin drew the bag close to his mouth again, recoiling away the moment his teeth dug through the plastic skin. "I just don't understand how you manage this, actual feeding is so much more convenient and,  dare I say, fun". With a scowl he placed the bag down on the bed, beads of blood oozing from the bite marks in the corners escaped down onto the linens. "I assume that you're still..."

"Yes, I'm still drinking from them" Elizabeth interrupted, "but some days are getting too close for my liking, I may have to think about finding somewhere else to acquire them from in addition to work". Edwin's face appeared to drop for a moment,  seeming almost disappointed at the restraint she had been showing, but as fast as it has fallen the cheerful expression was restored, making Elizabeth ponder if she'd seen it at all. "What brings you hear today then? Have you forgotten that a certain technology called the 'telephone' exists?" She teased.

"Its not a social call I'm afraid, this is mostly 'business'" he replied, his voice dropping most of the warmth she was used to hearing. A couple frantic pats of his coat later Edwin drew out an envelope, embellished heavily on one side with beautiful calligraphy that spelled out her name. "I was told to ensure that you recieved and read this" he said, passing the delicate item from his own pale hands into Elizabeth's. Seeming to read the expression on her face he continued with "I don't know what's in there either. It's probably nothing to worry too much about" he added, attempting a reassuring smile.

Receiving the envelope, Elizabeth saw that there was nothing else to do. With tentative fingers she slid a nail beneath the seal.

The envelope was closed with a wax seal, a stylized 'R' printed over a crossed staff and scepter imprinted in the wax. Inside the envelope awaited a thick parchment, scented with a noticeable hint of fine cologne, with writing scrawled across. Clearly written by hand, and seemingly done with quill and ink. Not over the top, but the kind of work that would cost money these days.



Attached to the parchment with a paperclip was a business card. Thick and pristinely white, the card had only a time and date on the front, with an address on the back. Inquiry would show that the address belonged to an old bar, in the downtown area. The date was the following night, and the time was midnight. Written inside the envelope was a note, clearly meant to only be read by the recipient.

"Destroy All Contents"

Though he had cracked open the letter in the bar, Steel hadn't begun to read it until he hit the street. He made his way, reading the letter in between steps. Being new to the vampire game, Steel was the first to admit that the politics of it all weren't really his strong suit but what he did know seemed to fill in the gaps that this letter left. Those gaps mad him angry. Beast or not, rage welled up inside steel as he finished the note. With a loud grunt Steel took his guitar case by the neck and crushed it... much to the surprise of Jared his drummer.

Jared was off to join Steel with some practice after their crummy show but the man stopped in his tracks as he saw his friend display such an inhuman act. He wasn't sure what to think of it, once the stupor wore off he began to cautiously head over to his friend. His stride was caught short however as something impossibly fast moved in and grabbed him by the neck. In the blink of an eye Jared "Matches" O'Neil was now the former drummer of Rachit Jiraffe, his body strew unceremoniously on the sidewalk.

As Steel whipped around in rage, his eyes managed to meet that of Sarah's just before she took off, a smug look on her face and a nonchalant shrug. Steel's eyes then met that of his former friend and band mate. He felt something break inside as the beast was still in the driver's seat. unable to do much more, Steel stuffed the note back in his pocket and managed enough thought to bring his guitar case, full of his now destroyed guitar, with him as he took off.

With a bated breath, Elizabeth slipped a nail under the wax seal which let go with a soft crack. Despite Edwin's reassurance her hands were a little shakey as she unfolded the parchment nestled inside the envelope. As she read her eyes dragged across the page and she mouthed each word as she read, her sire tried to peer around the side of the letter to read her lips but a warning glare had him looking the other way quickly.

"See? Nothing too bad" Edwin said, jovial warmth returning to his voice now that his job had been done. "Nothing too bad comes by letter, it's when they don't send a letter you need to be worried. Well?" He asked as he saw Elizabeth look away from the paper.

"I... I don't really know how much I can say" she replied, stumbling over the words slightly. There was something about the letter, the way it was written, that unnerved her, that made her feel threatened almost. "It's nothing, I think." she lied, "someone just wants to speak with me".

A derisive snort let loose from her sire's nose. "And this is why I don't like them. A secretive note here, secretive meeting there, and then someone ends up with a dagger to the back. Bastards. Let me guess, 'destroy all contents'?" Elizabeth glanced down at the envelope then nodded. As she stood processing the information Edwin slunk quietly into the kitchen, almost immediately the sound of running water could be heard throughout the flat.

To double check her understanding, Elizabeth reread the letter in it's entirety. For the moment she seperated the business card from the parchment, leaving the former on her bedside table as she passed through the doorway to join Edwin, where she was met with a full sink of water. Throwing a bemused smirk he explained that the water would soak some of the ink away and simultaneously turn the parchment to mulch. "Surely burning it is the easiest method, no?" she replied innocently.

He shook his head in silent disapproval. "No, not for us. Especially not for us" he exasperated, gesturing wildly with his arms. "Our conscious minds may be fine with flame, but our deepest instincts now are to flee or lash out at the sight if a single tongue. We've been through this!"

"I'm sorry" she replied sheepishly, sounding dangerously close to crying, as she placed the parchment into the sink to soak for the time being. As Edwin proceeded to sink into her sofa, Elizabeth stood transfixed staring into the water, watching the ink bleed out from the note.

With the actual words of the letter fading Elizabeth stepped back from the sink. She was left with an address to memorise and the envelope. Ignoring those for the moment, she sat next to Edwin; resting her head on his shoulder and feeling a supportive hand on her back drawing her closer. "How do you deal with these... games" Elizabeth asked, voice raw with a mixture of emotions.

"It can be hard" Edwin admitted, pulling her a little closer, "just go through the motions and it's over soon enough. But it's one of the reasons I fight, this way of life just isn't sustainable or right". Edwin pulled her slightly tighter before letting go and standing up. "Unfortunately love, I need to get home before sun up. It'll be fine" he added, once again trying to be reassuring. "I'll see you again soon okay?" He said in goodbye as he showed himself out.

Elizabeth returned to her bedroom, perching on the foot of the bed before lying backwards, reaching over to the nightstand to pick up the business card. The time was simple enough, but the address just seemed to be some place downtown that she didn't recognise. With a sigh filling the room, she threw it to the floor, hoping that she'd memorized enough of the address to remember it the following night. When she woke up she'd get around to disposing of this piece too.

The offices of Psychics 4 U, were, as perhaps to be expected from a phone psychic agency of dubious legality (although as pointed out in ads, only meant for entertainment purposes), not considered among the nicest buildings in Indianapolis. In fact, it probably ranked as one of the ugliest buildings in Indianapolis, but beneath it's crumbling facade, there was...not love, not exactly joy, or even hope, really, but there were people doing their job.

Merveille was one of those people, currently in hushed whisperings with some man who was frantically asking about whether his wife had been unfaithful. She could already picture the man, balding, beginning to let his body go in pursuit of just one more promotion, as his wife was left alone at home to do what-or-whoever she pleased. So, was he looking for reassurance, either in his wife's faithfulness or in his manic deductions.

"Well," Merveille began, in that patois she'd perfected when playing Tituba so many years ago. "I must first caution you: the answers I provide may not be the ones you want."

Whether it was on stage or over phone, the concept of acting remained the same. You had to build up suspense. Let the audience's mind wander, piece together the puzzle they'd created in their minds, all while the silence hung heavy in the air.

"So," the man asked, his whisper barely able to be heard over the tinny speaker. "What is it?"

At that, she exhaled. Of course he wanted to know. That's why he was calling, of course, but keeping them waiting, kept customers all the more sure that what they were getting were true insights, gleaned from a true clairvoyant. Also, it was a form of stalling, considering money was made per minute, but that was secondary. If you could keep them calling, you could keep them paying.

"The answer is no, your wife has not laid with another."

Merveille could almost chuckle at the mighty release of breath she heard over the line, but with the harm that would do to her whole image, she simply kept her mouth shut until the man on the other end-Anthony? Andrew? fell silent.

"However, you would do much good, my child, to look into your finances."

While it was nice to assuage one fear, one always had to remember there was another lurking around the corner. And really, it wasn't that difficult. Anthony - yes, she was sure of it this time - had already spoken of leaving his wife at home, and while his mind may have wandered to her in bed, the ability to call up whoever she wanted, there was the possibility of her instead eyeing one of his credit cards.

Finally concluding her "session" with a curt goodbye, Merveille put the phone down and sighed. Psychic was a role like any other now, even if the glimpses she saw in her sleep of screams and blood seemed to be getting more and more frequent. Here, at least, she could control what the vision of past or future was, or better yet, leave it obscured enough for others to make of it what they wished. Grabbing her purse after standing up from the chair, she opened the door and was about to leave for home, when she noticed a Post-It note on the opposite side of the office door.

Hey Merveille,
A man came in and delivered an envelope for you. Said it was urgent or whatever, so please pick it up from the reception desk!

Amy

P.S. I've already gone home to watch over my grandma. You know where the key is.

Raising her eyebrow at the receptionist's gall, Merveille made her way to the reception, found the key to the desk drawer (underneath the potted plant), and opened it to find an envelope embossed with a wax seal.

This couldn't be good.

With shaking hands, Merveille opened the envelope, and read the letter, eyes poring over the contents. Then, with her face steeled, she put the letter back in the envelope, the envelope in her purse, and got into her car.

As she drove for home, she wondered whether this is what she had been dreaming of.

Jesse looked at the envelope, then cursed very loudly. He looked at it again, this time breaking the red seal. Once he read the letter, he cursed even louder. Getting on his bike, he would shove the paper into a side pouch, then bring the bike roaring to life with a swift kick. When the bike was nearing seventy down an old backroad, he would pull the paper out and feed it into the spokes of the front wheel, effectively shredding it and leaving it scattered across three miles of wet dirt and gravel.

While he wasn't one for politics, his sire was. They kept in regular contact, and while he never understood why, she had gone out of her way to teach him about something she called the 'Camarilla.' Most of the lessons he had completely ignored, more interested in what they had been doing while she had been talking. One thing he did remember, though, was that most other places in the world had a local group of kindred that controlled things, acting as a sort of government for vampires. Indiana was special, because it did not have one, and supposedly hadn't for quite some time. To his mind, a letter like the one he'd gotten could only mean that things had changed. A message on his answering machine, from his sire, only confirmed it.

___________________________________________________

The building was old, and calling it anything less than rundown would be an overstatement. Blacked out windows and the smell of vomit accented by stale piss all added to the notion that no a dollar to their name had been there in years. Out front, a very nice bike was taking up one of four parking spots. At least, it would have looked nice, if it had wheels and handlebars.

Jesse had been the first to arrive, having shown up nearly three hours ahead of schedule. He had spent his spare time waiting hiding in a nearby corner, taking the wheels and the handlebars off his bike. While there was a good chance it would end up defaced in this neighborhood, he intended to make sure anyone wanting to steal it would have to carry the damn thing. A nearby dumpster with a cockroach nest living inside made for a perfect hiding place for the spare parts.

Anyone showing up would see Jesse, wearing a black leather jacket and greasy blue jeans, leaning against the board that covered the doorway. In his hand would be a burning cigarette, though it wouldn't take much to notice that he never took a drag from it. Apart from the board, there was no obvious means of getting into the building. The board in the doorway was stuck there, quite securely. Jesse knew, because he had tried to open it. There was a rather large dent in the middle of the board, right at knee-level, to signify his attempt.

When she arrived home, Merveille immediately dashed to her home office, making for the paper shredder. Was it the most obvious place to dispose of documents? Yes, and she'd have to find a way to dump its contents somewhere obscure in some time, but it'd do wonders for the whole getting a document that looked like it could've been sent by the Dracula himself thing. Besides, focusing on how exactly to get rid of the letter helped take her mind off of other things. Such as what the letter meant for the present vampire situation in Indianapolis.

While she wouldn't have considered herself a savant by any means, keeping abreast of the local politics in the area, for both mortal and vampire alike seemed like a reasonable thing to do. It had taken an incredible amount of wheedling to get James to tell her anything, and truthfully, she wasn't exactly sure if she could believe all of it considering his...instability. What she had learned, though, of Princes and Primogens and bloodlines, old money intent on keeping it that way, pointed to one conclusion: This Riccard was saying he was in charge now, and that she had best better attend.

That night, Merveille dreamed of things to come. Blood, as always, but in the middle of that pool, a throne.
___________________________________________________

Pulling up to the building in her sensible 1991 Civic, Merveille took a look at the place and sighed. Charitably, the place could be described as a dumpster. Honestly, it looked like a hellhole. Parts of it reminded her of her childhood, and not in the way childhood was about wonder and warmth. More about having to share a single room with three siblings. The motorcycle lacking wheels and handlebars sitting in one of the parking spots only added to that perception. It also meant someone had arrived earlier than her, which didn't do much to lift Merveille's present frustration. She was planning on arriving here first, and, well, she hadn't arrived first.

There was more important business to attend to, though, so she carefully parked her car, uttered a silent prayer to any higher power (if they did exist) to prevent anything from happening to it, before getting out. As she walked to the doorway, she saw a man with a cigarette in hand, leather jacket and tight jeans and all. If he hadn't been standing in front of the building and hadn't have looked like he'd been there for a while, Merveille would've thought him to be like any other drifter. Instead, he seemed to be one of the others called to the meeting.

"Here for the meeting, I take it?" Merveille curtly asked, before taking up a spot a few feet away from the man. He didn't exactly seem to be in the mood for talking, but it was best to confirm such things.

The street was quiet, it at least as quiet of an area in Indianapolis could get. As her platforms pattered down onto the pavement she kept reciting the address over and over in her mind, matching the rhythm of the words to the pace of her walking. Checking her watch the time was drawing closer, 20 minutes to midnight and she still hadn't found the place. If her heart still worked it woud be a flurry of beats as the anxiety built in her chest. It didn't help that she felt like she was being followed. A few times she thought she'd caught a glimpse of something trailing her. Maybe it was an associate of this Riccard keeping tabs on her, perhaps it was an opportunistic thief believing a young woman to be an easy target, or more likely the stress of the upcoming meeting was getting to her head, making her overly paranoid.

15 minutes to midnight and Elizabeth still felt horrendously lost as she walked around the long dark streets. The popular bars and clubs felt like they were a mile away as the buildings drew older, more decrepit and drab. Increasingly frequently windows were cracked or boarded. Elizabeth couldn't help but feel a shiver of involuntary fear at how rough this area of town felt compared to the warmth of the area she lived and frequently worked. Feeling a breeze she drew her jacket tighter, holding it together with an arm tightly clamped across her chest.

With but 10 minutes before the meeting she believed she had found the place. There were two people loitering around outside. Kindred? The very thought put her on edge slightly. Outside of dealing with her Sire she'd never spoken to another one. It was a terrifying prospect. Edwin had thoroughly drilled into her how temperamental some clans could be, set off by the faintest faux par. As she gathered her courage she hung back, leaning against a building further up the street. In her head Elizabeth was practicing an exercise Edwin had designed to help her remember which clans to be careful about.

Nervously checking her watch again, she had 7 minutes until the meeting. Looking over at the other two they didn't really seem to be interacting all too much. Perhaps they're here for the same reason I am, she pondered; beginning to pace gently nearer to the address as the hands drew closer to midnight. One of them, a man, lifted his head slightly as Elizabeth approached, giving a weary nod before returning to whatever it was they were doing. The other hasn't seemed to have noticed her yet, which Elizabeth appreciated, as she clung quietly to the shadows and waited for this meeting to begin.