You're gonna bob and weave out of the path of a bullet? That I'd like to see.
Ancient
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Post by Angela Sisco on Mar 9, 2015 3:09:28 GMT
All the world's a stage...
Angela admired the theater, the grand structure and architecture. It represented how the Chicago Court viewed themselves; either actors or directors. They all played a part, and Angela was no different.
The young blood could smell the chill of the Windy City, the scent of the oncoming blizzard trickling through the atmosphere. Any moment the snow would begin to fall again and bury the city streets in micro panic. Soon the super stores would be flooded with people buying anything and everything off the shelves just to make it through a rough winter's night. Wind whipped through her dark locks, screaming through and between the towering buildings, causing the city to singing.
Pushing open the large wooden door, Angela welcomed the warmth of the lobby, the ascending red staircase guiding her in the direction that would make or break her ability to stay in Chicago; safely. She hated introductions, the power play that ensued only added to her irritable temperament. The large door closed heavy behind her, a rush of cold wind added to the monstrous essence of the evening. Angela made quick work of the stairs, climbing higher to find Prince Hermann's location waiting and open for the proper meet and greet.
The First Estate controlled Chicago. Angela needed to make her introductions. Though playing the game, acting out the dog and pony show; always left a bad taste in her mouth. But being polite, was never fair for any kindred's ability.
The young kindred entered the arena, the Prince seated as many had before him and in other cities around the world. A string of kindred lined either side of his make-shift thrown as their dead eyes slid in cold stares in her direction. Hermann adorned himself in symbols of his power and status. Decorative sashes rested across his wide chest and as she stepped closer, the dim light reflected from the clean, smooth, shine of the many rings and pins that designated his position within the Invictus.
Angela continued forward and even as those cold dead eyes sliced into her, the fear was no where to be found.
Stopping before Hermann, "Angela Sisco. Prince Sir Hermann, I'd like to make my home here in your city." Angela stared up at the seated Prince, her eyes never wavering as her expression remained stoic.
The young blood felt the cold handle of her glock press against her lower back, what little comfort that offered. Bullets never really helped against the monsters, only served to piss them off. But it was better to have it and not need it, then need it and not have it.
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Post by Admin (Daniel) on Mar 10, 2015 6:17:01 GMT
The Prince's utterly dead eyes harden as the woman approaches him. Immediately, the keen-eyed woman realizes that she has never seen something so - empty. So - nothing. The small man's mane of hair lacks any luster, his fingernails as sharp and inhuman as yellowed-glass. Any lines of grief or joy that might mark his face as human have long since smoothed over during the passing of ages beyond Angela's reckoning. In Hermann, the thousand yard stare extends to uncountable leagues under a sea of cold and rotting blood.
He remains silent, her introduction left hanging like cobwebs in a mansion long abandoned. The Kindred at the edges of the chamber whisper and snicker, and wait for the Prince to relieve her of her head's weight.
"Angela. Sisco. How unforgettable it is to make your acquaintance." That statement alone is enough to send shivers down any spine. "We are honored that one of your remarkable station in our society would approach this throne directly, rather than through one of our designees. And armed, in our presence. Tell us, Madam Sisco, whose name is so weighty that its immovable mass surely prevents it from preceding her -- why one such as yourself would wish to make her home in our domain?"
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You're gonna bob and weave out of the path of a bullet? That I'd like to see.
Ancient
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Post by Angela Sisco on Mar 10, 2015 16:43:31 GMT
The snickers of the other Kindred only fueled her anger, but the young blood never let it show, her pale features stoic. Angela was met with silence, the monster's cold stare a prologue to his sarcasm.
Sarcasm, wonderful. Something I can relate to.
"Chicago is foreign territory and I know little of the Kindred in your city," her eyes drifted over the other Kindred as she seemed to be addressing them all before focusing on the empty shell that served as the Prince of Chicago. "And risking their heads to speak for me, seemed asinine. I speak for myself with no status or titles to enunciate my name." Her own sarcasm and buried aggressive nature probably not lost to the Beast.
Angela felt it gnawing deep down at the pit of stomach. A gnawing that reminded Angela of her death wish and served little to filter her mouth. So far she hadn't said anything disrespectful, in her option. But the monster in front of her was already looking for a place to strike. "My weapon. Better to have it and not need it, then need it, and not have it." She kept dark eyes focused on the Prince; not empty, but not exploiting her emotions either. "But, if it offends, I'll remove it." Angela's weapon was no threat, just disrespectful. The Prince could add it to his list.
Angela hadn't moved, even as her eyes trailed over the Prince's entourage. Again his status stabbed at her lack there of. Angela cared little for the verbal jabs and proceeded onward. "Chicago is a safe harbor, the human to kindred ratio is enough that our society can, flourish. I'm not looking for protection, only to have a home and the permission from you and the domain," she addressed the room again before turning her stoic stare to the creature in his thrown. "to do so."
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Post by Admin (Daniel) on Mar 15, 2015 5:01:20 GMT
The tense air crackles like ice drizzled with hot blood. Smirks curl like scimitars, and the Prince's eyes flicker with something like amusement. "Angela Sisco, before we consider your request, we are curious: who should we credit for your education in the customs of our society - such as the laws that govern Elysium?"
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You're gonna bob and weave out of the path of a bullet? That I'd like to see.
Ancient
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Post by Angela Sisco on Mar 15, 2015 14:42:23 GMT
Angela locked eyes with the Monster, and even as amusement flickered over his eyes, Angela was unblinking.
"I am." She brought the High Point for her own protection; for what it was worth against Kindred. But it wasn't just for Kindred.
"I know the laws, Prince Sir Hermann. I intentionally violated your Elysium with the understanding I may not leave this room unscathed or at all. But, I don't go anywhere unarmed. Reasons. If I have to pay for those reasons, so be it. As for understanding the customs of our society," Angela glanced around the room again, the curled and twisted smiles of the gathered Kindred added to her anger. They were pressed and hemmed in perfect clothing; jeweled and styled for such a customary gathering.
Angela focused her dark brown orbs on the Prince. "I'm clearly at a loss."
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Post by Admin (Daniel) on Mar 15, 2015 22:41:08 GMT
"Clearly." The creature's eyes glint. "Let us examine your weapon - so to speak? We assure you, no harm will come to you here." His yellow nails seem chipped and dusty as they curl towards her. And wait, was that a razor-sharp pause before 'here'?
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You're gonna bob and weave out of the path of a bullet? That I'd like to see.
Ancient
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Post by Angela Sisco on Mar 16, 2015 0:00:33 GMT
The veiled threat wasn't lost to Angela as the gathering of Kindred were suddenly silent - an eerie calm, mute as the grave. The young Venture stepped from her holding position as the Beast's claws curled and he beckoned her forward. Slowly Angela reached to the small of her back, her movements automatic, but with graceful purpose. Pulling the heavy 9 milometer from her holster, she gripped it tightly, but calmly. Flicking the safety down, the red dot staring up at her in mocking glory.
Angela looked to the Prince, her pale face still void of any emotion that thundered inside. Pressing the release for the full magazine - the clip sliding down into her hand and disappearing into her back pocket. Her hands here knowledgeable of the weapon, moving over it quickly and efficiently. She pulled the slide back aggressively letting the chambered bullet eject from the side release. The brass coated bullet took to the air, the body catching the light before Angela engulf the 9 milometer round in her pale fist.
The young blood stepped closer, handing the Prince her gun, handle first and free of bullets.
As the Prince's hand would wrap around the handle of her gun, Angela would step back and out of reach of his, yellow chipped claws.
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You're gonna bob and weave out of the path of a bullet? That I'd like to see.
Ancient
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Post by Angela Sisco on Mar 26, 2015 15:28:30 GMT
((Doing the Bump Dance!))
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