Llhena wore a black gown that was tasteful, yet pushing the boundaries of acceptability for such an event. She looked ravshing in it, however, which she knew full well. Her dark curls were glossed up into a cascading arrangement, diamonds sparkling from it.

Matching diamonds hung in a simple single-stranded necklace about her throat, the slender white gold chain supporting a few dangling diamond drops. They glittered against her fair skin, which seemed paler yet against the dark colour of her hair and deep eyes. They were the kind that drew attention, yet she had learned to tone herself down over the years. As much as she enjoyed the games that might be played, she had long since decided that a world left ignorant of Immortality was a much safer, much happier world.

For her kind, and for the kind she had been...

Sweeping into her box seat above, through the rich, thick red curtains into the plush balcony, she seated herself, dismissing the attendant that had followed her to her seat, smiling her thanks before examining the assembly below. In the offing she could hear the orchestra squealing and tuning professionally.

Most people found the sounds irritating, but she had always enjoyed them. They were the sounds of preparation, of creation, of perfecting something. It showed the reality to the unmatcheable beauty of music - that even that unsurpassed art must find a beginning in things easier to grasp.

Curving her delicate neck, she peered to the box beside her, catching sight of the man seated there, and nodding to him, before turning to the balcony on the other side. There was a couple there with little attention or care for a friendly 'hello', so she passed by, murmuring delightedly as the house lights dimmed, the last warning lights blinking out as the orchestras hurlie began to assimilate into a hum, and from there progress into light notes of introduction and promise.

The curtains began to rise, smoothly separating as they rose upon the first part of the opera Cinderella.

"Cinderella", Chuckled Aracind. "Well I never miss a social occasion of this calibre". Aracind walked through the metallic doors dressed in something slightly different tonight, His hands were covered in leather gloves and he walked with a cain, the rest of his decorum stayed the same of course, He wore a black dinner jacket, a red tie, a white shirt and black trousers.

His shoes gleamed as he walked across the shining marble floor towards the reception. The receptionist was a man, and was a french speaker as was accustom in Canada. Aracind slipped his hand over the desk and spoke to the man.

"Un adulte svp", As the man was processing his ticket and finding the most suitable place for him to sit, Aracind took the liberty of scanning the area with his mind. The gift he gained off Cresnia and it was one of his most powerful. He turned and realised he was not the only immortal in this building, another... But yet he knew she would be here, he knew always when she was there. Llhena, His angelic friend.

Taking his ticket Aracind proceeded to the main performance area, Not the usual theatre arrangement as he expected normally, but he was in a concert hall. Tonight was different as Aracind decided he would sit with the common crowd in the normal auditorium and not take a private box, he loved to listen to the arguments and discussions, and the crowds analysis of the performance, which was normally very abysmal and did not have any logical arguments in it.

Suddenly he was made away of Llhena presence in her private box. She was above Aracind but he could see her with his piercing eyes, which where shaded tonight as to not cause commotion. Standing with some other mortals who had arrived late Aracind looked and stared up at Llhena as the performance continued behind him.

The setting and colours were done in pastels, and the scene was a hazy sort of fairytale appearance as it began. The gowns were pale, full, gorgeous, decided the fashion-minded Llhena. However, the grace in the movements of the singers caught her almost as much as their voices.

They moved liquidly, their notes soft and bellowing blending and rising towards teh conflict, a taste of what was to come in each refrain.

She was deciphering a rather awkward phrase, trying to retain its meaning. She had seen this before, but that was catching in her mind. She let her thoughts move past it. Then she realized it was not the phrase that had caused the disruption, but the sense of another, another like her.

She had been too caught up in the preceedings to notice, likely, when he had come in, though it was certainly not whe first she had taken the seat.

He was... below, which she wondered at a bit, since he had been in a box beside her only a short time ago in attendance at the musical of Victor Hugo's Les Miserables.

Moving to the edge of her seat, she rested black-encased hands on the balcony ledge, bending forward slightly to scan the crowd. She caught sight of the red tie first, and her eyes traveled upwards to his face. Something seemed... different. Ah yes, a cane, that was it... What use for a cane? Probably just an acessory, she decided.

Soft lips turned upwards in a smile of greeting and she wafted an open hand in a sign of greeting. He seemed to enjoy mingling among Mortals, and while discovery of their race on any large scale by Men was something to be feared, she did not think that he had any intentions of letting that happen. He watched Immortals, he watched Mortals... And interesting person, to be sure.

However, as she held his gaze, she wrinkled her nose playfully before settling back in her seat. She was becoming acclimated to his presence which equalled friendship as nearly as any she possessed - since she really had few friends.

Vous êtes bienvenu pour me joindre si vos études se développent mates.

Her eyes were on the stage, but her mind was invoking conversation.

Qu'est-ce vous recherchent-il ce soir ?

The delicate french echoed in his mind. Nodding to himself he replied to her.

"L'azienda, la musica", Then he quickly turned from the mortals and moved towards the back of the auditorium watching the annoyed faces of the patrons who were appauled that he would intrerupt their performance. He smiled to himself and assendeded the stairs in the main lobby, The music played in the background and Aracind savoured it so.

All the while he kept the image of Llhena in his mind, Turning right he approached he private box and entered slowly without disturbing her from the performace. He touched her hair, felt its softness and sat next to her as they had done in Les Miserables.

"Votre compagnie est bonheur mon chéri." He whispered to her.

À un qui semble ne pas croire à l'amour, c'est un plaisir de donner le bonheur.

It took a moment from his touch until she was able to tear her eyes form the performance, watching the last part of the dialogue to do so. Smiling, she leaned nearer, as if they had been only a moment past dicussing the opera, and were merely continuing it.

"This is Cinderella, and an opera, but it is not so much the traditional opera."

She whispered so as not to defend the stuffy crowd near them, the boxes near them being filled with the most stuffed of shirts. But that was another matter, and Llhena did not concern herself with that.

"The conductor, and the director, have refitted the original arrangements, compositions, to blend the true opera with the fairytale that modern children enjoy. I have seen the opera before, and have loved the story since its writing, but this has caught my intention. I do hope that the blending will prove just as good as the other alternatives."

Her eyes swept back over the stage and moved to his, and she brushed a hand against his shoulder companionably, turning back to the stage with a smile on her lips.

"I must be honest and blunt, I am not one of the opera. I find their diction to be awful and the plots appalling, but the music... ah the music, this is a different story altogether. The music is what makes the opera, not the plot or the costumes or the set but the music.. ah the blissful music of the opera." Aracind spoke with harshness in his words.

He watched from below at the mortals who were transfixed by the opera and as he did so something caught his eye. Someone was out of the ordinary from below and was standing on the side looking up at Aracind and Llhena... Who was it? Being the collector of stories that Aracind was he was intrigued to the mission of this person.

OOC: If anyone dosnt really get that, OPEN INVITATION TO ANOTHER ROLE PLAYER.. I think it would be interesting to introduce a new character.

"For something you enjoy there is something bitter in your tone..."

She liked the opera tolerably, but though she was not so open about it, she too observed, just as Aracind did.

The fairytale of Cinderella, originally entitled Ashtenputtel was one of her favorites, though in the beginning it had been a darker tale. Mortals these days could not face a reality that was so obviously shoved before their eyes, and found ways to alternate it to their wills... But that was going off the subject.

Charles Perrault had written Cendrillon, probably the earliest enscribed version of the story - and at the very least the one from which the pumpkins and faerie godmother commenced into popular telling. Either way, he had lent imagination to it, and she remembered him...

It had been long ago, and they had only spoken on brief occassions, usually arranged subtly by Llhena. She had been interested in his work, and concerned herself with it, though the tale was far older than the man who wrote it down.

The characters singing out the reworded, rescripted opera were a blend of music, the creation, the imagination with preservation, acting, art. The meeting of the two was why she came here, to Ave Verum, because it was an organization with directors and administration who thought enough to implement the old, and sometimes encourage the new to flourish where the old was becoming outdated and insignificant. She regretted leaving some things behind in time, but others she knew had come to their full term, and were just to die, or to go into their own.

These thoughts probably were not typical for one viewing an opera, but they came to her, and drew her back to the opera house.

Taken all-in-all, however, she preferred the theatre.

Coming out of the reverie his comments had guided her into, she noticed he seemed distracted. Sitting up straighter, she leaned and tried to follow his line of sight.

'What? What is it?"

Nafretiri quite enjoyed the opera when she finally decided it was worth going. Of course, she most often decided this on a whim, an hour or two before said opera was about to commence. This caused those handmaidens that she now kept to run around in a frenzy, searching the for the dress their Mistress had specifically asked for, doing her hair in the way that she had seen in this booklet or that pamphlet, and doing her makeup to best accentuate the gown she wore. What did they receive at the end of all of this? A hug and kiss from Nafretiri and a fine place to live. Up until now, it had seemed to be enough for them.

Unfortunately, on this particular evening such a choice meant there were no private boxes left for her. This did not particularly bother her as she could remember when there were no private boxes whatsoever, and people had to crowd around – sometimes in their own excrement – to watch such plays. She found it quite alright to simply sit at the back where the manager of the establishment had been able to procure her a seat. She sat tall, with her back perfectly straight and her eyes cast forward.

It was not often she wandered out into places where numerous people would all be having the same emotion at one time. Empathy was not a forgiving friend, and she found it hard to block out the signals she received. Nevertheless, she would not allow her own entertainment to suffer because of the amusement of mortals.

Or those like her, as the case may be.

When one gets as old as Nafretiri, one comes to know when one is by another of one’s kind. The hairs at the back of her neck seemed to stand on end, and she allowed herself the smallest as of smiles as she closed her eyes and gave a faint chuckle. She looked at the opera again for a moment, before allowing her eyes to travel one of the boxes. She had a choice to make.

Standing smoothly, and smoothing out her lavender dress, she turned her attention to those in the box. One seemed to have gathered she was there, and looked at her, gaining the attention of his companion. In response, Nafretiri merely nodded in greeting.


((OOC: You were lookin' for someone. Here I am! If it's not what you were looking for, I'd be glad to leave. ^^; ))

OOC: No no I’m glad someone decided to join.

IC:

Aracind saw the girl nod and then she turned her head to face the audience. Aracind continued to watch and without turning to Llhena he spoke.

"She’s very old.... Like you" at the last word Aracind turned and looked at Llhena and smiled exposing his fangs for a second. "Dangerous? I should think not, she is independent like me, there is no coven, or so my feelings tell me."

Aracind ran his hand along the front of the banister and continued to watch the girl from behind. "Another character in the diorama of life", Aracind whispered to himself.

((Yush - Yay! I have not gotten to role-play with you. ^^ *huggles and cookehs to all*))

Llhena's eyes were not on the vampire beside her, but rather making their way along the aisle after the other vampiress for as far as they could see. Once the woman passed out of view she began to grow a little aprehensive, the less... composed aspect of her nature, if you will, showing in her thoughts, which she carefully guarded from any sort of reading, having had many years to perfect such a barrier, save for against a very few.

Her voice was not pensive, overly calm and very smooth, giving her unworried, pale face a serene look that she did not feel. There was something familiar about the woman. It was not that she knew her personally, but she got a vague feeling, like she had seen her before, and she was almost certain that with a few moments more to study the face she could come up with a name... A quandry...

"Hmmm... Perhaps." Her eyes flickered to Aracind, still a bit reflective. "But because one is Independent does not insinuate that one is passive. To think so could bode ill for one's health... However, I do not... know her..."

The last was drawn out with a slight Scottish burr lilting along through it. The woman... It was logical to assume that she was coming up. Coming up or leaving... But no... And she disliked having two others about her, in the midst of Mortals. Especially when neither were of her alignment (though she could not recall a time when she had been around two other of the Amman at once), nor... Well, she had her misgivings. Breathing deeply, a quiet, slow inhale, she breathed a continuation and conclusion to the verbal train of thought she had begun.

"I do believe she may... Possibly someone "well known" in Demaitre... Within our own spheres, if you catch..."

With a closing inication of her hand, her ears tuned themselves to listen for a footfal, or a brush of fabric on the steps leading to the box. She was not afraid, exactly, but there was a defining malsatisfaction with the turn her operatic evening was taking. Ah, well, as Aracind had said... She would be different. She, however, unlike Aracind, whom she had met by happenstance, did not like to meet new people. She was a social creature, but time and experience had taught her that in many things at least some degree of isolation was a good thing to maintain...

Even Nafretiri herself did not know exactly why she was going to greet these other vampires. She did not know them, and she rarely interacted with anyone save her handmaidens. And yet… she desired to this evening. Perhaps it was because one of those she went to meet was almost as old as she, perhaps not. Either way, her footfalls were almost silent on the steps she now mounted, one hand trailing along the wall and the other holding her gown.

Appearing behind them, she could sense that they weren’t entirely at ease with her. Understandable. One could never be too careful upon the streets of Demaitre. Far too many of their kind walked them, and not all were friendly. The fact that Nafretiri had allied herself with no coven made others all the more suspicious of her agenda. In truth, she would’ve joined the Amman, did her obligations not lie… elsewhere.

Smoothing out her gown, she stood up as tall as her five foot frame would allow her and said almost quietly, “I do not mean any harm, so you have nothing to fear from me.” Her voice was calm, and there was only a hint of a smile upon her face, nothing more. “I merely came to investigate why I seemed to be so fascinating to both that you would look upon me so. I do not believe I am that interesting.”

Aracind laughed. "Ah but you are so my lady" He turned and looked at her. "Elders are always such fun to talk to, please take a seat" A chair flew forwards and landed in the middle of the two. Aracind brushed his hand along his chin as if looking for a beard of some sort but obviously he would never grow one again as he was a vampire and when a vampire is born he or she will constantly look as they did on the embrace into darkness.

"I have a proposition for you both which I imagine, if you are like me, you will find quite interesting" He smiled and turned to them both.

Llhena's dark eyes lifted to the beautiful woman framed by the fall of the thick brocade and velvet curtains she was stepping through.

They had drawn attention to themselves, and regardless of her assurance of being no threat, Llehna (I've been misspelling my own name! Xd) was not taking the chance that the woman might lie. Not many vampires were known for their forthrightness, and being underhanded was no shock at all. Still, she could measure this woman's age, and allowed herself a wary innocent-until-guilty approach to her words. Her lack of alignment, for whatever reason, would restrain Llehna from trusting too much. If she was no member of the Amman, then there stood to reason that she was not for a purpose, that something about her, or that she believed defied the traditions and methods of the Coven.

When Aracind brought forward a chair, she smoothed her skirts to allow Nafretiri a little more room to seat herself. The Scottish vampiress' attention was everywhere but on the opera by now, one ear idly tuned to it, but not really hearing it anymore when her glance would brush past it.

"...if you are like me..."

A small smile appeared.

"Dear Aracind, there are very few like you, I believe. What sort of proposition could you have for us?"

She turned her smile to the other woman, candidly appraising her as she nodded greeting. It was far from pleasant for three of them to be in one place. There were too many. If something were to occur, though the chances were slim, the trio would cause an uproar. One might be a fluke, and exception, and something could be done. Two was pushing it, but three? Their symbiosis with Mortals was a delicate thing, and even this clandestined she was less than calm, though still she kept it from her face, showing it only by rubbing the pads of her right index finger and right thumb in quick, silent circles. It was a sign of thought, calculation, and there was much to analyze at present.

Nafretiri merely raised an eyebrow at Aracind’s compliment. She had received many of them in her days, and she always chose to accept them with a grateful nod, instead of modesty. If one were kind enough to give her praise, who was she to not accept it? To some this may sound as arrogance, and perhaps Nafretiri was so, but it was not how she chose to view the situation. Could it be that she was ignorant of her own arrogance? Again, it was a possibility, but Nafretiri chose not to dwell on it.

His little trick with the chair caused a slight frown to mar her face. Had any mortal been gazing in their direction, such a feat would be unexplained. She hoped that wasn’t the case. If it was… well, there was an Amman member right in front of her. The Amman would deal with it. Her affiliation was elsewhere.

Walking again with silent steps, she slipped between Llehna’s chair and her own, and sat down as stiffly as she had down below. There was something… off about the woman next to her. Even without the ability to read minds, Nafretiri could read emotions. Giving a smile that looked almost maternal, she said, “I swear to you on the life of Re that I will not cause any disruption. Had I wished you ill, you may already have found yourself suffering the effects.” While this did not sound comforting, it was entirely too true.

She folded her hands in her lap and turned her attention to the man. “A proposition? Speak it, and I shall see what I think of it.” Again, the barest glimmer of a smile was on her face. “However, I feel that before you do so, it would only be polite to give you my name. I am called Nafretiri Afrikaisi.” She gave a bow of the head.

"Aaaha... Nafretiri..." Llehna's voice was soft, eerie, almost as if she were speaking to herself quietly. "The face... beautiful, the searcher."

Her eyes regarded Nafretiri placidly, secret thoughts behind dark eyes now veiled inwardly, and outwardly by drooping lashes. She had known the face, and with the name to go with it certain things about who she was refreshed themselved in Llehna's mind. There were a few abilities whihc this vampire possessed above others...

"Aracind, I do believe that the Lady Nafretiri would indeed be far more interesting than most for your inquisitive nature. She is, more than most, possessed of a highly... tragic past, though I mean to cast no shadows in mentioning it."

Her voice was carefully weighed, and the childlike, weird mixture of softness and slight dementia that seemed to categorize certain moments in Llehna's life infused her words as her eyes rested half-hidden on the other vampiress. The effects... Yes, and such a display in such a place Llehna would have abhored - and likely have attempted on Nafretiri's life, at the peril of her own. Still, to swear on Re was as good as hearing the woman pledge on the life of her missing son, and so with a nod in assent, she re-crossed her ankes primly and awaited Aracind to do as the other had bidden. She was not fond of the chair movement on top of all, but she had used this box often after carefully studying the angles into it. The chances of anyone seeing into it were very slim - though she would tolerate little more than that minor extravagance. She had never been around so many vampires, and she was not finding the experience pleasant, since the chair was a little thing compared to the scenarios in her mind.

He smiled as he always did and nodded his head "Aracind my good lady, is mine". He sat upright and had perfect posture and addressed them both in a positive way.

"Tomorrow there will be a gathering of vampires at the Leopard mansion up on Victoria, I know for sure that there will be some trouble makers... It is my duty as a vampire to make sure things go as planned, and that they don’t get to out of hand. I wanted to make you aware of this just encase anything gets... spilled onto the street" He stopped and stared into their eyes.

The look the Amman Coven member fixed on Aracind could at the very least be described as 'discouraging'. Great meetings of vampires had a tendency to get out of hand, and had a long and ignoble history of ending in lots of blood - not at all solely Mortal.

It also had a way of alerting Mortals to the presence of vampires, not only that they existed, but also that they were near their residence - that no one was safe. Such panic, such paranoia among the people of Demaitre was not something Llehna wished to participate in, or condone.

He had already shown that he had no problem using his powers for little everyday things... Quite like the Nephim he was... She would have to find a way to communicate word of the party through the Amman, to ensure that there was a guardian over those that might actually attend it, though why anyone would was beyond her.

When she responded finally, her eyes were no longer open as they had been at their various meetings. She had thought him observant, wise, but this decision she believed exceeding foolish. All it took was one hasty, brash young vampire to attract too much attention, to get out of hand... And then real problems might arise.

"I... thank you, for the consideration, but I will not be attending. I must also submit that this... gathering... is not something I would expect from you, Aracind. Such things are ill-fated from the beginning, and should the Amman feel the need to act, you may rest assured... It will not be a pleasant thing. We do not like to appear in large groups, but when invoked..."

She left that last thought to his imagination.

"As host, I imagine you would also bear the brunt of any actions taken by your guests. If you expect trouble, I advise that you curb it while it is yet in its infancy, else you may receive guests you did not wish..."

Her eyes trailed to Nafretiri, but the combination of nerves from three at once, along with the ghastly idea of a party at which many vampires would be present irked her to the point of taking her leave.

"If you will pardon me, I think that this opera is not quite what I had hoped to find it..."

Rising smoothly, she stepped around Nafretiri with a graceful roll of the hips, brushing the curtains aside with one hand and looking over her shoulder to make one last comment.

"Good night."

Pressing through the rich fabrics, she exhaled slowly, letting go of the wish to eliminate the possibility of such a party from ever taking place... It was in a private place... No, she would not attend, but she would be on the premises... watching...