|
Gaunt's arrival is announced by the quiet tap... tap... tap of his cane upon the floor a moment before he appears in the doorway of the Elysium. When he steps inside, there is an unusual ease to his posture tonight, the faintest trace of private satisfaction touching the corner of his mouth. His suit is immaculate as always, violet silk catching the low light as his pale gaze moves slowly across the gathered Kindred with calm interest. He pauses just inside the threshold for a moment, surveying the room as though arriving at a pleasant salon rather than a nest of predators, then inclines his head politely to those present before continuing inward -- composed, but in a mood that suggests the evening has already proven... productive.
"Couple? Whatever do you mean? She just lost a bet and now she's stuck being my date," Daniel says with a grin, pulling out a seat somewhere for Amelie. Wherever she's lead them to
Madeline smiles at Daniel and Amelie "and how are you tonight Monseiur Dodson? Lost a bet? My sympathies" she smiles, the tone is warm not at all mocking. Looking up sh nods to Gaunt's arrival
Heathen turns his cheek into Madeline's kiss. "There are times I am envoius to how wide and vsried the fashions are dor good dresses are compared to good suits,"
Amelie looks to Daniel and her eyes maybe say it all, her lips upturned still. "It is an honor and a burden." She's joking with the second part, as she has a light giggle with that. She lets go of Daniel, after leading him to the Roses Couch, so she can offer Madeline a warm hug and kiss to the cheek. "Merci, mon ami. You are the everpresent light of the Praxis, as always." She turns to offer Daphnne a warm hug and kiss to the cheek as well. "Bon Soir, Keeper. So wonderful seeing you as well tonight. Do you have something special planned tonight, outside of the opportunity to spend time with the hearts of the praxis?"
Madeline leans up to return Amelie's embrace and kiss "it is so nice to see you each week my friend" she says softly before settling again
Daphnne returns Amelie's hug and kiss, and tells Daniel, "I meant couple as you are simply together at the moment."
Gaunt pauses a few steps inside the Elysium, cane resting lightly before him as he watches the enthusiastic greetings unfolding across the room. His gaze follows the embraces, the kisses on cheeks, the reunion-like excitement, and after a moment he releases a soft, long-suffering sigh. The sound is not loud, but it carries just enough to suggest commentary. At last he tilts his head slightly toward Amelie. "Good evening Lady Herald," he pauses to get her attention before continuing, "Tell me," he says evenly, "is there any previous practice or standing policy within this domain regarding the creation of a progeny only to have it destroyed within the same evening?" His brow lifts faintly. "I find myself curious whether such things are considered administrative errors... or if we are simply experimenting with very short-lived family traditions."
Madeline crosses her legs and leans back into her seat, elegant hands folded atop her lap as she settles her eyes, with a curious gaze, upon Gaunt at the asking of his question
Daniel turns around as Gaunt speaks and cocks his head slightly to the side. "It happens all the time. The circumstances vary from not having permission to do so, all the way up to a punishment. I don't know that it happens HERE often or not -- I've been away for some time, but literally everywhere else, it happens with startling regularity. What are you referencing precisely, Mr. Gaunt?"
Heathen slips into the seat beside Madeline, also listening for answees.
Amelie is taking in the pleasantries when Gaunt poses his question. "There are several things that could come into play. First, being the seventh tradition. Second, there was once a kindred that created a ghoul without permission, and that was his last strike before he was placed under several feet of concrete under a parking lot with a stake in his heart. Third, if you break the Traditions? You should expect that even if you did destroy them within the same evening, and it was found out, then you'd meet final death."
Gaunt listens to the responses without interruption, the tip of his cane resting lightly against the floor as though anchoring him while the others speak. His expression remains composed, though there is a thoughtful stillness to him now. "Nothing immediate," he replies at last to Daniel, voice calm and measured. "The question is largely hypothetical." His gaze drifts briefly toward Amelie before returning to the room at large. "The Third Tradition forbids the creation of progeny without the consent of one's elder, yet it says nothing regarding duration. If such a creation were destroyed before its first dawn... does that represent a violation in fact, or merely a technicality?" His head tilts slightly as he considers the phrasing. "More curiously, the wording speaks only of 'elder.' Not Prince. The Six Traditions themselves never name the office. Which raises the academic question of whether authority lies strictly with the Prince... or with the clan hierarchy above the sire." A small pause follows before he adds, almost conversationally, "One might also wonder whether such a brief existence has ever been used deliberately -- as punishment, perhaps -- rather than as lineage."
Heathen says, “Or if someone developed .." it takes a moment for Heath to pick the term he see,s to prefer. "Thirst of Ages, and needs a steady supply of his own childer's Vitae, but doesn't wish to risk being bound.”
Madeline smiles "you are playing with sophistory mon ami" she offers
Daniel nods. "You're right on all those counts. It doesn't say. But I suspect that the final authority would be dependent on where you are. If you reside within a praxis, and the Prince, or in our case, the Imperator, delegates out to, say, the Primogen or the Sheriff, then that's what it is. If you're out in the middle of anarch territory and you embrace someone and you can come up with a convincing lie when you DO get to Camarilla territory, then you're good as gold. And YES, that has been used quite deliberately. I can think of at least two circumstances, again not here, where as punishment, a man was forced to embrace his human wife and then watch as the Prince slowly drained her of blood and then sliced her head clean off."
He tilts his head just a little bit the other way. "I think you missed what the Herald said as well."
Heathen says, “Of course, the 'elder' in question may be less about age and more 'how miserable are they willing and able to make you for pissing them off.”
Amelie turns to Daniel, saying something quietly to him as she stands there. Listening to Gaunt, she considers it, and replies. "The Traditions began well before the Camarilla was founded. It became the fundamental law of the Ivory Tower by the Founders and all that were there at the Convention of Thorns." She looks to Daphnne, "You were there, non Keeper?" She then continues. "That is why the wording was Elder and not Prince. We stick with Tradition. And in the Imperator's Domain, as with the Domains of all other Princes, similarly outside of a Praxis, wherein the Archons and Justicars can enforce this as well. Now an academic question can be asked, but like I said, your question is rather moot. Questioning the Imperator or any Prince's authority in their own Domain is certainly a faux pas - if it is outside of an academic discussion here."
Gaunt receives the explanation with a small, courteous inclination of his head, his expression the very picture of mild academic interest. "Of course," he replies evenly, one hand resting lightly atop the head of his cane. "No challenge was intended." His gaze moves briefly from Daniel to Amelie and back again. "I simply find that, with matters of law and tradition, the details tend to carry more weight than the broad strokes." He pauses a moment before continuing. "One of my clan in Los Angeles once described a punishment enacted there. An enemy of the clan was embraced, starved for weeks, then presented with his own family as sustenance before being dragged into the sun at dawn. A lesson, to be sure -- though perhaps a somewhat theatrical one." His shoulders lift in the
Daniel nods and replies simply, "Depends on where you go and what you did to deserve such a thing."
Heathen says, “Well, what do we have without the embrace without permission? The Sabbat performing mass embraces to bring up numbers, including numbers of... imbeeciles. I would think that 'asking permision' of someone older and wiser would prune that back.”
Madeline nods soberly as she listens
Amelie nods as Heathen speaks, "That. The Camarilla separates itself from the Sabbat in that we do not shovelhead mortals. We do not share the blood with those we just plan to destroy later. There is far better uses of the blood and it simply is far too savage. It is a waste of the precious blood supply. If there is a mortal that deserves death? Then so be it. There are far better ways to punish one that will die anyway." She shakes her head, "But that is my understanding from this Court and those I have communicated with in the past."
Daniel leans to say something quietly to Amelie, burying his face in her hair as he speaks. That's one way to prevent lipreading.
Gaunt inclines his head slightly at Amelie's explanation, the faintest murmur escaping him as though quoting from memory. "Sanguis Patris..." he says quietly under his breath, the words barely louder than the tap of his cane against the floor. His pale gaze drifts thoughtfully across the room for a moment before returning to the Herald. "Yes, that does seem the more efficient interpretation." A hint of dry amusement touches his expression as he adds, "At least killing mortals is not forbidden..." He pauses, as though reconsidering the thought, then lifts one brow slightly. "...or it had better not be."
Daphnne comes back from having to deal with an Elysium situation just in time to hear Amelue's question to her, and oart of the conversation around it. She simply nods her head ti her and lustens to what is being discussed.
Heathen says, “As long as it can't be traced back in a manner that violates the masquarade”
Gaunt pauses as Heathen speaks, already turning slightly toward the exit. For a brief moment he considers the remark, and then a low laugh escapes him -- genuine this time, if still restrained. He adjusts his grip on the cane and begins to move again, the familiar tap... tap... tap marking his departure across the floor. "Nonsense," he replies lightly over his shoulder. "My pets are constantly hungry. Someone has to keep them fed." With that, he continues toward the door, clearly satisfied with the evening's conversation.
|
