A strange evening, in a strange place Options

[Kikezilla]

It began with the scents of the place, as it always does. Not with the ones which were there, and ought not to be, those came second, but with the ones that were not there, and which ought to have been. The imperceptible whiffs of pollen borne on the wind were the wrong sort, and were somehow unsatisfying. The scent of exhaust was wrong too, in level, and in the particulars of it's suffocating tang. Most telling were the scents of the other Cainites. Some smelled too strong, some smelled too weak, but all smelled different. None smelled like pack.

Second, as always, were the sounds. Traffic was traffic, sometime nearer, sometimes farther, but essentially the same. The sound of the flies circling last night's meal were familiar enough to most, though even those seemed somehow foreign, somehow alien. Here again, the most jarring sounds were those of the other Cainites, of the new members of the pack. The sounds of their old packs awakening had become ingrained upon them, as natural as the sounds of their own first moments, and these too were absent, replaced by the unfamiliar. The timing of their stirrings was all wrong. They began to wake too early, or their first stirrings were too late, or too loud.

With the opening of their eyes, context reasserted it's self. The warehouse where they had laid down after the rescue of their two Packmates sprang into focus, as did their memory of the road that had led them here. And slowly, the feelings of the Viniculum reasserted themselves, as their eyes passed to each Kindred present. The fog of sleep cleared from them, they began to speak. . .

[KlausKohler]

In the corner of the room, the young man slowly contorts and stretches his lithe frame. An almost inaudible whisper escapes his lips as he runs a pale hand though his chestnut hair. He looks far too young to be a proven Cainite, possibly only thirteen or fourteen years old but looks can always be deceiving. He skin seems to glow with an unnatural light that makes your stomach churn momentarily-he is so innocent, so virginal, like an Italian fresco of a young and glorious angel. It is hard to believe he was allowed join in Cain's blood. Why was he not devoured in his creation as a testament to the predatory nature of the hunter to slaughter and defile the virtuous and pure?

He meticulously cleans up the space in which he slept and then opens a black school satchel and removes several objects just out of your sight. Kneeling, his back to the rest of the room, you hear the unmistakable igniting of a match. The faint smell of sulfur and possibly flesh, drifts lazily across the room. His voice is a hushed and distant song that that makes your head begin to faintly swoon with a Latin prayer as he gently rocks back and forth on his knees. The smell of blood is unleashed and the hunger of a day's slumber begins to swell in your belly...

[Achille_Rossi]

The twisted creature called Wretch appears suddenly. The shadows withdraw and he seems to appear. Nestled close to his packmates. He moves slowly at first. Lethargic as the day sleep still leaves a vestigial exhaustion over him.

He sniffs about the room and immediately slips near Klaus as well as his Ductus and the women of the pack. Sniffing and staying close to them. Rubbing near and making his presence felt like a pet craving attention. His breath is uneven. Manifesting as a mild hiss as air escapes throught he mottled cracks and holes in his dry clay textured face.

[JohnWhite]

The smell engulfed his nose and Henry slowly opened one eye, the eye stark white as he opened the other showing a dark brown iris. His white eye quickly rolled back into place as he raised his head cautiously to take survey of what laid around him. The man slowly made his way to a sitting position, his knees tucked close to his chest. Though the blood of Caine ran through his old looking body getting into the position he was in looked as though it had taken a toll on his body. He noticed the creature known as Wretch already licking at the heals of his Ductus. Shaking his head he threw his shoulders back and the sound of bones cracking into place echoed throughout the room. He stood and walked over to the window wondering what this new "pack" might actually have to offer. It was silent for about 5 minutes before the stoic voice broke the air, "So any idea what last night was all about?"

[Achille_Rossi]

If wretch notices Henry's contempt, it clearly does not show. His uneven long, nearly taloned toes jut from under the uneven ragged cloak it wears as he slinks near his packmates.

Listening to Henry he responds in a clear if raspy voice. "We find pack."

His tone is very matter-of-factly, uncaring for any complexities.

[KlausKohler]

The boy finishes his quiet sermon and slowly rises from the corner. The shadows play across his face as he makes his way into the light giving the fleeting illusion of an old man's visage.
"All of this seem rather too convenient for my tastes. Each of us plucked from an established pack only to be struck at by an unknown force. How were our pack mates taken? This location was to be secure and guarded for this sacred event. Either we are being tested, or we are being set up."

[Achille_Rossi]

Wretch looks to Klaus, listening intently.

"Wretch will not be missed. Wretch is wretched. And wretch cannot be missed until he enlightened."

Wretch continues his slow and feral movements around the pack chambers. Sniffing and learning every square inch of their current home.