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Canon: © Anne Bishop
Board's Plot: Blood Rites
Points Scheme: Mother Night
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Established February 2010
by Jamie, Gina & Bowie.


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* Plot Information for Little Terreille

A naive Black Jeweled witch has destroyed the Territory Court. From its ashes a new court is being constructed, one run by a manipulative killer. As the blood runs in the streets of Goth from open gang warfare, the Steward of Little Terreille begins a gambit to rebuild the Territory from the ground up and challenge the Star of Kaeleer.
Culture of LT
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Author Topic: More Than Ones And Zeros  (Read 89 times)

Description:

Offline Benjamin Laine

  • Character Account
    • ss2opal
    • prince
    • Territory

      Little Terreille

    • Character Sheet

      [Link]

    • OOC

      halyonix

    • Posts

      5

    • i will bury you

    • View Profile
More Than Ones And Zeros
« on: Sep 17, 19, 12:44:16 PM »
Benjamin Laine was not a creature entirely of the night but he preferred it.

It made sense, given his street nickname of Nocturne and his dark style of clothing, but, contrary to popular belief, Benji was awake long before sunset and did not flee when the sun rose. Today, as the sun began hiding behind the buildings like a coy lover, Prince Laine stepped out of one of his many establishments and began strolling down the street.

He was dressed, unsurprisingly, in mostly black. Only the silk white shirt under his coat and his Opal Jewel protested that dark theme. Kohl darkened his eyes and something equally dark stained his smile, contrasting his triad of piercings on his lower lip. Long sleeves and black leather gloves covered tattoos, and those gloves currently covered the silvered rabbit head that topped his cane. He needed no implements to walk – he carried the cane for flourish and the occasional sharp strike – but it made for a momentary pause from strangers. Was there weakness hidden? Or strength? Who knew. Benji would only smile mysteriously.

His stroll took him towards one of his favorite food haunts – a place called Dark Roux. The cuisine was a mixture of common culinary trends from Chaillot and Glacia, topped with the little garnish that was Little Terreille. It made for mostly elegant and delightful dishes, but the restaurant itself did not cater to the elite. Any bastard from the street could eat there, if he had the marks, and it was that hodgepodge of clientele that made it a favorite place. Benji was never sure who he would see.

The hostess seated him in a corner table where he could see most of who wandered in that evening. Of course, he sat with his back to a wall, but he made it seem as though he was doing it to survey the room like a king, rather than doing it to protect his own skin. He briefly perused the menu (he already knew what he wanted but he had to keep up the appearance of still being undecided so as not to seem like he was a regular here) and ordered claws au vin – crab claws sautéed in butter, white wine, and seasonings – as an appetizer, along with an appropriately paired wine.

Thus began his little personal ritual: a long, relished meal, with a few glasses of wine. Nothing rushed and every moment he made, from the way he scanned the room to the way he ate his food, was a graceful, unhurried motion, as though Benjamin Laine had all the time in the world and no business to push.

Eventually, an interesting face appeared within that dinner crowd – Lord Harken Varent, accompanied, as usual, by his crow. Most restaurants would refuse service to a man who insisted upon bringing in an animal into their establishment but the leader of the Dragons? No, no man who desired to keep his left eye would dare refuse Lord Varent.

Benji smiled, and when Lord Varent’s gaze swept over him, he gave a dainty, little, annoying wave of recognition. And waited for the Dragon to come, eventually, his way.

 

 

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