Jean-Claude (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
baisant) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
undergrounds2017-05-13 12:45 pm
baisant) wrote in undergrounds2017-05-13 12:45 pm
Entry tags:
Lambeth Territory Claim: May 2nd [OPEN]
The news of the announcement of Nora's stepping down to pass on her position to Samantha hits Jean-Claude like the crack of the lash of his youth. He needs no witch's skill of divination to see where this is headed. Samantha has lost the support of the Night Council, so now she has found herself a seat upon it instead. She is already the Mother of Witches, and it is only a matter of time before her corruption seeps through. Those who are not strong enough to stand against it will either be turned in her favor or crushed under her heel. He may have only spoken to her the once, but he understands ambition when he sees it, and he knows her type. She will not let anything get in her way, no matter what the cost, or who suffers it. All in the name of her 'cause'.
Jean-Claude is not a particularly reactionary vampire, but in this instance he feels he can make an exception. The word goes out for those in the Nest who wish to participate to gather together, one hour after nightfall, at the Imperial War Museum, before they fan out across the territory from there. Jean-Claude's orders are clear. There will be no merciful duel of representatives this time. He has given Daybreak more than enough leniency and look what it has wrought -- now they must be cut down to size. Stand your ground and win this fight tonight. For your honor. For the dignity of vampirekind. And for the Nest.
He knows he must make a statement with this territory claim, and so a statement he makes. His hair tied back low on his head, his usual vest and jacket discarded for the evening, his white shirt making him seem even paler than usual in the dark of the night, the collar undone to his breastbone so that every now and again there comes a flash of the nasty scar of an old wound on his chest as he moves. The first witch they encounter recognizes the force of vampires approaching and begins to cast against their approach, sparks arcing from her hands like lightning. Jean-Claude whips ahead of the crowd, moving quick as a flash to catch the woman up against his chest and cradle her to him. Extending his fangs before he sinks them in to the side of her neck and drinking deep of her blood. She struggles against him and it has been a long time since he has fed like this, it excites the animal part of his brain that wants nothing more than to hunt and chase and eat and eat and eat. Forcing himself to tear his head back, he gazes back at the crowd, blood trailing down his chin and spotting onto the white of his shirt, the woman limp in his arms.
Steadying his gaze he reminds them, "Only if they fight, mes amis. But if they fight -- tonight, there is no holding back."
Jean-Claude is not a particularly reactionary vampire, but in this instance he feels he can make an exception. The word goes out for those in the Nest who wish to participate to gather together, one hour after nightfall, at the Imperial War Museum, before they fan out across the territory from there. Jean-Claude's orders are clear. There will be no merciful duel of representatives this time. He has given Daybreak more than enough leniency and look what it has wrought -- now they must be cut down to size. Stand your ground and win this fight tonight. For your honor. For the dignity of vampirekind. And for the Nest.
He knows he must make a statement with this territory claim, and so a statement he makes. His hair tied back low on his head, his usual vest and jacket discarded for the evening, his white shirt making him seem even paler than usual in the dark of the night, the collar undone to his breastbone so that every now and again there comes a flash of the nasty scar of an old wound on his chest as he moves. The first witch they encounter recognizes the force of vampires approaching and begins to cast against their approach, sparks arcing from her hands like lightning. Jean-Claude whips ahead of the crowd, moving quick as a flash to catch the woman up against his chest and cradle her to him. Extending his fangs before he sinks them in to the side of her neck and drinking deep of her blood. She struggles against him and it has been a long time since he has fed like this, it excites the animal part of his brain that wants nothing more than to hunt and chase and eat and eat and eat. Forcing himself to tear his head back, he gazes back at the crowd, blood trailing down his chin and spotting onto the white of his shirt, the woman limp in his arms.
Steadying his gaze he reminds them, "Only if they fight, mes amis. But if they fight -- tonight, there is no holding back."