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The Other Mayor of London

The OTHER MAYOR OF LONDON invites you to a night to remember...

Hosted at The Angelo in the heart of Islington (courtesy of Cesare Borgia), Raymond Harris invites you all to join him on the night of Saturday, 6th August to celebrate his self-proclaimed ascension as the Other Mayor of London. His aims are threefold: to stake his claim as the most powerful supernatural being in the city, to persuade other interested factions to ally with him, and to intimidate his enemies with a show of extravagance. All members of the Islington Nest are expected to work hard tonight to achieve these goals.

The party officially begins at 20:39 when the sun sets and ends at 05:34 when the sun rises. Of course, there's no guarantee that everyone will make it until dawn...

Rules of entry
• This is a black tie event. Anyone who fails to wear the appropriate attire will be denied entry.
• No stakes or other vampire-killing weapons. That's just rude.
• No more than five werewolves and shapeshifters will be admitted in total. Raymond wants them to witness his power, but not to spoil his party. They will be closely watched and likely mocked by the surrounding vampires.

Raymond is guarded by his vampire henchmen at all times. Any perceived threat will be dealt with swiftly and mercilessly.

Places to go
Once you're admitted to the hotel, you'll walk into the lobby, where you're free to mingle with the other guests. It's here that you're likely to first spot the party's human contingent: a collection of young and beautiful men and women whose sole purpose is to provide a live food source for the vampires. Dressed in uniform black suits and cocktail dresses, they will offer up their wrists and/or necks to anyone who wants them.

From there, you can head over to the bar for a more relaxed and cordial atmosphere. Drinks are free until midnight; after that you'll have to pay. The bar does not serve blood; it's expected that vampire guests will drink directly from their nearest human.

If you're looking for something a little more substantial, try the tea room where you'll be served tea, coffee or red wine, and a selection of cherry tomato canapes, strawberries and scones with jam and clotted cream.

The main action, however, takes place in the ballroom. Red mood lighting continues the general theme and live music will be playing all night. Professional dancers provide entertainment in the early evening, but it won't be long before the ballroom is crowded with party-goers revelling in the fun, free and wild atmosphere. This is where you may find Raymond, the benevolent host watching over his guests. Drink and be merry. He wants everyone to have a good time.

(You can check the OOC plotting thread for more info and to ask any questions about this event. Enjoy!)

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Natasha spots Eames when he joins the crowd in the ballroom, noting where he positions himself and the look he's giving the others in attendance. She doesn't move to join him immediately, finishing her conversation with a Circle Midnight witch first and allowing herself to briefly be waylaid by a young vampire who think she can be wooed over to Islington with a little awkward flirting. Once she's finishes with them, she drifts into his orbit, though, flashing a smile.

"You're looking more distinguished tonight," she comments. She notices the differences, but she wouldn't say they don't suit him. She also assumes that the changes are his own doing—fae doing what fae do. "Not interested in dancing?"

He quirks a smile at what he assumes is a compliment, (because why wouldn't it be,) and turns his gaze to Natasha.

"Not with any of the assembled," Eames replies, raising an eyebrow as he gestures toward the floor with a tip of his head. Islington as far as the eye can see, he wants no part of that.

As luck would have it, Natasha means it as one. A fairly empty compliment, maybe, but still a compliment. She doesn't have a problem with men who look a little older.

She follows his gaze, her lips twitching slightly. The face she puts on is good, but she doesn't try to make it look sincere. "I don't know. I'd like to say a few of us make all right dance partners, though."

Eames chuckles and looks away from the floor to Natasha, giving her a quick look over. Nothing lecherous — though she does look stunning — it's become habit here, looking everyone over to assess how much of a threat they are. Though he doesn't think she's much of one, not to him here anyway. She doesn't seem the type to go in for Raymond's brand of mindless carnage.

And he's still smiling when he asks, "is that an invitation?"

"Maybe," Natasha says, lifting her chin slightly as she speaks. "Maybe it just seems to me a little like a waste to be at a party like this and not find anyone at all for a dance. But..."

Her smile doesn't exactly falter, but some of the brightness goes out of it, and she looks over the floor again. On the far side of the room, luckily far enough that she doesn't catch the scent, a pair of vampires share one human meal.

She doesn't see that ending well for him.

"I'm not seeing a lot of partners I'm interested in either."

"Well I'd like to think I'm more interesting than at least... Three? Of the other guests," Eames says lightly as he offers her a hand. Even without following her gaze, Eames is well aware of the temptations present, but she's holding it together which. Well. He is impressed.

He nods toward the dancefloor, "and I'd hate for you to leave here disappointed."

"That makes two of us." It is possible that, to some degree, Natasha is using Eames as a distraction. While he presents another kind of temptation, at least it is different from the humans who would volunteer to open a vein for her, and being around other vampires indulging. At least he and Natasha are on the same page: they would both rather she kept control of herself.

That's not the only reason for her interest, though. Natasha can imagine why he would be here, and she wouldn't mind knowing his stance or his take.

And beyond that—she had to suspect he'd be a good dancer. It would seem somehow tragic if he weren't. So she takes his hand and allows him to escort her onto the floor.

Other people should wish they looked this good.

Eames has no problems being a distraction, and certainly not in this instance. Dancing with a ludicrously attractive woman? How could that ever be a bad thing.

He finds them a spot on the floor, and one might be correct to assume he's picked one where they'll be seen by almost everyone in the room on purpose, turning to face Natasha with something of a sly smile as he brings his hands to rest on her hips. (Entirely respectfully, of course.) If there's a single fae who can't dance, Eames doesn't know that he's met them, and he settles into the rhythm of the music easily. Moving like it's as natural to him as walking, even as he waits to see how Natasha dances to respond in kind.

"So--" Eames speaks softly, quiet enough that only Natasha should be able to hear him, "how many offers have you had to join the nest tonight?"

His question gets a soft laugh, barely leaving her throat. She leans close, speaking with her lips beside his ear. "Offers, threats—a bribe, even. I'd be flattered if I didn't know they were doing the same with everyone."

As they fall into the dance, Natasha is light on his arm. There are plenty of vampires who can't dance, several of them proving as much tonight, but Natasha can't be counted among them. This might not be ballet, but her experience and training show in her rhythm and movements.

"Nothing interesting, though."

He'd assumed she'd be an excellent dancer, and it's nice to be proven right. There's a lightness to her step that speaks of experience, maybe even something formal in her background. It makes it easy to enjoy this, rather than just going through the motions while they talk.

"That's disappointing," and there's something lightly amused in his tone as he speaks, "you'd think at least one of them would have something in mind to court a woman in your position."

An ear in Redbright would be a useful thing to have, after all.

At least someone realizes that. Natasha and Eames have a more similar view of that situation than any of the vampires who've courted Natasha so far. Her position might not be especially highly placed or glamorous, but she was gaining trust and responsibility and anyone inside another faction could keep their ears open.

"You'd think," she says in a light tone, as though teasing. The words are pitched not to carry far. "But they seem more interested in bringing people in than making contacts."

At least if those contacts were vampires themselves.

"They might feel different about you."

But she sincerely doubts he's here to make friends.

That one actually makes him laugh, a soft chuckle that sits more like a low rumble in his chest than anything actually audible. He knows what they want, and it's so plainly obvious they haven't even done a little research. Even if Eames didn't have pretty strong feelings against vampires, the Queen would never allow it. Not until she's had a couple more centuries to get over whatever went on with her dead lover anyway.

"I suppose it's a good thing I don't mind leaving our hosts disappointed."

Natasha feels the laugh more than she hears it and her smile flashes in response. She goes up on her toes a little higher as she dances, pressing closer as her body rises. Her chin tilts as she looks at him.

"Disappointment usually means someone had the wrong expectations."

Eames tilts his head a little toward her, practically an automatic response when she rises up on her toes, and slips a hand around to rest on the small of her back.

"And you?" Eames says softly, lowly even, fairly certain she's digging for a little information, but she'll have to try harder than a little flirting and dancing if that's the case. "What are your expectations tonight?"

She fits against him well, her back arched slightly. Her eyes light up with the dance—both the literal dance and the the flirtation. She is probing for information, it's true. More what Islington wants with the fae than what the fae themselves are doing here.

Among other things, she's confident Eames won't be siding with Harris already.

Though she does have to wonder if he could be persuaded to support another claim on the leadership.

"Right now?" she says playfully. "Right now I expect I'm annoying at least three vampires."

Eames laughs softly again, a playful glint in his own eyes when she speaks. Not enough people play the game, and even less do it well. In a way it does make him a little more curious about Natasha, what she did before London — it's not a skill you develop by accident — but for the moment it's just a fun distraction.

"Well if turning down their offers doesn't do it, dancing with the likes of me will certainly do it." He says, gently moving to manoeuvre her into a spin at a swell in the music as if to emphasise his words.

If he wasn't sure of her formal training before, the spin confirms it. It's not just that she's graceful or experienced—though she is—there's a level of technique that points to training. It gives the spin a certain flair.

She doesn't respond to his comment until she steps back in close.

"If they didn't want me to dance with you, they shouldn't have given you an invitation. Otherwise they just brought this on themselves."

"My sentiments exactly," Eames says, amused as much as he's appreciating the way she moves. A little impressed, more curious about when she found time to study or where.

His hand finds its way back to where it was on her back, resting lightly there-- comfortably as though that's just where it belongs, and he tilts his head to speak quietly into her ear. "Honestly, seems like there's a real lack of forethought here."

One of the advantages of immortality—even if Natasha wasn't as old as many of the vampires in the room, she'd still lived one very full human lifetime. That provided a lot of opportunities.

Her back arches just slightly, fitting to his hand, and a chuckle escapes her at his words. She agrees. If anyone overheard, she'd be in trouble, but she doesn't seem particularly concerned. Eames knows what he's doing just as well as she does, if not better.

"Not much subtlety either."

Eames absolutely knows what he's doing, and it's as much a display as it is for fun. A casual way to let the assembled know that this little show of strength isn't working on him alongside a dance with an attractive woman. Just as well as he knows how to pitch his voice so it doesn't carry past Natasha's ears.

"It's never been a speciality of the nests," Eames says with a gentle lilt, and then thoughtfully adds, "not here anyway." He's never had any dealings with the nests in Russia, who knows how they operate.

Natasha shrugs slightly, somehow making it seem graceful. She's not about to defend nests, especially not Islington. The Red Room of her youth and her sire would have been disgusted by this—but while they might have had a better grasp of politics in their way, they'd been every bit as prone to their own forms of excess. The current iteration of her old nest wished they could manage this kind of show of muscle. If they still knew how to be subtle, it was because the war with werewolves had left them little better than a mid-rate crime syndicate.

But Natasha remembered her training.

"It's an unfortunate habit that some people fall into when they get power," she says. Harris might be worse, but Millicent had already put the nest in a spiral. "But regimes change all the time."

Which is as close as she'll come here to suggesting she might support such a change.

Eames hums gently, a quietly amused noise at her comments. There's a few jokes about the USSR on the tip of his tongue, but Eames decides that's not a hole he needs to explore. And Natasha already got that out of the way anyway.

"Here's hoping sooner rather than later," he says softly against her ear, intoning it in a way that one should hope makes it obvious he knows more than he's about to say here. It's a risk, but it's calculated. At worst, he can't imagine she'll be shedding any tears over seeing a stake through Raymond's heart.

Natasha tips her head at his words, hair falling away from her ear and her neck as she glances at him. She won't be the one disclosing it if he has plans for Harris. Curious, though, she is that. She has to wonder if they know the same people.

She glances down, smiling slightly.

"Here's hoping," she says.

Eames is quiet for a moment, mostly just pausing to appreciate how beautiful Natasha is and commit the details of her face to memory before he ducks his head to speak softly into her ear again.

"I should go." Which he's not entirely happy about, but there are other things he came here for. He does, however, take the opportunity to press a kiss to her cheek and offer up a business card for her to take, "and you should call me."

Natasha stops dancing as smoothly as she started. It doesn't come as a surprise that he has business to do. Their conversation is a pleasant break from the business of the evening, but they are both here for business. The kiss—if that did come as a surprise, she doesn't show any sign of it.

She does take his card, though, and she taps it against her cheek thoughtfully.

"You're right; I should. Not many people make that good of a partner."

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falsify - 2016-08-29 14:08 (UTC) - Expand

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