#raphael1

It had been a long, long week for the celestial. Krovs was recovering finally from the chaos of communal heat, but Adrasia himself seemed to have dodged the worst of it only for the vampires to suddenly remember his presence in its wake. When the guards had approached the slave once more, it had taken a great deal of angelic self control to not simply refuse outright, to hell with the consequences. Instead, Adrasia forced himself to pull from that reservoir of patience deep within him and simply follow.

For a mercy, the latest master Adrasia would be expected to 'entertain' was not immediately lying in wait -- another councilman, he had been told, though surely this one could not be as bad as the last? He clenched his jaw and pushed the thought from his mind, taking this brief moment to inspect the suite instead. All around him were hints of the ghoul's preferences and patterns, clear signs of the presence of more than one living in these lavish rooms. To his right, the enormous windows framed a dramatic view of the distant mountains. To the left, a long span of bookshelves, immediately of greater interest.

Adrasia was keen to distract himself with assessing what kind of nostalgic items a creature at least as ancient as himself might hoard. When Raphael finally entered, the celestial was running a finger down the spine of an older tome. Something gut-instinctive raised the hair on the back of Adrasia's neck as a powerful presence filled the room, knowing almost instantly he was no longer alone. But he refused to jump away as if expecting to be chided for nosiness, delicately prying the book from its shelf instead and slowly turning towards the master as he leafed through the pages.

"Your collection, I take it?"

The boss wants to see you. That's what the guy who'd grabbed him by the arm and pulled him off the dance floor had told Noah, anyway. At first, Noah thought the bouncer or waiter or whoever the hell he was had been hitting on him by yanking him around and he'd tried to dance with him only to be told the same thing again. It finally got through the haze of drugs, alcohol, and the high of being surrounded by a bunch of other writhing, dancing bodies. Who was the boss? Noah couldn't remember right now even though he was at Euphoria and he thought he really should know. He tried to puzzle it out as he was taken upstairs, feeling like it was just on the tip of his tongue...or brain...or somewhere. The cambion laughed at his own thought process. What was he trying to figure out again? He tripped a little on the stairs but his escort caught him and straightened him up. Noah leaned into him a little too much as they kept walking. What had he been trying to figure out? It sure was swanky up here.

The last council meeting had gone...poorly, to say the least. There were always squabbles between them but Roland had aired his frustrations about the lack of anything being done and his concerns and suggestions had been soundly shot down. Raphael in particular had been quite condescending (Mr. Roach still made Roland's blood burn even though he'd pointedly not reacted to it at the time). Not to mention that email was galling. He was just going to call trials without a vote, was he? Did he think he was their leader? He wasn't even the oldest among them!

Roland tried to keep his temper and his emotions in check as he strode towards the Italian councilman's suite. Someone needed to say something but he could attempt to start the interaction off at the very least politely, if nothing else. Perhaps others had already talked to him but honestly, the attacks kept happening and they'd resolved nothing together. Maybe they would make more progress in a smaller meeting where there were fewer personalities.

Reaching the door, Roland knocked. "Do you have a moment, Monsieur De Luca? I would like to speak with you." There, he'd kept his tone polite and bordering on friendly. They would have to see if it stayed that way.

Approximately an hour later, he was knocking on the door of Councilman De Luca’s suite, escorted by the same guard that had taken him to see the raven-haired doctor. Ric swallowed nervously, waiting for the man that he had heard so many stories about growing up. When he accepted the doctor’s request, he had not realized he was going straight to the ghoul that his father hated so much. Ric knew that Jupiter had been lying to his entire coven for his whole life, though. Perhaps he had lied about that too. He instinctively rubbed his sweaty palms on the soft fabric of the jacket he was wearing. His hair was still slightly damp, and he didn’t feel at ease in the elegant blue suit he was wearing. Apparently, the doctor had given specific instructions to the guard: to make sure that Ric showered and dressed with ‘something a little less depressing than those drab clothes everyone wears around here.’ “Are you Councilman De Luca?” He asked, his voice cracking nervously toward the end of the question, as soon as a dark-haired man opened the door. “If so, I have a message to deliver to you, sir. It’s from… He didn’t say his name, to be honest, but he said you would understand after reading this.” He said politely with a thick italian accent, handing the man the small blue box tightly held shut by a white silk ribbon, along with the expensive-looking sealed envelope that came with it.