William Rothschild (soldat) wrote in thisdarknight, @ 2016-07-11 12:40:00 |
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Entry tags: | !locale: french quarter, antoine savoy [npc], william rothschild |
In New Orleans, everything's a good idea
Who: William Rothschild & Antoine Savoy [NPC].
What: Savoy meets with an Invictus envoy from New York, and subtly questions him about the murder.
Where: Bourbon Orleans.
When: Two nights after the murder.
Progress: Gdoc, complete.
The elder Daeva glanced up at the polite knock on his office door. Antoine Savoy put down the papers he'd been perusing -- land titles, explaining the history of the plot of land where the area's recent fire had broken out -- and steepled his fingers over his desk.
"It's open." Savoy was intrigued to see the man who entered leaning on a cane, though there was no surprise to be held in the Kindred's face. The undead were varied, and each unique to their own story. Now was not the time to inquire, as this particular Kindred had requested an audience. Savoy rose from his chair and offered a welcoming hand.
"Mr. Rothschild, I presume," he said, allowing the slightest tinge of a smile to curve his lips. He was feeling anything but generous this evening, overly stressed by current events, but he was always one to put on a show for anyone who might need one. "I hope you're finding your stay here at my hotel amenable. What is it I can do for you?"
William reached for the man’s hand and grasped it tightly, giving it a firm shake. He offered Savoy a smile before leaning away from the handshake and placing his hand on top of the one gripping the handle of his cane. “The hotel is wonderful, I’m glad to be here,” he replied, and he was honest in this statement as well. He had traveled before -- both for pleasure and for work -- and had numerous lodging experiences. Savoy obviously made an effort to make Kindred feel comfortable at his hotel and William appreciated it.
“Call me old fashioned, but I wanted to introduce myself, since I intended to be here for a few weeks.” In New York, William knew of Kindred that were double his age, but he knew overall that he -- having been embraced just shy of 150 years beforehand -- still qualified as 'old.' With the uncertainty of New Orleans’ future, he didn’t want any of the faction leaders to assume he was trying to pull a power move. Granted, the Invictus had other ideas but in the end, he wouldn’t be the one trying to gain power in this city. He was simply an observer. “I’m grateful you were able to work me into your schedule. Thank you.”
"If manners are considered old fashioned, I'm greatly saddened," Savoy returned, gesturing to the seat across from him. "Please, sit."
He followed his own advice and returned to his chair, remaining straight backed as he rested his arms on the chair arms. "What brings you to the Crescent City?" His gaze carefully assessed the man sitting across from him, clearly weighing his response.
William eased into the seat, feeling the old twinge of pain in his thigh that persistently reminded him of his wartime injury. When embraced, he found himself stronger and healthier than ever, but the old injury still persisted. “I’m considering making a move to a new city as I’ve been in New York for quite some time. I have a small law practice back home, and it seems there could be opportunity here.” He shrugged. “Or I may retire, I’m not yet sure as I’m still exploring my options. For now, however, this visit is simply a vacation, a break from paperwork, if you will.”
Savoy folded his hands in his lap, brow knitting. "I find it a little strange that a Kindred working in such a structure would seek to put down roots in a place like New Orleans. The last time I heard, New York was still Camarilla-owned." The question, while not spoken, was implicit: why are you really here?
“It is still owned by the Camarilla,” William acknowledged with a nod. William found that it was best to offer the truth whenever possible. If you came across consistently truthful, it was easier to be believed. What was necessary was keeping the information you didn’t want others to know to yourself, rather than lying about it. Lies became greater and harder to keep track of than what you simple do not tell.
All in all, William felt somewhat innocent in the whole matter. Of course the Camarilla was interested in New Orleans and of course he was scouting the area. But he could always return to New York and inform those waiting on his word that New Orleans simply wasn’t a viable location. There was no definite that there would be any fight for power and with that, William felt there was no need for concern -- at least that was what he chose to believe. So he continued speaking honestly.
“I’ve been in New York for over a hundred years and I’ve grown weary of it. I’m a homebody, generally, but even we can only stay at home for so long, no? Plus, since New Orleans is in a time of change, I felt that perhaps my expertise could be of use here to the Kindred that call it home. But, as I said, I’m only looking. Trying to get my bearings on this world. It’s a rather beautiful city. I appreciate that it’s rich with culture like New York but certainly different. It feels more alive, less cold.”
Savoy nodded, his expression unwavering. "It's a spirited city, certainly. In that spirit, there's a certain amount of danger. Might I ask where you were the other night? Out of sheer curiosity."
William tipped his head slightly and his eyes narrowed, but overall, his facial expression remained friendly. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew when there was an edge of interrogation. “Well, I arrived to the city two nights ago and spent most of the evening getting settled into my room. Last night, however, I explored the French Quarter a bit.” He smiled. “I must say, New York may be the city that never sleeps but whomever stated that rule obviously never visited Bourbon Street.”
"Did you happen to stop by an establishment by the name of Lucky Pierre's?"
“No, I can’t say that I did nor do I know of the establishment,” he replied carefully, his gaze meeting Savoy’s and not backing down. “Why do you ask?”
The other Daeva fell silent for a moment, internally deciding something. His mouth twitched, and he finally sat back in his seat. "I'm sure you've heard by now; a Kindred recently met his Final Death in the club I spoke of, and circumstances are suspect, to say the least. Forgive me if I find the timing of your arrival to be slightly coincidental in regard to what we're considering a murder."
William understood Savoy’s line of business and his position well enough, but it didn’t stop an irritated expression from crossing his face. Still, he managed to keep his tone pleasant as he replied. “I heard of a fire and that Kindred may have been involved, but I didn’t hear the details that a Kindred met his Final Death. I apologize for the loss of this Kindred, but I have nothing to do with it.”
"I'm certainly not leveling an accusation at you, Mr. Rothschild," Savoy replied smoothly, one hand coming to rest on top of the paperwork sitting on his desk. "But you must realize that we create safeguards. And I caution you to be careful as well while we sort out this scenario; as we've already established, any sort of structure here is tenuous at best, and I cannot guarantee your safety even in my little corner of our wonderful city." His gaze bore into William's, hoping his point came across clearly.
“Completely understood,” William replied, giving a solemn nod. “But I must ask, does this happen often? I know there is much going on in this city, but if Kindred are ending up dead… and unwillingly at that, I assume…” He frowned. This was certainly not something he wanted to deal with. For a fleeting moment, he craved the shadowed rooms of his brownstone and his collection of music and other items. For all the glamour of New Orleans, maybe New York wasn’t that bad.
"No," Savoy was quick to respond. He spread his hands in a peaceful gesture. "I assure you, this is incredibly unusual. Our city may be fractured, but I certainly do not condone this sort of violence. I and others are working toward resolving this issue, and preventing anything more from happening in the future." He straightened in his chair, hands going back to the armrests.
"If you have any concerns, you are more than welcome to bring them to me. Now, I'm afraid I must cut our conversation short; I have another meeting here in a few minutes. Is there anything else I can do for you?"
“No, not at all,” William replied, getting to his feet and leaning forward to offer Savoy his hand. “Thank you for meeting with me, it’s appreciated. And if you need any help with this, or any other legal matters, let me know. I’d be happy to lend a helping hand before I leave the city, if I can.”
Savoy offered the other Kindred a smile that did not meet his eyes, rising to his feet. He offered William his hand again to bid him goodbye.
"I will certainly keep that in mind, Mr. Rothschild. I bid you a good evening." As the other Daeva limped carefully from his office, Savoy made a note to have someone watch him carefully while he was in the French Quarter. There were dozens of undead coming and going each night, but none quite like the lawyer who announced his apparent intentions so readily. Savoy had made a living off of being suspicious, and he couldn't help but wonder if his gut was telling him something he ought to listen to in this incident.