Chance meeting on a dissecting table

[Ivo Kolarov]

A cab halted before the Empire State Building. After the obligatory 60-second pause (driver and passanger exchanging banknotes and polite words) the door opened and Ivo got out. Dressed as usually - maybe with that added touch of solid elegance saved for official meetings: black suit, gray shirt, black trousers, all velvet. A bow-tie and a walking cane made this picture complete. He had a certain odour of "old" to him, as always. His whole appearance was at least 50 years off. Not that anyone cared around this late hour. Under his arm he was holding a suitcase, containing nothing but a two-days-old copy of the Times, a fountain pen, and an rectangular object wrapped in simple brown paper. A book, judging by the size and shape.

Ivo entered the building and looked around, admiring the lash interior. Then headed for the elevator. This was not a "chance meeting", of course. Before arriving to New York, he gathered some information about the local Camarilla and beside that, Prince Hartford was a well-known member of the Kindred society. Ivo contacted his secretary earlier, made an appointment: Hartford was said to like such things. And Ivo was no stranger to etiquette either. Ivo checked his weary-looking silver wristwatch - he was right on time, so he got into the lift without hesitation. "Sixteenth floor," he said to the operator standing inside in a calm, whisper-like voice. The elevator swinged into motion then stopped. Ivo nodded to the operator and softly slid the change he got from the taxi-driver in his hand.

When the elevator doors behind him shut closed, he walked up to the Prince's secretary.
"Excuse me, I came to see Lord Hartford. I have an appointment. I reckon we spoke on the telephone? My name is Ivan Kolarov."
He spoke with a slight accent, a linguist could have easily defined his origin as Slavic. He pronounced each word slowly and separately, without contractions - no native speaker would do that.

[Iota]

Julian had taken the little spare time he had to go over some of his companies funding and trading reciepts, just to keep up to date. Julian rarely got the chance to leave his office, but his eyes and ears on the street kept him informed of the street activities. Julian had been informed of his meeting and according to the word on the street, this new kindred to his domain would either be toreador or a fellow Ventrue due to their dress sense. It would be a extremely rare occasion if it were not one of the main seven clans, so the likelihood of it just being a toreador or ventrue would be quite high.

Julian pressed on the intercom "Let the Gentleman in would you dear?" The Prince announced to Sarah over the intercomm, a strong English accent carrying over the speaker. Sarah pressed the button to open the tall, over designed doors that stank of pomposity and arrogance, to the astute, this would be the sign of entering Esylium of a Ventrue. Julian had, by this time, taken the chance to stand up out of his chair and stand behind his desk, his arms interlinked behind his back in a regal fashion, he was wearing a slight smile upon his face.

[Ivo Kolarov]

"Dear" was not a word Ivo usually associated with a master-servant relationship. He noted this to himself - the way a person talks to the ones under his control is an important personnal trait. Another thing he noted was the English accent - so the information about the Prince's origins were true. Not that Hartford ever tried to hide it.

"Thank you", he said to the secretary and entered the Prince's office. He noticed how the sound of his footsteps changed: in the hallow hallways of the main buildings he heard the echoes of his steps on the polished marble, but here every single segment of the floor was covered with luxurious carpets, that swallowed every sound. Quite probably the walls were layered with sound blocking materials as well, so that nothing got out of this room. That was usual for a vampire's Haven.

As dictated by the etiquette, he stopped right after entering and looked up, straight into the eyes of the Prince. "Ivan Stefanovich Kolarov, from the blood of Ventrue, 9th in the line, Childe to Laszlo Foldes, at your service", he introduced himself and accompanied his last words with a bow, as a sign of respect. Once again, he was pronouncing each word clearly, stressing the names.
"I've recently arrived to your Domain and as demanded, came to introduce myself and ask for a permission to stay. I'm ready to answer any question you may have."

[Iota]

Julian looked up from his work, he watched the new comer walk into his office, dressed in rather old style clothes, much like Julian used to wear when he first arrived in New York City all those years ago, an aire of nostalgia came over him as he gave a slight smile and stood up out of his chair. His suspicions were confirmed when he stated his lineage, it was well known and probably the annoyance of many other kindred that the Ventrue, each and everyone knew their lineage and could tell their clans history with out thinking about it. After all, Ventrue, the Antideluvian of clan Ventrue, was Caine's closest advisor and Ruler of the Second City after the Great flood.

Unlike other clans, the Ventrue have a rather hardcore experience after their embrace, they are pretty much locked away in a room and are made to learn every single detail of their clan. they are also learnt to be excellent negotiators, businessmen and decision makers. This is one of the many reasons as to why a Ventrue Prince is more common over than other Prince. They were good, or rather excellent, at their job and knew how to manipulate kindred and kine alike to do their bidding.

"Welcome, I am Prince Julian Hartford, from the blood of Ventrue and 6th in the line and finally, childe to Fiendberg, a German Noble" Julian gave a slight nod in a semi bow out of respect, it wasn't often he did this, but he was conversing with another Ventrue, which was a rarity these days. "I originate from England. My first birth was the era of the British Empire and i fought under Queen Victoria's Banner.. pleasure to meet you comrade." Julian smiled softly as he adjusted his cufflinks on his shirt for a moment.

"Care for some Bloodwine? it is from the best sources around.. the well taught and the rich.." Julian paused for a moment in thought "Of course, being a fellow Ventrue.. if you have some other feeding habit, then i will try to be accomadating." Julian smiled as he knew the downside of being Ventrue, the inability to feed off of anyone, luckily, Julian came out of it quite lightly as he can feed off of anyone from the upper classes as opposed to a Ventrue who can only feed off of a woman with green eyes, for example.

"What brings you to this fine city of mine, brother?" He said in his thick english accent. It wasn't often that the Prince had questions for those who cane to his penthouse, he was quite used to answering as every kindred seemed to always want something or find something.

[Ivo Kolarov]

"I bear the weighty heritage of being from Bulgaria, though I met my Sire in Hungary, during the epilogue of the great play we know as World War II... Unfortunately, our time was determined to be short as his existance was put to an end by the Sabbat agents who roamed -and continue to roam- the region. I take it you are aware of what clashes were taking place under the veil of the human war."

Words now came out flowing softer, then during the first phase of introduction. The accent was still there, but the almost cruel word spearation was gone as Ivo started his narrative. His story was a good one, as it wasn't fabricated - his Sire'd existed, he was killed by a Sabbat pack. Ivo merely adjusted the script, adding a new chacater -- himself. It was not even a lie. Just a twist on the truth.

By this time he was probably offered a seat, so he made himself comfortable, his suitcase on his knee, his body slightly leaning forward as he was adding more details and endulging in the conversation.
"I'm afraid I have to decline your offer - even though I'm certain you are keeping the best Bloodwine possible, I cannot enjoy it. A personal contact with the Prey is more than important for me. One does not feed barely on the blood, but on the emotions and the individual as well, no matter how harsh this might sound."
For a split second it seemed that a predator-like smile appeared on his face, but it was immediately replaced by his usual soft, neutral expression. He was no Youngling to lose control of his emotions and show his bestial side.

"My reason for being here is simple yet ellaborate...", he said, opening his suitcase. He produced the package wrapped in brown paper from it and placed it in front of the Prince. "Open it, Milord. It's a humble gift - but at the same time, my business card."
Under the packaging lay a book, bound in dark-brown leather, torn in some places, yet in a surprisingly good state. The cover held no information, but the first page was more than informative.
"A first edition copy of Milton's masterwork, re-bound in the late 18th century", Ivo explained, "this is my trade. I'm a collector of books. I've been living near Boston the last ten years, but as you may understand, in my field it's important to have a circle of other collectors who are ready to share their experience with me and who are ready to hear out mine.I came to New York to open a bookshop... not one selling cheap crime novels, of course." He stopped for a moment, closing his suitcase. "And I have to admit... living in a small town was just not for me. I need society. I need company and not just any company. But a worthy one."

[Iota]

Julian carefully picked up the old leather bound book and flicked through it slowly, showing interesting and suprise at the same time "Something of this calibre and magnitude is a rarity indeed.. one of the books i actually needed for my own collection, for this i thank you.." The Prince getting lost some what in the book, he did enjoy these pleasantries afterall and most tribute gifts tend to be top class blood wine, which served his purpose but lacked originality. Julian felt compelled to offer one of his rare collection, this was not an offer that would be seen on a regular basis, perhaps it was due to a fellow Ventrue or perhaps the common ground of reading. The Prince stood up from his desk and paced over to his bookshelf as the other Ventrue carried on talking.

Julian ran his index finger on his right hand over a variety of book after stopping and taking out a rather old looking book that had been taken care of, Julian held it under his arm as he made his way back to the desk. After he sat Down he placed the book infront of Ivo, it was Fyodor Dostoevsky "Crime and Punishment: First Edtion" a very rare and expensive book.

"A gift, for your tribute to me.. for which i am grateful..." Julian smiled and gave a slight nod before he continued to talk "Yes, well.. we Ventrue have a particular taste and unfortunately have to stick to it, never fear comrade.. i am sure there are many who walk the streets who can fulfill your particular appetite.." Julian cupped his hands together and looked around the room for a moment "yes, your business.. i am a fair Prince and i approve of your business development.. you have my blessing." Julian nodded softly before holding his out out to shake Ivo's hand.