A rush of sensations. Sweat. Blood. Snow. Cinnamon. All these things combine into a heady energy. Feeding upon it, a deeper sensation. Energy Itself. Something of fire that lingers on the air, regardless of the health of the fire in the hearth. The glory of a Scottish winter is not its wealth of snow. It's primeval expression of Yuletide. It is the lengthy evenings. The sun sets early behind thick layers of clouds. And stirring comes much earlier, at least for one. That one striding into the Great Hall.
     He is clothed for winter across several centuries. Thick woolen gloves and woolen gear cover him, in black and greys like a mottled falcon. Leathers beneath this, soft and pliant, but held against his skin to capture his own warmth. The longer portions of his black hair has been gathered back behind him in a short tail, held by a leather thong. He looks to be the barbarian he was born to be, does he not? Beautiful. Terrible. Damnable. And all at once. Around his shoulders, it is neither cloak nor jacket but something of both. He looks Medieval. In short, William is in the full force of Himself. His stride is quicker than normal, and his hands are rubbing together as he enters the hall. Seeking immediate warmth.

     In the great hall, there is not one, but several trees that have been brought within from the land surrounding the castle. Lights festoon a few trees outdoors, but within, ornaments and decorations of centuries dangle brightly from the arbors that light the Hall. Not so far from one, sits Ian, covered by several blankets. Near him, a table of drinks and a laptop, other side, one of the staff trees, littered with gifts below. Some have been opened for Christmas Day, but many await the next morning, and Boxing Day instead.
     He looks up as you enter, turning the book upside down upon his lap. "I heard you were out," Ian smirks, the regal comfort gone through and through now, "I couldn't believe it." He laughs as finger touches his own cheek, lips upturned. "Where did you all go?" Of course, you would never go out alone. Not up here, not in this weather. And what Lord would leave without Liegemen? That is what they are now, those around here. They realize that you both will not depart them again for a while.
     In another part of the hall, a short meal is finished by staff. The young cooks wave, having served the House its dinner, and only now get to eat their own. With Ian alone, they were content to sit by the north fireplace, one of three in the room, but with your arrival, they pick up to move back to the kitchen areas, and leave you to your privacy.

     The blood and sweat -- this is his. And he has been in some amount of exertion to both be heated and freezing all at once. The distance is closed quickly, and there is but a moment's pause. And that to kiss you and whisper words of Gaelic adornment. Gloves are removed and his hand skims your hair. "I was out looking for another gift for you... " William looks to you where he stands, yet in that pause. His indigo eyes dark and alive with color. With passion. With some hunt? His baritone voice has lost a goodly portion of its Frankish tones and holds now the lilt of Gaelic. Even when speaking English, Scotland colors him. A half-brogue. Not as full as yours, and never shall it be. But, for a Norman, it is close.
     The smile spreads, living love across his lips. His face is flushed. "I missed the mark... obfuscate and all... " A tsk made and held in his throat. "But for more moon and less snow, I should have brought you a stag across my shoulders..." Indigo flickers as a wink is cast, and William bends again. A kiss placed upon your lips again. Never enough of that. You can feel it, as much as know he is thinking it. William is quite chilled, and yet beneath all the wool and leather he is quite warm. He rises, tucking gloves away and starting to move more toward the fire. "I'll be regretting it once the feeling sets in, to be sure. How long have you been awake?" comes his murmurs. His attention upon you, constant as it may be.

     The kiss may have been quick, but it was sweet. The first of the night. Ian's lips are slow to depart, but as you rise, finger brushes upon them softly. "Oh," he sighs about his night, "...not too long....I awoke, had a bath, dressed, and eventually came here. I guess a little over an hour," he surmises, turning wrist over to see his watch. "Mmm, more like two," he realizes, brows bouncing. "That is it," Ian confirms, reaching over to pick up a cup. White turtleneck is thick, more like layers upon layers of unfinished wool. Made by someone in house, certainly. "Now," he smirks, blonde hair left to its own devices around his face, brown furs covering his lap to the floor, "...what's this about a...stag?" Out there? He looks behind you to see the rest of the crowd and whether they followed.

     He sees that look. Yes, out there. "I thought I might be able to thrush the bushes for something. This weather..." William exhales, his head tipping back. There is a slight wince for the first thawing -- or a bit of a smile. His hands before the flames, William crouches. Balancing upon the balls of his feet. His boots are a stag hide, but are lined with fleece. Quite warm. And quite silent when he wishes it to be so, no doubt.
     The cloak-coat is removed and shrugged off. A hand reaching out and tossing it to a nearby chair. He turns his head, blue-violet eyes fastening upon you. Fully. "... it puts me in a mood, as you know. So...this ... twilight I went out with two others and headed out..." He is bathed in golden light and made bronze. Burnished. It suits him. And he seems flecked with fire for the beading of sweat near his temples and upon his flushed face. Smooth pulls the grin. "It was red...long-haired...hard to miss. And harder to catch. I was as surprised to see him, as he me... but as it is... I've come home empty-handed." He sighs. Poor Medieval Man. "But... you have gifts waiting on you... would you like them now... or shall we wait for the children?" Raven brows wag momentarily.

     Dunross laughs at the wagging, cupping his drink with both hands. Small sips, to be sure, as it is scotch carried upon a bit of tea. The tea alone could certainly make him ill. "Surprises in the night," he comments, "I can imagine," face open, bright, and teasing, "...the poor stag's predicament." He smirks and drinks more of his warm beverage, explaining, "I guess we could wait for them..." he looks to one of the doors that would come from their turret, "...but...well," he thinks again, head cocking, "...no, I...have something to show you," he says softly. "It...is not a present, I mean...it's just...it's not wrapped or anything." He's a little nervous, whatever it is, not sure whether he has done well or not.
     "Should," he smiles, "...we go ahead and do our...gifts?" Or whatever they are, his face says.

     The Norman unfolds himself from his kneeling stance, and tales of hunts fall away. As discarded as the snow from his longcoat of wool and fur. The look softens, warms. And the dark eyes are filled with shards of violet. Colors that the nearby fire brings to life.
     It is not about gifts, though from a gift-giving culture... to do so is a pleasure. But it is for that look upon your face. Warmth is a wash upon his beautiful features, pulled in the curve of his smile. William moves toward you, the languid stride potent... or perhaps it is the leather that makes it seem so. Here, in a castle... as you are full lordly, the knight in him has resurfaced. "Whatever you have done for me this day," William murmurs, bending near you, smile spreading, "...I will adore it. You know this." Broad the grin, and wicked. "I have all I wish... and he is wrapped in furs... what more is there?" He chuckles and a knee comes to rest upon the seat of your chair as he leans in. "Before gifts... a kiss..." he says instead. It does not truly answer your question, does it. But does it matter? "I hope you like what I have... arranged for you. And do not fear, it has nothing to do with your stableboys... "

     With you above him, Ian can do little but allow his head to rest back upon the tall seat. "Oh, good," he smiles, shaking his head a little at you. Incorrigible. His look is enticing, a gentle thread pulling to keep him flat against the seat's cushions. Desire shall rule here, and if a kiss is what you want, it is yours to claim -- not his to give. But he'll give you reason to wish to claim it, eyes taking interest in your knightly wear this eve. From ahead to upwards, grey eyes move, and his lips part to exhale softly into the warmth of the room.

     The look does much. For him, the upward silver-grey gaze...the parted lips. William holds the kiss pendulous in the moment. Caught in it. Dark eyes held in fascination eternal. And then the motion. The chair is wooden, so there is no give. Not give but to the cushion upon it. And the space between you become electric, alive with the energy that pushes and pulls. The attraction, the unfolding. How could the kiss be anything but heated? Even slow and pulling and sweet as it comes, there is always fire behind it. William closes his eyes and there is an upward roll to the motion of it. This, to steady his perch upon your chair. "Is there room for us both here," William murmurs at your mouth, kiss parted. He smiles there, gaze warm and smile slanting. "I'm mostly thawed, but well could your arms and furs suit me..." Ah, or should you rather make him hold this ...fire of his and let it warm him in the pause for ... exchanging adorations and endearments, wrapped or non?

     "We," Ian whispers, grinning a winning blush, "...said we would do our gifts, yes?" Before you get distracted once more this holiday. "Then...we can sit, hmm?"

     William chuckles quietly and he straightens. "Aye... we did at that..." And you are wise to make him wait, and he... shall revel in it. Knowing what... fire and sweetness it shall bring later. Standing again, he lifts his hands, untying the thong and his hair falls free. Damp, where snow has melted. "I will have to have your staff tend to fetching yours... they're...hidden away... so... " William sweeps low in a bow, "... I give it to you to begin." Straightening again, William half-turns, seeking a warm drink of his own.

     "Okay," Ian smiles, slithering from his seat. Cup is set aside and the furs are lifted from his lap. Beneath, something that looks like flannel. Something must stave away the chill of the dead. "You...have to come with me," he smiles, motioning towards a doorway that's been seldom used. "I don't know if you've seen it yet," Ian smiles tenderly, putting his furs on his seat, "I didn't want it to be obvious...and not tell you to go to the south library tower," he explains, reaching for your hand, "...but then again, I also thought...Will will never go to the library anyway," he snickers, liking the tease.

     An incredulous look spreads into a broad and vipered grin. Well he knows that the library is the last place he would visit. A laugh is held in his throat, captive, the deep sound resonating in his chest. And a subtle rise of ruddiness spreads across his face. He turns to follow you. Curiosity tightening the energy that swirls around him. This, and you. His hand extends to meet your own, his fingers clasping and giving a slight squeeze for the teasing. "I prefer being read to...rather than reading myself. Why do it thus when there are servants standing idle." Too smooth to be a quip, but Plantagenet nonetheless. William casts a wink to you, and in the glimmer of dark eyes, there is love there. And a joke of his own. "So... lead the way... afterall, you know where the... books are..."

     His fingers twine around yours, and Ian pads across the room towards one of the south doors. "I..." he inhales, "...have never told you about this...I always figured, perhaps you knew. But, since," he glances behind to you as he enters the stairway, "...we are going to be here..." he blushes and smiles, "...more..." almost giddy to say it, "...I decided to put it all together...so you would know." The final depth of it all.
     "Remember...those kunstraums?" Ian wonders, knees lifting as he climbs in a circle higher and higher. The south library, the gallery, a bedroom or two...can't be too much this way. "You know, like Kellner's collection in Germany?" The old traditions of collecting crap from all over the world and trying to impress people with it; rooms and rooms of trinkets from the dark peoples, silks and birds from east of Samarkand...

     Raven brows slowly lift to this, and wonder has descended upon his features. The laughter and grins and the flush of hunting has quieted. "Aye," he says slowly, and a smile is hinted at. Held more in his gaze then upon his lips. William listens to your explanation. And now does the grin begin to return. "I ... have never seen such...here...." The languid baritone is leading. Awaiting. Expecting you to explain more... or demonstrate. "What ... have you been hiding all this time?" Curiosity returns, lifting to his gaze again. Resting upon his features.

     An older woman enters, to check on the lords that were sitting there. She sees no trace of them, and instead begins to clear the cups. She will refresh them. The fire is high in the hearth and warms the room entire. The winds outside are high, the snow moving in fits. But the hall is surprisingly comfortable. Now, it is still cold for certain, but not as much as one might expect...
     In the great hall, there's an open door and familiar voices come from it. As Victoria enters, the older woman continues her cleaning of the dishes, giving a wide smile as she nods at the pretty lady whom she can't understand. She glances to the open doorway and the voices coming from the turret.
     In the great hall, there is not one, but several trees that have been brought within from the land surrounding the castle. Lights festoon a few trees outdoors, but within, ornaments and decorations of centuries dangle brightly from the arbors that light the Hall. One of the staff trees is littered with gifts below. Some have been opened for Christmas Day, but many await the next morning, and Boxing Day instead.

     Victoria smiles and nods to the woman as she enters, not even bothering trying to speak and letting her expression do it for her. She notes the other two over by the fire and waves as she makes her way across the room, "Evening. It looks like the weather is still lovely outside."

     The woman looks up at the sound of someone entering, a now familiar voice. Her following smile is wide and warm, her face ruddy. Though she is hard to understand -- her accent is a coil of Celt, moreso than ever Ian's seems -- she does seem to say: "Good evening, good to see you again -- Merry Christmas. Would you like anything warm to drink?" Now, you might have missed a word or two, but it seems genuinely pleasant.

     Turning around, Ian stops in his path. Dressed in some flannel and a white turtleneck, his hand is firmly in William's, as if they were heading somewhere. "Oh," he swivels, "....you are..." awake? Alive? He comes up with, "...visible." Hmm. Ah well. Wherever they were heading, it comes to a stop. "And yes, it's still lovely out," he smiles, not a hint of sarcasm in it. "Merry Christmas."

     Nodding once more she laughs, "Yes, I'm visible. Ui's not yet, I'm afraid, I don't know where he got off to." She grins and nods, "Merry Christmas to both of you." Gesturing to the door where the both of you were heading she says, "If you were in the middle of something, don't let me stop you. I'll just read for a bit until you get done or something."

     Whatever words of gifts and surprises had begun are halted as he hears not one but two voices -- both female. William half-turns, his stride paused. The wonder that had made smiles slight in thought now leaves him for something darker, warmer. The air around him is alive, and he is dressed... much as he might have been hundreds of years ago -- and yet, it has touches of the Modern about it. He is comfortably astride Past and Present. William inclines his head, partly damp hair draping back. "Merry Christmas, Victoria... and we'll send the dogs after Ui in an hour if he does not show, hmm?" He looks to Ian, his gaze lingering there a time. Warmth. "We can do the gift after...aye?"

     "Aye," Ian says, his accent these days tumbling towards something unintelligible, "....we can later." William's hand is squeezed, and he leads them back towards the seating area near the south tree where the tea service was left. "I hope you're finding everything fine," he smiles, "...even the cold. Not too chilled in your apartments, is it?"

     The hand yet captured is used as leverage, as its parent arm winds about Ian. He wears a coat of William at his back, to be sure. The going is slow, but it is warm. And Williams' accent, though the baritone is as languid as ever, there is a lilt to it. Gael-touched, until the French has all but departed. It has only taken three days. William leans against Ian as they move back toward the fire.

     Victoria clears her throat a little and shakes her head, "Ah, no. No, it's fine really. Makes you appreciate central heat and air a little more but I'd hate to change anything about the castle it's wonderful." She smiles and really sounds like she means that, not sarcastic or snide at all, "I'm sure you're glad to be home."

     "I am," Ian grins, looking more relaxed with each passing night. He's golden and young, with William around him, shuffling to the seat. "There is nothing like one's home." A mantra to live by...and one he tried to impart upon the permanent citizenry of New Port. "What say you, Will?" Ian asks, turning his face to look upon his shoulder.

     Across the great hall, a couple of servants enter to see about a tree. They come with a pitcher, bending to apparently fill the base.

     Something has changed in William. Or, better said, a part of him held in check is now unpacked for all eyes to look upon plainly. There is such a difference in him. The prince of New Port seems nowhere evident. In his place, a Prince yet. But one in his element. He fits this castle, and he in turn wears it well. There is a peace about him. A quiet strength that can only come from perfect ease. And perfect joy.
     Indigo eyes lift from Ian and settle upon Victoria. "I could not be more happy. It is not possible," comes the smooth baritone, lilting across the English he speaks. His strong arm -- and the strength there is evident, the wool of his sweater but shows it in every bend -- draws Ian back against him for an embrace. A kiss left upon him, before the hold begins to slowly unravel. "And... this..." a sweep of his other hand outward, "... give an appreciation for...furs and wool and thick blankets. Hot drinks..." He could go on. William looks to Ian then, his stance paused. Waiting for Ian to take a seat before him. "But I am happy you are here. It is a ...nice quiet Christmas..." He looks to Ian. "We should give her...her gift..."

     There's a sharp inhale from Ian, business face returning. Whatever it is, there is reluctance, but Ian nods at William as he retakes his seat. There are other spaces for you two, one of which is particularly close. Picking up his furs, Ian tosses the thick set back across his lap, crossing his legs underneath. "Funny, despite...knowing my intent...it's still..." he looks up at William, "...strange." He has spent twenty-five years dealing with the issue to now have to settle some affairs.

     Raising her eyebrows in curiosity, she really is nearly a cat sometimes, Victoria comes over and takes the seat that she figures William won't push her out of, picking up one of the blankets and settling in, "Oh?" Noticing the change she doesn't somehow seem entirely over excited about the whole thing briefly, but then again whatever it is it is.

     "Maybe...you should explain..." Ian looks to William, "...what is going on...or the rest will make no sense."

     All gazes are for Ian now, and William simply nods. Some seriousness returning, it would seem. His gaze, however, holds the softness of understanding. "I know." He looks to Victoria, his smile slightly returning. Slight though it is, it is warm. And he settles in the chair closest to Ian. A lordly sprawl to stretch out his long legs. The leather both gives and does not give. It both clings, and is gathered. Where it may. Where it must. The firelight plays on him, and though it is warm, he does look around for his own blanket or furs. Where is that serving woman? Before he can tend to that, he looks back to Victoria. "Your gifts are many this years, Victoria," he murmurs. "Some... will not be wrapped in ribbons and bows, but ... still... it is something we will present you with."
     Indigo flickers as he glances to Ian. He knows no other way but to say it fully. And to Ian he nods. When his attention returns to Victoria, it does so with deep eyes warm with the air around him -- the love that is unmasked, the evident friendship between those here. But there is something of ...pronouncement upon his features. It but makes him seem ever the king he nearly was. "I have... left my post as prince of your city, Victoria Gifford," he murmurs. "And we..." he looks to Ian and then back to her. "... are returning to Europe. We have but... a few things to.. tend to, and then... we will be leaving..."

     Victoria's eyes widen in surprise, not perhaps as much as you might have expected but certainly surprise is there, "I knew you would be leaving but I didn't expect it to be quite so sudden...." She looks puzzled, "Has something else happened? Is there something that you need to attend to here rather than staying in Oregon?" She pulls the blanket up over her shoulders a bit and leans on one side of the chair, figuring that you'll explain what you wish to now.

     "No, nothing has happened," Ian's face warms. Easily he speaks about it, knowing his path. "We...are done in New Port," he explains, "...very simply. We have done..." he glances at William, "...what we do. We were not meant long for the city, but we," the regal one, "...have particular roles in the Camarilla at this stage of our existence, and we have done what we were to do in and for New Port." Opinion there, but at some level, not much more matters. "And we..." he looks to William again, "...are ready to be home." Whatever has transpired between them, he speaks not of directly, but certainly, something has occurred. For his part, Ian is little of the man who berated your ennui and lack of spirit two years earlier, or at least seems less of that.

     Black hair half-veils his dark gaze as William shakes his head. "It was merely time. And I firmly believe in leaving a city better than I found it. And I wish to leave... when such is so apparent." It is how he is known. When he has led a city for Camarilla causes, it has been for similar reasons, with similar results. "But..." indigo eyes settle upon Ian and the smile grows. "It is true..." and now his attention is midway between you both. "... what Ian has said. And... we are ready to be home." The grin shows itself, here in its beginning upon the sensuous mouth, the dark eyes. "Look at us here... and tell us it does not suit us...." He chuckles.
     "There is a time for every thing, and now it is time to come home. And to stay home for a time." There is no mention of what has happened between them. But to the observant, it could not be missed. The energy is different. There is peace and love and there is understanding. On every level. And they are ... different men than they appeared to be even so little as a year ago. "We have some things to discuss now... of your future... and of what we will be able to present you with... " So says the Ventrue Knight and Prince to his ward.

     Laughing she shakes her head at William's grin. Victoria smiles, though there is a bit of sadness to it, "Well I can't in honesty say that we won't miss you a great deal. It will be a completely different city without the two of you there... but if you think it's for the best then I'm sure that it will be. And it isn't as though we can't track you down if we need to I'm sure?" She adds a questioning lilt onto the end just to make sure, but somehow she can't believe that you would just drop the two of them without any way to get in touch with you. "I'm sure you've already told the council then?"

     William nods to that, another glance to Ian given. "I have and it was accepted. Without issue." He pauses, the smile slanting suddenly. Wickedness held in the gaze. Damnably endearing. "I'm not sure what that ...says truly, but better to be thanked for going than routed out with pitchforks..." A chuckle is held after in his throat and he settles back with an exhale. "And yes... you will have a way to contact us... should you need... or want to. Naturally."

     "It knows," Ian nods sagely, blonde hair looking the golden crown. "And they understand that where Plantagenet goes, so do I. And, in truth, much of my own work has been done for the last year." As Primogen. He raises a brow, "When I return to New Port after the holidays," Ian goes on, voice clear, "...my plan is to inform the council that you will be the next Ventrue Primogen." Said easily. Looking more the boy-king, Ian's expression evens laissez faire, with the distance accorded royalty.
     "I expect," he says, staring grey at Victoria, "...you will do the position the justice it deserves -- with the strength and force of its previous owner and with the grace and commitment to service and responsibility that defines this Clan." The Ventrue Baggage shared. "I am also certain that your own Sire would expect no less, Victoria Gifford."

     Victoria's eyes widen again at that in slight surprise, not enough to be construed as the idea that she doesn't think she could handle it because that would be political suicide, but enough to evidence that she really didn't expect it to move that quickly, "Of course... I'm not sure that I can replace you in any sense, but I will of course do everything that I can to maintain the honor and interests of the Clan in the city." The mention of her sire gives her expression a brief shift in glance but returning to its previous appearance she nods, "I'm sure he'll be pleased, of course..."

     "It doesn't of course matter if Maximilian is pleased or no," comes the mull of William's own voice. It echoes in the space of this stone chamber. Slightly. For vampiric ears alone. And he seems to mean that. "You are of this Clan in your own right... and now... in your youth, you shall be leading it. It is your entrance... to the larger universe we have so often mentioned. But," William adds softly, something of warmth in his eyes. "I believe you will do well... "
     William looks to Ian then. "Do you wish to discuss the properties," he whispers to him. There is deference here... and the give-and-take of spouses that was not always so evident in New Port. Politics is stepping away from its place in their relationship. At least for a time.

     "He might think you are not prepared," Ian says, waving a hand, "...your age and lack of previous political appointment before, unless you have held one somewhere, cause me concern." He will let you decide. It is your Unlife...or death. "In truth," he shrugs, "...I will disagree with William. It will matter if Maximilian is pleased." Sires have their way of undermining things. "But, you know your Unlife. Deal with it as you may. The truth is...you have no choice on this mantel. You must wear it. Is that not the way of all things?" He sighs and smiles a little as he looks to William, "But yes, this is your entrance. And as a result, there are a few elements which you should be aware of, if you were not already." He takes his time, Ian does, grey eyes returning to the young woman. "We can start with the properties, or elsewhere, if that intrigues you more?"

     There is only a half-grin for a sire's disagreement. There is nothing more. In fact, he may have said what he said in hopes of hearing such a response. William settles fully in the embrace of his chair, hands folding, interlaced, against his stomach. After a moment, one hand reaches out and lifts a portion of Ian's own fur and coverings. In a hope that it might be shared across the short distance between the chairs.

     Victoria shakes her head, deferring to the other two in deciding the topic of discussion, "Whichever you think would be best to begin with, please." Properties? My goodness. She looks up and her expression both softens a bit and brightens as she sees someone coming down the stairs from the tower, "Well there he is. You won't have to let the dogs loose after all."

     In the great hall, there is not one, but several trees that have been brought within from the land surrounding the castle. Lights festoon a few trees outdoors, but within, ornaments and decorations of centuries dangle brightly from the arbors that light the Hall. One of the staff trees is littered with gifts below. Some have been opened for Christmas Day, but many await the next morning, and Boxing Day instead.
     In the direction of the fire, and in three gathered chairs are Victoria, William and Ian. Ian in a white turtleneck of thick wool. William in a thick woolen hand-knitted sweater of black and grey.

     There's a glance to Ui, but the festive mood has become momentarily sobered. Ian goes on, "I would rather hear what you want to hear first." Simply said, his hand moves across his chin as he looks at the young woman. "You have information you need, as Primogen. What do you want to hear about first?" Is it a test? Absolutely. Your priorities are not his...and he's staring to see what yours are.

     "Bloody hellfire and Damnation.. when you make a secret passage Ian, you don't fuck around." Ui's eyes sparkle a little as he makes his way into the room laughter coming from his lips. Beware Doctors bearing gifts: two, of equal size. "I found the entrance, but do you think I could find my way... He rolls his eyes at himself and then he blinks as he hears the last of Ian's statement. Woo, deer in headlight. "Wha..?" He looks from William, to Victoria, to Ian. "Um. Ah..." Yeah, way to go Ui, dazzle them with your articulate nature.

     In the moment of quiet, Ian adjusts the blankets and furs a little, sending more of them towards William's seat next to his.

     For his part, William is rather remarkably silent. Only his gaze shifted from Ian and Victoria... to take in the whirlwind entrance of Ui. His gaze holds a grin, his lips but a smirk. And a finger is placed to his lips -- asking for blustering's end -- and then to Ui, a motion of his hand to call him further in. He will explain in a moment. But first... Victoria. It is to her William looks again, his hands moving independent of his eyes to capture the granted furs. Added warmth that makes him sigh.

     Curled up in a blanket on the chair on the other side of Ian, the wife of the good exploring doctor raises her eyebrows a little, "Get lost again? I thought I told you to put your hand on the left side of the wall until you got out. That's always how to get out of mazes." Her mood returns to it's earlier business like nature rather quickly however and she moves her gaze to Ian again, "Well, first of course I'd like to know who is going to be prince now that William won't be in the role any longer. I think I know all the other clan members in the city fairly well and many of the others additionally. Are there any other changes that would make a difference in the structure of things?"

     He'll defer that information to William. Ian glances over to his other side again, hand returning to stroke his chin in thoughtful repose.

     Well as it goes whirlwinds have a tendency to sputter and die if you throw something like that up into their faces. He sort of makes his way into the area, finding a seat and just... like the good childe he be, shutting his face. It's one of the first lessons and he damn well is falling back on it now.
     Falling into a chair more than anything he just... looks at Victoria. Blink. Ui's eyes are wide however as he sets the packages aside absently.. them both forgotten.

     "Though I have been grooming Victoria Whitethorne to ascend upon my departure, it is... not her time." William pauses, his eyes holding Knowing. Thoughtfulness. Consideration. "Her time is coming. But it is too soon. It has passed to Gabriel da la Cruz, of Clan Tremere..." There follows that announcement, a slight downward trend to his smirk. "For howsoever long as it shall last...."
     William looks to Ui, including him now. "I shall summarize..." comes the lilt of his deep voice, played upon by the Gaelic he has been speaking since arriving. "I have... declared my abdication to the Council and will be leaving New Port," he explains softly to Ui. And to Victoria once more. "Gabriel de la Cruz... has an... unique idea of how to work with the Council. It will require... diligence... and alacrity..."

     "Too subtle," Ian says suddenly. "Gabriel is like his clan...rather rotten to the core." Ah, one never says Ian Dunross does not speak his mind. "He will lie, he will cheat, he will do quiet manipulations to consolidate his pathetic need for self-valuation. It is in your interest to watch him at all times and find means to secure the Clan's and your own personal interests," eyes going between the younger two. "And in the end, you should perhaps slowly encourage Whitethorne to the position of Prince."

     Leaving... abdication gone, and Victoria Primogen, good lord, there's just a wee bit to deal with here all at once. Ui just looks to his Sire, his wife... and something just is there. He relaxes and just settles into the relaxed pose of the doctor. It's something that when all else fails he can go to and relax into. His look to the wife is one of, Oh we'll have a little talk about this but he smiles.. something akin to pride or something.

     "She will not need too much encouragement...." William offers. "But ... her heart sometimes gets in the way of her... drive?" He looks between you all. "She is good, she is trusting. Gabriel has already put this to use. He will continue to do so..." He pauses for a moment. "Gabriel's weakness... his self-loathing... his need for validation and... approval, even perhaps love... this... perhaps you will find useful. But beware, even of that. He is not to be trusted. I could afford to trust him. I can kill him..." The lips twitch at the corners. "That is the true nature of trust, yes?" William settles his attention on Victoria. Waiting her further reply.

     Victoria nods while she thinks about both, "I've never liked him all that much, and I like Tori a great deal so that makes perfect sense of course. And it's more than liking either one, Gabriel will never tell the Primogen everything that we need to know about a given situation, just what he feels like they will accept as most of the information." She ponders for a moment, automatically shifting a bit to share her own blanket with her husband though she doesn't precisely glance over at him. "What about Orlock? Does he have an opinion?"

     And as sudden, comes Ian's voice, "Time for silence is over, Ui Nader. Victoria Gifford must have your public word as well as your private one." And he knows. "Your silence gets her nothing."
     To the question, Ian nods, "He does, but Justin Orlock is more concerned about individuals making sure they know he is a force. He fancies himself...a behind the scenes broker. This...is untrue. He is prime when speaking of brute force, but do not let him turn that into quiet and subtle threat. He will try. Make sure he realizes he's failed with you, when he attempts it." Grey eyes slide to Ui, brows arching as if to say, 'Got anything to add?'

     "Okay, now for the moment let me just try and look at things a little more pragmatically. For the moment, Victoria is going to become Primogen.. that.. I guess makes sense seeing as how she would be the eldest Ventrue in the city... but. She's not that old, and personally that makes her a pretty big attractive target." He hmms. "Now.." He looks to his wife, "I know you've made friends as you could, but,"
     And for a moment, the majesty falters before the bond, "Do you want this Angel?" Pause. "Do you think you can handle this? I'm.. here for you one way or the other." He smiles softly, "Have you thought this through?"

     Indigo flickers from Ui and Victoria to Ian. William settles back. On this subject, he shall let Ian speak. The same smile, held just at the corners of his mouth, does not wane. William looks around the hall, seeking a servant. And then...calling one. Silently.

     At Ui's voice, Ian turns his gaze to his centuries-old partner. It is in conversations as these do Bonds grow -- personal, political, social...those links one needs to insure the health of you both. Perhaps the younger two will benefit from what took another two a long time to learn. A smile grows with William's, a mirror. For the moment, he'll let them have the floor. Grey eyes look instinctively the same directions as William's do, communication in eternal details.

     A hand, and its golden gleaming ring, reaches outward. A touch landing, skimming against Ian. It only echoes a touch invisibly laid. William's smile spreads broadly as a servant comes in. They can read his looks by now. So well by now that his own desires might be answered before the askance falls from his lips. The elder woman smiles to him and turns. Warm drinks come moments after. Something heated and sweet...

     She soaks in all the information given to her like a sponge, mentally noting down information as it is given to her with rapid speed, as well as the tones and biases that might be sent with them. Looking over to Ui her eyebrows raise just slightly, "Of course I want it, and you're right it may be a little unconventional but really there isn't anyone better for the job than I am. I'm certainly not going to let someone less qualified than me take the position, that would leave the clan at a disadvantage. We're already going to have to compensate for the fact that William and Ian are going to be gone, which means that it will leave us to prove that it is the clan itself that is strong, not the individuals in power which give it all of its strength. Gabriel is going to try and railroad anyone who takes the position and at least I have some idea of what I'm dealing with in him, otherwise it's going to leave us without representation in the council."

     Ah... Ventrue Women... it's really a shame that William and Ian can't and won't handle them. Perhaps it takes such a finesse that Ui possesses. He's going to enjoy this one way or another and he'll probably do so grinning all the way. Ui's eyes sparkle and he just winks along with his own smile, one not for the other men in the room. "Okay." Ui doesn't need excess verbiage to express his approval, it emanates from every pore in his body. And he nods. Satisfied.

     The matching hand reaches for William's as he too tries to ignore the discussion between the New Partners. But Ian and William can never be wallflowers. Ian gives his attention to William and the drinks, letting things transpire for a bit.

     Victoria leans over and drops a quick kiss on the top of Ui's head before turning again to William and Ian, "Alright, I've got another question, are there any other contenders for other seats on the council? Most of the other clans haven't been very well represented lately as far as I can tell really, do you think that this will mean that people step forward?"

     Can't? That is not the issue, nor has it ever been thus. But... having grown up in beds of intrigue, he would just as soon have one portion of his Existence free of daggers.
     As the drinks arrive -- a pitcher of the warm, mulled mead left behind for refreshing -- William looks between the younger partnered Ventrue. The same half-smile yet playing upon his lips. Held in warmth upon beautiful features. His fingers curl around Ian's own, and then reluctantly part. Only to take the newly arrived drink. "New Port is a small city," William murmurs. "But it is possible that Gangrel, Malkavian and Brujah may have up and coming members. This... in fact... is what you should see to, Victoria. Something you... could perhaps make use of..."

     "Exactly. I would see that you speak much to Sabine," Ian says. "She is not exactly as she appears," he notes. "I think you, being younger, might find a long-term partnership, if you can cultivate it." He watches the drinks for a second, then says, "Red...might be another to speak to, when you have the time -- and can find him." Elbow rests upon the arm of his chair, the boy-king taking a pause with chin settling in his hand. "I cannot imagine more elders showing suddenly, but one can never be too sure."

     William adds softly, "Red is only two years into this life... from my counting..." William sips at the mead and then closes his eyes. The steam is swallowed and then the sweet drink after. "And he is neutral... upon my allowance. Still," indigo eyes flicker as he lifts them to Victoria, "you should find him... he has... a good head on his shoulders for one so young."
     William glances to Ui and grins blithely. No offense.

     Now falling silent for the most part, he smirks at that when William grins towards him. A grunt.. but it turns into a genuine smile. "Riiight." And for that then Ui just finds his wifeís hand and interlaces the fingers.

     "Next," Ian says, letting Victoria drive this conversation, eyes flitting back to her. Hand reaches towards William, as if to share his drink.

     She nods and thinks for a moment, "I don't think I've met them but I'll be sure and keep an eye out to do so when we get back. Getting the other seats filled would make a difference in the way that Gabriel has to treat the council politically at least."
     She thinks again, setting her chin in her hand on the arm of the chair while she links her hand with Ui's absently, "What's going to happen with the gallery and Elysium and winery and everything else now? Are you going to keep your interests there and just manage them in abstentia, or sell them off?"

     Another swallow of mead, and the cup is offered to Ian. There is intimacy shared, even in this. A thousand small acts between them. William looks to Victoria, and then to each of you in turn. "The gallery is already tended to. It will remain in New Port, much as Euphoria yet remains in San Francisco. The scope will, of course, be vastly different." He makes a slight wave. "The vault is being converted to office space..." He looks to Ian, an exhale there. "I wanted to save the frescos, amours, but... that is the nature of the artform..."

     "The properties," Ian nods, looking back to the younger pair again. "My properties: Rancho del Cielo winery, the Lighthouse above Agate Beach...those will remain in ownership of Midlothian Enterprises." Himself. "Rhian Shipping and Lendsarme Pharmaceuticals will remain owned by Midlothian West. As Primogen," Ian notes, "...I will give you managing control of the Directorate in Silverleith Enterprises, which, by the way, remains owned by Keith Tanner. It will remain so." End of discussion on that.
     "But the lease to the floor you will maintain. RDC -- will understand you as the property manager. The lighthouse...will also see you as the same...with the owners in absentia." Taking the cup from William, he flashes him a smile, "And...I hate the frescoes will go...but...it is...understandable." To Victoria, he returns, "I am not prepared to divorce my financial interests. I spent too long to orchestrate them."

     Victoria nods and her eyes widen, "I'm glad to hear it, the city would suffer a great deal if you did so I think. Between the two of you so many of the industries in the area that I would hate to think of what would happen if you didn't keep them." She smiles, "Thank you very much for entrusting them to us, it's more than generous of you, I certainly didn't expect that. I just thought you might have someone manage them." It certainly is a night of adjustments for the two of them it seems, "Thank you again."

     There's a nod from Ian, blonde crown shifting as he looks to all those present. "If you wish..." Ian looks to Ui and Victoria, "...to move into the lighthouse, I am sure you will find it a lovely place. I cannot say who knows of the owners, but if you feel secure and are interested in a change of view, it is an option for you both." Did you know they lived at the lighthouse? "Or, the ranch house, of course," he finally taking a sip of that drink before giving it back to William.

     And even then was his hand reaching out to take the cup. There is a harmony to this all. More so than perhaps has ever been so evident to the eye. Here, unmasked and unchecked. No political propriety taking precedence. William takes a sip of the drink. Slightly cooler now, for the back-and-forth offering. "The lighthouse... is a comfortable residence. It is easy to forget one is in New Port." A grin shows at the rim of the cup. He looks to Ian and then to Ui and Victoria. "Is there anything else you wish to know?"

     There's a silent acceptance about things and Ui just nods in agreement with his wife, sire, and now primogen. "Thank you both..." As for anything else to ask, he's just content to leave things be and just watch. There's a whole surreal quality to it all right now. Ui'll no doubt come crashing down soon enough.

     Victoria thinks again for a moment, "I'm sure I'll come up with other things to ask you about, but I can't think of them right at the moment. I'm afraid I am a little surprised at how quickly everything is going."

     "Certainly," Ian nods, grey eyes seeming silver in the dissipated firelight. "Why...do we not pause on these topics for now...we have time to get into them into more detail later, hmm? I'm sure you have much to consider," he diplomatically offers. Perhaps William has rubbed off on him.

     "I entered into it... seeing this day ahead of me," William answers quietly, a sip of warm mead taken. The cup is held for a moment, untasted. But even then, it's warmth is swallowed. Indigo eyes look upon you all, each in turn. A broadening smile for Ian's sudden turn of diplomacy. A chuckle is held in his throat. "I do not wish to spend a political Christmas, non. Too many I had of those as a young man." He nods and he lets it drop, looking to Ui and Victoria. As if giving the floor to them. He offers the last swallow of his mead to his sire-lover.

     Well as for that let it not be said that Ui doesn't know how to fill the space in silences to his own advantage. He grins. "Ha, well here you go then." And with that Ui pries himself out of the chair and picks up the two packages, Handing one to William and one to Ian he grins. "Well I hope you two like these, they were.. fun in choosing, and they're as much for each other as they are for the two of you." Oh lord...lookout. Ui's eyes sparkle as he then takes his seat.

     Glancing over at her husband, Victoria looks a little puzzled. Apparently these are the ones from him specifically this year and she isn't quite sure what's in those dangerous boxes that he's handing over to you.

     After that... sparkling look... William does rather eye the package like a snake with a bow around its head. But the look does not last long. Quickly it converts to something like wonder. He examines the box a moment, "Is it edible armor or somesuch?" One never knows what one can find in America. Even as he speaks a finger slips between two folds of paper, beginning the unwrapping...

     A gift. More than he expected. Ian smiles as hands come from the blanket to accept the gift. "Well, thank you, Ui Nader," voice thoroughly broguish. He smirks and twists the box around, investigating it for a long while -- even as William begins to tear into his. Not that it'd be a pipe bomb, or anything...

Posted by rowan at December 21, 1999 12:34 PM