Steven eyed the mortal, and shifted, restless with anticipation. He had spoken to his Regent a day or two ago, and had asked her to approach the Prince after he was done with Court business. He had no worries about talking to the Prince; Jeremy Archdeacon, though full of himself, did not usually enforce strict Court protocol, and would speak to his subjects if they were in his good graces. It was, perhaps, to be expected of a Brujah, and probably sensible in a gathering as small as this one.
The herbalist, Rebecca Nelson, tended to stay to the edges of the gathering, much as he did, and approach individual members occasionally to speak with them. Steven felt again a wave of indignant surprise that they would let mortals like her into the court; there had been more earlier, but now it was just her. His gaze moved to a grey-suited, burly man in another corner of the room, bent over his computer, his reddish-blond hair glinting in the light. Mortals in the court were, of course, nothing to that thing being here.
The redhead picked up the cane next to him and walked across the room to speak with Lady. Steven watched as he passed by, still wary. Ezra might endorse the animal's presence here, he might have been here longer than Steven himself, he might be protected by the Treaty, but Steven still wasn't happy about having beasts in the court. Werewolves, of all things! It was like inviting a Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan to a black gospel church.
Steven shifted again. He had seen Ezra speak briefly with the Prince, but neither had approached him since. He kept his eye on Rebecca, hoping that he would get an answer before the end of the night. She was valuable, and he didn't want to let an opportunity like that pass by.
Movement caught the corner of his eye, and his attention focused on Jeremy, sauntering his way. The Prince came within easy conversational distance, and said casually, "So -- I've heard you want permission to Embrace."
Steven nodded, taut with apprehension. "Yes."
The Prince's voice lost its edge of humor. "I've heard you want permission to Embrace Rebecca."
"Yes." His voice was nearly inaudible.
Jeremy considered. "Well, I suppose as a favor, I can grant it to you..." He eyed the Tremere. "You have permission."
Steven remembered to nod in thanks as the Prince turned away. His relief and satisfaction warmed him, and he savored it a moment before turning his full attention to Rebecca. Now for the easy part.
He had gotten on her good side at least somewhat, and she considered him an ally; he had worked hard to appear humane, knowing that she valued that as a healer. He had been on her side in the issue of Sarah Donner, advocating that the missing FBI agent simply be stripped of memory, rather than killed outright if found. Personally, he would kill her out of hand, but that would hardly win any points with Sarah's would-be friend, and he wasn't against mindwiping per se. It would just be easier to kill her.
Rebecca was talking with Elise, the childe of the late Prince Feld. Steven bided his time, waiting patiently for his chance to approach. His original plan had been to get into her good graces, then offer to help her with her herbalism; when her back was turned, he could slip a little of his blood into the brew. After a few potions, she would be bound to him, and be none the wiser. He could then initiate her into the Tremere as a ghoul at his leisure, or even Embrace her.
He had discarded that notion, realizing that he would rather have her voluntary cooperation. Her knowledge was valuable, and her mind more so -- better to have her agree to joining the ranks of the Tremere. She was a sorcerer of sorts, after all; she couldn't refuse the prospect of superhuman abilities, or even the power of Thaumaturgy as a full Kindred. It was very tempting, especially for someone who knew about them, and why else would she be here but to get closer to the Kindred?
Finally she moved away and stood to one side of the court, observing. He walked toward her, nodding a greeting and standing beside her for a moment, looking out over the gathering. In a tone that didn't sound too strained, he murmured, "Rebecca?"
Over her shoulder, she said, "Yes?"
"I remember, in the past, you've mentioned feeling frightened and powerless... There are ways to correct that. One is to become more like us." He paused, collecting words carefully. "I can... arrange that."
Her look was wary. "What do you mean?"
He went slowly, keeping his voice even, quiet. "I would like to offer you the opportunity to partake of Kindred blood." She was silent, and he continued, "It has many benefits... Our blood grants abilities beyond those of mortals."
She still said nothing, her face partly hidden as she frowned and looked at her feet. He went on, somewhat hastily, "I'm not necessarily talking about Embrace, at least not yet, not unless you want that..." She was so hard to read; what was she thinking? Doubt crept into his mind, and he waited, wondering.
Her head raised a little, though she didn't look at his face. Hesitantly, still frowning, she murmured, "I have to think about it... Can I give you an answer later?"
"Of course, of course. Think it over -- I don't need an answer right now." Steven made his voice soothing, trying to reassure her. He could wait.
She nodded, and said nothing more. They stood there for a little bit, then he moved on around the court, leaving her to herself. The seeds were planted; now to wait for the harvest.
He idled for a few minutes, and the gathering began to break up, conversations coming to an end, people trickling away. Ezra came up to him and pulled him aside, then hissed in his ear, "Why didn't you tell me the Prince gave you permission?"
Taken aback, Steven looked at her, speechless. Her eyes were narrowed in irritation, and he abruptly felt like a small, confused boy dragged before his teacher for some wrongdoing. Surely Jeremy had told her as well? He must not have, and Ezra blamed him for that lack of information. He fumbled for a reply, and her mouth twisted. "We'll talk about this later."
She left him still wordless, suddenly feeling guilty that he hadn't told her right away. He respected Ezra as a person, and feared her displeasure; as his Regent, she had nearly unlimited power over him if she chose. He began to dread that promised 'talk' -- it would doubtless happen back at the chantry tonight.
Ezra left soon afterward, and Steven contemplated his options. Returning to the chantry wasn't very appealing, and he was moderately hungry. With a last glance at Rebecca, he left Elysium and climbed into his car.
He drove out to Berkeley, getting halfway to the chantry before he pulled onto a side street and parked. Colleges being as they were, he knew there had to be a party somewhere, and sure enough, he had found a frathouse giving a block-rocker. There would presumably be enough sorority girls that he could drink his fill, and enough alcohol to drown a sea of guilt.
Walking up the steps to the porch, he put aside his problems, and concentrated on the hunt.