"It was pretty good, I'd say that we all had fun." He looks at Misha's current state of undress and is able to deduce what she was up to. "And I'd say that you and Alana enjoyed yourselves as well."

"Yes, the game of yahtzee was most enjoyable." she said, without meesing a beet. "What deed you guys do?"

"Well, we had a little race to the top of the Hollywood sign and then we went to a nightclub that one of Sorrin's soldier buddies told him about."

"Excellent, and you are all een one peece. Thees pleases Misha." she gave her her red hair one last dry and tossed the towel off towards the bathroom. She put her hands on her hips. The level of definition of her abs was truly unfair. "I wonder who won zee race, ah?" she asked, thinking she had an idea of who might have.

"Sorrin won." Victor said, maintaining concentration on Misha's eyes instead of the less clothed parts of her body. "The benefits of being able to run real fast. Who won at Yahtzee?"

Misha considered the question for just a moment. ”Uhh..both of us!” she smiled. 

"Hmm. That really does sound like a fun game of Yahtzee." Victor said, wondering how long Misha is going to keep this up.

After a minute Alana calmly strode out of the bedroom, dressing in a baggy T-shirt that almost didn't look right on her. It was... Too plain? Too... Basic. But it didn't seem like she minded. A pair of soft shorts clung to her hips, her hair seemingly mainly dry and floofed. Seeing the others and catching the end of the conversation, a smile crept across her lips. "Misha hunny. I told you. You won. Yahtzee is a complicated game to learn for beginners. But I've always been bad at it." She then glanced to the others with a smile. "Seeing as you've all been out, I assume you'll want a shower?  They're both open if you'd like. Anyone want some wine? Perhaps Cabernet?"

Alessandra's aimless walking ended up with her going in the complete opposite direction of where the hotel was, the older vampire finally stopping in front of some building to check how late it was. It wasn't terribly late, but it certainly would be high time for her to start heading back to where her friends were. Yet... She turns back to the building she stopped in front of, noting its brilliant architecture, and of course, the cross that was apart of it. There had been something calling her to enter the church, beckoning her, similar to a time long ago where she stumbled upon the Church of Waukeen, a tiny voice telling her to go inside.

And just as before, she listened.

She entered the church carefully, surprised to see that it had even been open at this time. Her steps were hesitant as she walked up the chapel aisle, watchful for any figure that may be lingering about, but it seemed as if she were alone here. Cautious she was at approaching the crucifix at the end of the aisle itself, her eyes scanning up its massive size before she simply stood there to admire it. She wasn't religious by any means, though long ago she sought refuge in many church buildings, for safety's sake. Being surrounded by good, she would tell herself, would make her a good person too, no?

Though she hadn't sensed the man behind her until he spoke a greeting to her, Alessandra jumping at his voice, her eyes widened in surprise when she turned to look at him. Automatically, her gaze was drawn to his collar, easily deducing that he was the priest of this church and she had trespassed, and would more likely than not go to jail for it. Yet his smile was as kind as his gaze when he looked upon her, and the nerves she felt was very soon washed away. His presence was as soothing as his voice.

It was fairly late when Alessandra returned to the hotel room, the rest of the coterie having most likely had retired off to bed for the night. She was tired, the conversation with Father Lawrence was lengthy along with being emotionally and mentally exhausting, but also strangely enlightening. Whatever feeling of anxiety she had felt before was gone, he assured her of many things, and when she proposed the question Sorrin had asked her, his reply was simple and confident unlike hers back in the club.

She departed after an hour and a half of talking to him, the priest so kindly helping her order an Uber back to the hotel. He bid her a farewell after even exchanging numbers with her, saying, "If you need guidance, I am just a call away." She left the church feeling much better, a small smile dancing at her lips.

Now, all she wanted was to be held, and she didn't have to think twice on who she wanted to be embraced by tonight. Misha was Alessandra's comfort, her constant. Her presence was always welcoming, always warm and inviting, and it didn't take her forever to find which bed she had been resting in as her hair was the dead give away. She slid out of her clothes and slipped underneath the sheets, slithering comfortably into Misha's muscular arms, feeling almost as if she belonged there. With Misha's warmth surrounding her petite frame, it didn't take too long for her to finally drift off into a deep sleep.

It was nearing morning when Misha felt someone slide into her bed. She could easily tell who it was, despite any lingering scents from being out all night. Someone was off, but that would be a conversation for another time. Misha was sleeping on her side, like she usually did. Aless entered her bed, under the sheets, and spooned into her tightly. She stirred slightly from sleep to nestle into her and wrap her arms around Aless, giving her a soft peck on the back of her neck. Within minutes, Misha was asleep again, knowing happily that Aless was in her arms, as if she always belonged there. When evening came again, she kissed Aless and held her close, very close, always eager to remind her how much Misha's undead heart throbbed for her.

WELCOME TO THE FREE STATES

SCENE ONE - THE RANT
TASK: Since it's a new night, it's time to Rouse the Blood and awaken. Rise, pawns of the Camarilla. Remember, whenever you Rouse, whatever you were trying to do always succeeds, we're just determining if you grow Hungrier as a result.

Wearing her leathers and baseball cap around the back, Misha gave herself one last look over in the mirror. She nodded, satisfied. She definately looked like one of the Anarch Brujah, that's for sure. Because of the nature of the missions, the coterie went to rent a vehicle to play and look the part, so a fancy sports car was ready for them at Enterprise - courtesy of Prince Williams. 

The Rant took place at Dodger Stadium, where the Anarchs of Los Angeles had rented a massive conference room to hold the meeting. Most of the parking clustered around the entrance, and the rest of the massive parking lot was empty. As you walk to the entrance, you are followed by other vampires whom you don't know, eyeing you. Most of them are garishly-dressed punks in leathers and studs, but there's also plenty of vampire gang bangers in jeans, caps, and white t-shirts. As you enter the conference room, you can see well over a hundred vampires seated around the edge of a huge stage. Some have climbed up and are sitting in the rafters, looking down - most are sitting in groups and chatting desultory with each other while keeping a wary eye on the others.

Prince Williams told you about some of the more important Barons of Los Angeles. You can see Allison Maller of Anaheim and her four vampires carefully watching Tom Weaver and his four - the two groups of vampires vying for control of Anaheim. Baron Amethyst of Santa Ana is here with all six of her vampire gang members. David Geduld, the Baron of Torrance, dressed sharply and circulating among the other Kindred, shaking hands and laughing. The statuesque Steve Booth and his twelve surfer vampires of Long Beach are here, too. However, as you scan the people, you can see Salvador Garcia and Jesus Ramirez, his right hand man, of El Hermandad. Salvador is wearing a work shirt and jeans, very casually dressed, and together with Jesus, are surrounded by a very large group of Latino vampires.

Alana woke up hungry and immediately went for her blood wine, drinking enough to sathe her current new hunger, getting ready for the day in a similar outfit to yesterdays. Alana skims around the people near them, occasionally taking a picture of herself for her media. When it was time to be formal, she seemed to almost switch gears, sitting calmly and patiently.

Sorrin had gone to bed as he usually did, slipping under the bed he was given. When he dreamt, he drifted back to his time in Romania, every moment playing out like an old film....up until her......

When Sorrin awoke, he went for the fridge and took his blood for the day before feeding Lup some for his immortality. He'd follow Misha's suit of chaging into something more...conspicuous, swapping out his usual suit or pricey clothes for a strange combo of some camo jeans and sports hoodie.

He brings Lup with him, knowing that it'd add to the effect of him being there since many Grengal had joined the Anarches so it'd add to his credibility...plus, Lup wanted to go outside.

Victor woke up without issue, said good morning to his Coterie, before putting on his jeans and leather jacket to head out for the meeting. When Victor arrived at the Rant, he mainly focused on how informal everything was, much different from the Camarilla. I guess that they wouldn't truly be free if they had to abide by strict dress codes and etiquette, now would they? 

Alessandra woke up to the peppering of warm kisses on the back of her neck, a lazy smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she turned to fully face Misha to properly give her a good morning kiss, one after the after. It was hard to not kiss the red-head more than once, especially when her arms kept you locked in, the both of snug and warm against each others bodies, her lips utterly intoxicating, each kiss growing hungrier and hungrier...

But night was a very important night, so with much reluctance, Alessandra peels herself off Misha with one final kiss and heads to the bathroom to shower and get ready. She decides it would be best to change her outfit for today, as yesterday's still smelt of the outside and no amount of expensive perfume could over that stench up.

 When they arrived to the Rant, she kept close to the coterie as she eyed the other Kindered around them, glaring daggers at anyone who even so looked at them the wrong way. She sits down with her legs crossed and waits for this whole thing to really begin.

"There." Misha pointed. "That one ees Salvador Garcia, friend of our Prince. We should meet heem after the Rant."

Highly visible is a girl that's sitting among the vampires who follow Amethyst of Santa Ana. She has auburn hair, a flawless complexion, and a wonderful figure. She appears about 19 years old. She's sitting with her arms around a young punk who seems just like all the others in the room, although he doesn't appear to have reached even their level of hygiene or social graces. She gets up and does her best to address the crowd near the stage. She asks if anyone has seen her friend Dasher, who she thought was going up to Glendale to hunt. All eyes turn to Blount Sisters, Barons of Glendale, but they deny seeing him. She looks disappointed, and someone yells for her to sit down.

At that point, the huge double doors at the back of the conference room open, and a large group of young black vampires enter, carrying something. They are all wearing typical gang-member uniforms, and most carry blue bandanas in their pockets. They are led by an older vampire in a suit, who walks to the center of the room: Mohammed al-Muthlim, and leader of the Crypt's Sons - the most dangerous gang in the city.

"I warned you all not to hunt on our turf, and I want to thank those of you who listened to me. This guy, on the other hand, didn't..." He gestures and the Sons throw the bundle, which turns out to be a headless corpse, onto the floor. "We don't want trouble with our neighbors, but we sure as hell aren't going to let anyone push his way into our hood and hunt there without permission. I hope i've made myself clear."

As the crowd begins to mutter angrily, Mohammed strides off and sits down with the rest of the Crypt's Sons. Room is hastily made for them. Several of the Kindred, including the young woman who spoke before, come up and examine the corpse, but none of them recognize the deceased vampire apparently. Vampires continue to mutter among themselves, and a lot of hostile glances are thrown towards the Crypt's Sons, but nobody gets up and says anything. Mohammed appears to be enjoying the attention.

Alana glances at the headless body with an impressed and slightly concerned expression, glancing to the others quietly with slightly pursed lips.

Sorrin casually walks over the the corpse and kneels down by it, Lup follows him of course and takes a few sniffs while Sorrin looks the body over. He makes sure to keep his hands in the pockets of the jacket, and blatantly ignores the wannabe prophet.

Misha sat with arms folded next to Aless, scanning the crowd and keeping a cool demeanor. If she thought hard enough, she could smell the scent of Aless's hair from the night when they slept closely together in a tight embrace. For a moment, Misha was lost in the thought and smiled softly, tilting her head slightly to look at her from the corner of her eye.

Even though she did not look a day past 30, Misha was old. Far older than anyone should ever be allowed to live. At first, her longevity was a gift from the God of War, the Lord General. Created artificially for one purpose, one destiny, Misha evolved into the perfect physical specimen to wage war for hundreds of years, infused with the power of a God - and she did, willingly, loyally, gladly. 

All it took was one moment of defiance. Then, in that singular moment, everything changed. Misha went from ruler to exile. But why? She had a duty. She had honor. She had glory. It rang in her head constantly, she lived for it, was created for it. It was her purpose. How dare she defy the will of a God. I was a created instrument to serve His will. When she was young, she was an soldier, an avatar of the God of Tyranny. Countless souls she had encountered in those days as she traveled from world to world smiting Hell in any and all of it's forms. As the years past, the war raged on, and she grew out of her programming. In one act of rebellious violence..everything changed.

Millennia went by and the fog of time obscured it all. Misha became..human.

"Misha.." a voice said, a breath, barely a whisper. "I see you. You're not the only one who knows how to cheat time. I have something for you."

She startled violently out of her daydream. She looked around, looking for someone. She couldn't find anything, or anyone. She looked at Aless to see if she heard the same voice too, but she was looking out at the stage like nothing happened. Misha stopped looking at her and turned around over her shoulder, twisting around in her chair, scanning the crowd. I know that voice. I know that person..but..how? Misha turned back around and suddenly was nose to nose with someone she was ordered to kill so long ago. Misha recognized her, inhaled sharply in raw surprise, completely caught off guard. She hadn't aged a single day. In fact, she looked even better, deadlier. Ho-

In the swiftest of motions, Cora shoved the stake deep into her heart.

"BaHHg!" Misha jolted in her chair, returning to reality, roughly.

Victor was about to make some clever quip, like 'we aren't in Denver any more, Toto' but stopped when he saw Misha jolted. "Is everything ok? You just jumped like you got shocked."

Alessandra's lips thin at the sight, her arms folded in front of her chest as she watches everyone buy into this witless form of scare tactic. "How barbaric..." She mutters, soon rolling her eyes to show about how unimpressed she was. Yet her attention was ripped from the body to Misha who jolted beside her, the older vampire expressing concern, bringing a hand to gently rest at her shoulder. "Misha? My dear, is everything okay?"