Toreador

Could it be ANY OTHER Clan? True a timeless creature such as Prince Vellen was certainly of the Toreador, the Flowery Bouquet of the Kindred they sit as a captivating group of Vampires. Vellen had spent centuries eraptured in beauty found and beauty created as well as a healthy dose debauchery... thus was earned the loving nickname of Degenerates. Vellen was a creature of indulgence and hedonism along with a soulful lover of the arts, spending years exploring new beauty and at times even a fire could be such a thing. Whom do you think compelled Nero to play the fiddle as Rome burned?

Prince Vellen had drifted high and low to experience the contrast of life... yes he's painfully philosophical at times and Dramatic but do hang in there the passion is worth letting bend your ear, as eventually you may feel his soft warm embrace trail from ear to neck and curl your toes as he drinks deep of you. It is claimed that the Degenerates have a gift for charm and pleasure, even their bite is embellished to the heights of a long sought orgasm. Vellen likes to think this a fact.

Making friends is how Vellen made his way through history, found arm in arm with well to do Kindred, playing muse to other Elders and Vampires of note but they tend to keep such events secreted away. Three houses have greatly benefited from sheltering Vellen, as misfortune seemed to follow the Prince because immortality is not always Roses and Wine, sometimes Blood and Guts... The Prince could be terribly vindictive if spurned by a mortal interest; a beautiful monster is still a monster.

Over time Vellen had sired childe, created Vampires of his line whom sired others building a House for Clan Toreador with Vellen at its head; though letting his Second step into his place during more benal matters over whichever suited the Prince's current fancy. This House Vellen was populated by the artistic sorts but even a beating can be seen as artistic with the right lighting. These Vampires got into important places for those in leadership of the Camarilla, rubbing elbows with the rich and famous...and likely more. Also sometimes reaching out and captivating the less social Kindred into making nice.

Vellen himself held a special fascination with the beauty of a person inside and out their smooth surfaces and jagged edges, leading him to sculpt and paint over the years an indulgence that must be sated upon a time. A canvas had been drawn and his paints mixed the night before he'd decided to call in an owed favour, though that night before the poor perplexed Prince struggled to decide which favour to call upon. Vellen's favours are simple he wants the Owing party to pose for his art...which is left undecided as a whim and opportunity hardly coincide.

On the one hand the RAREST of gems, a gorgeous Grangrel by name of Fae, rugged and power. A bit short on pretty words or culture but such beautiful specimen, and to see all of her would truly be worth risking a mild mauling to witness and experience. Fae had in the past needed a place to hide, a particularly uppity but well place Vampire was trying to frame the poor girl to further leverage permission for her destruction. Vellen would allow such a beauty to be harmed or destroyed and so reversed the edge on the repulsive Noseferatu Ichor leveraging the Prince's lofty influence within the Camarilla. And NOW was the the possible moment to call in that favour, Fae had been so rough at the mention of this favour! Gripping him by the throat pressing him to a wall and still leaning in hip to hip with a subtle grind and growl. Wild and untamed are words Vellen turned over in his mind fondly from time to time.

OR The Brooding wonder, a Tremere blood mage by the moniker of Dust. A diamond in the rough, oblivious to his steely shine and stern holier than thou image. The sight of this unrefined beauty had made Vellen Swoon. So much so that Vellen had courted the man for a time, or rather stalked and sent spies to learn of him. A young vampire but that's considering Prince Vellen considers most things to be young. Turns out that young Dust had been mislead by promises of dark power, deeper learning of Blood magic but this would be teacher was a Sabat... Enemies to the Camarilla, this creature was a traitor to his bloodline and was shepherding this lost Kindred astray. To be succinct justice was enacted as a side effect of a Toreador's fascination, and Dust had respectfully agreed to owing the Charming Prince a debt, imparting a surprisingly passionate kiss beneath such a dour exterior depth to explore it seems.

The Prince had made his choice, and now sat on an ivory coloured stool in his studio. Lights toned to perfects, the heat turned just high enough to sweat, and a soft melody playing. Vellen swaying slightly with a paintbrush in hand looking for where to make the first stroke. A drink sitting beside him in a crystal wineglass tempting a taste with its ruby red shine. He was dressed in a deep red robe a pale thigh immerging from it at the hip, his Violet eyes rising over the edge of his canvas to see his art walk through the door with a hungry smile before drawing a cup to his lips and taking a swallow "I hope you're thirsty," he cooed "I certainly am."

(OOC:Who do you want to see, Fae or Dust?)