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Nocturne No. 1: A Quick Exchange

General Summary

Sept. 3, 1994 - Buenos Aires, AR
  Tourists and tired bureaucrats funneled into Cafe Tortoni, fleeing the torrential rains that had ruined a quiet Saturday evening. Carmelita breezed into the Cafe, the other patrons unable to resist glancing at her as she glided past tables towards a booth in the back. She paid the looks no mind (attention is something that all Toreadors get used to), focused instead on the the kindred waiting for her in the back.   The Astrologer sat hunched over a glass filled with a dark red liquid, reading a newspaper while scribbling away in a nearby notepad. His suit hadn't been washed in weeks, his dark gray hair left unkempt and long enough to touch his shoulders. Carmelita remembered stories of how as Prince of the Buenos Aires' Camarilla he used to dine with dictators, but in the wake of revolution and Anarch revolts those lavish displays of wealth were nothing but a distant memory. Glancing up from his paper he gave her a ingratiating grin and beckoned her towards the seat opposite him.    "So glad you could make it on such short notice," He said. "How was the flight from Hong Kong?"   "Quite peaceful, as daytime flights tend to go," She waited for him to pour her a glass, smelling the vitae as it poured from the bottle. "I ran into one of my fellow clan members out there, he's been causing quite a commotion on both sides of the Pacific with all his Thin-Bloods. You should keep an eye out, he may be headed for Lima next."   "It would not be the first time we've had Americans meddling in our affairs," The Astrologer grinned, offering the glass to Carmelita. "I decided a rare vintage would be a appropriate for a night such as this, I've almost run out of my supply from the Dirty War."   She sipped the vitae, her hunger from days of travel slaked as the blood took its hold on her. Melancholic, the victim yearning for a better time before the detainments and torturings. That yearning, the nostalgia of it, filled her with a wave of emotion that nearly brought a blush of life to her face.   "I'll let you finish the rest of the bottle," The Astrolger said, smiling from across the table. "But first I would like to see the papers."   "Of course," Carmelita replied, unzipping her purse to pull out the passports and bank statements while still flushed by the buzz of the vitae. "I spoke with the financiers, all your accounts will be ready by the time you land in Miami. You'll have a decent hunting ground near your condo, but I advise you to keep a low profile: there are a couple Spaniards out there, and believe it or not they still have hard feelings about losing South America in the last century."   The Astrologer took each document and scrutinized them carefully, his Tremere heritage shining through as he moved the papers around like a tarot reading. Pleased with the ritual's results, he shuffled the documents back together into a pile on the table. "You have my sincere gratitude, Señora. Many scoffed at my dream of America, and yet you've helped turn them into a reality,"   Carmelita felt a briefcase brush against her leg beneath the table. "The artifact should be everything you expect and more. Despite the conquistadors' best efforts those star charts are still in fine condition. It's a shame we never got to meet any Mayan kindred, I'm sure under better circumstances we could have learned something from each other."   "The drink is certainly making us nostalgic tonight," she replied, taking another sip of the melancholic blood. She pulled the briefcase into her lap, allowing herself one quick glance at the artifacts. The craftsmanship, the attention to detail, the potential of all this valuable information, Carmelita couldn't help but smile before clasping the briefcase shut.    She poured herself a second glass. "But we both have things to look forward to now, I happen to be headed state-side as well."   "Then we should meet again up there, I wish doing business with kindred could always be this pleasant," He said, brushing a leg against Carmelita's. "Shall I see you in Miami?"   "Perhaps," she replied, politely shifting back in her seat. "It's been a while since I visited Florida, but then again there's a lot happening on the west coast that I would hate to miss out on. The Sabbat are getting more aggressive, I hope they don't break anything important out there."   "Then let us enjoy tonight," The Astrologer said with a smirk, leaning back in his chair as he shuffled his papers into an old, leathery valise. "We take our long nights for granted, but someday we'll realize that we can no longer live the way we once used to and must therefore adapt."   "To new beginnings," Carmelita replied, lifting a glass of vitae to toast the lucrative deal. She Stayed long enough to finish a third glass of vitae, braving the rains an hour later and returning to her luxurious haven for the evening. The Astrologer stayed long enough to finish the dregs of the bottle, shuffling into the night back to his hovel on the city's outskirts. Unaware that his final death waited for him less a year from that night, he smiled thinking about all his plans for when he landed in America.
Report Date
27 Mar 2023
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