[ST – Juliette]
A red headed, motherly woman with a list stands forward. She puts on wire frame glasses, taking a brief moment to adjust them. She gives a warm smile to the kindred gathered. She speaks a faint New York accent. “It is time for Prince Cross to dole out his punishment for those kindred who have grossly skirted our traditions and endangered each and every one of us.” She coughed to clear her throat. “The first of the guilty is Shawn Fraye of 13th Generation Fledgling of Clan Brujah. He has broken the First Tradition on two counts by carrying kindred information on his Wi-Fi accessible laptop and making no effort to cover his embrace to the kine closest to him. Mr. Fraye has broken the Fifth Tradition in failing to introduce himself to the Prince upon arrival, yet still gallivanting in our Elysia. Finally, he has broken the Third Tradition, by virtue of existing without permission.”
The red headed woman takes a moment to look out to the crowd, her smile present and her eyes connecting with a few attendees. “As you know the Fourth Tradition is the Accounting. ’Those thou create are thine own children. Until thy Progeny shall be Released, thou shall command them in all things. Their sins are thine to endure.’ All the sins of this childe are carried to their sire, Clancy Bryant, 12th generation of clan Brujah. Not only that, but Mr. Bryant is guilty of abandoning their fledgling as well as being complicit in his childe’s Masquerade breaking activities while incognito. Never reining him in or making himself known to Mr. Fraye. Leaving the kindred to this eventual fate.”
She begins to fold the list up delicately. “It is the right of Prince Cross to carry out the Sixth Tradition, that of Destruction, on these kindred who would so brazenly spit on our traditions and endanger us all.” She lingered, sliding the paper into her purse.
Another warm smile met her face; a single pale finger rose. “However, the Tower does know mercy. This fledgling was led astray with a sire playing games with the poor dear, failing in the basic expectation sires and guardians have. That is why I, Juliette Van Cortlandt of Clan Brujah will graciously take young Shawn Fraye under my wing. He will be spared of Final Death tonight, and guided on the right path. His sire, Mr. Bryant, however…”
[TW: Gruesome Violence]
On cue, two Men in Black agents approach the stage heading for two nearby wooden boxes. Pulled from the two boxes, are two rigid bodies. A stake in each of their chests, their faces frozen in shock, their knees at a bend, and mouths agape. Shawn’s stake removed, he was herded over to the redheaded Juliette. The other kindred is balanced on his knees facing the crowd, as if forever frozen begging for mercy from the audience. One MIB produces a large silver sword. The blade is brought to the necks of Clancy Bryant, Shawn’s sire, the silver searing Clancy’s skin upon mere contact. Juliette held Shawn by the shoulder, encouraging him to watch.
A single swift powerful motion from the agent and the staked kindred’s head topples to the floor. The pale skinned, though youthful veneer of vampirism fade from his face. The older kindred’s decapitated head and body begin to shrivel with his skin deteriorating and bones becoming all the more apparent.