The eyes of the City are steadfastly fixed: on me. My lips move and make the appropriate noise. This night is about offering my services. Or making my connection to the Oracles known.
The Ventrue is the first to question the Runes, but their answers are not what he had hoped. Characteristic of his Blood, he twists and turns the messages until they assure his ego, but it is not my place to interfere. Everyone must interpret the Oracle’s houses for themselves. Perhaps it is I who read them wrong. The Ventrue came for comfort that is rare, and not mine to give.
The Quiet Brujah was next; her vulnerability worn on her sleeve. She too had Hopes , but Oracles will not serve. She pulls a past of pain, a present of uncertainty, and a future of self determination that frightens. I am confused. She is unlike any Brujah I have met. I will make more of an effort to know this one.
The Night passes and they nearly all make use of my services. They blend together for me. It is not for me to make note of their questions or their Destiny. I Fear only once: the Giovanni is not pleased. I will find a way to ward my Haven from now on. I think she thinks it was I who spoke, and not the Oracles. I do not blame her for her mistake. Or perhaps she scoffed at the whole thing, but I must take no chances.
In the end, I was exhausted, and the Oracles were pounding in my brain. But the City knows now what I can do.
What they choose to do with it is their business.