Approaching the group, all swaying hips and seductive glares, Atella hissed at Harkin to keep up and to keep an eye out for any signs of trouble; this didn't include the Astartes of course, who was clearly more than capable of killing most anything inside the VIP club, something that the many Khorne worshipers had no doubt picked up on. Even now she could feel the attention of more than a few of them, the actions of the Fallen Angel having attracted an immediate cult following of bloodthirsty admirers.

"You may all call me Atella," she purred once within earshot of the huddled conspirators, "because that is my given name at birth, and I appear to be the only one here brave enough to use it."

Placing herself gently down on one of the chairs, deliberately chosen to be mid-way between 'Thorn' and 'Ersus' and as obvious as possible, ignoring the only other who had given their honest name and opinion - perhaps even naively so - to these two figures he did not even know, she twisted about to cast a narrowed gaze over Lucius and then at this man who presented himself as a scholar.

If there was one thing that worshipers of the Dark Prince knew how to do well, it was to lie through your teeth and get away with it, conversation and seduction being only two of the more human gifts one could achieve through acts of devotion to Slaanesh, and Atella could tell from the moment she heard the false name slip from the lips of the Space Marine that both he and this 'Ersus' were attempting to play one another for fools; there was [i]something[/i] about the more bookish of the two though, something...malleable...changing all the time...she could [i]smell[/i] it on him as easily as she could smell the lust of a man or a woman. This one was, in his own way, more dangerous than even the hulking warrior opposite him and she would have to be careful.

"Thorn, is it?" She questioned in a neutral tone, spinning the chair about to face Lucius with all the glee of a child, her eyes boring into his own though they were feet above her own, "well Thorn, why did you have to kill poor Raoul? He could have been useful to me, and now he is all broken and dead." Beneath the veils of silk her expression changed to one of mock regret, reflected in her eyes and by the short sigh that escaped her black lips.

"But lo'! I seem to have missed someone," a cry of mock amazement leaving her as she stood from the stall and sauntered past Salvius, extending her arm only briefly to run two fingers over his cheek, a languid and non-threatening gesture if there ever was one, her steps carrying her over to Sanath and his book. 

Here she decided to stand, taking in the remarkably average person before her, "my favourite..." she cooed, leaning forward until her face was barely inches from his own, "...the unititated," for more than a few moments she did nothing, not moving or even seeming to breath, but after what may have seemed like an eternity she took the rather unusual route of getting as close to Sanath as she possibly could, pressing herself to him and rubbing a hand over the bag at his side, "so, what do you have here? It must be very important to you," her voice dropped to a whisper now, so quiet that possibly only the Astartes could hear over the noise of the club, "but it is also important to [b]them[/b], better you let me take a look at it now, yes?"


[@The Whacko][@Lord Coake][@BCTheEntity][@Keepvogel]