The idea of going to this newly-forming Camarilla Elysium in Texarkana gave Reza Khan some mixed feelings. On the one hand, this was a very rare opportunity for him. Probably not one that he would get again. To be here at the very beginning of Camarilla control of an area? When they weren't wresting control back from the Sabbat? It was so peaceful, and it was definitely uncommon.

On the prominent other hand, the pressure was there to make a good impression on these Kindred. He wanted to be useful, and he knew he couldn't afford to make any mistakes. If he did, if he messed up and something happened to jeopardize the Camarilla control here, it would be all-too-easy for the new Prince to single the Assamites out as a scapegoat. That would be counter-productive to his goal, and so he would have to be [i]very[/i] careful.

In his desire to make a good first impression, he sought to get to Elysium early. Of course, fate seemed to conspire against him on that front. He only just arrived as the Prince began to speak, sliding into the back of the room as subtly as possible to avoid sticking out.

Of course, he would probably stick out just by the nature of being what he was. His olive-toned skin was a sure sign of his clan, since Assamites weren't as pale as the other varieties of Kindred. And he'd only get darker from here. His mentor's skin was an unnatural shade of obsidian after his centuries of being undead, and Reza had that to look forward to for his own skin tone down the line. Not for about fifty years or so, he'd heard. That's supposedly when the steady darkening of an Assamite's skin began.

He was wearing all black tonight, as was typical for him. Black pants, a black shirt, a black belt, black fingerless gloves, and a black long coat that reached down to his calves. Hidden beneath his dark jacket was a curved blade, a scimitar. It was his weapon of choice, though no Assamite would walk around with only one weapon on their person. He had a few knives hidden under his coat as well, but none of these weapons were meant to shed the vitae of any Kindred in attendance. If asked to surrender his scimitar, seeing as it was the more obvious weapon, he would do so as a gesture of good faith. The weapon was well-concealed beneath the jacket, however, so long as Reza didn't move around too much.

The Prince asked for those few in attendance to introduce themselves, and the first one to do so was a woman. A very, very strange woman. Reza didn't have much experience with Malkavians, but he could tell that this girl was either off her rocker or was doing a very good job of pretending she was. He doubted it was the latter. It took a lot of gall to act in such a manner in front of a Prince by choice. She had to be doing this because she had no other choice in the matter.

He decided it would be best for him to introduce himself now instead of waiting until the others had spoken. While the Childer of Khayyin who actually belonged to the Camarilla had more of a right to name themselves at this gathering than he, there was still the fact that he was a guest. Here in his mentor's place, as well. The elder Assamite had no interest in playing the games of Camarilla politics.

"My name is Reza Khan," he introduced, raising his hand a moment to draw eyes to his dark form. When he raised his hand, it was clear that his gloves did not have fabric covering his palm, as well as his fingers. All the better to draw his own blood from his palms without ruining the gloves. "I am an Assamite. My purpose here is to assist you in any way I am able."

He had a light accent, which was obviously Middle Eastern in origin. That should come as no surprise, seeing as he was clearly from that part of the world. Most Assamites were.