Dead of Night: Tales from the Big Easy
Masquerade: Socialite Requiem: Courtesan
Chastain is a slender woman with lightly tanned skin. She dresses simply but with a timeless sense of style, favouring cotton dresses with subtle jewellery. Her French accent hasn’t picked up any American twang or drawl and she sometimes is known to speak to herself in French. Her posture is languid and always relaxed, usually clutching a cigarette holder.
Her almond eyes betray her age however. They look worn and weary, seeing nothing of value in this modern world.
The sad truth is, the woman who was once the greatest and most dynamic force in New Orleans’ Invictus is now largely impotent. Her spirit crushed under the weight of years that could not touch her physically, Chastain still makes efforts toward improving her own lot and the lot of her covenant in the city. From her position on the Primogen, she argues against Vidal’s successes and is routinely ignored or defeated. As the eldest of the Inner Circle, she proposes plans and procedures intended to cement what influence the Invictus has, but her methods are too slow and cautious for many of the other members.
Why she prefers Vidal is a mystery to most of her fellow covenant members, Chastain willingly stepped aside over 200 years ago, specifically to allow Vidal to claim the title, when she had an even greater claim on the domain than he (or anyone else). It’s entirely possible that she supports Vidal over Savoy for no better reason than she has always done so, and is too old to change now.
Chastain is, and has always been, a creature of propriety, first and foremost. She remembers the nights when simply being one of the Kindred implied a certain sophistication, a certain sense of rightness—especially for her clan. If politics is indeed but a game, then it is one which must be played a certain way, by certain rules. Pearl Chastain has always been unforgiving of those who thoughtlessly cast aside those rules, but more importantly, been
equally admiring of those who follow and respect them.
She despairs of her clan, finding no redeeming features in the younger Daeva than scrimp and preen for the favour of their Priscus. She simply ignores them, preferring to spend time alone with her beautiful city and her memories of the past.