Post by Sasha Zaytsev on Sept 15, 2014 10:08:43 GMT -8
Sasha Zaytsev 1962 – 1999
Thirty seven years. She thought to herself. The world has changed so much. The 21st century is upon us. The eve of Gehenna.
Sasha Zaytsev, ved’ma, Primogen of clan Tremere, looked out the window of her sitting room up into the sky, at the dim Red Star shining down on the Emerald City. For better or worse, it will soon be upon us.
She swallowed the last of her tea, thick and bloody though it was, and gazed at the leaves left in the bottom of the cup. Waving her hand over the cup, she muttered a few quiet words in Russian, breathed out into the cup, and then studied the results.
The sword… the Son… blood of course… and then the End. Not the end of a thing, but the End of all things. Finality.
Scowling at the tea cup, she put it down and turned to the cards spread out on the silk cloth beside her.
The Wheel of Fortune. The Tower. The Naïve of Swords (inverted). The Ace of Wands. The Ace of Cups. The two of Swords, and the King of Stars.
Just as unsettling.
It had taken Sasha 30 years to finally get things the way she wanted them in Seattle. The other clans left the Tremere largely alone, likely not worried about two or three witches living on Beacon Hill. She kept the clan quiet, working on their own small projects. The Regent was content to sit in his library and pour over his books. The Doctor did the same in his laboratory at the hospital. And occasionally the Emissary would visit from Vienna, bringing more money or more Boons for the clans’ use. For a clan known for its insular nature, there Tremere in Seattle didn’t actually see much of each other. This suited Sasha just fine.
She tapped a button on her cell phone, and soon thereafter Uri came in. The enormous Russian had not aged a day since he took his first sip from her. Over the years he had changed his hair a number of times, as well as his cloths, but the desperate yearning in his eyes when he bowed his head to her had never changed. And it never would. His current look was something right out of a bad movie: bald head but full beard. He looked like a walking Russian Bad Guy trope. Perfect for his job.
“Uri, my sweet. It’s time to visit with Mr. Stevens.”
Uri only nodded, he didn’t talk much, and walked to another door, opening it for Sasha as she approached. Together the two of them walked down the halls of the Chantry and out a back door. They strolled passed the green houses and the garden, which Sasha admired with fondness. It had taken ten years to get the night blooming “Four o’clocks” to take, but finally she had a good crop for cross breading. They would make a pleasant gift for Nix at their next meeting.
The two Russians walked out into the wild wood behind the Chantry, sharing the silence of the hot summer night. The moon was full, so it was easy to find their way. The wards on the edge of the property kept most curious people away, and so when they came upon Mr. Stevens they knew he would still be there. His head and shoulders stood out above the concrete mound that held him. He was sleeping, the slow in and out of his breath through the feeding tube the only noise in the woods. Carefully Sasha drew a knife across her wrist and dripped blood into the tube. When the Vitae hit his tongue, Mr. Stevens startled awake. The look of torment and fear on his face was mixed with hope and gratitude as he hungrily sucked on the tube. When he had been put in the hole last year, Mr. Stevens had been well over 200 pounds. He was down to just over 90 now. Uri had had to add more dirt and concrete to the hole several times over the year to make sure he couldn’t wiggle himself free.
“Good evening Mr. Stevens. As promised, it has been 364 days. Tomorrow, you will come out of your hole. I trust you have learned your lesson.”
All Mr. Stevens could do was whimper.
“Good, good. In a short while Uri will bring your son to see you. You’ll still be in the hole of course, but you’ll get to see your child. I know you will tell him the right thing. I would hate to have to dig another hole in front of this one so you can watch each other starve to death.”
Mr. Stevens nodded vigorously. Tears running down his face. The torment of the blood bond was a wonderful thing. To be abused and ignored by someone you were so utterly devoted and addicted to was maddening. Mr. Stevens would do exactly what he was required to.
“Excellent. Uri, see to it.”
Uri nodded again. Then the Russians left. They would be back at dawn.
Sasha busied herself with the other business of being Primogen for the majority of the evening. There was an Elysium this Saturday, which meant having to wait on the pleasure of those foppish dinosaurs. Over the years she had come to enjoy the human world. Modern women, modern culture, was so much more fun than it had been in the 30s. Fashions were coming back of course, but with a new freedom. She was excited to shock the other Kindred with how into the new century she was. And with the omens showing what they did, a little shock and back bone might be just what the Kindred of Seattle need to finally appreciate the Witches for what they were. There were also several apprentices coming into town for the Elysium. She would have to make sure the Regent did not pollute them with his idiocy. But maybe some of them would stay and help to establish the clan further…
It was nearly dawn when Uri and Sasha went back to visit Mr. Stevens. On the walk, Uri carried a collapsible sun shade in a tote bag. As the sky was beginning to lighten, they reached Mr. Stevens and Uri quickly set up the sun shade.
Mr. Stevens had had his tube removed, but was still in the hole. He was sobbing weakly, tears having soaked his face.
“Well Mr. Stevens, the time has come. Are you ready to be free?”
He looked up at Sasha, with hope and devotion in his eyes.
“Did you tell your son what would happen if he did not pay? If he continued to oppose the Bratva?”
He nodded, trying to croak out a reply, but Sasha only waved her hand for him to be silent.
“And did he agree?”
He nodded again, managing to whisper “we’ll pay… we’ll pay…”
“Good. I am pleased to have come to this agreement.”
Sasha then waved her hand in the direction of Mr. Stevens, and there was a loud CRACK. The concrete split as though great hands had pushed it aside. Closing her fist in the air and raising her hand, Mr. Stevens was pulled from the rocks and dirt of his hole. As his chest came free he gasped in air, getting a lung full for the first time in a year.
“There is one more example that must be made, Mr. Stevens. To ensure obedience.”
Mr. Stevens could only sag in the invisible hand that held him. Sasha walked to where he had been pulled free, grasped his arm, and sunk her fangs into him. The Kiss brought peace to Mr. Stevens as Sasha reclaimed the blood that had kept him alive for the last year. As the last of his blood was seeping away, she stopped. Carefully opening her own vein again, she poured a few drops into his mouth.
The shock of the embrace is always wonderful to watch, she thought to herself, observing the transformation. Still holding him aloft with her magic, Sasha watched as the beast took hold. She had not given Mr. Stevens enough to sate his hunger, and so the frenzy was quick to take over. Stepping back from the monster, she pushed her hand down, and with it Mr. Stevens. Back into his hole.
Uri quickly shoveled the dirt back in, while Sasha held the thrashing creature in his place. In short order again only his head and shoulders were exposed. A series of thuds echoed through the woods as Sasha used her magic to compress the dirt around him. He was slowly coming to as the earth’s hold stabilized. And as the sun was peaking over the trees, Sasha retreated under the shade that Uri had brought. Calling upon her will, she forced herself to remain awake to watch the rest.
Mr. Stevens struggled a bit. Crying “no, we had a deal! We’re complying! You can’t do this,” and other such things. His pleas fell on deaf ears. And when the sun crested the tree tops, the cut of the grove allowed it to shine right down into the Hole. It took several excruciating minutes for his skin to crisp, but as the sun continued to rise, eventually his hair and skin caught fire. It took about an hour for the once defiant Mr. Stevens to be reduced to a pile of ash in a hole in the woods. Once it was done, an exhausted Sasha turned to Uri.
“Collect the ashes in two urns. Place one in the vault, and take the other to his family with this letter. Their first payment will be expected in a week.”
Uri nodded again, and then set to work. Sasha lifted the support for the sun shade and moved under the trees to a tunnel entrance to the Chantry. It was going to be a very long week.
Thirty seven years. She thought to herself. The world has changed so much. The 21st century is upon us. The eve of Gehenna.
Sasha Zaytsev, ved’ma, Primogen of clan Tremere, looked out the window of her sitting room up into the sky, at the dim Red Star shining down on the Emerald City. For better or worse, it will soon be upon us.
She swallowed the last of her tea, thick and bloody though it was, and gazed at the leaves left in the bottom of the cup. Waving her hand over the cup, she muttered a few quiet words in Russian, breathed out into the cup, and then studied the results.
The sword… the Son… blood of course… and then the End. Not the end of a thing, but the End of all things. Finality.
Scowling at the tea cup, she put it down and turned to the cards spread out on the silk cloth beside her.
The Wheel of Fortune. The Tower. The Naïve of Swords (inverted). The Ace of Wands. The Ace of Cups. The two of Swords, and the King of Stars.
Just as unsettling.
It had taken Sasha 30 years to finally get things the way she wanted them in Seattle. The other clans left the Tremere largely alone, likely not worried about two or three witches living on Beacon Hill. She kept the clan quiet, working on their own small projects. The Regent was content to sit in his library and pour over his books. The Doctor did the same in his laboratory at the hospital. And occasionally the Emissary would visit from Vienna, bringing more money or more Boons for the clans’ use. For a clan known for its insular nature, there Tremere in Seattle didn’t actually see much of each other. This suited Sasha just fine.
She tapped a button on her cell phone, and soon thereafter Uri came in. The enormous Russian had not aged a day since he took his first sip from her. Over the years he had changed his hair a number of times, as well as his cloths, but the desperate yearning in his eyes when he bowed his head to her had never changed. And it never would. His current look was something right out of a bad movie: bald head but full beard. He looked like a walking Russian Bad Guy trope. Perfect for his job.
“Uri, my sweet. It’s time to visit with Mr. Stevens.”
Uri only nodded, he didn’t talk much, and walked to another door, opening it for Sasha as she approached. Together the two of them walked down the halls of the Chantry and out a back door. They strolled passed the green houses and the garden, which Sasha admired with fondness. It had taken ten years to get the night blooming “Four o’clocks” to take, but finally she had a good crop for cross breading. They would make a pleasant gift for Nix at their next meeting.
The two Russians walked out into the wild wood behind the Chantry, sharing the silence of the hot summer night. The moon was full, so it was easy to find their way. The wards on the edge of the property kept most curious people away, and so when they came upon Mr. Stevens they knew he would still be there. His head and shoulders stood out above the concrete mound that held him. He was sleeping, the slow in and out of his breath through the feeding tube the only noise in the woods. Carefully Sasha drew a knife across her wrist and dripped blood into the tube. When the Vitae hit his tongue, Mr. Stevens startled awake. The look of torment and fear on his face was mixed with hope and gratitude as he hungrily sucked on the tube. When he had been put in the hole last year, Mr. Stevens had been well over 200 pounds. He was down to just over 90 now. Uri had had to add more dirt and concrete to the hole several times over the year to make sure he couldn’t wiggle himself free.
“Good evening Mr. Stevens. As promised, it has been 364 days. Tomorrow, you will come out of your hole. I trust you have learned your lesson.”
All Mr. Stevens could do was whimper.
“Good, good. In a short while Uri will bring your son to see you. You’ll still be in the hole of course, but you’ll get to see your child. I know you will tell him the right thing. I would hate to have to dig another hole in front of this one so you can watch each other starve to death.”
Mr. Stevens nodded vigorously. Tears running down his face. The torment of the blood bond was a wonderful thing. To be abused and ignored by someone you were so utterly devoted and addicted to was maddening. Mr. Stevens would do exactly what he was required to.
“Excellent. Uri, see to it.”
Uri nodded again. Then the Russians left. They would be back at dawn.
Sasha busied herself with the other business of being Primogen for the majority of the evening. There was an Elysium this Saturday, which meant having to wait on the pleasure of those foppish dinosaurs. Over the years she had come to enjoy the human world. Modern women, modern culture, was so much more fun than it had been in the 30s. Fashions were coming back of course, but with a new freedom. She was excited to shock the other Kindred with how into the new century she was. And with the omens showing what they did, a little shock and back bone might be just what the Kindred of Seattle need to finally appreciate the Witches for what they were. There were also several apprentices coming into town for the Elysium. She would have to make sure the Regent did not pollute them with his idiocy. But maybe some of them would stay and help to establish the clan further…
It was nearly dawn when Uri and Sasha went back to visit Mr. Stevens. On the walk, Uri carried a collapsible sun shade in a tote bag. As the sky was beginning to lighten, they reached Mr. Stevens and Uri quickly set up the sun shade.
Mr. Stevens had had his tube removed, but was still in the hole. He was sobbing weakly, tears having soaked his face.
“Well Mr. Stevens, the time has come. Are you ready to be free?”
He looked up at Sasha, with hope and devotion in his eyes.
“Did you tell your son what would happen if he did not pay? If he continued to oppose the Bratva?”
He nodded, trying to croak out a reply, but Sasha only waved her hand for him to be silent.
“And did he agree?”
He nodded again, managing to whisper “we’ll pay… we’ll pay…”
“Good. I am pleased to have come to this agreement.”
Sasha then waved her hand in the direction of Mr. Stevens, and there was a loud CRACK. The concrete split as though great hands had pushed it aside. Closing her fist in the air and raising her hand, Mr. Stevens was pulled from the rocks and dirt of his hole. As his chest came free he gasped in air, getting a lung full for the first time in a year.
“There is one more example that must be made, Mr. Stevens. To ensure obedience.”
Mr. Stevens could only sag in the invisible hand that held him. Sasha walked to where he had been pulled free, grasped his arm, and sunk her fangs into him. The Kiss brought peace to Mr. Stevens as Sasha reclaimed the blood that had kept him alive for the last year. As the last of his blood was seeping away, she stopped. Carefully opening her own vein again, she poured a few drops into his mouth.
The shock of the embrace is always wonderful to watch, she thought to herself, observing the transformation. Still holding him aloft with her magic, Sasha watched as the beast took hold. She had not given Mr. Stevens enough to sate his hunger, and so the frenzy was quick to take over. Stepping back from the monster, she pushed her hand down, and with it Mr. Stevens. Back into his hole.
Uri quickly shoveled the dirt back in, while Sasha held the thrashing creature in his place. In short order again only his head and shoulders were exposed. A series of thuds echoed through the woods as Sasha used her magic to compress the dirt around him. He was slowly coming to as the earth’s hold stabilized. And as the sun was peaking over the trees, Sasha retreated under the shade that Uri had brought. Calling upon her will, she forced herself to remain awake to watch the rest.
Mr. Stevens struggled a bit. Crying “no, we had a deal! We’re complying! You can’t do this,” and other such things. His pleas fell on deaf ears. And when the sun crested the tree tops, the cut of the grove allowed it to shine right down into the Hole. It took several excruciating minutes for his skin to crisp, but as the sun continued to rise, eventually his hair and skin caught fire. It took about an hour for the once defiant Mr. Stevens to be reduced to a pile of ash in a hole in the woods. Once it was done, an exhausted Sasha turned to Uri.
“Collect the ashes in two urns. Place one in the vault, and take the other to his family with this letter. Their first payment will be expected in a week.”
Uri nodded again, and then set to work. Sasha lifted the support for the sun shade and moved under the trees to a tunnel entrance to the Chantry. It was going to be a very long week.