Watching, Walking, Waiting
Apr 8, 2015 21:53:41 GMT -8
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Webmonkey and Blake Sterling Jr. like this
Post by Weaver on Apr 8, 2015 21:53:41 GMT -8
Weaver knew the Prince hated his sire, and had no particular fondness for the Neonate Broken Mirror either. Weaver acknowledged this as a simple fact of Unlife and moved on with his pondering relatively undisturbed by the ripples in the political mire of St. Louis.
He had come with the floods, at his sire's behest. '93 was a year of changing, a renewal... Of sorts. Watching the strings shiver as the mortals alternatively fled and rebuilt in the wake the muddy waters of the Mississippi was probably the most interesting thing that had happened in the years since his Embrace.
But those times were long past, and traces of ennui were coloring his sire's strings. Thinner and thinner they grew, until only the angry red and black tying him to the Prince and the tarnished silver to Weaver himself remained solid. He would sleep soon, weaver thought, or make one too many slips and be destroyed.
This too was merely a fact of Weaver's Unlife, if somewhat more urgent and troubling than the Prince's ire.
----
"Weaver, you are to bear Our greetings and congratulations to the Emerald Domain and the new Prince there. Serve this..." The prince blinked, frowned, then snapped his fingers at the Ventrue Chancellor hovering at an elbow.
"Stanton, your Highness. Prince Isabella Stanton."
"Yes, yes. Stanton. Serve her as you would me until you feel the Domain secure, and then I will hold your Sire's Boon fulfilled."
Weaver blinked slowly twice. The Strings around the Prince quivered like a spider being bombarded by raindrops. The Kindred of St. Louis listened intently from around the court.
He bowed as he had been taught: as minimally low as he could get away with, slow, but never taking his eyes off the target of his obeisance.
Seattle. Perhaps things were going to be interesting again.
He had come with the floods, at his sire's behest. '93 was a year of changing, a renewal... Of sorts. Watching the strings shiver as the mortals alternatively fled and rebuilt in the wake the muddy waters of the Mississippi was probably the most interesting thing that had happened in the years since his Embrace.
But those times were long past, and traces of ennui were coloring his sire's strings. Thinner and thinner they grew, until only the angry red and black tying him to the Prince and the tarnished silver to Weaver himself remained solid. He would sleep soon, weaver thought, or make one too many slips and be destroyed.
This too was merely a fact of Weaver's Unlife, if somewhat more urgent and troubling than the Prince's ire.
----
"Weaver, you are to bear Our greetings and congratulations to the Emerald Domain and the new Prince there. Serve this..." The prince blinked, frowned, then snapped his fingers at the Ventrue Chancellor hovering at an elbow.
"Stanton, your Highness. Prince Isabella Stanton."
"Yes, yes. Stanton. Serve her as you would me until you feel the Domain secure, and then I will hold your Sire's Boon fulfilled."
Weaver blinked slowly twice. The Strings around the Prince quivered like a spider being bombarded by raindrops. The Kindred of St. Louis listened intently from around the court.
He bowed as he had been taught: as minimally low as he could get away with, slow, but never taking his eyes off the target of his obeisance.
Seattle. Perhaps things were going to be interesting again.