The Hound of Seattle (A Jim Baron Adventure)
Aug 30, 2015 11:52:45 GMT -8
Blake Sterling Jr., Cristiano Orisha, and 1 more like this
Post by RomulusGloriosus on Aug 30, 2015 11:52:45 GMT -8
Jim lay on his bed in a small chamber beneath the Earth. There were no windows and the only light source was a dim electric red light behind a white curtain. The walls of the room were white, and it looked like it was styled after a Mediterranean grotto. There were other rooms like it, all connected by a network of tunnels, in which the other Kindred Jim shared his Haven with slept. Joleen had already gone to sleep for the day, or at least gone to her room. Whiskey hadn't returned yet - if she was going to return. Jim hadn't seen Oberon return, but it wasn't terribly common that Jim ever saw Oberon at all except when he wanted to be seen.
Jim could sleep. He felt the deep tugging of the sunrise beyond the many layers of protective barriers inciting him to slumber his dark sleep of death, much like the 'big devil demon monster' in the Disney movie Fantasia. Now that was a Disney movie Jim had seen, and yet Joleen never brought it up. But despite feeling the urge to sleep, the heaviness of his mind outweighed the heaviness of the Sun. Jim was the Hound now. "A Hound," Paige the new Gangrel had obnoxiously corrected, "there can be more than one, and honestly Hound is not much of a title." Like Jim didn't know that - like Jim hadn't just stood in the weird fetish room with the Sheriff being made a Hound alongside the Brujah Victor. Like Jim didn't have any basic understanding of the title he'd just received - a title that was intimately connected to his time in the city! Dmitri had been the Hound when Jim had first arrived, and London before him, and Ruby was a "Hound-in-Training" for a time too. Jim was succeeding a long line of traitors - minus Ruby, but she was promoted to Primogen before she ever became a Hound - in this title, and furthermore it was a title at all, something Jim hadn't expected to receive. Paige needed to shut up - and soon. Ruby, Jim, William, Joleen, and Newsie had done a lot to cement the Gangrel as the most steadfastly reliable and trustworthy of the Clans in Seattle, and Paige - the spoiled brat - really did not need to march in here blabbing about her sire and telling everybody who would listen that she can turn into a wolf and go invisible.
That wasn't how the Gangrel played ball. Maybe in Vancouver, but not in Seattle. If William didn't do something about her - if Ruby didn't do something about her, when she returned to the Gathering, if she returned to the Gathering - then Jim would have to do something about her. But how could he control someone so much more powerful than he was? How could he control someone whose sire actually embraced her out of love - at 16? what kind of freak was this guy? - and kept her around and actually held her in accounting, and gave her a hell of a one? If Jim and Joleen had been given that kind of accounting - the kind of accounting she was given - they'd probably be on her level too. But he couldn't control her, because technically she was held in 'higher esteem.'
It was infuriating. It was literally somebody coming up and saying 'I get to be a super important member of your Clan because my Daddy said so.' Jim could imagine that happening in Clan Toreador, and definitely in Clan Ventrue, but among his own Clan? He never thought this would be happening.
But Jim was the Hound now. A Hound, now. The Sheriff didn't want anyone to know who his Hounds were during this 'time of crisis,' but Jim didn't realize that and went and told his whole Clan and even The Harpy. So Jim was, for now, The Hound, and the others got to be secret agents until further announcements. That was great, Jim thought, if it weren't for the fact that he'd failed his first job as Hound. Jim hadn't thought he was the right choice for the job, and still felt that way. Who thought it was a good idea to make him Hound? Lady Ophelia? The Prince? Why? Because he was a Gangrel? Because Gangrel can do the claws thing, so they must be good at killing things, and Jim is everybody's favorite Gangrel so let's give him the job? He honestly wouldn't have been surprised if that was the logic behind it. But what about the true duties of a Hound? Tracking, investigation, law enforcement? Jim had never been a cop - he barely even watched Cop TV Shows - he had never been a hunter. He was pretty piss poor at even being a vampire, and found it really difficult to gain blood every month before the Assamites shared their 'bountiful feast' with him.
Joleen was better at this than he was - she would have made them all proud. "So the new Sheriff is actually here, and will actually be Sheriff," she'd said to him earlier that night, "do you think Lady Ophelia could introduce me?" She had so looked forward to being a Hound, to using the skills she had to assist the city. Instead, they'd decided that quiet, secret-keeping, steel-hearted Joleen who had barely picked up a book in her life should be The Prince's Herald, and loud, charismatic, can't-keep-a-secret-to-save-his-life Jim ought to be The Prince's Killer. Jim was relieved as much as he was stressed, however, to know that Joleen would be kept out of direct fighting - however suited to it she was - and that he would be the one getting thrown at the dangers of the city. Maybe they did it because they knew Jim would never be happy knowing his little sister was in danger? Jim wasn't sure how much their happiness had been factored into this decision, but based on what the Prince had said, it seemed it was factored in quite a bit.
"I see long faces," the Prince had said, approaching them. Approaching them. The vampire 'royalty' sat in the distance, and the Prince's throne was empty because he was standing in front of them, in some dismal corner of the Gathering. "Tell me what has happened so that I can fix it." Jim's stress was, in that moment, the Prince's first priority, even with his broodmate a traitor and his former Seneschal dead at his feet. The Prince was a great inspiration, a great man, and Jim was so glad he still ruled the Emerald Domain in his fatherly manner. Yet it was the Prince's concern for Jim's distress that made him feel worse even as he felt better. He wouldn't be any good at this job, and he would fail at it, and the Prince - with his high hopes - would think less of him. He would be disappointed. He extended a chance to him to prove himself, yet again, and this time Jim would fail.
"Fuck," Jim swore, and put an arm across his head. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."
Darkness came over him. He would resume this line of thought tomorrow night, and in his torpid dreams he would see visions of the Scotsman pointing at him and swearing at him for talking to the Prince, and Ophelia's mysterious smile turn to a frown, and the Prince shaking his head and turning away from him, and tentacles, so many tentacles, seething in the darkness.
Jim could sleep. He felt the deep tugging of the sunrise beyond the many layers of protective barriers inciting him to slumber his dark sleep of death, much like the 'big devil demon monster' in the Disney movie Fantasia. Now that was a Disney movie Jim had seen, and yet Joleen never brought it up. But despite feeling the urge to sleep, the heaviness of his mind outweighed the heaviness of the Sun. Jim was the Hound now. "A Hound," Paige the new Gangrel had obnoxiously corrected, "there can be more than one, and honestly Hound is not much of a title." Like Jim didn't know that - like Jim hadn't just stood in the weird fetish room with the Sheriff being made a Hound alongside the Brujah Victor. Like Jim didn't have any basic understanding of the title he'd just received - a title that was intimately connected to his time in the city! Dmitri had been the Hound when Jim had first arrived, and London before him, and Ruby was a "Hound-in-Training" for a time too. Jim was succeeding a long line of traitors - minus Ruby, but she was promoted to Primogen before she ever became a Hound - in this title, and furthermore it was a title at all, something Jim hadn't expected to receive. Paige needed to shut up - and soon. Ruby, Jim, William, Joleen, and Newsie had done a lot to cement the Gangrel as the most steadfastly reliable and trustworthy of the Clans in Seattle, and Paige - the spoiled brat - really did not need to march in here blabbing about her sire and telling everybody who would listen that she can turn into a wolf and go invisible.
That wasn't how the Gangrel played ball. Maybe in Vancouver, but not in Seattle. If William didn't do something about her - if Ruby didn't do something about her, when she returned to the Gathering, if she returned to the Gathering - then Jim would have to do something about her. But how could he control someone so much more powerful than he was? How could he control someone whose sire actually embraced her out of love - at 16? what kind of freak was this guy? - and kept her around and actually held her in accounting, and gave her a hell of a one? If Jim and Joleen had been given that kind of accounting - the kind of accounting she was given - they'd probably be on her level too. But he couldn't control her, because technically she was held in 'higher esteem.'
It was infuriating. It was literally somebody coming up and saying 'I get to be a super important member of your Clan because my Daddy said so.' Jim could imagine that happening in Clan Toreador, and definitely in Clan Ventrue, but among his own Clan? He never thought this would be happening.
But Jim was the Hound now. A Hound, now. The Sheriff didn't want anyone to know who his Hounds were during this 'time of crisis,' but Jim didn't realize that and went and told his whole Clan and even The Harpy. So Jim was, for now, The Hound, and the others got to be secret agents until further announcements. That was great, Jim thought, if it weren't for the fact that he'd failed his first job as Hound. Jim hadn't thought he was the right choice for the job, and still felt that way. Who thought it was a good idea to make him Hound? Lady Ophelia? The Prince? Why? Because he was a Gangrel? Because Gangrel can do the claws thing, so they must be good at killing things, and Jim is everybody's favorite Gangrel so let's give him the job? He honestly wouldn't have been surprised if that was the logic behind it. But what about the true duties of a Hound? Tracking, investigation, law enforcement? Jim had never been a cop - he barely even watched Cop TV Shows - he had never been a hunter. He was pretty piss poor at even being a vampire, and found it really difficult to gain blood every month before the Assamites shared their 'bountiful feast' with him.
Joleen was better at this than he was - she would have made them all proud. "So the new Sheriff is actually here, and will actually be Sheriff," she'd said to him earlier that night, "do you think Lady Ophelia could introduce me?" She had so looked forward to being a Hound, to using the skills she had to assist the city. Instead, they'd decided that quiet, secret-keeping, steel-hearted Joleen who had barely picked up a book in her life should be The Prince's Herald, and loud, charismatic, can't-keep-a-secret-to-save-his-life Jim ought to be The Prince's Killer. Jim was relieved as much as he was stressed, however, to know that Joleen would be kept out of direct fighting - however suited to it she was - and that he would be the one getting thrown at the dangers of the city. Maybe they did it because they knew Jim would never be happy knowing his little sister was in danger? Jim wasn't sure how much their happiness had been factored into this decision, but based on what the Prince had said, it seemed it was factored in quite a bit.
"I see long faces," the Prince had said, approaching them. Approaching them. The vampire 'royalty' sat in the distance, and the Prince's throne was empty because he was standing in front of them, in some dismal corner of the Gathering. "Tell me what has happened so that I can fix it." Jim's stress was, in that moment, the Prince's first priority, even with his broodmate a traitor and his former Seneschal dead at his feet. The Prince was a great inspiration, a great man, and Jim was so glad he still ruled the Emerald Domain in his fatherly manner. Yet it was the Prince's concern for Jim's distress that made him feel worse even as he felt better. He wouldn't be any good at this job, and he would fail at it, and the Prince - with his high hopes - would think less of him. He would be disappointed. He extended a chance to him to prove himself, yet again, and this time Jim would fail.
"Fuck," Jim swore, and put an arm across his head. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."
Darkness came over him. He would resume this line of thought tomorrow night, and in his torpid dreams he would see visions of the Scotsman pointing at him and swearing at him for talking to the Prince, and Ophelia's mysterious smile turn to a frown, and the Prince shaking his head and turning away from him, and tentacles, so many tentacles, seething in the darkness.
