Post by Bubba Kush on Sept 10, 2012 23:10:33 GMT -8
(This post contains stong language and gender/cultural insensitivity. This post represents Jean-Luc's perspective, which may differ from those of the other PCs referred into herein. Please enjoy.)
Let us not talk falsely now.
"I want to know what your intentions are with Klara. There is a history here in Seattle, that I'm not sure if you're ignorant of, between clan Toreador and my family, so forgive me if I give little consideration to your," Niccolo cleared his mental gullet and spat out the last word. "... feelings."
The Italian bastard's words still echoed as I followed him back to Elysium. We had a man-to-man conversation Giovanni style: in the presence of women. In life Father always told me that the space between two men's handshake is the only true measurement of worth, and so far this three-piece Guinea has put some dizzy Puritan bitch in between. Very well, we'll talk like men.
"Take me to Concertina, then." The look on Niccolo's face when I said this reminded me of how Father looked when my mother made decisions regarding their only son. "If this is a matter that concerns your family, then I would speak to Concertina herself."
Niccolo pinched the bridge of his nose then, right where his eyeglasses softens his face. "Concertina is often busy-"
"I'll wait."
My memory of the conversation fell around us like broken glass as we ascended the steps to Sebastian's home. Niccolo's fierce and condescending demeanor had twisted his features, eerily similar to the way Father spoke to rivals and family. He was acting as a father figure for Klara, but the well-gossiped preoccupations of the Giovanni made me wonder exactly what fathers did in such an incestuous, perverse clan.
I watched the back of Niccolo's neck and counted the number of times I could have brought blade to it. Six, and then we were back inside.
I waited, like a good pup, and watched as the she-Don moved between the serpents of Claire and Niccolo. The Guinea scowls, Claire sits in the dark, and Concertina smiles at me from across the floor. They're all serpents. Am I Adam? Or Cain? Or some beast exiled from Eden?
"Come with me." The she-Don seized my arm, like velvet handcuffs that are gentle yet never ask. Did the strange runes on her forehead move? My living flesh shivers with undead dread, and I immediately regret seeking Concertina out.
"So, Jean-Luc," she took a pause on the steps and stared me down. Blackness swirled behind her eyes. "Tell me about your rage."
Darkness.
A violent force threw down my senses and left me bare. Blackness filled the world, invaded my nostrils, and stole my sight. I am alone, alone with the she-Don.
For a moment I feared that this was it. War, Father, Death, Claire. I survived it all, broken and limping in spirit, and now it ends. I hear nothing, i feel nothing, and I'm tired of not being free.
If the Giovanni will take me tonight, I gladly welcome it. The soft, firm grip returns to my wrist and leads me through hell...
...and out the other side of the great shadow. Somehow I got swept up in the sortie of Giovanni leaving Elysium. Niccolo, the Puritan, and the rest of the perverts found Concertina and ushered us out. I looked toward the she-Don, but nothing in her wild, dangerous gaze told me she had anything to do with the curse of darkness.
The lot of them, joined with but apart from the rest of the kindred, gathered to conspire about blasphemy and darkness, and for a moment I was mercifully forgotten.
"What is this darkness?"
"Some foul sorcery, some Assamite?"
"No, Lasombra, maybe..."
Claire was in Elysium, and I don't see her outside. Hoping she never, ever escapes whatever vile devilry befell her, I turn my back and begin to walk.
"Wait. Where is Klara?"
I didn't think. I didn't wonder who spoke or what was going on inside of the abyss. I acted and the darkness took me once more.
But this time I wasn't alone.
I wandered for hours inside, or perhaps many nights, as black serpents twisted around my ankles. Careful not to fall, i put one leg before the other, careful to avoid the writhing coils. I took one step and I saw Father standing with a lit cigar in his mouth and a bullet hole off-center in his forehead. He was scolding me for fooling around with the negro gardener's daughter, but another step later he was gone.
Nearly tripping over another snake of shadow, I almost fell and I could hear the chorus of hissing fangs just beyond my lack of vision, when an arm shot out and stopped me in the chest. I then saw who the arm was attached to: a woman, in her sinister hand holding Father's silver-handled revolver, with sulfur and smoke enveloping her. Was it my mother? I do not remember, but before I could speak she turned her head and blew the smoke away, herself with it.
A little later I stepped on a water moccasin and Claire appeared in her special dress, wreathed in flame. She screamed, "You! Why did you light the match? You love me!" She lunged forward, faster than I could gasp, and threw me back. "Die with me, I command you!"
I stumble back into a crowd of serpents and kindred, and before I hit the floor a silken web wraps around me like a naughty hammock. Hands grab at me and attempt to rend me nude and pull be down, but all they take are the masks and the deceit.
I may yet be free, but if all the lies fall away what is left of poor, sad Jean-Luc?
I bump into something soft. I reach out.
"Wh-who is this?"
"Klara? Come with me."
Let us not talk falsely now.
"I want to know what your intentions are with Klara. There is a history here in Seattle, that I'm not sure if you're ignorant of, between clan Toreador and my family, so forgive me if I give little consideration to your," Niccolo cleared his mental gullet and spat out the last word. "... feelings."
The Italian bastard's words still echoed as I followed him back to Elysium. We had a man-to-man conversation Giovanni style: in the presence of women. In life Father always told me that the space between two men's handshake is the only true measurement of worth, and so far this three-piece Guinea has put some dizzy Puritan bitch in between. Very well, we'll talk like men.
"Take me to Concertina, then." The look on Niccolo's face when I said this reminded me of how Father looked when my mother made decisions regarding their only son. "If this is a matter that concerns your family, then I would speak to Concertina herself."
Niccolo pinched the bridge of his nose then, right where his eyeglasses softens his face. "Concertina is often busy-"
"I'll wait."
My memory of the conversation fell around us like broken glass as we ascended the steps to Sebastian's home. Niccolo's fierce and condescending demeanor had twisted his features, eerily similar to the way Father spoke to rivals and family. He was acting as a father figure for Klara, but the well-gossiped preoccupations of the Giovanni made me wonder exactly what fathers did in such an incestuous, perverse clan.
I watched the back of Niccolo's neck and counted the number of times I could have brought blade to it. Six, and then we were back inside.
I waited, like a good pup, and watched as the she-Don moved between the serpents of Claire and Niccolo. The Guinea scowls, Claire sits in the dark, and Concertina smiles at me from across the floor. They're all serpents. Am I Adam? Or Cain? Or some beast exiled from Eden?
"Come with me." The she-Don seized my arm, like velvet handcuffs that are gentle yet never ask. Did the strange runes on her forehead move? My living flesh shivers with undead dread, and I immediately regret seeking Concertina out.
"So, Jean-Luc," she took a pause on the steps and stared me down. Blackness swirled behind her eyes. "Tell me about your rage."
Darkness.
A violent force threw down my senses and left me bare. Blackness filled the world, invaded my nostrils, and stole my sight. I am alone, alone with the she-Don.
For a moment I feared that this was it. War, Father, Death, Claire. I survived it all, broken and limping in spirit, and now it ends. I hear nothing, i feel nothing, and I'm tired of not being free.
If the Giovanni will take me tonight, I gladly welcome it. The soft, firm grip returns to my wrist and leads me through hell...
...and out the other side of the great shadow. Somehow I got swept up in the sortie of Giovanni leaving Elysium. Niccolo, the Puritan, and the rest of the perverts found Concertina and ushered us out. I looked toward the she-Don, but nothing in her wild, dangerous gaze told me she had anything to do with the curse of darkness.
The lot of them, joined with but apart from the rest of the kindred, gathered to conspire about blasphemy and darkness, and for a moment I was mercifully forgotten.
"What is this darkness?"
"Some foul sorcery, some Assamite?"
"No, Lasombra, maybe..."
Claire was in Elysium, and I don't see her outside. Hoping she never, ever escapes whatever vile devilry befell her, I turn my back and begin to walk.
"Wait. Where is Klara?"
I didn't think. I didn't wonder who spoke or what was going on inside of the abyss. I acted and the darkness took me once more.
But this time I wasn't alone.
I wandered for hours inside, or perhaps many nights, as black serpents twisted around my ankles. Careful not to fall, i put one leg before the other, careful to avoid the writhing coils. I took one step and I saw Father standing with a lit cigar in his mouth and a bullet hole off-center in his forehead. He was scolding me for fooling around with the negro gardener's daughter, but another step later he was gone.
Nearly tripping over another snake of shadow, I almost fell and I could hear the chorus of hissing fangs just beyond my lack of vision, when an arm shot out and stopped me in the chest. I then saw who the arm was attached to: a woman, in her sinister hand holding Father's silver-handled revolver, with sulfur and smoke enveloping her. Was it my mother? I do not remember, but before I could speak she turned her head and blew the smoke away, herself with it.
A little later I stepped on a water moccasin and Claire appeared in her special dress, wreathed in flame. She screamed, "You! Why did you light the match? You love me!" She lunged forward, faster than I could gasp, and threw me back. "Die with me, I command you!"
I stumble back into a crowd of serpents and kindred, and before I hit the floor a silken web wraps around me like a naughty hammock. Hands grab at me and attempt to rend me nude and pull be down, but all they take are the masks and the deceit.
I may yet be free, but if all the lies fall away what is left of poor, sad Jean-Luc?
I bump into something soft. I reach out.
"Wh-who is this?"
"Klara? Come with me."