Post by Dimitri Vasilescu on Jan 21, 2014 2:38:25 GMT -8
I sit in my study, and the barrel of the miniature brass cannon stares back at me. It sits next to the old Turkish lantern; one of many packages or letters I have received lately, as Anna starts to taunt me from afar again. I reach out and take the cannon in hand as the memory forces its way forward. I remember when I really understood how I feel towards her, among all the things she had done, beyond the shame and the guilt.
Hatred. It's hard to feel anything else. I can't even tell if I'm in frenzy or not. Kneeling in the sand across from me is my sire, collared, and to that collar is a chain held by some little shit, who seems overly excited by what is before him. Behind him the every one of our ships is beached and in flames.
My neck tenses as I think about drinking him to nothing, and I feel my own collar, then follow the chain to the hand of some military officer. I assume it's Blake, as the fucker winks at me.
Not getting enough attention, the cunt clears her throat. She has no reason, since she's dead, so what else could it be. My eyes refuse to go to her, and instead catch the glance of hatred from my sire at me. Well fuck you, too. This wasn't my doing. You don't blood bond me, and the honeymoon was over two years ago.
“Was this always your plan, Jibran? To help her out as some form of infiltrator?” He uses English to try and get something out of anyone around.
“Don't be dense, Hayyadin. She controlled me utterly, and I am certainly not excited to see her.”
Anna cuts in. “But why is your tail wagging, pup?” This gets my glare; she wins. “You were such a good dog too. But then you ran away to join the wild pack to eat at garbage and scraps rather than stay in my care.” She steps over to me, and I feel my body become completely rigid as she gestures towards me. “And now you see what happens when you bite the hand that feeds, mongrel.” Her hand scratches my head as though I were a dog, and I rage. Yet I cannot move.
My arms begin to twitch around, and my body makes exaggerated steps towards Hayyadin. I shake and rattle as my beast pushes against her will, but she has control of my form, and leaves my mind unleashed.
“You don't scare me cadı. And neither do you, Jibran.”
Anna rolls her eyes, “His name is Adne, and anyway,” she claps her hands in delight, “we're going to have a bit of a game!” She looks to Hayyadin Barbarossa, my sire, and grins. “If you kill Adne, I won't stake you and place you in the sea! And if I get him to stake you, well, I'll just keep him to myself.”
“Why not just kill me now, bitch? What makes you play these games?” He retorts.
“Why Barbarossa! Do you think me some troglodyte like yourself? I am an outstanding member of the Camarilla! And while this action may be perfectly sanctioned, I by no means have rite of destruction over you, dear captain. In fact, I have been told specifically not to by our elders.” Her smile grows larger. “Your childe, on the other hand, is still under your accounting, so no such luck for that cute pup.” She literally dances around to my side, and pats her knee as she forces my frenzied self to her side.
Like a stiff marionette my body lurches, and she wraps my hand around a stake. I stumble the first two steps, then fall, before she gets my form up and moving. Hayyadin is given a sword, and stands up on his own accord. “I won't fall now for you, çocuk. Sorry, but it's over for you.” This drops my frenzy for some reason, and my eyes meet with Anna's. She knows, and she is nothing but elated.
He charges forward, and as he swings at my torso, she gives me control of my body like clockwork. I cannot stop the blade completely, but deflecting with the stake keeps it from embedding more than a couple of inches. I grab the hilt of the sword and pull him towards me as I push the stake into his heart. It was very easy, and he seemed surprised for the instant he remained conscious.
I let his form fall to the sand, as it has a small sprinkle of our blood. I remove the sword from my side and heal the wound, and without hesitation, move towards the poor bastard holding Hayyadin's leash. The Yatagan blade finds snug purchase straight through his ribs, impaling his lung and heart at once, but I can't do more than that before Anna grabs control again. The ghoul is dead with nothing but the hilt sticking out of his chest, and she has me, but she did not expect my speed. Noted.
“Well you were being such a good dog, but then you went and shit on the floor.” She gifts me a scowl at her dead ghoul. “But we're done here. You bore me, and I don't have the patience to wash you of your fleas. You assaulted your sire, so he'll probably kill you once he's unstaked, and if you set him somewhere, the Camarilla will come for you now. Enjoy your choice, pup. Blake, sweetheart, we're going.”
Robert grins at me, bows like a smug asshole he is, then turns and readies a dinghy for them to go to the main ships, leaving me in the sand, in the ruins of what had been the Brujah port off of the new coming Carthage. And I had been the one to cause its fall. Anna still had me, she still won. She never looked back once as the dinghy came to the English ship, and the sails caught wind.
I move to Hayyadin, knowing he will frenzy on me once I remove the stake, and he does. He tears at my chest with his hands and sinks his teeth into my shoulder to hold on, not to drink. I place my hand on his forehead as we fall to the sand, and simply state, in Turkish, “I'm sorry.” He breaks his frenzy, and then smashes me across the face and leaves me in the sand. I don't bother getting up.
“We're done, you and I. I never want to hear from you again. But you are my childe, and you have shown to be a Brujah, so for you, I will not speak of this as your fault. But you know, and I know, and nothing can stop that.”
“It was hers, not mine, you It oglu It.” I sit up to confront him with speech.
“No, you have a strong will, and should have resisted her charm spells, or whatever she did. You missed her, you sick fool.”
I don't even bother replying. We're done here. It's nothing but ash on ash, from our fleet to other fallen Brujah. I get up, and walk away, never looking back.
Skipping ahead two years later in my memory, as I am pulling my thumbs out of Robert Blake's collapsed eye-sockets, I begin to feel regret. He was the same as I was, I start to think, but maybe he wasn't. The doubt will linger no matter what, though. But what she did to me, I would not suffer for another, and for what I dealt with with Hayyadin Barbarossa, I would not do the same. Stealing Blake by siring him would not save him from Anna. I am not saved from Anna until I lay in her ashes. On the bright side, Plymouth looks nice. Perhaps I can find ship and board to someplace far away. I feel my hatred subsiding a little, now.
Back to the present, the cannon is now nothing but slag in my hands. The hatred is returning, and she is as well.
