Post by Shah-Khohr of Ventrue on Apr 1, 2014 19:32:28 GMT -8
The laboratory was muted and distant. The whirling sounds and ticks and simmering bubbles were far away. The smells of steam and fermentation and that stench so reminiscent of an unclean woman were distant. The creature sat staring into the distance, tapping the space bar of a computer that had long since stopped making any sort of logical progress.
Betrayal, a voice hissed softly. Disrespect!
Insubordination! cried another. Dangerous!
Events unfolded in the creatures mind with shocking clarity and alacrity. Twice now, Seattle had been roused to the brink of war. Twice now, it had been the fault of Assamites. Their murderous lusts couldn't be controlled, this was known, but it had been believed that they could be directed. This belief was proving to be false. Elders with the patience of fledgelings wore masks beyond their years and nodded with sage-like manners. All false. Duplicitous.
The evidence of the Giovanni and the Nosferatu could have been false, were likely false. The words of the profit were misleading and shrouded. All things could so easily be misunderstood. But in this, it was irrelevant. The Camarilla of Seattle were finally acting Camarilla. They were boiling up from their foundation on the basis of Status, not fact.
Were these Children of Haqim to blame? It hardly mattered now. It was apparent that Seattle would poke and prod until they dead. Were these Children of Haqim innocent? It hardly mattered now. It was apparent that their blood would cause them to poke and prod at Seattle until they were dead. It was the nature of the Judge to hate the Camarilla and to be hated in turn, it seemed. Exhausting and more work then it was worth.
Asim may yet be saved if all the blame were on a single elder. An elder already protecting the Camarilla praxis. An elder that seemed to have some semblance of political insight and knew how to en debt the Prince to him. It was possible that the Camarilla might be saved if it returned to Seattle with hat in hand. The viable outcome that ensured Tacoma was left alone was the expelling of the Assamites and the closing of the borders. It was possible that the Camarilla would venture into these lands, but they would need to be staked along the I-5 corridor was examples if they did.
"Let them come," it whispered darkly. The chorus of voices in the Voivode's mind echoed its own finally. "They will face ancient justice. None shall violate the lands of the Voivode."
The creature melts away, absorbed by the floor and spreading its essence across the city. If the world was coming for blood, they would surely find it.