Post by The Mouth on Jul 19, 2014 16:53:12 GMT -8
17 December, 2013
Limerick, Ireland
I’d killed, and without mercy. But not without remorse.
My beast had been dormant during the exercise; we’d been killing shitsacks, and I’d been doing it so I could gain an ally and have her survive for ten minutes. Well, four months. Lasombra Elders tend to move not so swiftly. No Elder does. They won’t even begin to believe the rumors for at least four months.
I just received a note from the Baron indicated that yes, he is less than thrilled with an Anarch Domain in his back yard he is more than thrilled to no longer have a Sabbat domain. He understands that a period of transition is coming yada yada yada. He manages to not thank me at least a dozen times in Casterly speak. I think the word ‘diligence’ was used no less than four times.
In one paragraph. Whitmark gets it from somewhere.
I did rather like the one from the Strategos. It was simply Good job, childe. Your boldness is noted. This is good and bad; boldness is a keyword to indicate that I’ve done something unexpected and got away with it; don’t do it again fucker.
Oh, so much more boldness.
I’m playing a board game with the girls. They explained, patiently, that this is what human families do.
I think on it. This game of Life. I conclude it is a shit game. Mostly because I am losing.
“I don’t understand. I don’t want to be married. And I can clearly turn this capital into leverage oportunities hedged in a series of investments in emerging technologies and cotton futures. This is ridiculous…” They pelt me with bits of crusts from the pies they are eating.
I ruin it all five minutes later when I am on the floor shrieking. I’d turned around and Hannah was standing there with a knife - She’d pulled it out to slice up some ham.
I had it out of hand and was going to put it in her neck before anyone could blink. Hannah, for her part, had grabbed a plate and was going to try and deflect the knife but I was faster… So much faster.
I hit the floor chanting that I was sorry, so sorry, I’m tired of killing, so tired…
Jory picked me up, she’s strong like that, carried me to the couch, and the girls all just piled on me while I shook and wept for an hour.
Then we watched Casablanca.
Then I told them what I had done; mechanically, detailed. I left nothing out. Nothing. My terror, my shame, my horror. The smell of someone’s face melting away at several thousand feet per second. The work of hours of planning and scheming. The planning of murder and executing it. Then I left the War and moved on to the work I did for Casterly in the 70’s, killing a gang leader with my persuasion skills. Shooting the poor fucker’s dick off.
Thinking that Casterly was a god who physically communed with me.
I told them about Davenish. And our children. And my other children. I told them they weren’t alone in the world, that there were other werewolves and faeries and mages. And for some reason they all liked fucking with Seattle.
I promised them money, education, power. What they wanted I would give. Jory’s reply? “We’ve actually been considering staying with you as long as possible.”
The guilt that hit me was a spasm so hard that I bit through my lip.
I told them about my plan for Yuria’s court. And they volunteered to help.
They fucking volunteered.
“How do you know I’m not doing this as an act to get you to help me more than you have?”
Hannah looked me in the eye. “We don’t Grandfather. But we trust you.”
My girls. What was going to happen to my girls? I sure as hell wasn’t sending them back to their mothers.
Then Rabbit confessed what she’d done to the other two. Screaming ensured, hurt, rage, blame, recrimination. Rabbit too it all in silence.
I had enough after twenty minutes.
“Shut. Up.” Hannah and Jory stopped yelling at Rabbit and each other.
They looked at me.
“Rabbit did what she did because she believed her mother and father were looking out for you and the family. They in fact were looking out for the family and the rules of the family. A careful distinction but important. Jory, love, I’d have chosen something similar for you; but I would have asked. Hannah, dear, your boyfriend was a twat for not putting what he knew as his duty before his tonker. Rabbit in the end gave you the chance to escape. Thank her for that and understand that she left with you because out of all of your uncles, cousins, aunts, and friends, she loved what she found in your hearts and in your minds.”
Rabbit is in a ball, knees pulled up, on the couch. Tears are streaking down her face. Jory sits down and is shortly hysterical and hugging Rabbit. Hannah holds out long enough to assert that she is a bad ass warrior chick then grabs them all, rocking. I slump to the floor and lean against their legs soaking up their warmth.
“Girls, we are veterans of our own wars, our own losses and victories. But we don’t have to be alone in them.”
I have nightmares of faces melting in the burning spray of magnesium; splashing away under lead. Having the absolute conviction of the blood bond yet again; chaining me to a will not my own.
And every night I wake up to three mortals; far removed from human, but together we climb back into the light of the sun, the warmth of camaraderie. We sit and watch movies, they have popcorn and I have a bag of blood. It bothers them to know what I feed on, I can feel that from them.
But they also know that if I had a choice…
I’d have died the night Casterly embraced me.
Interlude: The Price
By Ben Vaughan
Limerick, Ireland
I’d killed, and without mercy. But not without remorse.
My beast had been dormant during the exercise; we’d been killing shitsacks, and I’d been doing it so I could gain an ally and have her survive for ten minutes. Well, four months. Lasombra Elders tend to move not so swiftly. No Elder does. They won’t even begin to believe the rumors for at least four months.
I just received a note from the Baron indicated that yes, he is less than thrilled with an Anarch Domain in his back yard he is more than thrilled to no longer have a Sabbat domain. He understands that a period of transition is coming yada yada yada. He manages to not thank me at least a dozen times in Casterly speak. I think the word ‘diligence’ was used no less than four times.
In one paragraph. Whitmark gets it from somewhere.
I did rather like the one from the Strategos. It was simply Good job, childe. Your boldness is noted. This is good and bad; boldness is a keyword to indicate that I’ve done something unexpected and got away with it; don’t do it again fucker.
Oh, so much more boldness.
I’m playing a board game with the girls. They explained, patiently, that this is what human families do.
I think on it. This game of Life. I conclude it is a shit game. Mostly because I am losing.
“I don’t understand. I don’t want to be married. And I can clearly turn this capital into leverage oportunities hedged in a series of investments in emerging technologies and cotton futures. This is ridiculous…” They pelt me with bits of crusts from the pies they are eating.
I ruin it all five minutes later when I am on the floor shrieking. I’d turned around and Hannah was standing there with a knife - She’d pulled it out to slice up some ham.
I had it out of hand and was going to put it in her neck before anyone could blink. Hannah, for her part, had grabbed a plate and was going to try and deflect the knife but I was faster… So much faster.
I hit the floor chanting that I was sorry, so sorry, I’m tired of killing, so tired…
Jory picked me up, she’s strong like that, carried me to the couch, and the girls all just piled on me while I shook and wept for an hour.
Then we watched Casablanca.
Then I told them what I had done; mechanically, detailed. I left nothing out. Nothing. My terror, my shame, my horror. The smell of someone’s face melting away at several thousand feet per second. The work of hours of planning and scheming. The planning of murder and executing it. Then I left the War and moved on to the work I did for Casterly in the 70’s, killing a gang leader with my persuasion skills. Shooting the poor fucker’s dick off.
Thinking that Casterly was a god who physically communed with me.
I told them about Davenish. And our children. And my other children. I told them they weren’t alone in the world, that there were other werewolves and faeries and mages. And for some reason they all liked fucking with Seattle.
I promised them money, education, power. What they wanted I would give. Jory’s reply? “We’ve actually been considering staying with you as long as possible.”
The guilt that hit me was a spasm so hard that I bit through my lip.
I told them about my plan for Yuria’s court. And they volunteered to help.
They fucking volunteered.
“How do you know I’m not doing this as an act to get you to help me more than you have?”
Hannah looked me in the eye. “We don’t Grandfather. But we trust you.”
My girls. What was going to happen to my girls? I sure as hell wasn’t sending them back to their mothers.
Then Rabbit confessed what she’d done to the other two. Screaming ensured, hurt, rage, blame, recrimination. Rabbit too it all in silence.
I had enough after twenty minutes.
“Shut. Up.” Hannah and Jory stopped yelling at Rabbit and each other.
They looked at me.
“Rabbit did what she did because she believed her mother and father were looking out for you and the family. They in fact were looking out for the family and the rules of the family. A careful distinction but important. Jory, love, I’d have chosen something similar for you; but I would have asked. Hannah, dear, your boyfriend was a twat for not putting what he knew as his duty before his tonker. Rabbit in the end gave you the chance to escape. Thank her for that and understand that she left with you because out of all of your uncles, cousins, aunts, and friends, she loved what she found in your hearts and in your minds.”
Rabbit is in a ball, knees pulled up, on the couch. Tears are streaking down her face. Jory sits down and is shortly hysterical and hugging Rabbit. Hannah holds out long enough to assert that she is a bad ass warrior chick then grabs them all, rocking. I slump to the floor and lean against their legs soaking up their warmth.
“Girls, we are veterans of our own wars, our own losses and victories. But we don’t have to be alone in them.”
I have nightmares of faces melting in the burning spray of magnesium; splashing away under lead. Having the absolute conviction of the blood bond yet again; chaining me to a will not my own.
And every night I wake up to three mortals; far removed from human, but together we climb back into the light of the sun, the warmth of camaraderie. We sit and watch movies, they have popcorn and I have a bag of blood. It bothers them to know what I feed on, I can feel that from them.
But they also know that if I had a choice…
I’d have died the night Casterly embraced me.
Interlude: The Price
By Ben Vaughan