Post by The Mouth on Jul 19, 2014 16:56:18 GMT -8
21 December, 2013
King John’s Castle, Ireland
The gala was quite successful. I was pretty sure I could poison nearly everyone present and get away with it.
I’d had some luck in procuring enough blood to heal the damage Vycheslav’s childe had done to me - Grigori was most helpful when I told him that a number of Sabbat hardliners were needing a new place to stay. He didn’t get me the blood but he did give my Devon Phillips face.
Tonight was my big reveal…
Yuria was present; I’d been allowed to pass a cup along, which her meriskor, Jarl, had sampled, eyes widening in pleasure. He and Yuria were chatting easily with one another in the castle courtyard, tents and entertainers like a medieval faire were set up. Yuria when she took a sip, frowned, then looked up surprised, a slow smile spreading over her face. It’s vaguely predatory so I know she remembering a meal from the past…
Yuria even had a priest say mass over us all. I almost blew cover by laughing hysterically; many of the Kindred present, especially the older ones, they squirmed. Like a whore in church on Sunday, as they say.
Probably not so funny to them given they probably have first hand memories of being hunted by angry mobs of Faith infused Inquisitors.
Oh hell, it’s funny. Selim was rubbing off on me, that Jester of Blades. Fucking sorcerer's prick.
But it got me an invitation to her private tent in order to serve her more directly.
I’ve gotten the hang of this act, given I’ve been at it for six months. I seem to be able to pick up physical skills a bit more adeptly since I’ve been under the Blood. It has promising implications.
I’m mixing up the third round for Yuria, and fucking christ Pascek walks in. Small man, sandy hair, white Orchid… Yeah, that’s Pascek. I remember him from Court just after his appointment; he was making his rounds to Queen Anne.
Of course I wait until I am asked to pour and serve. I do manage to conceal my shock when Yuria stands up off her couch, the long draping black dress on her lithe frame makes her seem a pixie floating in a night sky; tiny diamonds sewn into the gown twinkle in the gaslights, and she embraces Pascek passionately. I catch the briefest of smirks on Jarl’s face and I process.
Fact: Yuria and Pascek are lovers.
Fact: Pascek hates anarchs and the Sabbat. Especially the Sabbat.
Fact: Pascek resigned a Justicar’s seat to join against the Bowsley Doctrine.
Fact: That was plain fucking stupid of him to do; he can influence Camarilla policy more there…
Fact: Yuria was focused on forming an independent Brujah Kingdom away from Ventrue domination and picked Ireland….
Why? Why Ireland.
Fact: Pascek was getting played. Yuria had thralled him; had likely done so decades ago… Maybe even Centuries back.
Fucking Jihad. I’m missing pieces.
Gods I miss Seattle. Ileana would have picked this apart ages ago.
But clearly I’ve just seen something ‘secret’, which… Fuck.
Yuria is looking at me with a very satisfied smile.
“Devon, be a dear and pour a glass for my friend Alan here.”
I bow with precision, then begin pouring for Yuria, Jarl, and Pascek. Veronique and Liekkle haven’t finished their second cups, and I hand cut crystal goblets to the Elders as they settle down. It is an odd group. Veronique is charismatic, beautiful, dissembling, but is clearly rocking the Brittish Punk look from forty years ago. Liekkle is dressed as a priest, and Jarl is dressed in his leathers like he was last time; his pinkish eyes taking in everything.
Pascek and Yuria settle on the couch, very intimate and comfortable. Pascek nuzzles her neck, but she nips his wrist and licks the trickle of vitae that drips out; there is a moment of ecstacy on her face but then the damndest thing happens: Pascek gets more intensely possessive of her.
I note some jealousy radiating off the others as well…
Could she?
A power play among all the Elders is the Blood Bond. Sneaking that Bond onto an Elder is a great move in the Jihad… But what if she had some skill, discipline, or native ability to invert that process? Like, for example, her drinking your blood creates the Blood bond but in reverse?
Oh my. That would be a most subtle trap. Schemers, planners, all trying to drop the Bond onto her and then finding themselves enthralled instead…
But how? File for later.
I hear a disturbance at the front of the tent. Lister comes strutting in and whispers into Jarl’s ear, who then whispers in Liekkle’s ear, who then kneels at Yuria’s couch. “My Lady, Kevin Gooley has brought you a gift.”
“Gooley? What could he possibly have? I’ve taken everything of value away from him?” The assembled Elders all have a laugh. “Let him in, I am curious to see what he has brought.”
Kevin Gooley shuffles in. He is in rags, all pretense of Ventrue finery is gone, his dignity erased and pride eroded. I ache to see a Ventrue in such a state but I do nothing. I am nothing right now, just a merchant with a penchant for getting exotic vitae.
Kevin has an iron collar around his neck and rust stains the burlap tunic he wears; no not burlap. Hair shirt; likely made from his dead childer, ghouls, and allies killed in Yuria’s assault.
He carries a reminder of his powerless position every day. Yuria is truly cruel, but subtle. Her triumphant smile is erased when she sees what is following Gooley.
“Michael?!” And in a blink she is cradling Mike, who is dressed not too far off from Kevin Gooley.
Mike, for his part, blinks in surprise; he’s not too sure where he is anymore. “Yuria?” he whispers. Then ferverently he embraces her, causing several seed diamonds to scatter into the rich carpets laid over the stones. He clings to her like a man lost at sea finding an island to call home.
She clings to him much the same way.
Note, revise prior hypothesis regarding Yuria blood bond mechanics. Perhaps she is not immune to familial relationships.
And the jealousy knob in the room goes to 11. I start to see how Mike escaped last time. Escaped, or, shipped to Seattle. It might also explain why Yuria is so devoted to her bloodline…
Perhaps why the Baron got roped into a plot with as many moving parts as this one?
Shelved. Later.
Except… That what I am thinking should be impossible. But it isn’t; I’ve seen odd things done with Magic and hoodoo and special blood lines and… Demons. Nope, no evidence. Will wait on that. But five years ago, in London, I would have been ‘fucking bullshit’. A year ago, Seattle, would have been ‘The fuck is it this week?’
Wow. Gotta find a way to upsell that: Believes the evidence vs. the dogma/doctrine.
“What happened Michael, why did you leave me?” She’s cradling his head in what looks like a comforting way, but her grip is pretty white knuckle.
“I… I was scared. I was getting… Too much for you. After Chase, I just couldn’t…” Wow. Mike has more chops than I expected.
Yuria falls for it and clutches him again. “Well, I won’t smother you so much. Where have you been? I lost track of you in Seattle, some word that you were captured by a vile Ventrue…” And eyes blazing she whirls to Gooley.
“And just how did you get your hands on him, Gooley?”
Gooley falls to his knees sobbing, the fear has been conditioned into him so thoroughly. “Mistress, I beg your forgiveness! I knew of your desire and so I begged aid from a clanmate. He delivered Mike--Michael to me and I brought him here, directly.”
Yuria’s eyes narrow. “The time is coincidence; is it not? Right on the eve of my festival?”
“Mistress, I might have tried to nurse him to health for a week…”
“Ventrue dog!” Yuria strikes Gooley in the face with her palm; a sound like a cricket bat hitting teak fills the tent and the walls move with the force of the air displaced by the blow. Gooley should have gone flying but I notice that Yuria had grabbed his hair just before the blow hit.
Gooley is stunned, insensate, and Yuria just drops him. “Get him out of here, I was going to entertain myself with him later… But he did bring my Michael back to me. Jaroslav, be a dear and move aside? Poor Michael has been through an ordeal…”
Pascek moves, but not before giving Mike a look that explains so much about Yuria’s powerbase. She’s made Ghouls out of Kindred; they depend on her for love and affection, and she does so in such a way that they only compete with each other.
Man. Chase was probably lucky he never got sent back to her; oh wait. He did the same thing with his Maids Marian.
She spends the rest of the night mother henning over Mike, who shudders in fear every time she touches him.
Okay, I’ve done some fucked up things to Mike in the name of science, but this? This might be the cruelest thing I’ve ever done to him.
Aaaaand still don’t feel bad about it.
Brujah Part II
By Ben Vaughan
King John’s Castle, Ireland
The gala was quite successful. I was pretty sure I could poison nearly everyone present and get away with it.
I’d had some luck in procuring enough blood to heal the damage Vycheslav’s childe had done to me - Grigori was most helpful when I told him that a number of Sabbat hardliners were needing a new place to stay. He didn’t get me the blood but he did give my Devon Phillips face.
Tonight was my big reveal…
Yuria was present; I’d been allowed to pass a cup along, which her meriskor, Jarl, had sampled, eyes widening in pleasure. He and Yuria were chatting easily with one another in the castle courtyard, tents and entertainers like a medieval faire were set up. Yuria when she took a sip, frowned, then looked up surprised, a slow smile spreading over her face. It’s vaguely predatory so I know she remembering a meal from the past…
Yuria even had a priest say mass over us all. I almost blew cover by laughing hysterically; many of the Kindred present, especially the older ones, they squirmed. Like a whore in church on Sunday, as they say.
Probably not so funny to them given they probably have first hand memories of being hunted by angry mobs of Faith infused Inquisitors.
Oh hell, it’s funny. Selim was rubbing off on me, that Jester of Blades. Fucking sorcerer's prick.
But it got me an invitation to her private tent in order to serve her more directly.
I’ve gotten the hang of this act, given I’ve been at it for six months. I seem to be able to pick up physical skills a bit more adeptly since I’ve been under the Blood. It has promising implications.
I’m mixing up the third round for Yuria, and fucking christ Pascek walks in. Small man, sandy hair, white Orchid… Yeah, that’s Pascek. I remember him from Court just after his appointment; he was making his rounds to Queen Anne.
Of course I wait until I am asked to pour and serve. I do manage to conceal my shock when Yuria stands up off her couch, the long draping black dress on her lithe frame makes her seem a pixie floating in a night sky; tiny diamonds sewn into the gown twinkle in the gaslights, and she embraces Pascek passionately. I catch the briefest of smirks on Jarl’s face and I process.
Fact: Yuria and Pascek are lovers.
Fact: Pascek hates anarchs and the Sabbat. Especially the Sabbat.
Fact: Pascek resigned a Justicar’s seat to join against the Bowsley Doctrine.
Fact: That was plain fucking stupid of him to do; he can influence Camarilla policy more there…
Fact: Yuria was focused on forming an independent Brujah Kingdom away from Ventrue domination and picked Ireland….
Why? Why Ireland.
Fact: Pascek was getting played. Yuria had thralled him; had likely done so decades ago… Maybe even Centuries back.
Fucking Jihad. I’m missing pieces.
Gods I miss Seattle. Ileana would have picked this apart ages ago.
But clearly I’ve just seen something ‘secret’, which… Fuck.
Yuria is looking at me with a very satisfied smile.
“Devon, be a dear and pour a glass for my friend Alan here.”
I bow with precision, then begin pouring for Yuria, Jarl, and Pascek. Veronique and Liekkle haven’t finished their second cups, and I hand cut crystal goblets to the Elders as they settle down. It is an odd group. Veronique is charismatic, beautiful, dissembling, but is clearly rocking the Brittish Punk look from forty years ago. Liekkle is dressed as a priest, and Jarl is dressed in his leathers like he was last time; his pinkish eyes taking in everything.
Pascek and Yuria settle on the couch, very intimate and comfortable. Pascek nuzzles her neck, but she nips his wrist and licks the trickle of vitae that drips out; there is a moment of ecstacy on her face but then the damndest thing happens: Pascek gets more intensely possessive of her.
I note some jealousy radiating off the others as well…
Could she?
A power play among all the Elders is the Blood Bond. Sneaking that Bond onto an Elder is a great move in the Jihad… But what if she had some skill, discipline, or native ability to invert that process? Like, for example, her drinking your blood creates the Blood bond but in reverse?
Oh my. That would be a most subtle trap. Schemers, planners, all trying to drop the Bond onto her and then finding themselves enthralled instead…
But how? File for later.
I hear a disturbance at the front of the tent. Lister comes strutting in and whispers into Jarl’s ear, who then whispers in Liekkle’s ear, who then kneels at Yuria’s couch. “My Lady, Kevin Gooley has brought you a gift.”
“Gooley? What could he possibly have? I’ve taken everything of value away from him?” The assembled Elders all have a laugh. “Let him in, I am curious to see what he has brought.”
Kevin Gooley shuffles in. He is in rags, all pretense of Ventrue finery is gone, his dignity erased and pride eroded. I ache to see a Ventrue in such a state but I do nothing. I am nothing right now, just a merchant with a penchant for getting exotic vitae.
Kevin has an iron collar around his neck and rust stains the burlap tunic he wears; no not burlap. Hair shirt; likely made from his dead childer, ghouls, and allies killed in Yuria’s assault.
He carries a reminder of his powerless position every day. Yuria is truly cruel, but subtle. Her triumphant smile is erased when she sees what is following Gooley.
“Michael?!” And in a blink she is cradling Mike, who is dressed not too far off from Kevin Gooley.
Mike, for his part, blinks in surprise; he’s not too sure where he is anymore. “Yuria?” he whispers. Then ferverently he embraces her, causing several seed diamonds to scatter into the rich carpets laid over the stones. He clings to her like a man lost at sea finding an island to call home.
She clings to him much the same way.
Note, revise prior hypothesis regarding Yuria blood bond mechanics. Perhaps she is not immune to familial relationships.
And the jealousy knob in the room goes to 11. I start to see how Mike escaped last time. Escaped, or, shipped to Seattle. It might also explain why Yuria is so devoted to her bloodline…
Perhaps why the Baron got roped into a plot with as many moving parts as this one?
Shelved. Later.
Except… That what I am thinking should be impossible. But it isn’t; I’ve seen odd things done with Magic and hoodoo and special blood lines and… Demons. Nope, no evidence. Will wait on that. But five years ago, in London, I would have been ‘fucking bullshit’. A year ago, Seattle, would have been ‘The fuck is it this week?’
Wow. Gotta find a way to upsell that: Believes the evidence vs. the dogma/doctrine.
“What happened Michael, why did you leave me?” She’s cradling his head in what looks like a comforting way, but her grip is pretty white knuckle.
“I… I was scared. I was getting… Too much for you. After Chase, I just couldn’t…” Wow. Mike has more chops than I expected.
Yuria falls for it and clutches him again. “Well, I won’t smother you so much. Where have you been? I lost track of you in Seattle, some word that you were captured by a vile Ventrue…” And eyes blazing she whirls to Gooley.
“And just how did you get your hands on him, Gooley?”
Gooley falls to his knees sobbing, the fear has been conditioned into him so thoroughly. “Mistress, I beg your forgiveness! I knew of your desire and so I begged aid from a clanmate. He delivered Mike--Michael to me and I brought him here, directly.”
Yuria’s eyes narrow. “The time is coincidence; is it not? Right on the eve of my festival?”
“Mistress, I might have tried to nurse him to health for a week…”
“Ventrue dog!” Yuria strikes Gooley in the face with her palm; a sound like a cricket bat hitting teak fills the tent and the walls move with the force of the air displaced by the blow. Gooley should have gone flying but I notice that Yuria had grabbed his hair just before the blow hit.
Gooley is stunned, insensate, and Yuria just drops him. “Get him out of here, I was going to entertain myself with him later… But he did bring my Michael back to me. Jaroslav, be a dear and move aside? Poor Michael has been through an ordeal…”
Pascek moves, but not before giving Mike a look that explains so much about Yuria’s powerbase. She’s made Ghouls out of Kindred; they depend on her for love and affection, and she does so in such a way that they only compete with each other.
Man. Chase was probably lucky he never got sent back to her; oh wait. He did the same thing with his Maids Marian.
She spends the rest of the night mother henning over Mike, who shudders in fear every time she touches him.
Okay, I’ve done some fucked up things to Mike in the name of science, but this? This might be the cruelest thing I’ve ever done to him.
Aaaaand still don’t feel bad about it.
Brujah Part II
By Ben Vaughan