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Alchemist
#876 Old 11th Dec 2008 at 8:51 PM
Connor and Moira - Club Envy, Backstage: Begin Connor wind-up!


It was said that a proper ghoul needs only to be in his domitor's presence to perceive their mood and be intuitive enough almost to anticipate a command before it is given, making it the perfect association between master and servant: absolute and extremely efficient. Likewise, the careful domitor is so attuned to the mind and disposition of his loyal servitor, mere gestures and inflexions of the voice are often enough to perceive what goes on in their heart and mind. This symbiosis of sorts is achieved through the exchange of Vitae as well as a good knowledge of what the other is like or, in the case of a vampire, what ones wishes to show.

Connor and Moira were no different: the connection they shared, which also happened to be a natural one, enhanced as it was by the Blood which flowed in both their veins and the bond it created was strong enough for them to spot one another in a crowd without real effort; therefore it was no surprise that face to face one would rarely miss a beat in the other's display of emotion as long as it was there. With Auspex and nearly six hundred years of experience working in her advantage, Moira's perception was far sharper than that of young Connor, though the subtle disturbances she was currently observing in his body language she noticed because she knew him, and could tell when something was troubling him. It wasn't anything specific, yet there nonetheless: the shadow of uncertainty that crept into his eyes and smile, the eager way in which he squeezed her hand, a flicker of remoteness present in his otherwise affectionate smile, but above all it was something even more immaterial than that: an overall impression, like an aura that she needed no Auspex to perceive.

Moira knew she wasn't the only one who wanted to sit down and have a discussion: they had one matter still unresolved, at least from his point of view, the issue of Connor's tryst with the Italian woman. Then, of course, was his recent run-in with two hostile vampires and last but not least being made aware of Valerian. Given all these factors, it was no wonder that the young man was troubled, and little did he know that his dilemma was very much interconnected with what Moira needed to make him aware of. For once, Cecilia Bertoli: he had expected her to be angry or at least upset and because of Moira's mistaken assumption that he understood he posessed a certain ...freedom...in their relationship, he was taken aback by her lack of reaction, and unless Moira was mistaken even a little disappointed. That tied in with the fact that he mostly regarded her as a woman who happened to live forever and drink blood every now and then, when in reality she was much more than that...or much less, depending on one's point of view. Connor remained very much unaware of her inhuman nature, and that her thought processes differed from a mortal's. She looked human, she could even pretend to be human, but she was not. She hadn't been human for so long, what it felt like was nothing more than a vague memory, and during that time she had undergone some profound and irreversible changes. Take for example sexual fidelity – it wasn't particularly relevant to her, as the concept itself had perished along with her mortality. It was something for Connor, a young mortal man, to enjoy, with women who could equally appreciate it and something she chose to partake in for different reasons. To him, it was an act of betrayal – to her it simply existed...maybe because she had forgotten. For Kindred, sex wasn't a primary means of bonding any more – blood was, hence her strong reaction to finding out another vampire had taken Connor's without his permission. Equally, it would be inconceivable for him to become bonded to another through Vitae.

Then, there was Valerian. Throughout the months they'd known eachother, the side of her he'd experienced was the solitary one, and for all intents and purposes she had been so: surrounded by people but somehow apart from them: reserved. Moira didn't have many close associates in London, not the personal kind at least – it was one of the reasons why she had grown weary of that city. Therefore, Connor wasn't accustomed to seeing her with friends, and one could imagine how her open-hearted chat with Valerian would have appeared to him. Ultimately, it was because of how little he knew of her: she had not even told him her original name, or true age, or that she had once been married. Among other things.

That they had plenty to discuss was an understatement, yet Moira needed to consider a good way of easing him into it. The time wasn't exactly ideal, after an exhilarating show, tired and pumped up with adrenaline; on the other hand, postponing it one more day wouldn't make it easier nor would spending the remainder of the night avoiding the subject. Plus, Connor was more resilient than most humans. One thing and part of the reason she had wished to wait was to see whether there was anything regarding the performance he wanted to say first; when it came to artists, sometimes a certain thought simply had to be liberated before the mind could focus and indeed Connor's face began to fill with enthusiasm before he noticed the regret Moira's expression contained. It was then forgotten in favour of a worried: "What's wrong?"

Moira lowered her eyelids in acknowledgement and her expression grew serious. When she looked up at him, a sparkle of encouragement flickered still in her eyes, as though to signify there was no need to panic:

“There is something we need to talk about,” she told him. “And I was hoping we could do it right away.”

With a gentle nod of her head, Moira indicated the half opened door leading into an empty room across from them.

((ooc: Gah, I hope it's coherent, I wanted to fit so much in and it just ended up looking all tangled in the end.))

If wishes were fishes we'd all cast nets
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Scholar
#877 Old 11th Dec 2008 at 10:40 PM
Default Claudia and Valerian - Club Envy, then Valerian's chambers, The Haven
It was no secret that Claudia was a possessive woman. She made it very clear – even to those who’d quite clearly play out their threats – that what was hers, Valerian inclusive, was hers alone. It was no secret that Claudia was dangerous to cross – those that could actually bear to tell the tale often deemed it prudent to not badmouth her and put themselves under her scrutiny once more. It was certainly no secret that when Claudia punished, she was often ruthless. She was not unjust; there were ample warning signals not to cross her, and thus she did not victimise people with no reason to prompt it. Claudia did not like to waste time on things that had no real cause nor consequence.

However, it seemed to her, that right now, someone had decided to put themselves on a list that was avoided like the plague by both Kine and Kindred who knew of Claudia’s reputation. Someone had hurt Valerian – who she cared for, for she’d claimed him as her own. Needless to say, she was furious. She had to find out what exactly had transpired, she had to find out who it was and she had to punish them for it. Of course, that’d probably be the last thing that Valerian wanted – sweet as he was, he really needed to learn that people had to be taught their lessons – but no, Claudia insisted.

Although, that took somewhat of a secondary importance to her concern regarding his wellbeing. Was he alright? Was he in need of blood to heal? Now… as ever the opportunist, Claudia could not deny that for a moment, there seeped in an idea to make him take the plunge and cement the bond between them. But… if he did do it, he would do it out of desperation and she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to exploit him as such, to win by such cheating methods when she could do it so much better and still win, without violating her own standards.

"We need to talk,” he said with despondency, despite the reassuring smile over his soft lips as his hands held hers in a gentle compress. Oh, yes, they most definitely needed to talk; she wasn’t going to let whoever was responsible get away with this. "And this is part of the reason why we do. But not here."

No doubt, Kindred matters then, that had led to this fray, for otherwise, he would most likely not exercise such caution. Though, which Kindred would wantonly attack ValerianValerian, of all people – as such, Claudia was at a loss for ideas, for he certainly would not have started it. However, there were always unsavoury characters lurking in every civilisation, even in those as grand as the Camarilla. … A Brujah, she supposed.

"Would it be possible for you to finish up your business here,” he began with a hope lingering in his sky blue eyes that would have made it difficult for most to refuse his request, as Claudia quirked a brow, asking herself whether he’d sought her out like this – dishevelled, by both their standards – because whatever he wanted to discuss was of such grave importance. “And come back home with me?"

So… it was less likely to be entirely to do with Archon’s investment, then? For, there was no need for him to carry on seeking her out despite being subjected to what was clearly an attack. No… his guilt complex was likely attributable to something that Claudia was likely to actually take offence over. And it explained the suddenly unsurprising effort he’d put into his clothes. What had he done?!
Though, no, she wouldn’t play the cards that arose from suspicion just yet, for she had very little to base it upon and she didn’t want to fling wrongful accusations when he could have just been a victim of… anything, really.
Also, she’d seen enough of the show to base her decision upon and thus, there really was nothing keeping her here for now.

“I assume you’re alright?” she asked, eyes still wary of any serious damage he may have incurred, before being satisfied enough with her search to then answer his request.

“And very well, we’ll discuss this at home,” she thus concurred, with a single, affirmative nod as she gracefully rose from the bar stool, smoothly accompanying him as the two unnaturally perfect forms caused the crowd to almost part for them like the Red sea as they effortlessly seemed to glide towards the exit, where her chauffeur waited faithfully to drive them back to The Haven.

She said very little during the short journey, such as to allow him time to reflect on what exactly he wanted to say and to allow herself time to consider the possibilities and how exactly she would utilise the situation. Though, one of the main reasons lingered around the fact that she did not want to discuss whatever matter it may be in front of the hired help, for there was a time and a place for everything. However, patience was soon enough rewarded as the familiarity of The Haven dawned upon them, soon placing them in the comforts of Valerian’s chambers once more as Claudia strode in, determination mingling with all the elegance she possessed.

“Spare no details,” she ordered, placing her purse down on the sideboard once he’d followed her in, meeting his gaze with utter seriousness as she gestured to his clothes, now that his physical wellbeing was no longer of grave concern. “Who did this?”

(((OOC: Hope that works for you, Atropa )))

"Life is just a chance to grow a soul" - A. Powell Davies
Scholar
#878 Old 12th Dec 2008 at 10:00 PM
Default Lena and Adrien - Alleyway
Games are everywhere, just waiting – begging – to be played. It always starts off in the most innocent ways; the infant manipulating it’s parents for attention, the child manipulating it’s friends for acceptance, and that was all apparently acceptable in comparison to the supposedly reprehensible games that people like Lena played. And the real reason for the rejection was because their actions didn’t sit well in the game that society played with itself; the grand delusion of morals and conscience. Honestly, if it meant that she didn’t have to delude herself with their ridiculous charades, she was quite happy being the bad guy.

Meanwhile, others were quite happy deluding themselves with those very same ridiculous charades. Prize-winner: Adrien de la Cour. Really, she expected more that for him to buy into the word and its wife pretending to be good and noble, when all that ever made anything happen was just selfishness; there was no such thing as a selfless act. Even the reason of moral gratification was in itself selfish. But, he instead stuck to his derisive judgment that anything to do with vampires was evil and the human race was comprised of unwitting victims. Sure.
Though… there was the sneaking suspicion that it was all a game to him, to pretend to be as righteous and noble whilst really, being no different from her. But then again, given what she’d learnt from deciphering him, it wasn’t that much of a possibility.

Now, when it came to the reasons for playing games, there were so many. One of the most prominent reasons for playing games is through necessity and another reason was just boredom. With Lena’s addiction to toying with people – for they were all her toys – it didn’t take a genius to figure out what her incentive was, but dearest de la Cour, here certainly didn’t belong to the same faction; no, he seemed to be the type to rarely do anything for just pleasure – self-sacrifice and all that ridiculous, delusional jazz. But… everything had it’s reasons and with Adrien, she would bet that it was something rather defensive rather than outright malicious.
Regardless, games are games and intentionally or not – well, pretty much always intentionally – they can be pretty detrimental.

She couldn’t be sure. Just like she couldn’t be sure that Christian was dead, just like she couldn’t be sure that crafty Fitzroy hadn’t just set up Schumacher for some old grudge when he had nothing to do with whatshername (she didn’t care if that was the case, Lena just wanted someone, even the scapegoat, to die for it), she just couldn’t be sure that Adrien wasn’t still playing a grand game. Now, she’d had good reason to believe him when he’d claimed inability to continue his hunting shenanigans because of what his demeanour suggested but… this is the guy who donned what was possibly a whole new identity for two decades, who’s to say he wasn’t doing it right now?

Who’s to say that he wasn’t really shackled at all? He could have been aware of what he could do all along, this PoW act could so easily be him gaining a further foothold to make sure he really took down as many as possible. Maybe killing those two was only because he’d had no choice but to kill them, right there in front of her, because if he hadn’t, they’d have killed him. With Camarilla vampires, they weren’t allowed to kill him, so in a way, physical abuse aside, he was relatively safe. It wasn’t like de la Cour wouldn’t be above tolerating their ‘punishment’ whilst biding his time, to truly lower their defences before he attacked.
Welcome back, Brain, I’ve really missed you.

So, standing here with that realisation, with the darkness clearly lurking behind his eyes, it really didn’t work to comfort her that he suddenly decided he found something particularly funny about this situation. Not that anything ever really got to her anyway, positive or negative. But still, was that a little devious scheme slotting into place in his mind? If so, where was the smirk?

"The thing about playing games, my dear,” he started, seemingly rather amused by something or the other for that slight smile still hovering over his lips, "... is that it leaves only the one playing them to know where they start, and where they end."

How very simple. Too simple, or was that what he thought of her? Now, see, the thing about playing games was that you don’t always know you’re playing them and you don’t necessarily know the prowess of who you’re playing with or against – these days, Lena Sayliss was damn good at knowing both parameters; she knew she toyed with people and knew who she was toying with, but she went ahead and did it anyway. However, in some games it was seldom clear who was the player and who was the participant and thus, even if the game was one that you started, you never know whether you’re the one still in control. Either way, control always came back to the hands of Lena Saylissif it’d ever left in the first place.

So, where the hell were they in this game he was clearly playing? If he’d known beforehand that he could still kill, why did he hire her? Why had he not attacked and attempted to kill her already? For what that statement seemed to indicate was that he was playing a game and he was just about to finish up, which also begged the question, why was he making it a point to let her know? How very interesting…
Did he mean to kill her now? Apparently not;

"But alright,” Adrien moved on and… ah! There was the smirk! Alright, there was definitely something fishy running through that mind of his and thus, she – mentally, without giving a single physical indication – prepared herself for any impending attack, eyes firmly locked onto him, only to be met with; "Do you intend to provide me with the details, or shall I guess?"

Oh. Okay. So, he did intend to pay her, then? Well, then, what about…? Oh, unless he was paying her just so that he could mentally fulfil the requirements of his honour before trying to kill her. Rather a wasteful misadventure, but come on, this guy hardly understood the idea of wasting things like life and opportunities. Not a problem; she was always on her guard anyway.
But, meanwhile, why not just continue with business matters? So, she reached into the jeans pocket, pulling out a pen and writing down the account number on the palm of her right hand before showing it to him, never having tuned herself out of any movement from his part even for a moment.

“Not that I doubt your skills, but to speed up the process,” she offered with a smile, then lightly resting the back of the pen between her upper and lower incisors watching him with the same teasing, flirtatious aura, while underneath the impish gaze that playfully scrutinised his appearance again, there was just simply – as always – cold analysis of everything that was going on, even the sharp titanium nib of the pen nonchalantly poised outward, ready to go straight into his neck, to buy herself time, should he try anything funny.

(((OOC: I hope that makes sense, but I just really haven’t been feeling it lately, so, sorry if it’s a little weird/repetitive/disjointed )))

"Life is just a chance to grow a soul" - A. Powell Davies
Alchemist
#879 Old 13th Dec 2008 at 9:06 PM
Noah and Aeode - Outside Club Envy




Though the feeling of overwhelming fear had diminished to a tense watchfulness, Aeode remained prudent of her new companion, of his words and movements, in the hope that should anything go awry, for whatever reason, she would be able to see it coming. At the moment, nothing suggested it, but not for one second did Aeode forget the nature of the man standing before her: to her, the frightening reality of vampires was doubly sharp because she knew just enough to be truly afraid, and who was to say she knew anything at all? All she had what Valerian told her, but what sent a chill crawling along the length of her spine were the things he had gone to great lengths to keep from her, as well as the looming presence of a higher rank of vampires, ruthless, lurking somewhere in the depths of LA: a faceless judge and jury about to dispense her fate. All bets were off, Aeode being left with the persistent sensation of instability and vertigo, as though she was teetering along an impossibly narrow bridge...and below it gaped the precipice. All she could do was focus on keeping from falling.

One of the results of Aeode's long-term solitary existence and her reserved attitude towards other people, elevated to something of a personal signature, was the ease with which she could recreate a mask of confidence even when she did not feel it, and the ability to prevent emotion from infiltrating her demeanour when a veritable struggle could be unfolding within. It was useful, because it confused people, and therefore protected her. In the end, it was nothing more than a survival technique. Sometimes, a more perceptive individual could see through the façade, or notice some discrepant detail in her otherwise cool poise, but as a general rule, it worked. Idly, Aeode wondered whether Noah, a vampire and therefore an unknown, could tell. Valerian certainly had a knack for guessing her state of mind, which was disconcerting.

Try as she might, Aeode couldn't figure Noah out, or what his motives were. At first it seemed clear, albeit surprising: he was there to apologize for trying to drink her blood and scaring her half to death. Fair enough. But since then, their conversation had attained unusually philosophical nuances for two awkward strangers. Since nobody interacted without a reason – be it attention, information, entertainment, it didn't matter: there was always a reason and “talking just for the sake of it” was in fact a misconceived expression – Aeode had to ask herself: what did he want from her? Did he even know it himself?

"Sometimes the one you can't forgive is yourself...", Noah said and gave a cautious look around him although no-one was within hearing range."And there is nowhere to start, since it all ends with you."

Yes, something had definitely happened to him, and Aeode had been right in assuming he held himself responsible. Hell, he could be responsible for all she knew, but somewhere deep inside stirred a fragment of empathy: it was a terrible thing, guilt. As venomous as the purest hatred, it could consume you, erode your soul and render you either numb, or mad. Or both. Unfortunately, confessing it wasn't enough, nor was another's willingness to help: help had to be wanted first before the healing process could begin. Likewise, Aeode hated it when others offered to “talk about it”, as though one could simply disregard the mountain of difficulty that came with it at will. The reason she and Dez had clicked so well was because he had allowed her to set the pace in which she was ready to open up, without demands and expectations.

One impression Aeode got from Noah was that he lacked even that one friend to whom he could talk to about everything and anything. Otherwise, he wouldn't be there telling her some rather personal things about himself, when he looked so clearly reluctant. Though perhaps he wasn't as much reluctant as out of place: there was an alien air about him, something that set him apart from the average LA citizen, and it wasn't just because she knew he was a vampire. Valerian was one too, and yet carried himself like the perfect urbane gentleman. Noah, though, had the aura of wilderness about him, and even now when he looked fully human, Aeode could almost glimpse the wolf in his eyes, superimposed there by her memories. No, Noah seemed restless, uncomfortable: perhaps because of her, but then he could simply choose to walk away. Aeode wondered whether it was all in her imagination, or whether she thought these things because she herself was lonely, and lost. Not outwardly: the American metropolis was her world and she moved effortlessly in it; Aeode was lost on the inside.

"Given the right circumstances... I guess there is a risk we could all be the monster.” Noah continued. “But then again... Some of us are better than that."

Was that his dilemma? His nature? For the first time, Aeode speculated what it felt like to become a vampire, to find oneself faced with the necessity of drinking blood, and the knowledge that you were no longer human. Was the transition sudden and complete, or did the newly-born vampire have to struggle the morality of it? Like many other things about vampires, she just didn't know, but looking at Noah, judging by what Valerian had said, it was conceivable to think that they did. One thing she had come to accept, albeit with some difficulty, was that they weren't all simple beasts, just like not all human beings were equally evil. However, Aeode partly disagreed with that statement of Noah's: everyone had the potential of being the monster, it was just a matter of finding out what made a person tick and use it to tear them down, bit by bit, until they were nothing but a shell of a being, ready to be filled with anything the tormentor desired. It wasn't a matter of goodness versus evil, bravery versus cowardice: some things were too unbearable, and everyone had a breaking point. That was only hypothetical though. She did agree with one thing: the choice between good and bad, to act on more than just instinct, was the thing that set humans apart from beasts. Maybe certain vampires too.

“Maybe that's your answer”, Aeode told her new acquaintance. “As long as you're able to make that choice...to be better than that...you are not a monster. If there's one thing a monster wouldn't worry about it's their monstrous nature.”

Aeode wasn't sure why she had chosen to say it, except that it felt accurate. Sure, an less than three hours ago she wouldn't have hesitated in branding Noah a monster, and it was difficult to accept that creatures who preyed on humans for their blood, who routinely sentenced others to death and among whom figured those responsible for the massacre of her family were capable of compassion, affection and remorse, but...she was working on it. For now, she was willing to accept they were different, just like humans were. Her revulsion wasn't in fact focused primarily on the act of drinking blood - hell, some humans did it for kinks - but because it involved taking it by force. Then again, she had broken into homes and stolen food and money in her darkest days, so she wasn't much better either.

"Noah..." Aeode added after a hesitation. "Why are you really here?"

If wishes were fishes we'd all cast nets
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#880 Old 14th Dec 2008 at 2:02 PM
Default Connor and Moira - Club Envy, backstage
To Connor, there had never been a single other person, that had ever had the same kind of effect on him - his mood, his state of mind, his feelings, even his actions - as Moira did. Sure, he had been in love before, and it had rarely been brief, casual flings, but rather committed relationships. They hadn't been very many, given his so far tender age, but they had been relationships nonetheless, and all of them had been holding a large amount of real love and attachment.

Or so he'd thought, until he'd met Moira. The moment he had fallen for her, the entire concept of love as he knew it, had begun to slowly change, gradually morphing more and more into something which only months earlier, if he'd seen it in someone else, he would have described more like obsession than anything else. But as it was, with him finding himself in the middle of it all, it was love. Love like he had never known it before. Other people - his friends, his family, even just random people he didn't know - spoke of love in a way that before he met Moira, he would've understood and been able to relate to. Yet now, when they spoke of it, the words would never seem quite strong enough, to fully explain what he felt for Moira. These days, there was not a single occasion where he would be more content or at ease, even downright happy, than he was when she was in his arms. His thoughts seemed to always revolve around her, he would sacrifice much needed food and rest just to be with her - as proven when during this past tour, he had jumped on the first plane back to her as soon as there was an opening in his schedule long enough for him to manage it - and he willingly submitted himself to that everpresent feeling which he couldn't quite explain, of being somewhat inferior; something which in many cases would turn out to be disasterous in any other relationship. And, last but not least, was the fact that the biggest fear he had, was that of loosing her. It scared him even more than death itself. Had there been any doubt in his mind about that fact, the previous night would have proven it to him quite aptly, because even when in the grasp of those two... women, or monsters, or whatever they had been, thinking his life had been about to end, what had upset him even more, was the vision, or the hallucination, of seeing Moira watching it all, only to then turn and walk away as though she was washing her hands of the entire affair, him included.

The fear of loosing her... It was why he had vowed never to tell her about that night in Venice, when he had been unfaithful to her. It was why when confronted with the story splashed over the pages of a tacky tabloid, he had instinctively tried to lie to her about it. It was why he felt so threatened by beholding her in the company of that dark-haired stranger, both of them looking as though there was a shared sense of intimacy between them. It was even why he had been so disappointed to find out that he was not the source of her returning inspiration; if he had been it would have meant that he had managed to do what no one else had, and that he was more special and dear to her than anyone else.

But, it wasn't just the blinding fear he had of loosing her, and the sacrifices he was willing to make, that constituted his love for her. There were so many other things, and among them, the way the two of them often seemed to connect on a level so profound that sometimes all that was needed to communicate thoughts and feeling, was a mere look, without a need for words. To Connor, it was as though they were soul mates, despite their many differences in age, experience and even mortality, and that their relationship was simply meant to be. For example, he honestly knew of no one else, who with a mere softening of the look in their eyes, could offer such reassurance as Moira did now, clearly as a sign of astutely picking up on his anxiety, and his need for said reassurance.

"There is something we need to talk about", she said, and gave a slight but suggestive nod towards a nearby room which looked as though it might offer the privacy required. "And I was hoping we could do it right away."

There was still that shadow of gravity lingering on her features, that only seconds ago had resuscitated his worries when momentarily he had forgotten about them in favor of his thoughts regarding the show. And yet there was a softness to her voice that easily managed to soothe the most pressing part of his agitation, and chase the flicker of dread from his cobalt eyes. It would seem that the talk she wanted to have, was the one she had mentioned the previous night, the one that she had suggested they should have when there was time for a proper one. The one for which the need had apparently arisen through Connor's infidelity, or rather his horror at having her learn of it, as well as her lack of an emotional reaction to it all. And, even though he had indeed been horrified and guilt-ridden, to say the least, over the matter then, and frankly, still was, what she had told him then had suggested that the consequences he had dreaded - that she would leave him - might not come true after all, and that instead, a discussion would help to clarify things between them on this matter.

Of course, it might not help to settle the agitation he felt regarding the dark-haired stranger he had just seen her with, but if the topic of the discussion was to be what he now thought it might be, an opportunity to ask about it ought to present itself sometime during the course of it. Right?

Thus, as some of the worry previously seen in his eyes started to ebb away, making way for just an ounce of calm induced by Moira's voice, Connor gave a nod and then was just about to start toward the room she had indicated, when suddenly he hesitated, and remained still. It had just occured to him that if he didn't tell the other guys where he'd gone off to, they might come looking for him, and to be perfectly honest, he didn't much feel like being interrupted, nor did he think Moira would appreciate it.
However, he'd had time to do little more than turn his head to glance down the corridor leading towards the dressing rooms which his bandmates had disappeared off to, than Jesse suddenly appeared, just turning the corner, and coming to a halt when his gaze met Connor's. At first, it seemed he was about to roll his eyes - the general opinion in the band was that Connor was a little too devoted to the girlfriend none of the others knew much about, or had talked to for anything more than a few brief minutes here and there - but then ended up shooting the lead singer a soft smile instead. Overly devoted or not, Connor did adore his girlfriend, and they all knew how much he had missed her and longed for her during the tour. It was only natural that he'd want to spend as much time as possible with her now when he had the chance, and the other guys really should be happy for him. At least this time, when him choosing Moira over the rest of them was indeed understandable.

So, seeing the two together further down the hall, he simply offered them both that faint smile, and wave both in greeting and parting, and then turned to return to the other guys in the band, while Connor and Moira proceeded to step through the door to the room now chosen for their disccusion. It turned out to not be a very large one, but there was a couch and a pair of comfortable-looking chairs, along with a worn coffeetable in the middle, and so was probably as good a place as any to talk.

"Moira, I really am sorry", Connor said as soon as the door was closed behind them, feeling that despite what had appeared to be her understanding when he'd first confessed the Venice-incident to her, he wanted to stress that he had never meant to be unfaithful, or even thought himself capable of it. "I didn't ever mean for it to happen, and... I'm not a cheater. I'm not. I just..."

Not finding the words to properly explain why he had done what he'd done, his voice trailed off for a few seconds, before the only thing that came to mind, and that rang entirely true to him, finally made it's way past his lips;

"... missed you..."


(((ooc: Bleh. Lovey dovey and all, but I blame Connor. *nod*)))

~ * ~ Volition ~ * ~
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#881 Old 14th Dec 2008 at 2:11 PM
Default Valerian and Claudia - The Haven, Valerian's chambers
Silence. Some time to think, and to reflect on what to say, and how... And when...
Sitting in the backseat of Claudia's limo, on the way back to The Haven, Valerian, although often a bit of the talkative type, due to his passion for socializing and for getting to know people, was actually glad that it was a ride taken in almost complete silence, while both he and Claudia lost themselves to contemplation and inner musings, interrupted only by scattered words here and there, uttered through plain necessity. With everything that had happened, Valerian hadn't gotten much of a chance to ponder what approach would be the better one with Claudia - how much to tell her, and how to go about it - since last time he had tried, he'd ended up throwing himself inbetween a Gangrel on the prowl and his intended victim instead. Before that, he had been distracted with news about the Sabbat and how his dear friend Vevila had been made a victim of their antics, and before that, he'd been in contact with the Prince to inform him that Aeode now knew about Kindred existence, as well as to seek the Prince's permission to carry on keeping an eye on her. And before that, he'd had his hands full dealing with Aeode. And with getting shot. Thus, when it came to Claudia and the confession he had to make to her, there had simply been no time to reach a conclusion on anything beside the fact that he had to make said confession. That was it, that was all he'd been able to really establish. And so now, he was thankful that she allowed him a little bit of time to prepare, and was even pleasantly surprised by it as well, even though he suspected some of it had to do with the fact that he had hinted towards a need for privacy before they delved into the subject, and while the limo was fairly private, it was not completely so. Furthermore, it just might be that his actions - dressing up a bit, and being as careful as he had been polite in requesting a bit of her time - had already tipped her off and stirred her suspicions, and so she didn't want the driver to see her temper possibly flare any more than she wanted to be forced to hold back. Not that angry outbursts were a common element in her behaviour, but Claudia wouldn't have been Claudia if she didn't take such things into account. And while it might be more like her to demand that an explanation was given the very minute she wanted one, she was also a very patient woman, and sometimes it would seem she almost had a sixth sense about what should be asked of whom, and when. Therefore, it seemed that with all factors and circumstances considered, she had decided to allow Valerian to choose his words, and for that, he was thankful, because he was very well aware that she was aware that she could have made things much more difficult for him, had she wanted to, but had decided to be generous instead. Though perhaps it was all brought about by the fact that despite the lack of exuberant signs thereof, she was obviously concerned about him, and bothered by the fact that someone had apparently attacked him in some way, as well as by the fact that whoever it was had dared to do so, which was something that was not just an act against Valerian, but against her as well.

Before long, the two of them arrived back at The Haven, and as they made their way gracefully through the crowd together and up the stairs leading to the open second floor and the path towards Valerian's chambers, the young Toreador made a conscious effort not to get distracted by smalltalk with friends, fans and aquaintances, but simply greeted those he saw with a soft but somewhat restricted smile that signalled that this was not a good time meet, even ever so briefly. Then, once upstairs, Valerian slipped past Claudia, whom he'd let lead the way up until then, just in time to unlock the door and hold it open for her as she passed into his chambers, with Valerian himself following close behind. After that, it was only a matter of seconds before Claudia was done being patient, and decided to launch them into the conversation Valerian had requested, lest he'd attempt to beat around the bush with his usual sweet talk.

"Spare no details", she instructed with that usual calm and collected authority of hers, while her gaze locked expectantly on him, and she motioned towards his appearance; "Who did this?"

Now, while that might not have been exactly the part that Valerian had imagined himself starting this confession with, as he hesitated in the face of possibly having to change his plans, it occured to him that unplanned though it might be, her direct approach actually offered him what would perhaps be a better place to start than what he did have planned. She got to control the conversation from the very start, which always seemed to be something she appreciated and would even desire alot of the time, and he got a chance to immediately own up to essentially being the one responsible for the state he had shown up in, in the first place. After all, it really was no fault of Noah's, since he hadn't actually done anything wrong. He had only reacted to being interrupted in a situation that no Gangrel, or any Kindred really, would tolerate being interrupted in. So, while it seemed Claudia was hellbent on retribution, Valerian would fully seize the opportunity to try and direct her anger away from the, in his mind, undeserving.

"Claudia", he thus started and took her hand to urge her to follow him over to the luxurious and inviting sofa to sit. "It was all my own fault really. I put myself between a hunter and his prey, a girl... Annie... because I couldn't let that happen to her."

Pausing, he realized that perhaps that was not the best way to start after all, since Claudia already considered Aeode a thorn in her side, and thus wasn't likely to take kindly to knowing that Valerian went so far out of his way and risked his own wellbeing in order just to protect her from being fed upon; something that wasn't even likely to harm her all that much, if at all.

"You know about Jessica", he therefore continued instead, shifting the topic slightly in order to start at the beginning. "And you know why our Prince banned her from his domain."

Because, even though Claudia had said nothing to him to indicate that she did know about what had transpired, she had to know. She always kept up to date with what went on, and especially with events of such great importance as the banning of a Primogen.

"The human girl that she revealed herself to, was Annie", he explained. "And afterwards, Annie came seeking my help. She didn't believe what Jessica had told her, and was concerned that she might be in trouble. And... She's an innocent, Claude. I couldn't just stand back and watch as she risked being killed all because of Jessica's mistake."

As he spoke, the tone in his voice grew more and more passionate, and the look in his eyes as he gazed at Claudia more and more pleading, as though he was beseeching her to understand, leaving no doubt that he felt strongly about the matter, and in true Valerian style just couldn't help but to care for and sympathize with Aeode, who had been thrown right into the middle of danger's path through the careless decisions of another.

~ * ~ Volition ~ * ~
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Original Poster
#882 Old 15th Dec 2008 at 6:56 PM
Default Adrien and Lena - alleyway
The problem with drawing conclusions, strong, assured and definite conclusions, is that even to the sharpest of minds, there will always be the possibility that maybe, just maybe, you're wrong. And if you're really unlucky, it's not by little either, but by so much that once you realize you're off the mark, the damage is irrepairable, and that not only have you lost your advantage or the upper hand, but you simply never had it in the first place.

Misconception. It was one of Adrien's strongest weapons against... well, pretty much everyone, since he never let anyone in. He had learned through experience, that even though his demenor in itself would not reveal any direct flaws, such as backing down in the face of danger, or even looking the slightest bit hesitant to stand his ground, eventually, his opponents would be so desperate to find a weakness that they would piece together what they knew of him, mix it with some what they believed to be well-founded assumptions, and voilá, they'd have found the much coveted Achille's heel of his. Happily, thinking they would finally get a rise out of him, they would plan their attack on aforementioned weak spot, and then they would carry it out. Only to discover that whoops, they had been wrong after all, and the process would start all over again.

It was such a simple strategy, and yet one that rarely failed; to let them see his strength and his defiance, to the point where they would begin to glimpse what they thought to be something they could exploit, something he didn't want them to see, when in fact, it was exactly what he did want them to see; let them think that he was too arrogant for his own good, let them think that he considered himself raised above the filth of the world around them, that he thought that if only the world was rid of Kindred, all evil would be banished from the face of the Earth, and that everything would be alright. Let them think that he thought of himself as something pure, something good, noble and clean, dedicating his life to fighting the ultimate darkness, too blind to see that there was more to the evil in the world, than just Kindred influence.

Indeed, Chatterbox had pretty much hit the nail on the head, as far as this strategy of his was concerned, when she had said that everything was black and white to him. As long as his enemies, currently Chatterbox included, clung to that simplified view of him, he would always come out on top, because no matter how much they tried to get to him, with a wrongful view of his reasons and most of all of his reasoning, the only way they would manage to hit close to home, was through a pure fluke. And those didn't come along very often, nor did Adrien tend to let any sign slip when something actually did manage to get to him.

So yes, he was quite content to have others think of him as overly arrogant and haughty, or even slightly deranged, because even though there was a bit of truth to them all, the whole truth itself just wasn't that simple, and as long as they thought it was, they would never be a single ounce closer to ever figuring him out. Not even clever little Chatterbox here, despite seeming to actually give things a little more thought than most of his usual aggressors so far. (That there were other ones, such as the Tremere, that were still watching, contemplating, analyzing and biding their time, he didn't doubt for a second, and while he expected that they would be alot more dangerous opponents, once they decided to strike, he was still quite curious to see what conclusions their cunning minds would've reached by then.)

But, back to Chatterbox. Judging by the faint flicker in her eyes at his comment about playing games, she didn't quite get his drift that since it was her constantly playing games - a tendency of which they now were both very much aware - he had no reason whatsoever to trust that her agreeing to play nice had not just been another one. One that she might stop playing as soon as she got bored of it. But it didn't really matter if she got it or not, since when he moved on, she - for once - seemed quite willing to follow. At least for now.

Mere seconds following his question regarding the details, she had once again scribbled the relevant details on the palm of her hand, and held it out for him to read. Much like she had done when the arrangement had first been made, only this time the numbers written down were obviously those of an account number, rather than the prize she was asking.

"Not that I doubt your skills, but to speed up the process", she commented with that usual coquettish smile of hers that she really ought to have learned by now had no effect on him, neither one way nor the other.

Not that he expected her to care, really, since it was something she seemed to display more out of her own actual fondness for it, rather than out of an actual purpose. Oh yes, he could just imagine that she was an outragous flirt in pretty much everything she did, simply because she did rather seem like the type, especially given her obvious thirst for excitement and stimulus. Plus, had it been only with a certain purpose in mind, she would have given it up with him by now, because clearly, in his case, it got her nowhere. Unless, of course, she was still looking for a way to distract him, and could think of nothing better. It did seem she had caught on to at least a hint of the ferocity currently stirring within him, so it would make sense. It wouldn't do her any good, but yes, it would still make sense.

However, as someone so used to controlling his emotions to the point of banishing the unwanted ones, Adrien had by now tamed those homicidal urges, and decided that as long as she actually did continue to play nice, he would give her a tiny benefit of a tiny doubt, and thus not act against her, unless she was the one to somehow instigate it.

Though that didn't mean he was anywhere even remotely close to trusting her with anything, and so as he retrieved his cell phone from one of his pockets, he shifted slightly to the side to keep her from being able to catch a glimpse of anything, not even caring to do it in a manner so inconspicuous that she wouldn't notice. It would only be healthy for them both to make her aware that he still regarded her as every bit an opportunist and that, even though she might not have a purpose for it right now, he wouldn't put it past her to try and catch even the smallest piece of information about him and his contacts or his methods. Therefore, his cell phone had been muted, so that she would be unable to pick up the sound sequence of the buttons he pressed and thus figure out the number he dialed, and he also saw to it to keep her at a distance and an angle that rendered her unable to see the display, as well as the pattern in which his finger moved across the key pad. Added to that was every other precaution necessary to ensure that there was no possibility of her, or anyone else for that matter, intercepting the message he sent - which was simply the account number - nor the number he sent to - a mortal contact in Austria who believed him to simply be a big shot businessman by the name of Frédéric Tellier - or even from.

Once done, he then shut the cell phone off, and his gaze returned fully to her, after having spent the past couple of seconds having her in his line of vision, registering her every movement, yet with the actual focus of his gaze aimed mostly at the display, to ensure that both numbers typed were correct.

"Done", he said, while slipping the cell phone back into his pocket, and then inclining his head ever so slightly, as though he was preparing to take his leave of her. "I believe that marks the end of our agreement, and so if there's nothing further...?"


(((ooc: Sorry if it's messy, poorly written and generally incoherent. Had some major difficulty finding 'the flow'.)))

~ * ~ Volition ~ * ~
Alchemist
#883 Old 17th Dec 2008 at 4:39 PM
Connor and Moira - Backstage at Club Envy


In many ways, Connor was different from the patented brand of “rockstar”: more level-headed than most, he maintained fairly realistic expectations about the band and their success, and kept his personal life (Moira included) separated from it. He loved New Empire, yet managed to avoid getting lost in it, as well as the many temptations that came with the territory, some of which having at one time or another been of concern to Moira: drugs, primarily, and the excesses stars on the rise tended to indulge in, often only because it was said to put the “star” back into “rockstar”, but also to escape the pressure when it rose to unbearable levels: after all, it was no coincidence that most known performers had dabbled into one form of narcotic or another. Fortunately, the boys of New Empire were still at the start of their artistic journey, with a small fanbase world-wide, most of which was concentrated in areas of Europe and Asia, but that moment, the cross from newcomer to moderately well-known brought with it the dangers of stardom for the first time. One other temptation intertwined with Connor's choice of profession were, of course, the women. Young girls who declared themselves groupies and adoring fans, willing to do much of anything for the sake of “getting to know” the members of the band they loved. There were very few men that would refuse them, and considering ghouls' overeager libidos, it was no wonder Moira hadn't imagined he wouldn't. The fact that the moment he broke down was connected to the diminishing amount of vitae in his system and the rough bedroom-play that ensued were not in the least encouraging, nor was the...unhinged manner in which she had encountered him after their month-long separation.

To her relief, Moira observed some of the anxiety constricting Connor's brow and shining through in his eyes ebb away at the sight of the look she gave him, proof once again of the link that existed between them and the trust that they shared, in spite of the young man's natural misgivings. Moira entered the empty room first, the even cadence of her heels on the wooden floor resonating crisply in the silence. Near the edge of the rearmost sofa she paused and, interlocking her fingers on her stomach she turned to face her ghoul whom she found conversing with Jesse. A couple of moments later they parted and the door closed behind them, leaving the couple alone at last.

"Moira, I really am sorry", Connor blurted out immediately. "I didn't ever mean for it to happen, and... I'm not a cheater. I'm not. I just..."

The young man stopped mid-sentence, in an apparent struggle to pinpoint the actual reason he did sleep with Cecilia Bertoli. Moira wondered whether he even suspected the truth.

"... missed you..."

Actually, that wasn't far from it after all. He had missed her, yes, but more importantly he was coveting the Vitae she regularly fed him, and which permeated all of his body, changing him, driving him to acts of frustration when he was in danger of exhausting it, acts that were focused on his human urges. Moira didn't like imagining what would happen if one day his will failed and he allowed the Beast he nurtured inside to take over: that was the primary reason he needed to learn of it, all of it.

“Connor...” Moira began, regarding him from across the room. “I never expected you to be exclusively with me. Our feelings are a different matter, something just between us two. I thought you knew.”

Since that particular cat was out of the bag already, there was no point in beating about the bush. Questions could wait. Moira wished to tell him of a ghoul's physiology, that his bodily processes -all of them- were augmented by the Blood, and that needing to slack his lusts was normal, but she couldn't afford to be entirely clinical about it. Connor believed himself to be madly in love with her and for all intents and purposes he was: he didn't know what a ghoul was in strict Kindred terms, and he would sooner focus on the emotional side of her explanation rather than the point Moira intended to make. If she launched in her concise explanation ignoring the fact that he was a frightened lover burdened with guilt over something he considered an act of betrayal, he would grow even more frightened that she didn't reciprocate his feelings and right now he needed to look beyond their relationship alone. It was imperative that he did. Lowering herself on the sofa, the Toreador motioned for Connor to join her. When he did, she continued:

“There was something else I need to tell you, however, something I should have told you a long time ago and I am so very sorry, for all of this is my fault. Please, Connor, this is extremely important. The blood I give you, Vitae as we call it, changes many things when it enters a human body. You know some of them: the unnatural resilience, the strength, the lack of ageing...but there are other consequences. You are still mortal, and human, but no longer wholly so. You have no physical addiction to blood the way I do, but the addiction exists: your body is enhanced, but so are your urges, and when you have been away from me long enough, and the Blood which I've given you begins to vanish from your system...you undergo something akin to withdrawal, and may become a danger to yourself and...to others. You know what I speak of.”

Yes, Connor ought to have noticed the changes himself even if he hadn't dared rationalize them yet: the increased irritability, the need to glut himself on all he could get his hands on, and above all the unbearable need to return to her and receive his 'fix'. The encounter with the Italian woman was a symptom.

“I have read between the lines of that article, and have seen the way you behaved when we met at the hotel. It wasn't the first time either. That terrible need you felt clawing at your insides, something raw and primal like an aching hunger except you didn't know what you hungered for – I can tell you: it's blood, and in your case that means Kindred blood. We call it the Beast, and believe me it's more than a colloquial title: it is the inherent darkness in us, the primal need for sustenance, the one thing we fight to keep at bay at all times for if released...it won't matter who's in the way: friend, family, lover. Because of me, it now exists in you too.”

A sudden pang was wrenched through Moira's delicate frame, tightening it painfully: she had rarely felt the bite of guilt more acutely than in that particular moment, faced with the stricken look in Connor's lovely blue eyes, knowing all the difficulties he would still have to face. He was teetering on the point of no return, Moira knew it and he didn't. Slowly, she reached a small, pale hand and entwined it with his own: the skin was very hot against the cold surface of her palm: she could feel the blood pulsing through his veins and count his heartbeats: they were closer together than normal. When their eyes met, Moira's contained infinite sadness mingled with the ageless wisdom that often permeated her expression and belied her youthful appearance.

“I am telling you this because I cannot let it happen to you. I can help you, Connor: teach you how to contend with it. To coexist because there can never be talk of defeating the Beast. When we met, I thought that the less you knew about us, about Kindred, the safer you would be, but last night proved how wrong I was.”

There was an ominous tone in Moira's voice signalling that despite how overwhelming the information she'd already revealed must be for Connor at the moment, there was more.

((ooc: I hope it's ok I moved Connor over to the sofa where Moira was sitting and the post in general works? If not let me know.

Also...where is everyone? ))

If wishes were fishes we'd all cast nets
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Original Poster
#884 Old 17th Dec 2008 at 6:22 PM
(((ooc: Psyche is still having computer trouble, trampled has alot on her plate at the moment, I believe. WannabeSith I don't know... Oh, and that reminds me; the rest of the month is going to be really busy for me with work and the holidays etc, and so I'm not sure how long it'll take me to post back. I'll still be around daily, I'm just not sure I'll be able to post as frequently over the holidays as I normally do. )))

~ * ~ Volition ~ * ~
Scholar
#885 Old 18th Dec 2008 at 10:18 PM
Default Claudia and Valerian - Valerian's chambers, The Haven
Trust, in any relationship, is precious and rather desperately coveted. Of course, there were several reasons for each and every pursuit for gaining the trust and confidence of another; principally to either exploit it or to safeguard it. Claudia prided herself with the ability of being able to tell the difference between the two main intentions, not that the question surrounding Valerian’s intentions ever required much deliberation, but Claudia had exercised it nonetheless.
Needless to say, she did not take well to being proved wrong, to being disappointed.

"Claudia,” he started with a hesitation that was itself an omen, further cementing Claudia’s conclusions that this had somehow been his own doing rather than someone attacking him out of the blue, as he grasped her hand in a silent invite to join him over at the couch. She decided not to deny him that comfort. "It was all my own fault really. I put myself between a hunter and his prey, a girl... Annie... because I couldn't let that happen to her."

This was utterly ridiculous. That girl – the very same girl with whom he told her he had no ties – responsible for this?! Valerian, with all his crippling philanthropic tendencies aside, was a vampire and thus, by default bright enough to understand that vampires needed sustenance, which prohibited him from interfering every time one of his friends or acquaintances happened to be the prey. Indeed, if feeding on Valerian’s friends and acquaintances was actually declared illicit, the Kindred of Los Angeles may as well resign themselves to frenzy. No. What this meant that dearest Annie meant more to Valerian that most.
He’d lied. He’d lied to her and how dare he?!

"You know about Jessica," he continued on in the face of her cold wrath as it began to seep into her porcelain features. "And you know why our Prince banned her from his domain."

Oh, yes, another Toreador mess, one that if Valerian was planning on using as an excuse for his pathetic actions, he could think again. Toreadors – it was a surprise that the masquerade hadn’t fallen to pieces already for their horrendous ‘attempts’ at upholding their secrets with their rampant ghouling and siring of everyone who caught their abundant lust. Of course, Jessica’s actions were rumoured to have stemmed from the same line of events.

"The human girl that she revealed herself to, was Annie,” he moved on through the triage of confessions. And what, he was amending up his Primogen’s shortcomings? Her subject he might have been, but he was hardly her servant! "And afterwards, Annie came seeking my help.”
Oh, typical. Would it be too much to hope that he exercised some consideration for Claudia’s feelings – had she known, of course, for he didn’t employ much thought over that, clearly – over this? Why, yes, it would.

“She didn't believe what Jessica had told her, and was concerned that she might be in trouble. And...,” he trailed off for an instant. Oh, dear, was he going to leave her in suspense over this? Apparently not; “She's an innocent, Claude. I couldn't just stand back and watch as she risked being killed all because of Jessica's mistake."

Typical. For all the pleas that his pale azure eyes poured out to her, all Claudia could think was that this was so wretchedly typical of him. If there was one Kindred that walked under the moonlight, willing to throw himself in harm’s way for a mortal that he met all of a matter of days ago, it was Valerian. And now, she was even less inclined to believe that there was something of a romantic nature between them, for knowing him, he’d probably perceive it as abusing her gratitude – though Annie had proven to be even more of a threat and thus, she would have to be eliminated. Typical.

Yet, at the same time, it was so far from typical. She was furious at his perfidy, for she was so disappointed, both in him and in herself. While she saw the passionate altruism burning in his eyes, Claudia, for the first time in so very long, felt betrayed and… hurt. It wasn’t just the question of her trust being betrayed, but it was also apparent that Valerian didn’t trust her, for otherwise, he wouldn’t have lied. For all the faith she’d placed upon him, he couldn’t do the same for her and it was worse than a sharp cut through her heart.

“I trusted you, Valerian,” she said simply, rising up off the couch, the fury burning in her cerulean eyes dimming in the hurt that soon seemed to extinguish it. Claudia seldom let people close to her and Valerian – despite having the misfortune of being a Toreador – was one of the few who could claim to know her and be truly accurate in their claim. He knew her and he still didn’t trust her and it was crippling. Thus, she distanced herself from him, walking a further away from the couch before turning around to face him with authority. “And you abused that trust.”

All feelings aside, she did have to ask what had instigated him to suddenly rush to her with his confession – which, for all she knew, could be far from the whole truth, for Claudia was suddenly unsure of what to believed about him. And that girl – that insolent little girl – rushing to him for help when it was Jessica’s duty to deal with her. Ah, and yes, she too had lied through her teeth, had she not? She would most definitely have to learn her lesson over that.

“Why are you telling me this now?” she thus asked, deciding to take it as slowly as she could, to truly understand the situation, before she unleashed the extent of her wrath on both of them, for there would be punishment for this. No-one crossed Claudia and got away with it. Furthermore, she didn’t trust the idea that he’d told her everything that was to know about the situation and thus, she asked with the same disappointment in him lingering in her demeanour; “And what else haven’t you told me?”

(((OOC: My muse ran away and I had to get him back, but I don't think he'll be going anywhere anytime soon *shortens leash* God, I sound like Claudia, lol.

Hope this works for you, Atropa)))

"Life is just a chance to grow a soul" - A. Powell Davies
Scholar
#886 Old 18th Dec 2008 at 10:40 PM
Default Lena and Adrien - Alleyway
For a very long time, actually, still, to be entirely honest, guilt and remorse were concepts that Lena Sayliss was only partly acquainted with. It wasn’t that she didn’t know right from wrong – though, when such behaviour started, she’d been a little too young to see right from wrong anyway – she just couldn’t, rather didn’t, abide by the importance of it. She really wasn’t all that bothered; if she could get away with it, she’d do it. Really, it was as simple as that. Well… most of the time, for there would be those rare circumstances and instances where that arrested conscience of hers made an appearance.

Now imagine a little girl with a set of parents in constant conflict with each other. There were two places for her; either in the centre of it as a pawn or left outside like she didn’t exist. Of course, she was what she was and thus, she’d swiftly adapted; she learned to manipulate to get what she’d needed right then – affection and attention, before her wants and needs escalated. Daddy, when he was there, had almost always been in the focus of it, for he always did see her as the light of his life, to say the least, and thus almost literally let her get away with murder – well, these days, he’d have to – certainly doing no favours in the area of discipline, while Mother more than counteracted, criticising everything, whilst they had to pretend it was all perfect in public. Thus, whenever anything went wrong, Daddy was the one to run to in order to strip Mother of any authority. Fair.

He simply couldn’t chastise her for her mistakes, for she’d learned through trials that all it took was that wide-eyed gaze from Lena’s luminous eyes to make him forget anything she’d done. However, there would be those instances where she’d truly stepped over the mark and he’d admit that it hurt him more than it hurt her for the discipline she’d have to take as punishment – not that Lena cared much about punishment either, because she knew she could wheedle her way out of it. And it didn’t matter about all the other people who were potentially hurt; it mattered simply about the person she had an emotional attachment with. And then, she’d feel something like guilt, she’d feel something like remorse.

However, it wasn’t remorse for the act. The act in itself was not wrong; she could do what she pleased and the consequences following that were also attributable for the other variable factors that had been involved in the culmination, it wasn’t like Lena had influenced and done everything now, was it? Why should she be blamed for all of it? Furthermore, if she’d thought it wrong right then, she wouldn’t have done it. The guilt and remorse, if any, revolved around the fact that she’d hurt someone she actually loved and cared about. Getting caught was the mistake; it upset the person in question and therefore upset her, because they found out about it. So, she just learned to cover her tracks very well; after all, what they didn’t know couldn’t hurt them, right?

But that was back when she actually had people – that list comprising of immediate family alone – whose well-being she was considerate about, people she loved because they were hers to love, they belonged to her.
These days, she had no such restraints.

So… maybe it was Adrien, because she'd looked up to him as a hunter for quite a while, maybe it was because it was almost dying three or four times over in 48 wonderful hours, maybe it was the Vicodin mixed with the fact that she had just been hit by a vampire and possibly had a minor concussion, but Lena felt something. Okay, that was pushing the boat out a little, but at the very least, it was an inkling of a feeling.
And it sure as hell wasn’t guilt.

It really wasn’t her fault they’d decided to ambush him – honestly, it wasn’t like she waltz up to them and said ‘Hey, guys, I don’t if you’ve got plans for tomorrow night, but why don’t you try kill Adrien? Won’t that be fun?’ No. She’d asked them to do no such thing and really, their actions had been based on what Adrien had done to them and so, if there was anyone to blame, it was him. In fact, he really had no-one but himself to blame for her trying to assassinate him; if he’d been a good little boy and not got caught in the first place, there wouldn’t have been a price on his head.

Secondly, there was no guilt to be feel over telling the Sabbat about him, because again, she hadn’t gone up to them with the express intention of gossiping about de la Cour. The only reason his name even came up was because of what he’d insinuated – the possibility of him setting her up and in that moment, the details of the situation had pointed towards that possibility. So, again, his fault. Furthermore, she’d killed all those that she could see in that moment and thus, it wasn’t like she purposefully left loose ends now, was it?

Thirdly, so what? Look at him; he was as still no more dead than he started out the night as, still as cryptic and patronizing as ever. In fact, he had a reason to be slightly cheery – not that he was taking the opportunity, or possibly even recognising it – because of the two piles of ashes lying around in his vicinity. But no, instead, he just insisted in being cantankerous. So much for the seven dwarves; Grumpy was a lot taller than she expected. But yeah, he was still alive, so no harm done.
Even if it wasn’t for all that, why should she feel guilty? It wasn’t like he was overtly considerate about her life when Salome showed up, for he all but went ‘Look, I’ve got a snack’.

But… all that logical reasoning aside, she did feel something and, at most, it was burden of responsibility. Yes, Adrien had no friends and a ridiculous amount of enemies. Yes, he most certainly brought their entire wrath upon himself. Yes, only the Sabbat could be held accountable for their actions. However, she was the catalyst to it. If it hadn’t been for her, it wouldn’t have happened, not tonight anyway. He was a client, and thus, she’d violated one of her own steadfast principles; never sell-out a client. Not because of loyalty, but because she was a professional, and her (incredibly few) rules were the only ones she stuck to.
Professional courtesy from an assassin, will wonders never cease?

Though, he either didn’t suspect involvement from her part or he was choosing not to show it, for as soon as she gave him the account number, he brought out his phone – Oh, dear, look who’s stepped into the modern ages, though, then again, she didn’t quite expect him to have a carrier pigeon or a manservant in tow, so fair play – and began rapidly pressing numbers into it, all the while acting like he was rather concerned about the degree of privacy he was likely to be entitled to having Lena here whilst he indulged in SMS espionage.
Lena did have to wonder, did he use what was charmingly referred to as ‘txtspk’? Hmm… he wasn’t quite the type, but it almost brought a chuckle to her lips at the thought of him participating in mass persecution of vowels and grammar as well as culling your average vampire.

Now, the fact that he clearly had a dismal opinion of her – really, not that personal, given that he seemed to trust no-one anyway – should be of some offence or ego distress to most people, she really wasn’t all that bothered. In fact, she was a tad bit amused. How cute! He really thought she nothing more than some greedy little drug addict… it was… kind of adorable. Not that she was about to tell him – because it was just so much fun to play the part and leave him with that opinion – but all she was interested in, was the money he owed her for killing Limpet Boy. Money, she had, and lots of it, and she killed for more money, but… it’d stopped being just financial resources quite a while ago, and it’d always stood for something else entirely. So, she wasn’t interested in bankrupting him – well, there’s an idea… just to irk him… but no, there were far easier ways to get at him.
Though… had she still been tied to the contract of killing him, well, that number would have come in handy, but she wasn’t interested in that anymore, so she wasn’t interested in the number. So, she just watched with her signature impish gaze, dexterously twirling the pen between the fingers of one hand.

“Done,” he then proclaimed, putting his phone away, soon indicating with a mere tilt of his head that he was off on his way. Fine, she had enough reason to believe that he’d made the payment and even if he didn’t, she could find him. “I believe that marks the end of our agreement, and so if there's nothing further...?”

Oh, she really couldn’t help it. Especially now, when he looked a little less like he was about to go on some killing spree, she really couldn’t help but push his buttons, toy with him to see what she could do, just because she could. Besides, he called her his toy, didn’t he? Let’s see how he likes to play. She could handle it.

“Well…,” she trailed off, as if in contemplation, despite having clearly made up her mind regarding what she was about to say. “There is something I want you to know.” Taking a momentary deep breath, she then revealed, with utter assurance of herself lacing the hints of glib apology lining her features; “I did it. I told the Sabbat about you.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” she carried on, before he had a chance to go loco yet, because she did like control and really… she wanted him to know – with no strings attached – that she hadn’t purposefully sought to have them attack him, because, well, it hadn’t been her doing and she wasn’t going to take the fall for it. So, she continued, with a smooth, alluringly persuasive tone; “But if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have found out what you could do….”

“Besides,” she began pointing out with her elfin demeanour, moving to use a playing card that she was far more comfortable with, given that she could slot it in and make sense of it in a way that benefited her rather than have her own actions confuse her; “I wouldn’t have let them hurt you… you know that.”

(((OOC: I swear, she’s not suicidal. Hope this works for you, Atropa )))

"Life is just a chance to grow a soul" - A. Powell Davies
Test Subject
#887 Old 19th Dec 2008 at 5:22 AM
Default Archon & Vevila
Vevila couldn’t bring herself to tell Archon that the events of the previous night plagued her. She had hoped that telling him she was not frightened would not only convince him, but convince herself of that fact. Once the words passed by her lips, however, she realized the exact opposite; she was still very much afraid, and still very disconcerted by the idea of being alone for the time being. Yet that fear wasn’t as controlling as her insuppressible will to be polite—to not be an imposition. That was more than enough to keep her silent and subject to Archon’s wills, in spite of whatever emotion she might truly be feeling behind her reassured words.

She tried to gauge his reaction; the subtle shift of his brows was only the faintest hint of what was occurring in his mysterious mind. She could only guess. His eyes had an immeasurable depth to them that drew her in without divulging any information. His thoughts were unreadable, and even his expression became a true puzzle. She wished she could see into his mind and comprehend just what was taking place there.

"I am not sure you should be on your own just yet", he paused delicately and Vevila exhaled quietly. The amount of relief that washed over her was incommunicable, and she felt her lips lift faintly at the corners. "We do not know more now than we did last night. With your permission, I will look into the matter further, and in the meantime you will stay with me or people chosen by me. Depending on what you wish to do tonight. I gather you might want to return to your home for some personal belongings. You are most welcome to stay here during the daylight to come. Frankly, I insist upon it."

Archon was, in the simplest terms, remarkable. Vevila could barely call to mind any other situation in the past in which someone had shown her this much kindness or concern without expecting something in return. Although Archon hadn’t told her so, she could only believe that he didn’t want anything from her—after all, what could she possibly offer him? This aristocratic man with the luxurious mansion had everything the heart could desire. Aside from her soul, there was nothing that she could sell him to repay him; loyalty, perhaps, but nothing tangible or of monetary value. Vevila could only ponder silently why he was showing her such selfless alarm for her safety when really it shouldn’t be something he would worry about.

"Please", his voice contained a gentle coaxing tone that was determined but not forcing. "Accept my offer. This way I might be able to hear you play sooner rather than later."

She couldn’t force back the smile that had been fighting its way over her lips in spite of everything. Vevila bowed her head graciously and brought a hand to her heart. The relief and appreciation she was feeling were evident upon her maddeningly beautiful face. She drew in a deep, restorative breath, and spoke. She hadn’t expected him to make her staying more of a request than permission; she was the one inconveniencing him, yet he spoke as though she were doing him some sort of favor. It was unbelievable! She was so caught off guard that it took her pleasantly by surprise.

“I am indebted to you for your kindness, Lord DeWinter. I truly cannot thank you enough for all that you’re doing for me,” She smiled brightly and let her hand fall to her side before continuing. “I will be so thrilled to be able to play for you sooner, rather than later,” a tiny laugh slipped through her lips and she gave a quick nod. “If I’m going to stay here another evening, I would like to run back to my apartment to grab a few things. I know that will be a great inconvenience…” She trailed off and bit her lip, eyes searching his for a moment. “But I appreciate your offer. I won’t make you come with me, if you’d rather send someone else to accompany me. I understand that you must be a very busy man and I’ve been keeping you from your obligations.” Vevila felt a pang of guilt, knowing that she truthfully had been distracting Archon for the last 24 hours with her own concerns. She wouldn’t keep him occupied any longer if he was needed elsewhere.

"You must be the change you wish to see in the world." - Ghandi
Field Researcher
#888 Old 20th Dec 2008 at 6:26 AM
((ooc: Hey guys. Sorry for yet another quiet spell, but both Christmas and divorce are distracting. I meant to work on some posts tonight, but it seems that yet again, I forgot until late [Sorry, world's worst attention span], so I should have at least something up tomorrow. Missed you guys.))

Eagerly awaiting Silent Hill: Shattered Memories.
Retired Moderator
retired moderator
Original Poster
#889 Old 20th Dec 2008 at 5:47 PM
Default Connor and Moira - Club Envy, backstage
Connor was frustrated. Very much so. No matter how hard he tried to find the right words to tell Moira how sorry he was for what he had done, and how he had never intended to cheat on her, they just wouldn't come to him. Or they simply did not exists. He couldn't even find the words that might begin to describe how utterly frustrating it was, to not find the right ones to express what he was feeling a pressing need to express to her in the first place. In a way, it was almost ironic.

Thankfully - and not even that word would properly cover the feeling welling up inside of him when he saw the calming look in her lavender eyes - there was that connection between them, that rendered words for the most part redundant. Especially at times such as this one, where his thoughts and feelings were so very visible to her keen gaze, and her wish to offer him the reassurance he sought needed only for the hue in her eyes to shift ever so slightly in order for him to feel it's effect. It would seem that the words he did speak, inadequate though they were, still managed to get the message across to her, and that she understood the sincere torment that his own deed was and had been causing him ever since it happened. Even if what she had said upon hearing his confession, as well as the hints he thought she might have dropped throughout their time together, meant that she had not seen monogamy as a matter of course between them, he needed her to know that he had, simply because there really was no one else that he wanted. Only her. And it was a need that had only grown since their reunion the other night, when he had first gotten slightly suspicious about the reason for her returning inspiration, and even more so when he had been up on stage a while ago, and seen her in the company of that dark-haired stranger, who looked an awful lot like the man in the sketch she had shown him. Not to mention the obvious closeness he had witnessed between the two.
Indeed, he needed for her to know she was the only one, and that he prayed he was the only one for her as well.

"Connor...", she started, the sound of her voice silencing the frantic, inner attempts he was still making at that point to try and find the proper words, and oddly enough, managing to both calm him and worry him at the same time, for different reasons. Reasons that a moment later would prove well-founded, as she soon continued; "I never expected you to be exclusively with me. Our feelings are a different matter, something just between us two. I thought you knew."

It was partly what he had wanted to hear, and partly what he had dreaded. For even though it signalled an understanding for what he had done, and even a calm and undisturbed acceptance that indicated that she wasn't upset with him, it did also indicate that since she had not expected him to be exclusively with her, she might not have been exclusively with him either. And that was a thought that he truly could not bear, a suspicion that he felt would threaten to tear his very insides to shreds, if ever confirmed. He wanted her to be with him, and him alone. He didn't want to have to share her with anyone, and it only made the torment of his own slip-up hurt even more, because by being with someone else, he had robbed himself of the right to ask that she was not.

So, while at first the look of wholehearted relief spilt onto his youthful features, it lasted only for a second, before panic washed over them instead, wiping away any last trace of the previous calm, and throwing him into a sea of questions that had him all but forgetting how her words had carried even further reassurance as well - that she did indeed have feelings for him, and that at least they were exclusive - and just barely, distantly registering how she motioned for him to join her on the sofa. Head swirling with thoughts and various, to him, horrific scenarios, he absentmindedly answered to her silent call, and his slender frame sank onto the sofa as well. Though he didn't hear her words. Not at first. It was only once the urgent tone of her voice reached him, and the way that she stressed the importance of what she had to say, that she managed to tear his focus away from his re-surfaced fears, and direct it towards the matter she wished and was about to address.

"Please, Connor", she said, thus sending clarity and full awareness to return to his eyes as they locked with hers, "this is extremely important. The blood I give you, Vitae as we call it, changes many things when it enters a human body. You know some of them: the unnatural resilience, the strength, the lack of ageing... but there are other consequences. You are still mortal, and human, but no longer wholly so."

Those words caused the young man to blink, almost as though they came as a surprise to him. And in a way they did, for even though he was indeed aware of most of the perks of ingesting Kindred blood - Vitae - such as the cessation of the aging process and the increased endurance and stamina, he had never actually thought of any of it as turning him away from humanity. Mortality, yes, but never humanity. Though there was no time for him to digest the concept, at least not yet, as Moira kept going;

"You have no physical addiction to blood the way I do", she continued to explain, "but the addiction exists: your body is enhanced, but so are your urges, and when you have been away from me long enough, and the Blood which I've given you begins to vanish from your system... you undergo something akin to withdrawal, and may become a danger to yourself and... to others. You know what I speak of."

There she did finally pause, as though wishing to give him time to reflect on what she was referring to, and quite possibly what she had said about the addiction as well, since that too was a bit of an alien concept to him. At least at first, before the cogs turning rapidly in his mind suddenly slipped into alignment.

Yes, he knew what she was talking about. Frustration. Again and again, frustration. The poignant feeling of something or someone tap dancing on your last nerve, of reaching for something that regardless of your best efforts, remains just beyond your reach - so close that your fingertips are brushing against it, yet too far away for them to even begin to grasp it - or the sensation of your patience wearing thin, and an eruption building within, threatening to smother you if you would even dare attempt to resist it. Your own inability to achieve what you want, creating a tide of chagrin and fanning the flames of your inner aggression, causing you to finally cave in and explode:
Frustration.

It was a feeling that, regardless of the fact that it was already coursing through him as he struggled to find the words and to comprehend the full extent of what Moira told him, Connor had come to know well, one that he had become intimately acquainted with during the past couple of months on tour, when the growing pressure to keep himself at the top of his game, even though the travelling and all the people buzzing around him were draining him of energy, started becoming too much for him, or when too many things didn't run as smoothly as they should have. Or when he had been away from Moira for so long that seeing her was all he could think of, and that need for her was growing so strong that he was tempted to the point of loosing his mind to take just any random woman into his bed as a substitute. A poor, insipid substitute, a mere hint of a shadow of what Moira offered him. But a substitute nonetheless, because his need for her was growing far too strong for him to bear, and regardless of how bland the other woman was, she would at least allow him to feel someone in his arms, a body pressed to his; a body he could pretend, at least for a little while, belonged to Moira. It was an urge he had felt begin to grow out of his control several times during the tour, but somehow, as a chance occurance always repeated just when he needed it the most, he had always gotten that small break, that small window in his schedule, that had allowed him to jump on a plane and return to her for a few hours.
Only once had it failed. There had been only one time, when despite that gap of some free time, he had not had the chance to fly back to London to see her, because by then she had already been in Los Angeles and consequently too far away for him to make it there and then back to Italy in time for the next show. That was when it had happened; the 'torrid one-night stand', as the tabloid had called it, with Cecilia Bertoli. His yearning for Moira, and the knowledge that not only would this gap in his schedule pass by without him getting a chance to see her, but that the next would not happen until the tour was over, had sent him tumbling over the edge, and made him give in to Cecilia's advances.
At the time, for those few hours in bed with her, the encounter had managed to soothe him enough to allow him to drift off to sleep afterwards. But when he had woken up... He had been right back to aching for his girlfriend's touch, or even just the sound of her voice, and the previous night's sordid affair had only added an overwhelming guilt and self-censure to that gnawing frustration, propelling him straight into throwing a tantrum so violent that the other outbursts he'd had when he was under alot of pressure, had paled in comparison, and he was glad no one had been around to see it.

Yes. Connor Hale knew a thing or two about frustration. And he knew exactly what Moira was referring to; that gnawing, terrifying feeling deep down, that when at his worst, he was no longer in control of his actions.

"I have read between the lines of that article", she continued once more, "and have seen the way you behaved when we met at the hotel. It wasn't the first time either. That terrible need you felt clawing at your insides, something raw and primal like an aching hunger except you didn't know what you hungered for – I can tell you: it's blood, and in your case that means Kindred blood. We call it the Beast, and believe me it's more than a colloquial title: it is the inherent darkness in us, the primal need for sustenance, the one thing we fight to keep at bay at all times for if released... it won't matter who's in the way: friend, family, lover. Because of me, it now exists in you too."

At that, Connor could but stare. He was struggling hard to try and wrap his head around what she was telling him, and his gaze was so intently locked on her that it would seem almost as though he was trying to will her, or himself, into providing that last piece of the puzzle, or the last nudge that would shift everything into clarity for him, and help him understand. Yet, confusion was all he ended up with, for even though he understood the words she spoke, and that there was dire gravity behind them, his mind was still fettered by human notions and 'truths', leaving the idea of a blood-thirsty, ruthless Beast within nothing short of mind-boggling to him. To be told that there was such a thing inside of him... That a dark presence had flowed into him, and begun taking possession of him, without his knowledge... What he had felt of it - the changes in his temper and the extremes of his longing for Moira - he had taken to be just experience, life and love shaping him, like it did everyone. He had taken it to be a surfacing personality streak, and nothing more. And so to be told, by someone whose word he trusted without fail, that there was more to it than that, and that he now harboured a dark force inside, that might drive him to hurting those he loved if unleashed... It was surreal. That really was the only way to describe it: Surreal. To think that you knew yourself, and then be told that you didn't, because something that wasn't you had taken residence inside your body. Without your knowledge, or even your permission.

Connor couldn't help it. Sitting there, hearing Moira explain how the changes in his temper and, apparently, even his behaviour in bed as well, were all connected to something entirely different than what he had thought, something that in essence wasn't him yet still existed inside of him, made him feel... violated, and... dirty. Sullied by something he couldn't identify, simply because he didn't know what it was. Not by Moira, but rather by the nescience itself.

Yes, he himself had noticed the changes, and how after meeting Moira he had become a bit more... untamed in bed. But he had never thought of it as anything but the natural changes a person, any person, would go through in life. Time and experience changed everyone, and so that's what he'd always thought had happened. He had never thought of his behaviour in bed - the forcefulness with which he would claim his partner - as anything other than simply part of the act. As twisted as it might seem to any outsider, possession, biting, and the exchange of blood had all become part of lovemaking - though the latter only when he was with Moira - and he had never thought of it as anything else. And now she was telling him that it was a thirst for blood causing it, and not simply a predilection for their ragingly passionate games?
That was heavy... Wait, was she suggesting that the rough play obviously described in that seedy tabloid from yesterday, the rough play he was prone to these days, was actually not about the erotic aspect of it all, but rather him thirsting for Cecilia's blood, as a substitute for Moira's?

He winced at the thought, and might have even stood up in order to pace around the room - much like one does when needing to occupy just a tiny part of the mind with something else, in order to keep it all from becoming fully engulfed by what you're not sure that you can handle thinking about, to hang on to that last shred of sanity - had she not just then reached for his hand, and offered that small distraction that he needed herself. A distraction that only grew once their gazes finally locked, and Connor registered the look in her eyes; the despondency and the faint glimmers of regret therein instantly stirring a desire in him to reassure her somehow, that everything really was alright, that he just needed a little bit of time to come to terms with it all, and that he did not fault her for anything, despite the fact that she herself claimed to be responsible.
But the feeling that she was not yet done, stopped him.

"I am telling you this because I cannot let it happen to you", she said and actually managed, despite the gigantic tangle of emotions currently wreaking havoc inside of the young man, to bring a tiny smile to his lips at the sound of her genuine concern for him. "I can help you, Connor: teach you how to contend with it. To coexist because there can never be talk of defeating the Beast. When we met, I thought that the less you knew about us, about Kindred, the safer you would be, but last night proved how wrong I was."

Though by the end of her last sentence, the smile had faded into nothingness once more, as concern and comfort were no longer the only things Connor had heard in her tone, but also something far more ill-boding, fuelled further by her mention of the previous night, of which he had very few fond memories. Last night? What about last night? Had there been a way out of that terrifying experience, of which he hadn't been aware? Or had he done something in his apparent ignorance of the Kindred, to bring it all on himself? The ambush underneath the bridge? Their toying with him as though he was nothing more than what one of them had called him, a godd*mned 'doll'? Their violation of him, despite his protests, and his claiming to be already spoken for? The latter had actually been something that he'd thought would have halted them, since he had been under the impression that an association, at least a friendly one, with one of their kind, would count for something, and render you off-limits to them.

Or was she talking about something else entirely? Of the way that afterwards, he had been desperate to get a hold of her, and left messages on her voice mail for her? Had he said something he shouldn't? He'd tried to keep it simple and immaculate of something that would stir suspicions in case anyone else heard it, but to be perfectly honest, he had been so dazed that he couldn't remember what exactly he had said?
Or was it that he had called Alric for help, and allowed him to see the state he had been in, yet refused to let him take him to the hospital?
No, last night's extreme and unusual experiences had simply been too many for Connor to be able to figure out what exactly she was referring to. And even though his mind was already swirling with a thousand other questions, it was only one that made it past his lips, mostly because he was still too confused by everything else, to even manage to formulate any other;

"What do you mean...?" he asked hesitantly, as though he was already fearing the worst, despite not really knowing what exactly that would be. "And..."

Still filled with a deep and dire need for that understanding that he had yet to achieve, about what she had been telling him, he did make an attempt to dress that need in words. But again the words just would not come to him, and so he simply ended up with the same question all over again, to cover all the ones he couldn't find;

"... and... what do you mean?!"



(((ooc: Sorry it's so long! There was just so much going on in his head. Maybe a bit TOO much, I don't know, but it just kept writing itself, so...

WannabeSith - Don't worry about it, I'm sure we all understand. Glad to see you around though, as always, and looking forward to your posts. )))

~ * ~ Volition ~ * ~
Field Researcher
#890 Old 20th Dec 2008 at 9:11 PM
Default Melissa and Melody, Club Envy
"Empires can be raised in a day, and razed in a night. This fly wonders how long this New Empire of music shall last?" Melissa murmured quietly in response when the show began, absentmindedly twirling a domino on the smooth surface of the table between them. Then she tipped a crooked smile at her new friend and chuckled. "It is always fun to stare at the pretty dollies in the store wind- oh."

The music was entrancing, of that there was no doubt, for even Melissa's flighty mind was able to pull her gaze from Melody's excited face to the sight that greeted her. If it were possible for her to become even paler, she would have, because of the intensity of the guilt that started washing over her in floods. It was the Dolly from the night before, the one she had broken with rough play. He looked fixed, but that did not assuage the horrible feelings pounding away at her insides.

To make it worse, the flies inside of her began to berate her harshly, mocking her for her regret. He was food, they told her. Simple sustenance. One should not mourn their meals, they said. They called her unfit to exist as part of the night. Melissa could feel their words cutting away at her relentlessly until she couldn't bear another moment of it. The first crimson tear started to leak from the corner of her eye, and she knew she had to hide it- fast.

The Gilded Prince will hurt us if we don't, she thought.

"Please excuse this fly," she choked softly, not bothering to wait for Melody's acknowledgment. Quickly, she slithered underneath the table like a child trying desperately to hide from an irate parent. Curling up in a ball, she sobbed silently, whispering to herself. Her chaperone was wary of the situation, staring cautiously at Melody to gauge her reaction, but he was also used to Malkavian antics by now, and this was a comparatively mild episode. He simply pulled out his phone, ready to call for help if need be, and shoved a starched handkerchief under the table. No white arm shot out to grab it, though, so he replaced it in his pocket before further attention could be drawn to the scene and instead moved to further obscure the table from view.

"No, no, no, no, no, no," Melissa moaned, her voice drowned out by the pounding beat of the music, and the melody of the first Dolly's voice rising above the rest. "It was wrong, it was! This fly didn't have permission to play with the Dolly. It was bad, bad, bad, bad, bad! Someone else's toy. Broken. This fly is a maggot for hurting the Dolly. Naughty bug!"

She could hear the voices of her maggots joining the chorus, reminding her of every time she'd put them out, inconvenienced them with her 'troublemaking'. She didn't want to hear them, and kept shaking her head from side to side, trying to throw them out of her skull. They were the last bugs in the world she wanted to hear from. They always hurt her, always. Just like she had hurt the Dolly. Pain and anger and sadness crushed her beneath their weight and she knew suddenly that she wanted to hurt them back. Hurt them. Yes, that appealed. Maybe since they enjoyed shoving her down stairs they might like to take a trip down some themselves... A faint glimmer of twisted hope gleamed in the aqua eyes that shone above her red-streaked cheeks.

Throughout the entire performance, she was like this, swinging wildly from quiet hysteria to near-catatonia. Nothing could coax her out of there, not the end of the music, not even her chaperone's subtle insistence. First and foremost he was charged with protecting her by protecting the Masquerade, and for now, that meant letting her have her childish episode under the table. Just as long as it was quiet.

((ooc: Sorry it isn't very long, and sorry you had to wait again Ghanima. It was the best I could bludgeon out of my muse. Atropa, I hope this post is acceptable, as it doesn't rush Connor away from being backstage with Moira. She just would have reacted to the concert. If this post just doesn't cut it, drop me a line and I can try again later.))

Eagerly awaiting Silent Hill: Shattered Memories.
Retired Moderator
retired moderator
Original Poster
#891 Old 20th Dec 2008 at 10:00 PM
Default Valerian and Claudia - The Haven, Valerian's quarters
(((ooc: WannabeSith - No problem for me whatsoever. I think it works fine. )))


To guilt Valerian of the Toreador clan, and make his conscience weigh heavily on his slender shoulders, was not a very difficult thing to do. Even when he'd had ethical and righteous reasons for doing what he did - or even for what he didn't do - and even when it was with the best of intentions, as it always was, it didn't take more than the knowledge that someone had still gotten angry, upset or hurt, for him to don a guilty conscience. It was one of the harshest downsides of being the altruist that he truly was; there simply was no way to please everyone, and so no matter what he did, there would always be a good chance that not everyone would be entirely happy with it.

In the case of Aeode, Valerian had wanted to spare her life. To him, she was an innocent, thrown into a world which she would have probably been alot better off not ever learning about, and one that he seriously doubted she had been ready for in a single way. Jessica had carelessly pushed her right into harm's way, and not even bothered to take proper responsibility for doing so. She had told Aeode the truth, or at least enough of it for Aeode to pose a threat to their kind, and then left her free to spill it all to any and everyone, had she chosen to do so. Luckily, if one could call it luck, she had turned to Valerian, who instead of figuring that the easiest thing to do would be to have her killed, had wanted to actually help her intead, by trying to undo the damage that Jessica had done. He'd even gotten the Prince's permission to do so.
But, as it had turned out, Aeode was far too suspicous, and her mistrust of people too deeply rooted, for him to be able to really accomplish anything, before her misgivings grew too strong, and she ended up shooting him. After that, after she had witnessed how her shooting him at point blank range hadn't killed him, there had been no going back, and the only way forward had been to tell her the truth once more.

Through it all, his intentions had remained sincere and pure, but when part of a world where deception, corruption, rivalry, animosity and jealousy were all strong currents in the flow of everyday life, it would be far too difficult to be perfectly upfront with everything and still manage to keep Aeode alive, for Valerian to want to risk it. Therefore, as well as partly because Damian had wanted to keep it all on the down-low, lest it all went awry and he was accused of being too soft to deal with a minor headache properly before it grew into an actual problem, Valerian had decided to tell no one. Not even Claudia. And, in a way, especially not Claudia. He had known she wouldn't much appreciate what he was trying to do, for multiple reasons. Him wanting to clean up Jessica's mess when he had no obligation to do so, was one. His willingness to put his own hide on the line for a mere mortal girl he hardly knew, was another. It would take away from his time for Claudia, as well as suggest that Aeode was far more a rival to Claudia than most of his usual acquaintances tended to be, since he was indeed prepared to go to such lengths as to risk Damian's annoyance if he failed, as well as the annoyance of large portions of his own clan, and other L.A. Kindred. Because, to the pragmatic and oftentimes ruthless Claudia, who rarely did anything out of the goodness of her heart, especially not if it didn't involve profit of some kind, such behaviour would most likely be percieved as stemming from more than just simple altruism. Thus, it would mean that whatever it was - love, friendship, or something else along those lines - it might compete with his time and his affection for her. And Claudia didn't take well to that kind of competition.

So yes, Valerian had been forced to make a choice; to do his very best to keep Aeode safe and alive, or to be perfectly honest with Claudia. There had been no way around it, and so when push came to shove, and it all turned into a matter of possible death versus anger and emotional hurt... there had only been one choice he could make.

Being that he was who he was, however, that did in no way soothe the guilty conscience that he was stuck with, for lying to Claudia, regardless of his reasons for doing so having been nothing short of noble. And seeing the look on her face change from cool expectancy to fury restrained, closely followed by actual hurt, didn't exactly make the burden any easier for the young vampire to bear. Especially not since he could tell it was genuine, and not just a way for her to make him feel as lousy as possible, out of simple anger, as punishment.

"I trusted you, Valerian", she said in a voice that to him sounded so cold that it almost sent chills scurrying up and down his spine, and unlike her, who rose to her feet to step away from him, her posture still proud and regal, his slender frame seemed to shrink ever so slightly there on the sofa, and his head lowered itself in shame at the sound of her words. "And you abused that trust."

It didn't matter that he had been perfectly aware that he had been setting himself for a difficult time, at best, by deciding to come clean with her. It wouldn't have been anything less than difficult even if she had been the type to try and make it so. Which she was not. But for some reason, he had expected anger more than he had expected hurt, because even though he was one of the few to know Claudia, he could never be quite certain when she would allow her feelings to show, or even be felt in the first place, unless they were ones that would show no vulnerability. Anger was one of the feelings that wouldn't. Hurt, on the other hand, wasn't. And it made it all the more difficult for Valerian to see someone who would always appear cooly composed and having perhaps a burning temper, but a stoic heart - someone whom he truly cherished - reveal herself to have a feeling one after all. It wasn't that he ever truly forgot that she did, but she often made it so very easy, even for him, to percieve her as the Ice Queen many considered her to be, and so to have her suddenly not only be hurt by what he had done, but to show it as well... It was such an undeniable sign that she truly did care for him, that she harboured feelings far more deep and affectionate than that of simple "ownership", and that she put her trust - actual, emotional trust, and not simly a financial one - in him, which was something not many could brag about. And it stung, it really stung, to know that in her mind, he had betrayed that trust. It pained him far more than any razor sharp lashing of her venemous tongue ever could.

"Why are you telling me this now?", she continued, her voice taking on a tone that sounded slightly more like the interrogative one he had been expecting, yet never drifted far from the undercurrent of disappointment so clearly stirring in the layers of her being. "And what else haven't you told me?"

She was suspicious and, in all honesty, rightfully so. There were still many things that Valerian had yet to tell her, and even though he ached to try and make her understand, he knew that she probably wouldn't like any of it any more than she had liked the first part of it all. In fact, he feared that some of it, such as him having told Moira about all this before he'd told Claudia, might hurt her even more. Because he did have to tell her that as well. He had to tell her all of it, or else he might just as well not have told her anything in the first place, because then his coming clean to her would have meant nothing.

"Claudia...", he started once more, while willing himself into raising his gaze to lock with hers, and with pain seeping into his soft voice. "It was no small matter for me to keep it from you, nor was it an easy one. You know that."

Then, as though he wasn't really quite sure of what damage he had truly done, he added, sounding hopeful and uncertain both at the same time;

"Don't you...?"

However, it was almost as though he dreaded her actual response, because he continued only a few moments later, with a slow nod that sent his gaze descending towards the dark carpeting once more;

"I think I better just start at the beginning..."

And so he began telling her about it all, from start to finish. The words simply kept pouring out of him, because once he had started confessing, it was as though a dam had burst open, and it was a relief to get to rid himself of the burden of keeping it all secret from her, even though that burden stood agood chance to be replaced by another, far more painful one. He told her about how Aeode - whom he still kept referring to as 'Annie' - had come to him out of concern for Jessica (though not mentioning her background nor the massacre of her family), how he had contacted Damian and been given permission to try and solve the situation, how he had tried to slowly but surely send Aeode back onto the track of ignorance, partly by offering her a place to stay so that he could keep an eye on her, which was when Claudia had happened upon them in the storage area, and how he had ultimately failed at decieving Aeode, by unintentionally ending up antagonizing her enough to shoot him. However, much like he had done when telling Claudia about why he had looked slightly dishevelled earlier, he claimed that it was all his own fault in the case of Aeode shooting him as well, since even though he had not meant to, he had scared her, and made her act in self-defence. Once that point had been duly stressed, he kept on going, without giving Claudia much of a chance to interrupt, continuing with how he had once again been in touch with the Prince, and been granted permission to still look after 'Annie', and make sure she stayed out of trouble. He explained how he had felt that her being attacked and fed upon, when her trust in the Kindred was already dangerously low, might have been disasterous, and that that was the reason why he had interfered with the still unnamed hunter's intentions.

"I've just been trying to keep her alive, Claudia", he said finally, while running a weary hand through his soft, jet black tresses, as though each word spoken had slowly drained him of his energy. "And I knew that if others found out about her, about who and where she was, they may see fit to... to kill her, and 'rid' us all of the problem once and for all, even though there were and still are other solutions. And... The reason why I kept it from you, is because I was afraid that you wouldn't just see it the same way most of the others would, but that you would also resent what I was trying to do. That you would see her as a threat, like you do so many others... and... that you would put her right back in harm's way because of it. Because of me."

There, he finally fell silent, knowing that by now, he owed Claudia a chance to respond, instead of keep getting flooded by his confessions, explanations, and good intentions. And therefore, the last part of wht he had to tell her, would have to wait, for now. Even though he feared that pointing out her jealousy, even in the careful terms he had used, might open up a can of worms that would take them down a sidetrack, he was determined that one way or another, they would return to the subject, and he would get a chance to tell her the last part that was still weighing heavily and unspoken on his conscience.

~ * ~ Volition ~ * ~
Field Researcher
#892 Old 21st Dec 2008 at 12:39 AM
Default Noah & Aeode Mallard - Outside Club Envy
#27 [Night #13]

Words. Speaking. It should be Noah's strong point, one of the most forceful feats he had, but at the moment he felt lost. Though a Gangrel, a Storyteller, he found himself fumbling among his thoughts. To make them gather in a logical manner seemed impossible. He had been alone for so long, if not litterally, then mentally. He longed for words of wisdom, words that he could relate to. Like those he had heard growing up, in his native language. How he missed the sound of his human life. He was sad to see it wither, along with traditions he loved and most of them he would never see again. Honestly, it tore his heart out.

Aeode's presence was vigorous. It wouldn't be denied. To Noah, she was a single bright star in a heaven full of stardust. He wondered if it was her alone, or if the impression was fueled by the fact that he felt like he owed her something. He could never make a mense, but he felt it anyway. An apology was a way to acknowledge someone, it was not a magical trick that made everything right. It was also pretty egotistical. Becoming a Gangrel also meant seeing the human race with more clarity than when he was one of them. It was not always pleasant.

"Maybe that's your answer", Aeode said. "As long as you're able to make that choice...to be better than that...you are not a monster. If there's one thing a monster wouldn't worry about it's their monstrous nature."

The ability to choose between the beast and the man had become more difficult to locate. The older he got as a vampire, an undead, the harder it was to remember the days of a beating heart that could bleed for the misfortune of others. Though Noah took great pride in being a brilliant hunter, it didn't mean he lacked respect for his prey. If he had, he wouldn't have invested so much skill in the execution. However, it did mean he viewed his former fellow humans as something other than creatures with integrity and personal value. If he wanted to live, he had to regard them as food. Maybe not all the way, until they lost all characteristics of a being above the animals, but enough to sustain himself without going through torment every single time. He didn't want to run the risk of slipping into madness, the way those did that couldn't accept their new nature.

"Noah..." Aeode continued, with what seemed to him like uncertainty. "Why are you really here?"

Upon hearing his own name, Noah's head snapped back, to view her in full sight. It resembled the movement of a cautious animal. A swift rapid motion, as if all hell was expected to break loose. But it was not so. He was just not prepared for such a personal approach. He, the attacker, the monstrous beast that had been about to drink her blood and think nothing of it. Had she actually noticed his name, the word that would specifically call for his attention? Some said that ghosts would disappear if you called them by their right name. Maybe it worked with monsters too. But Noah had no intention of leaving, not yet. And so far, he hadn't been asked to either.

His reason for being there; she was probably talking about right there and then, with her. Though Noah thought about the bigger question - why he was in the city at all. He hadn't lost sight of his goal, but not even he knew why he was there, not really. Following a feeling could be insane, but he did it anyway. He survived by hunches, intuition and natural suspicion. It was the way it had always been, and how he would continue to live. In fact, it was as close as it could be to who he had been before the embrace.

"Fear", he said.

It was a single, immensely powerful uttering, and it was the truth. All he had said was the truth, this was just another element of it. He didn't believe in asking for forgiveness without knowing why, the essence of it. It might be to ease his own guilt, but it was definitely to accept the blame for something he hadn't intended to do. He would have bitten her and drunk from her blood as if it was the last source of vitae on earth, hadn't Valerian stopped him. There was no reason to deny that, and it was not why he had come. Though he thought he had made himself clear, he was not surprised to find that he hadn't. After all, this was the first time he spoke to someone he had once depicted as a mark.

"I'm not apologizing for what I was about to do. That would be a lie."

He was not noble, a higher being that stood above moral crimes such as lies, theft and atrocity. He wished he was, but he had discovered that life on the other side of the human law, the very human existance, wasn't easy to uphold without stretching yours ideals. Sometimes to their breaking point. You had to reassess every standard you believed in; try to find a way to incorporate them as they were - or reshape them so they would fit. Not very different from being a human all over again, with a few vital distinctions.

"Not all things go according to plan", he said, as if he regretted his failure - and he did, but maybe not the most obvious one. "I usually take the fear with me. I never leave it behind. And that is why I'm here, and why I'm sorry."

As he spoke the latter, he raised his gaze to meet hers. The orbs were dark, yet a slight twinkle of remorse seemed to shine in them, or maybe it was just the reflection of the street lights. He might be a simple man, having no need for the usual games people played, but it was also why he could seem complicated. Since people consistently read between the lines, they could always find some hidden meaning in his words, even if there was none.

"If you want me to leave, I won't argue. "





_________________________________

((( ooc: I'm back! )))
Retired Moderator
retired moderator
Original Poster
#893 Old 21st Dec 2008 at 10:05 PM
Default Adrien and Lena - alleyway
"Well..."

As Adrien was just taking the first slow step in order to back away and turn to leave, Chatterbox apparently decided that she still hadn't had quite enough of his charming company just yet, but instead would rather make conversation for a little while longer. Gee, who would've thought? Given her obvious predilection for banter and games of teasing, not to mentioned dramatic flair, what had been the odds that she would settle for such a simple curtain of this night's encounter, following the rather climactic intermezzo with Salome and her two Sabbat lackeys minutes ago? To end things now, with little more than a simple "Bye bye"? No, that was far too modest and plain for someone like her, and so here she was, obviously about to add her own flamboyant touch to their parting from one another. How very unsurprising. And here he'd been hoping that when she had been the one to get down to business, it had been the start of a trend. But, no such luck. She was still as talkative as ever, it would seem.
Although, as expected as it was, Adrien did have to admit that he was slightly curious of what she'd come up with this time. Did she intend to attempt one more, and in her case, most definitely final attack on him? To try and spring another surprise gag on him? To probe him with comments or questions, to see if he would let anything at all slip, despite her already having tried and failed several times over? He was practically bursting with anticipation to find out.
Not.

"There is something I want you to know", she said, once she saw fit to stop dragging out that particular part of her preferred ending, and get on with it, sounding surprisingly apologetic in the process, yet not in the least mournful; "I did it. I told the Sabbat about you."

Ah. Yeah, that would help to explain how they had found him so fast, even though if hadn't been a far-fetched idea to assume that they had picked up the town gossip among the other Kindred. Mina had blackmailed him into attending that ball a few nights ago after all, and in doing so, managed quite successfully to announce his presence, as well as his fate, to large portions of the Los Angeles Kindred, whom in turn were likely to have passed it on to those who had not attended. Not necessarily to the Sabbat, since they and the Camarilla weren't exactly on the best of terms with one another. But all Kindred had their source for information, so who was to say the Sabbat hadn't had a chance to pick it up somewhere anyway?
However, that would have left them with the information that was currently known about Adrien among the Kindred; that he had been embraced by the Tremere, that he was being kept a close eye on, and that his current lodging was located at the Museum Hermeticum, haven of none other than Mina Coles, the Tremere Primogen, who had well-known reasons to hate every last fragment of his being. But, for several reasons, he had gotten the feeling that it was not quite that simple, mostly because for them to find him and wait for an opportune time to attack him, they would've had to follow him from the Museum. And there had been only one following him back there, and that had been Chatterbox. Of that he was certain. So, either they had been patient for once, as well as persistent, and actually searched for him. Or, a certain someone had lead them to him, or at the very least told them where they could find him. Furthermore, if Chatterbox was the one to have provided them with the information, it might not be quite as simple as that, and it did pose the questions of what else she might have told them, and why. She did know a little bit about him that currently the other Kindred didn't, and given that it was a potentially harmful bit, who was to say she hadn't tried to made use of it?
Although... The method with which they had come at him, had suggested that they knew no more about him than the Camarilla did, and so maybe she had settled with telling them just that he was Kindred, and possibly where to find him. It made sense, after all, since her purpose could very well have been simply to have them kill him; to succeed where she herself had failed, and do the dirty work for her. She was the type to do such a thing; cunning, and manipulative, using anything and anyone to get what she wanted. Granted, she could have chosen to try and finish the job herself when she had seen the Sabbat fail as well, and she hadn't. But that didn't mean all that much, since Adrien still couldn't be sure just how much of a turncoat she really was. Maybe she'd realized that even though he'd appeared to be hard pressed by Salome, he had still been the one conducting the fight, and that she would stand no chance of killing him even if she tried, and so had decided to take advantage of the situation instead, by acting as though she had been ready to help him out, had the need for her assistance truly arisen.

However, even though it was most definitely a theory, it didn't seem like it would be the most prominent one. The look in her eyes back there when she had just appeared to be about to come to his aid - the look of slight surprise and disconcertment at doing something she seemed to not have expected of herself - had been too clear and genuine, to have been faked, even by her.
So, maybe this really was her being candid after all?
Well, somewhat candid, at least.

And no sooner had that thought whirled through his mind, than she decided to reinforce that very notion, by continuing;

"I didn't do it on purpose", she said, adding it quickly to her previous statement, as though she figured that by making such a confession, she might have roused that fading ferocity in him again, and was at risk of being attacked. Though if that was the case, one would have to wonder why that made a difference to her, when it clearly hadn't before. "But if it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have found out what you could do..."

At that, Adrien merely quirked a brow. What? She thought that if she hadn't told them about his new 'situation', they would have dwelled in the darkness of obliviousness for all eternity? Literally. Oh, come now. While it would have probably been preferrable, to have the wretched Sabbat know nothing of the twists and turns of the last three years of his life, it was hardly a very realistic idea. Sooner or later, they would have found out, and when they did, they would have come after him, with the same homicidal intent that had shone so clearly in their predatory eyes this evening.

"Besides", Chatterbox added pointedly in her sweetly mischievous tone. "I wouldn't have let them hurt you... you know that."

Words that soon drew a slightly amused and at the same time jeering sound from the former hunter, in part chuckle, part scoff.
Wasn't that quite a way to own up to what she had apparently been ready to do? A way that very much suited her character; to admit it in a way that left it sounding more like she was simply trying to tease him, wrapping what he now figured was the truth in her usual layer-upon-layer of impishness to obscure it, yet not fully concealing or hiding it. Why, it was almost impressive. Although it wasn't quite worthy to be dignified by an actual response, had he not had one to offer that would needle her in return.
But as always; first thing's first.

"Got a bit of a loose lip there, do you, Chatterbox?" he smirked, and then shook his head while smacking his tongue reprimandingly at her. "That's really no way to earn yourself good references. Though I can't say I'm surprised. I did nickname you 'Chatterbox' for a reason, after all."

Still smirking, he then gave a slight shrug, as if to generously indicate that despite her blunder, there wasn't really all that much harm done.

"And actually yes", he added, now in response to her last statement, and as he continued his gaze locked firmly on her, while a twinkle of smug satisfaction seeped into his dark eyes; "I figured as much."

As though it was his triumph that she had been ready to come to his aid, and not hers. Which, if you would ask him, it really was, in a way.

"Although...", he added further, only to pause briefly in contemplation, before he kept going. "Given that it seems you have a tendency to cause me inconvenience when you're not trying, and attempting to come to my rescue when you're not really sure you want to, I do have to wonder. Will you be as indiscreet about this second part that you've learned about my situation, as you apparently were with the first? Because if you don't mind, I really would prefer to keep 'what I can do', as you so eloquently put it, and as you so kindly helped me find out, between just the two us. Do you think you could manage that?"


(((ooc: Also, just to let everyone know; Psyche wanted me to tell you that sadly, her computer issues have returned, and thus she's not sure when she'll be able to be "fully" back. She will, however, do her best to still get posts in whenever she can.)))

~ * ~ Volition ~ * ~
Scholar
#894 Old 26th Dec 2008 at 10:52 PM
Default Claudia and Valerian - Valerian's chambers, The Haven
Through the almost seven centuries of her existence, Claudia had been alone. Not physically, for if she wished it, she surrounded herself with company – some relatively permanent and others relatively evanescent – and if she no longer required it, she dismissed them with ease; everyone was subject to her will. She simply remained alone through being as elusive as a corporeal entity could be whilst still socialising. She didn’t lie about her origins; she simply never spoke of her history and thus, no-one really knew her.
The sole except, or so Claudia had thought, was Valerian. For though he was subject to the same shroud that her mortal history lay behind for everyone, it had always seemed to her that despite not knowing that, he knew her. Now, she had to question that assumption herself.

She had let him glimpse the many aspects of her personality, her many faces, the wrath and charm of her honesty, simply because he was special. He wasn’t just special to her, though, that too did play a factor, for the years had shown such extraordinary individuals in Claudia’s perspective, all of whom eventually lost or squandered their appeal. Valerian wasn’t just special in Claudia’s eyes, for it had always been clear that he had always been more blessed with the Toreador clan gifts. Or, as one had to consider, that the Toreador clan were blessed with him.
It was why she was quite so possessive of him, affection aside; for he was special and she knew the appeal that held for others and also that the fickle Toreador nature was one that was too acquiescent to temptation.

"Claudia...," he began, the torment he felt at his own behaviour tainting his voice as his pale blue eyes locked once more with hers. "It was no small matter for me to keep it from you, nor was it an easy one. You know that. Don't you...?"

She couldn’t deny that the uncertainty in his question echoed her own, for now, she was forced to evaluate her entire opinion of him and his capabilities, this betrayal being something that she had – in all honesty – never truly anticipated simply because she’d grown close to him. She wasn’t even sure what to chastise herself for; for being so incompetent or for being so emotional and she wasn’t sure what to chastise Valerian for – his deception or the way he’d led her to be deceived.

"I think I better just start at the beginning...," he then began recounting the entire tale of what had led up to the main problem in the situation; the fact that he had intentionally – regardless of how much it tormented him to do so – lied to her. He had lied.

Though, just as he had expected him to, she did see the origin of the compulsion that had drove him to betray her trust. It certainly was a twisted tale, one that seemed to pinpoint Jessica of the Toreador as the instigator for what seemed to be no concreted reason at all. Though, in truth, what reason did the Toreador ever need, but the simple sake of yielding to the call of sentiment? Valerian made it clear that the events of the tale had been catapulting it’s participants towards catastrophe long before he was dragged into the mess by that inanely selfish Annie. Couldn’t she solve her own problems instead of running to strangers for help?!
Furthermore, what in God’s name had forbidden Valerian from coming to her with this? Yes, Claudia would have most certainly engineered to get Annie out of Valerian’s benevolent attentions as soon as possible, but… she could have been persuaded to do so in a less destructive way than normal.
Yet… he hadn’t. Had that been because he saw no chance of Claudia being less than destructive?

"I've just been trying to keep her alive, Claudia,” he confessed wearily, as his hand buried itself through his ebony silk tresses. Yes, she had deduced as much and all that statement served to reinforce was the fact that at the core of it all, he saw her as some destructive monster who’d stop at nothing for entire domination. The worst part, however, was that Claudia could see where his reasoning had stemmed from, for watching him, she saw herself through his eyes.
Cold, distant, possessive and vicious.

Yes, she was indeed all of those… to others. Though Valerian was subject to that face of hers, he was also subject to the more affectionate side of her and it was truly cutting to realise that he didn’t consider that potent enough to trust her with something that was of enough importance to him to cause him to lie. Did he even believe that she did indeed care for him, that she did love him?

"And I knew that if others found out about her, about who and where she was, they may see fit to... to kill her,” he pointed out in hesitation and deep down, Claudia did see the point in that; and the little rat would deserve it too. Though, not as much as Jessica deserved execution for exposing them all the way she did. “And 'rid' us all of the problem once and for all, even though there were and still are other solutions.”

Oh, yes, she did indeed thorough appreciate what Valerian’s alternative solution had been. Was she suddenly unaware of the existence of vampires? No. Was she any less of a threat to them? No. Was she still a live wire in terms of her threat to them? Why, yes, of course. Well done, Valerian.

“And... The reason why I kept it from you,” he moved on to what Claudia had been expecting and almost dreading, had it not been for her need to identify the source of this problem as soon as possible, for it was clear that it wasn’t just an external problem; “is because I was afraid that you wouldn't just see it the same way most of the others would, but that you would also resent what I was trying to do.”
The words, had she been human, would have made her breath catch in her throat, for it truly did illustrate that what she had over him was not only love and respect, but also… fear. He seemed truly afraid of what she could be capable of.

“That you would see her as a threat, like you do so many others...,” he continued, receiving a look from her eyes that was now deprived of it’s cold wrath, only to be replaced by a sort of acerbic enlightenment. The perfected mask that Claudia wore to the point where few believed there was anything underneath suddenly threatened to test it’s weakening resilience, all because of what he thought of her. “And... that you would put her right back in harm's way because of it. Because of me."

There was just the silence. The hellishly burning silence lingering in the room filled with no-one but the two vampires, still and non-breathing as her eyes aimlessly wandered his appearance, lost in her own thoughts. Had she led him to believe this and only this of her? For, yes, she had her reputed nature, but for him she also had what she didn’t share with others; love and affection. Did he have no faith in that? Did he have no faith in her, in himself? Or was this what he wanted to delude himself with, so that he could justify his own folly?

And then… there was Annie. He was right, Claudia did indeed see her as a threat, for she hadn’t known the circumstances what had triggered Valerian’s involvement with her. Claudia had thought that it was another one of Valerian’s many quests for affection and thus, Annie had immediately become a rival – a situation which wasn’t the case and thus, she was somewhat relieved, at being right that there had probably been nothing romantic right then – but Claudia hadn’t imagine something of this convolution…. And yes, Valerian was most certainly correct that if she were not involved in this by proxy, she would have considered it most prudent to kill Annie. Except, she was involved by proxy because of Valerian and that changed things. While she had questionable concern for Valerian’s business sense – possibly perhaps because he had such little of it – she did understand his desperately altruistic nature and she did know how much destroying his intentions in that quarter would hurt him, and thus, she would have used more… humane methods in dealing with the problem.
But he didn’t see that, did he?

Wordlessly, she glided towards him, soft footsteps dissipating in the carpeting as she approached him, where one pale hand gently wove itself momentarily through the inviting silk of his hair before retreating.

“I understand why you had to do it,” she assured with soft authority, knowing that he would probably understand that while she now deemed it understandable, she most probably didn’t deem it justified. “But is that all you see me as, Valerian?” she asked, with as much neutrality as she could achieve right then, to keep his answer as honest as it could me. “Callous and vindictive? Don’t you know I’d consider your feelings…?”

(((OOC: Hope that works for you, Atropa
Ghanima - I'm sorry she's being such a bitch about Aeode )))

"Life is just a chance to grow a soul" - A. Powell Davies
Scholar
#895 Old 26th Dec 2008 at 11:00 PM
Default Lena and Adrien - Alleyway
People, by basic nature, are very selfish. Everyone has a basic need and it’s really the only motivation that they’ll ever truly be wielded by. A need to be powerful, to be special, to be loved… anything. And the more difficult accomplishing that becomes, the more morals you feel less attached to; push someone to their limits and suddenly, rules seem a lot more breakable. No-one is born with a conscience; it’s just a social deception that most people succumb to. No-one even truly cares for another person beyond the realms of some need being satiated. Honestly, added to that inherent selfishness is flavour, whatever it is that the person in question desires, their modus operandi and their own personalised delusions of what kind of person they were. In Lena Sayliss’s mind, if you can find what they’re seeking, you can toy with them to your heart’s content… and she did.

So, knowing that truth about people – which most people most definitely knew, and either refused to accept or pretended not to know, Lena was sure of it – was most likely to be crippling. To never trust anyone, to never believe in genuine ‘good intentions’, to know that everyone is intrinsically evil, just waiting for the right trigger. Most people did indeed find that crippling, but Lena found it safe, for she had been raised to believe that people were out to get you, and you just had to get at them first. In her eyes, there was no such thing as selflessness – even less of a reason to feel guilty about doing what she did.
It's funny when your psychiatrists say otherwise and when you argue back, knowing what's really going on in their minds, they add hostile mistrust to your list of diagnoses. So much for honesty.

So, in a way, she was looking for Adrien’s trigger. Made very curious by his behaviour – especially his refusal to try kill her, which did leave her quite bemused – she really couldn’t help but push buttons, making calculated guesses in finding his triggers. Right now, she chose the most basic one; survival. She was an obvious threat to his survival, given that she was an assassin, and furthermore, an exceptional one at that. To add further spice to the situation, she admitted to being the one who was essentially causative of the attack on him and to just add the icing on the cake, she was the sole keeper of his newest, as probably much cherished secret.
So… what was he going to do to keep it that way?

"Got a bit of a loose lip there, do you, Chatterbox?" he said – instead of flying into some crazed rage – with a smirk, reproachfully smacking his tongue at her with a slight, disapproving shake of his head as if he wasn’t in the slightest bit angry about being sold out. Hey, maybe he wasn’t. After all, the guy was probably used to being kicked around like a football for the past three years, so what’s an unintentional set-up or two along the way? Variety, that’s what. He should really be thankful. "That's really no way to earn yourself good references.”

At that, a small, amused laugh spilled out of her lips, at the thought of references being given from Adrien, or any vampire for the matter, over hiring an assassin of all things. Just the thought of Adrien standing there with some vampire who was waiting for his turn to kick de la Cour around like a football, chatting the pros and cons of hiring an assassin and basically saying something along the lines of “Well… hire me instead, I’m back in business – start with you?”. Pity it’ll never happen; Adrien just wasn’t the chatty type, sadly. Besides, his tag line would probably be something along the lines of “Don’t commit suicide, let me do it”.

“Though I can't say I'm surprised,” he then remarked as Lena made a passing attempt at keeping a straight face, only to revert to smiling amusedly at him. “I did nickname you 'Chatterbox' for a reason, after all.”

No, no… he was just such a hot topic that she couldn’t help but to talk about him with every passing kindred whether they wanted to take her home and mutilate her or not. Such was the charm of Adrien de la Cour. But hey, there was hardly enough room for her, him and his ego in the alleyway as it was, so best not make it any more crowded than it already was. Not to say that the ego wasn’t currently dominating the tone of the conversation, because all he gave was a slight shrug as if it really didn’t even come close to having an effect on him.

“And actually yes,” he then moved on, with the self-satisfied complacency adding another dimension of luminous colour to his eyes whilst leaving little doubt in her mind as to what he was referring to, with Lena making a concerted effort not to roll her eyes in slight frustration; Gee, look who’s been taking happy pills. “I figured as much.”

"Although...,” he carried on, as if contemplating the direction of his current thought process before he decided he simply couldn’t subject her impatient nature to all that scintillating suspense; "Given that it seems you have a tendency to cause me inconvenience when you're not trying, and attempting to come to my rescue when you're not really sure you want to, I do have to wonder.”

Okay… so, he believed that she hadn’t meant to make the psychotic trio interrupt their lovely time together? Or did he actually believe that his not killing her had come to have some effect on her, because while it made such little sense to her, she knew he didn’t do it for her. She didn’t ask him to and he only did it because he wanted to and hence, while she benefited from his behaviour and decisions, she had very little to be thankful for. Well… apart from the fact that he did do the world a favour and wipe any traces of Salome’s awful footwear. Lena did what she did because of a slight lapse in lucidity, that was it… and now she was making good use of her minor glitch.

“Will you be as indiscreet about this second part that you've learned about my situation, as you apparently were with the first?” he asked simply. Oh, come on, as if the ‘first part’ of his situation was ever anything to be discreet about. Jeez, the news of him being turned was effectively anti-depressant for every vampire out there. Seriously, as if the Sabbat only found out because she wasn’t good at keeping secrets – fine maybe if it wasn’t for her, it wouldn’t have been tonight, but really, it was not really her fault.

“Because if you don't mind,” he began in a way that subliminally signalled to her what his forthcoming actions could possibly be. Thus, while that charming smile remained fixed, she mentally prepared herself for the impeding physical attack, only to be met with something she didn’t quite expect; “I really would prefer to keep 'what I can do', as you so eloquently put it, and as you so kindly helped me find out, between just the two us.”
Huh?
“Do you think you could manage that?"

And now, back to the fact that people are, in fact, very, very selfish. Adrien de la Cour, by all calculations, was no different. Boyish crusading delusions aside, she had figured out that, when it came down to it, he did what he did because of something very personal – someone or something that had been irreplaceably taken from him. He indulged in genocide of sorts because he was hurt, bottom line. Thus, he killed people for that, deep down, for himself. In all logical sense, he shouldn’t have wasted a moment in trying to kill her to protect his own interests… unless this was a test of some sort.
But still… how weird was this guy?!

“Is that trust?” she asked in her smooth, faintly teasing tone, tilting her head, the momentary pleasant surprise that shone in her eyes dissipating as the innate mistrustful contemplations reinstated themselves underneath her signature mask; impishness worn with utter charm. Oh, he was definitely planning something, he had to be. “Or are we still playing your games?”
Fine, if that’s how he wanted it, she’d be sure to match his finesse at toying with people, because though his age should have given him more expertise over her, were it not for the social recluse factor, she’d been doing this since early childhood, hardly ever being a hermit… and everyone knew practice makes perfect. Besides, out of the two of them, she was probably the one who did it just for sheer amusement.

“But… of course I’ll be discreet,” she assured with that very natural allure, as if he was requesting what was already, obviously secured, gliding in a little closer as a light-heartedly playful conspiring smile stole across her features; “It’ll be our little secret....” Then, with an utterly beguiling smile, she delivered her concluding assertion, matching the stakes in his game, wishing to see exactly how far he was willing to run with this arc before he revealed his true intentions; “I’m on your side, after all.”

(((OOC: I hope that made sense and works for you, Atropa, I’ve been struggling a little lately. And so sorry for the delay! )))

"Life is just a chance to grow a soul" - A. Powell Davies
Alchemist
#896 Old 28th Dec 2008 at 5:07 PM
Connor and Moira - backstage at Club Envy



Perusing the shifts in expression fleeting across Connor's pallid features, Moira felt as though she was a spectator to a gripping spectacle, teetering on the edge of becoming part of it. The tide of emotion tugged at her Toreador senses, crackling around her brain like a electrical storm, bombarding her awareness with almost painful intensity: Connor's pathos, the desperate longing to comprehend what she was communicating, the stark shock of having the veil pulled violently off his eyes, of finding out that many of the concepts he'd fashioned from himself were false, were reflected as bright as beacons in her mind. How did one face the remnants of a world twisted upside-down within the span of a few minutes, aware that they knew both more and less about it than they ever did, themselves included? There was no way of truly easing someone into such a revelation, not when the damage was already done. Connor alone could find a way to contend with the trauma of it all, whether he would bend or break, Moira taking a merely guiding role in it. It was the very thing she'd wanted to avoid nearly a year before when they first met, why she'd seriously considered never revealing to him what she was. As they grew closer and the prospect of Connor's company became increasingly attractive, selfishness conquered what magnanimity she harboured in her unbeating heart, thus ensuring the young man would remain at her side, loyal beyond reproach, shackled by his own feelings. Choice might have been possible, at first, but not anymore: once that first drop of Vitae had passed his lips for the third time, he no longer had any choice at all.

The truly sad thing was that it wasn't the first time Moira had ensnared a mortal in such a way: Josephine, her Muse in Venice all those centuries ago had played a similar role in her life, the tragedy in which their association ended ensuring she would not consider it for nearly four hundred years, having sworn to never take a ghoul or childe ever again. The passage of time however had the unique property of dulling even the most painful experiences, and though neither Josephine's brutal murder nor her vow were forgotten, they eventually receded into the depths of ancient memory, and their influence over Moira's present behaviour slowly wavered. Adding many years of seclusion and loneliness to the mix, and her will faltered when it should have been strongest: thus Connor was seduced, drawn into the vampire's web and sealed within before he even had a chance to consider its full implications. By keeping the truth from him in the first place, Moira had left him none.

Was she indeed helping him then, or did she do it because she was sensing her own humanity leaving her, much like Connor's was with every sip of her blood that he took, and it was terrifying? The intricacies of Moira's motivations spanned the desire to repair a wrong, or to save a loved one from a dire fate. Caine's curse which flowed in her veins, and half a millennium of living outside humanity had shaped her into something that, try as she might, was not human. Could never be human. Even her feelings were driven by the nature of the predator, directing her thoughts and actions. The longer she lived, instead of growing more familiar with the world, Moira became estranged from it and she needed an anchor: something to keep her tethered.

The Kindred was a tragic figure in that way, not truly belonging anywhere, able to blend within society but never part of it, a concept which was difficult to explain to someone who had never even aware of it before. Like Connor. He had been lead to believe the worlwide Kindred population was far smaller than in reality, knew nothing of their politics and influence and thought of Moira herself as benign. Nothing could be further from the truth and as she watched him struggle with the anticipation of another epiphany he correctly interpreted would be at least as shattering as the previous one, Moira again experienced an over encompassing feeling of alienation: no matter what she told him, he could never truly know it all, not while he remained human.

“I mean the truth about our kind. About me, even. I told you I was 300 years old, when in reality that number is closer to 600, and yet there are others older than me, much older, going back as far as the Biblical times of Caine, our progenitor. Kindred aren't a a thousand or so individuals scattered across the globe: in fact, Los Angeles alone is home to a couple of hundred of us.”

Moira proceeded to tell Connor about the Camarilla and the thirteen clans, as briefly as she could then, that each major city had a ruler called a Prince and his seven advisers, the Primogen council, a position she herself held in London and that there was another sect, a truly monstrous one which thrived on death and destruction known as the Sabbat. She also pointed out that Kindred influence encompassed all facets of human life as well, from economy to politics and everything in between, shaping history from the shadows to serve their own purposes, sometimes ruthlessly so, whether the humans in question were aware of it or not. Most of the times they were not, for Kindred were exceedingly crafty at covering their own tracks, as dictated by the Masquerade. Moira impressed upon the fact that even the members of the Camarilla, who did not advocate mindless killings, were in fact extremely dangerous and most of them would not hesitate 'eliminating' a human or humans if thought of as a possible threat. The majority would put their interests above those of anyone else, mortal or not -is was the nature of the predator inside, that selfish, territorial streak that they all possessed: therefore, making uninformed assumptions about an unknown Kindred was a dangerous gamble. Connor had just proven that irrevocable truth the night before.

Revealing the inner-workings of Kindred society however couldn't be complete without also explaining to Connor the role he currently held in it. She paused briefly, knowing all too well that any temporary respite during those moments was inadequate, but nevertheless wishing to allow Connor the opportunity to reflect on what he'd just learned, and herself the time to shape her words:

“There is something else. The exchange of blood between a Kindred and a mortal creates...a bond between the two.” Moira began. She couldn't bring herself to tell him that the bond was one-sided and that the adoration he felt towards her was largely artificial. Blood bound as he was, the knowledge would only torment him, the alternative being the one thing he feared most: her disappearing from his life forever. “My kind employs it for various purposes, which are rarely the kind of companionship we share. We call these humans ghouls, or thralls, and their donor a Regent or Domitor.”

There was no concealing the obvious implications of those terms: that one was the master, which could only mean the other functioned as the servant. Anticipating the anxiety he would be experiencing, Moira smiled fondly across the short distance that separated her form Connor, an added indication that she did not consider him her servant. The fact that most ghouls were considered dispensable and many Domitors amused themselves by subjecting them to all manner of torment was another painful truth she would spare him, for the moment at least.

“It is very likely that one of those words could have spared you last night's ordeal. There are no guarantees however: because of our...affiliation, you are exposed to our world more than other humans, which increases the danger. I told you once that different Kindred have different powers, but what you don't know is that as long as you have my blood in your veins it is possible for you to learn some of them, enough to be able to protect yourself if there is a next time.”


((ooc: Sorry for the lateness, guys! Psyche and WannabeSith, Aeode and Melody posts will follow over the next days!

Oh yeah, to those who didn't know, several of the characters in sim-form are part of my Asylum challenge Since you guys are the only ones who'd fully get the captions, I thought I'd put the link out here))

If wishes were fishes we'd all cast nets
Field Researcher
#897 Old 30th Dec 2008 at 9:14 AM
Default Fitzroy and Seraphina, Malkavian Mansion
"Discretion's me middle name," Fitzroy said with a twinkle in his beady scarlet eyes. He was grateful that Lady Seraphina had been apparently unable or unwilling to delve deeply enough into his mind to see just what it was he had been concealing there. Though perhaps she had simply not deemed it worth the effort, since any Kindred more than a couple of decades old was bound to have a myriad of nasty little secrets under their belt. It was the nature of the game, really, and why the Nosferatu clan widely viewed information as the most powerful weapon of all.

The Kine had a saying that went something like this: The best weapon is the one you never have to fire. The Kindred themselves had a similar philosophy for when they wanted to avoid trouble: If you have more dirt on the other guy than he does on you, which one of you is the Prince more likely to send out for a daytime jaunt? It didn't matter really who was more guilty than the other so much as it mattered who was better able to cover their tracks. And Fitz was very, very good at that. Of course, so was Seraphina when he stopped to think about it. No one made it to the level of authority she had without being very adept at revealing only that which they wanted others to know.

That was precisely what Fitzroy hoped to achieve for himself, and perhaps ingratiating himself with the Malkavian primogen could serve to aid in elevating his position. Though whatever information he could further scout out regarding the Sabbat incursion would surely gain him the most support.

"Ah well," he finally answered. "Yeh've already agreed to me stated proice. Ah don't see any reason to impose any further on yer good graces. Even better, Ah'll let ye know if any further developments come t'loight."

Slowly, he reached into his pocket and withdrew Soot, who looked up at Seraphina and mewed plaintively. It was almost as if the cat understood he would have to be parted for a while from the master he adored so much. Beast and Master, though with Fitzroy and Soot the line between the two was greatly blurred, exchanged a communicative look at each other before the nosferatu handed the animal over to the head of the local Malkavians.

"'E knows better than t'be any trouble to ye," he said, reaching into another pocket and pulling out a drink flask like the ones mortals used for carrying liquor around. Only his contained a couple weeks worth of vitae rations for a small feline ghoul.

Then, bending low in a respectful bow, Fitzroy told Seraphina, "It's been a pleasure doin' business with ye." After that, he simply left the way he came, not wanting to further illustrate his fondness for his pet by staying to coo over the dirty little moggy for just a moment longer.

Eagerly awaiting Silent Hill: Shattered Memories.
Alchemist
#898 Old 30th Dec 2008 at 12:18 PM
Melody and Melissa - Club Envy


"Empires can be raised in a day, and razed in a night.” said Melissa as both she and Melody turned their attention to the floodlit stage. “This fly wonders how long this New Empire of music shall last?"

Melody wondered that too: a couple of years was the guess she'd ventured. Perhaps more, perhaps less. Bands came and went with the season, attained a measure of temporary fame before receding into the depths of pop music history, only to be replaced by another. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing; often, the musicians themselves were ready to move on by then and chose stability over the thrills of a performer's life. Or were simply not given a choice. Fame, after all, was a fickle friend and finances ruled it. Melody remembered how she'd come across New Empire for the first time: an online friend had sent her one of their tracks, which she'd liked and afterwards downloaded the entire album. One of the lesser known facts about Melody, something few were able to guess just by her appearance, was that she regularly used a computer and the internet and was not only an avid gamer, but a fairly skilled one as well.

As fate would have it however, Melody's enthusiasm over the upcoming performance dwindled and was extinguished when the sudden and worrying shift in her companion's behaviour tore her thoughts away from listening to music and ogling cute guys to the very real event of Melissa's inexplicable panic attack. She barely registered her words when, under her startled stare, the girl slid off the chair and took refuge under the table,where she started crying softly. Unintelligible mutterings escaped her quivering lips, whose meaning remained beyond Melody's reach.

What had just happened? Melody's heart pulsated quicker, flushing her cheeks a soft pink. Her blue eyes, large with apprehension and shimmering with confusion sought out the face of Melissa's quiet companion, filled with a silent questioning. He shook his head lightly and casually moved in front of them, offering the sobbing girl a handkerchief she did not accept. Melody frowned at his indifference: was he going to do absolutely nothing?

Crumpling her hands together in her lap, Melody gave an uneasy sigh and peered back at Melissa, debating whether she should do something: her instinct told her the girl needed help, someone to keep talking to her at least– that was what Melody would have wanted in her place. But what to say, when she did not even know what had caused the fit in the first place? If anything had caused it at all: Melissa was certifiable, who knew what figment of her unsettled imagination haunted her mind?

Feeble moans occasionally reached through the surrounding beat of the music, music which was all but lost to Melody at the moment. Leaning in closer, she was able to discern some of them: “...didn't have permission to play with the Dolly. It was bad, bad, bad, bad, bad! Someone else's toy. Broken. This fly is a maggot for hurting the Dolly. Naughty bug!”

Melody sat bolt upright, sudden realization washing over her lily features: she had hurt someone, or thought she did, was that it? Someone she recognized somewhere in the crowd? A “broken doll”...no that couldn't be right. There was no-one looking hurt there: everyone she could lay her eyes on was busy having a good time. But Melissa seemed to be convinced of it and was beyond comforting, curled into a ball of misery on the cold floor. Several times Melody bent down to give her a cautious look and even opened her mouth to speak, but the words remained elusive, save for the few attempts at calling her name in the hope of getting through to her, to which the girl gave no reaction. The young woman dared not take a hold of her: no matter how harmless she looked, she was still a vampire, and assuming she could not harm her was unwise, even though Melody didn't believe she would intentionally do such a thing. Plus, she didn't want to spook her even more than she already was. More importantly though, she couldn't decide whether the best thing to do was to intervene or let her ride it out; her bodyguard or whomever he was certainly believed so. Should she just leave altogether?

The sound of rampant applause and cheering reached Melody from afar: she focused back on the stage just in time to hear Connor Hale thank his audience, preparing for one more encore. The show had to be ending then, which meant that soon enough the lights would be turned back on and the crowd would begin filling the entire club once again. What if someone noticed a young woman was sobbing under the table, and even worse that her cheeks were streaming with blood? A stranger's intervention would have been very inconvenient at the moment: of course, that's what Melissa's sturdy chaperone was there to prevent until the girl calmed down, but just the same...Melody wanted to try something first.

Reaching for her purse, she retrieved a pack of paper towels from its cluttered depths and casually let it slide out of her lap. Then, pretending to be diving for it, Melody lowered herself on the same level with Melissa in a most uncomfortable crouching position considering the length of her heels and dress, one too long, the other too short. She placed the paper towels next to Melissa and retracted her hand, while the other kept adjusting the hem of her dress, ensuring it covered everything that needed covering.

Melissa...” Melody's strained voice barely carried over the surrounding hubbub, but she was certain the Kindred's ears would pick it up. “Can you hear me? Listen...I don't know what happened, what you did, but...no-one's broken here. The dollies, they're all right. Look.” She gestured towards the sea of noisy club patrons. “Do you want to come back up and see for yourself? If you want me to go afterwards, it's no problem, but I want to know you'll be all right.”

The sound of many trampling feet was increasing in intensity; the show was over, and the crowd gathered near the stage was dissipating. Soon they would be surrounded again.

“Please?”

ooc: Gah, sorry again for the delay and I hope all of this works! If not, drop me a PM.

If wishes were fishes we'd all cast nets
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Original Poster
#899 Old 30th Dec 2008 at 3:56 PM
Default Valerian and Claudia - The Haven, Valerian's private quarters
Love is unconditional. True, actual, heartfelt love. It is unrestrained by flaws and mistakes, imperfections and promised circumstances. Changes won't have to be made by the reciever in order to keep it, and no real amount of effort will have to be made by the giver to keep feeling it. It needs to be nurtured and tended to, in order to thrive, just like most anything. But indeed, to truly smother it would take more effort than it does to maintain it.
That, at least, was the view of young Valerian, who loved so much, and so many; widely, generously, passionately. He loved life, and he loved unlife. He loved happiness, and he loved sorrow, and all the feelings in between, no matter how painful they might be to feel. Because that was what he loved about them; they made him feel, and experience. To him, the soul and the heart, even if it was an unbeating one, were the centre of one's existence, and every feeling, every sensation, was a thread that bound them both closer to your being.

Now, with such a wide range of emotions, and such a passionate appreciation for their power over him, one might find it peculiar that his being had managed to focus on the 'good' and the pure ones, such as, yes, love and happiness. The darker ones, such as hatred and anger, would often seem far more easily felt, and even more strongly, and so it might just as easily have been those that had caught him in their web and spurred his addiction to their potency. No one, not even Valerian himself, could fully explain why that hadn't turned out to be the case. Because God knows he had enough reasons to have grown bitter and resentful towards people, and life in general, what with having had the people that were most important to him leave him one after another, as well as having had to sell himself just to make ends meet, when life had been at it's worst for him.
But he hadn't. He hadn't grown bitter, nor had he turned resentful. Instead, he still poured his heart into almost every experience and acquaintance he made, as generously as ever, and he loved liberally, bountifully. He loved his family, even though time and distance had since long seperated them. He loved his Sire, even though he had abandoned Valerian and left him to his fate. He loved his friends, he loved his clan, his many lovers. And he loved Claudia. And he knew that she, on some level which she wouldn't allow to show very often, but which was always there, she cared for him too. As more than a possession, an accessory that made her look good. She cared for him, and she was as protective about him, as she was about the affection and adoration he aimed in her direction.

But, he also knew how she loved power, and what she could do with it, and she always effortlessly kept him reminded of it, intentionally or not. Furthermore, he knew that with her undeniably being the authorative one of the two, the one more prone to viewing whatever situations arose with cool logic rather than with her heart, it only came naturally, and perhaps was even subtly implied by Valerian himself as well, that often she would be the one who knew what would be the best course of action in any given situation, and also what was best for him. He was so very easily guided by his heart that sometimes she might think him blinded by it, to the point where he would not realize that he was headed towards certain danger, or hurt, and so she would, in her own creative ways, try and steer him away from it somehow.
And that was all another reason why he'd felt he couldn't tell her about what was going on; because even if she decided to leave Aeode unharmed, she might still try to subtly reel Valerian out of the situation, and away from Aeode, thus leaving the girl to fend for herself, or be given another, less... considerate and patient watcher. And Valerian really did want to look after Aeode and, even though it was much like Moira had said, that there would probably not be a happy ending, ensure that the 'ending' she did recieve was still as happy as it could be. For while he would rather see the good in everyone, he was hardly delusional, and thus did realize that there were not that many among his own kind, that would take as strong an interest in Aeode's future as he did. After all, he had decided to try and take care of things to the best of his ability for a reason.

Much to his relief, and to be perfectly honest, much his surprise as well, Claudia seemed to on some level actually recognize that reason, for following the long silence that first spread it's wings in the room after his minor monologue, was the sound of her footsteps as she closed the distance between them again, returning to him, and the brief but gentle touch of her fingers running through his hair, coaxing him to tilt his head back and gaze up at her.

"I understand why you had to do it", she said softly, confirming the notion with words that Valerian had actually not expected to hear.

At least not this soon. See, that was another thing about Claudia; sometimes even Valerian, with his keen perception as far as emotions went, as well as knowing Claudia better than most, just could not know what to expect from her. He'd think he knew, and she would still end up surprising him. Sometimes intentionally, to keep him on his toes during one of their dominating mistress/submissive adorer sessions, and sometimes, like now, what would seem unintentionally.
But again, he couldn't be certain. She had a habit of tempting him with what she knew he yearned for, only to tug it out of his grasp just as he began reaching for it. Especially when she was displease with him, as she knew it was a sure method to make him suffer, but not too much.

This time, however, it would seem like she was indeed being completely genuine, with no hidden agenda of wanting to watch him squirm, because even though her tone was back to being somewhat pragmatic and neutral, he could still hear the disappointment and the actually growing hurt stirring underneath it all, as she continued;

"But is that all you see me as, Valerian?" she questioned, and nearly made him cringe as it became evident what she thought was his opinion of her. "Callous and vindictive? Don't you know I'd consider your feelings...?"

In an instant, Valerian was shaking his head vehemently, sending the dark velvet locks of hair dancing over his shoulders, and he swiftly stood from the sofa, to clutch her hands in both of his again, much like he had done back at the club. But this time, he brought them against his chest, almost as though feeling his non-existing hearbeat would convince her of the truthfulness of his feelings.

"Baby, of course I don't", he stressed, seeming almost as though he was at a loss for how to be able to convince her, yet soon released her hands, only to gently cup her face instead. "Of course I don't see you that way. I know you're so much more than that."

For even though he was looking to reassure her, he wouldn't lie, and deny that those were indeed two of the qualities among the many, many others that he felt she was harbouring in her slender being. He'd lied to her enough as it was, not to mention that if he did claim that he did not see glimpses of callousness and vengefulness in her, she would know he was lying, and think that he was only trying to appease her at any cost, rather than to assure her with what he felt was the truth.

"I know you can be gentle, warm and kind", he said, his emotional blue eyes intently locked with hers, willing her to recognize the sincerity in his words. "I know that you can love, and I know that you do. But Claudia... How can I know when you will let those things rule your way of thinking? You work so hard at hiding them, even from me, that sometimes I don't know what to expect of you."

~ * ~ Volition ~ * ~
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Original Poster
#900 Old 30th Dec 2008 at 9:45 PM
Default Adrien and Lena - alleyway
Despite having known her for only a few hours, and despite having had to sift through a massive amount of acting, slanting and lying in order to reach what he did know, there were still alot of things to be said about Chatterbox. Manipulative, flamboyant, overly confident, and about as trustworthy as a viper, she did still know how to show a guy a good time. And without taking her clothes off, too. Impressive. Not that Adrien would have gotten much of a kick out of it even if she did - quite the contrary; as far as he was concerned, she was too coquettish and suggestive even with her clothes ON - but an interesting personality did tend to offer a bit more varied entertainment, didn't it?
However, that's not too say that there couldn't be too much of a 'good' thing, and in all honesty, there already had been, and Adrien really would have preferred to have been on his way by now. But, all that aside, at least there was a bit of entertainment offered in the delay:

Chatterbox really didn't seem quite sure about whether she wanted to provoke him, or to soothe the ferocity he gathered she had seen in his eyes a minute or so ago. She kept jumping back and forth between the two, starting out with a long series of various small gibes, then all of a sudden throwing in a confession about what she had done, complete with what seemed like earnest reassurance that it had not been her intention to sell him out, and then turning right back to that incessant and, quite frankly, less and less effective teasing. Not that it had ever been effective in the first place, but even paleness can be drained of what little color it possesses.

All the while, she kept treating his remarks as though she didn't have even the faintest clue about the points his retorts carried.
So, while indeed he had to admit that her company did entertain him in some ways, it was also becoming painfully obvious that it was growing quite dull to him in others. After all, successful banter was the art of feeding off of what the other person said, flaws as well as valid points, and turning it around to form a solid gibe in return. Not just to act as though points had never been made by the other party in the first place, and skipping off merrily along whatever path your scattered mind happened to be following at the time.

Then again, the lack of feedback might just be her way of intentionally boring him, though that would of course pose the question of why? A desire to see how long until he lost his patience? How long he would humor her? A pressing need to have the last word? Or maybe it was all - her incessant talking as well as her lack of a reaction to the points he made - just symptoms of an overwhelming love of hearing the sound of her own voice, no matter what poor sod was caught in the metaphorical avalanche? Because really, she didn't exactly come across as the considerate type, now did she?
Yes yes, she had apparently been ready to help him out with Salome, had it turned out he needed it, but he very much doubted it had anything to do with him personally, rather than some ulterior motive in her intricate little mind, about how she could make use of such a thing. He had proven to be the more noble of the two, after all - not killing her despite having been given both the chance and several darned good reasons to do so, whereas she had tried to kill him despite of it, as well as sent the Sabbat on his tail first chance she got, even though at the time, he had actually been a client of hers - so who was to say she hadn't seen a chance to use it as a way of getting him to do something for her out of debt and gratitude? For instance, shedid seem rather eager for him to deal with that Harold Schumacher guy, so it really would make alot of sense.

However, Adrien hardly expected her to actually tell him what she was up to and what her intentions were, and thus the comment about wanting to keep this most recent discovery of their between just the two of them, was more of a way for him to lead her to say something he might find useful in determining said intentions; if she really would keep it to herself, most likely for the purpose of finding a use for it later, or if she truly was a grade A tattletale.

"Is that trust?" she inquired in that increasingly tedious tone of hers, filled with playfullness and mischief. "Or are we still playing your games?"

Oh, now wasn't that the most classic case of the pot calling the kettle black? His games, were they? With her lies, her inconsistencies, her efforts to try and keep him on his toes for no other reason than to keep him on his toes, her 'confession' for some undoubtedly obscure reason? His games? And here he'd been thinking he'd been pretty darned straghtforward most of the time, considering. He'd been testing her and acrutinizing her, yes, but he'd never actually attempted to mislead her, nor had he toyed with her. Much. And especially not lately. He'd merely made a few points that in his mind she really ought to consider, part of them consisting of how he really didn't trust her, as well as the lack of logic in her way of intentionally giving him every reason not to do so, only to then reproach him for the very same.

"But...", she added just then, perhaps finally wising up to a few of those facts and realizing the answer to her question was already a given, "... of course I'll be discreet."

Though apparently she still didn't quite get - or care about, which was probably a more likely option - the fact that her little miss femme fatale act really did little more than simply add to his boredom, because she kept going, much in the same manner that she'd insisted on assuming throughout their acquaintance so far, gradually inching closer to him.

"It'll be our little secret... I'm on your side, after all."

See, here they went again, with her jumping right back to being his 'best friend in the whole world', yet an act laced with doubt, when just a few minutes earlier, she had made a real effort to see to it that he wouldn't even come near the thought of actually trusting her. Though perhaps she was just enjoying what she thought was his lack of choice in the matter? He'd insinuated that he wouldn't kill her unless she attacked him again, and so it wasn't likely that he'd kill her over suspicions, no matter how much she tried to rub his nose in the fact that she knew something about him that he'd rather keep secret. As long as she didn't actually attack him, she figured she was safe, and thus decided to have her fun with what she knew, with what power she thought she now wielded over him?

Well, he'd just leave her with that misconception. Because really, even if she did go blabbing his 'secret' to every vampire that would lend an ear, she would still have to prove it in order to really get him into trouble; something that would be kind of hard to do without a shred of evidence, as well as without an explanation regarding how she knew it. Because judging by her tendency to play dress-up, and her lack of a reputation in his (former) circles, she wasn't too keen on the idea of having everyone's attention aimed at her. She'd prefer to keep under the radar.
There were of course other ways, but even so, there still was no evidence. And even if there was, while it might make others jittery to know that he could kill under certain circumstances, who in their right mind would have his head for killing Sabbat? Except maybe the Sabbat, but they were hardly his main concern, since it was the Camarilla that were his current judge, jury and possible executioner. No no, they'd surely find better ways of dealing with him. Hardly pleasant ways, and hardly anything that would make the reaching of his goal any easier. But Adrien was a patient man, as well as a resilient and resourceful one. He knew how to bide his time, without losing sight of his mission, and so while the Camarilla might work out a use for his newly discovered abilities to further their own agendas, there was nothing that would keep him from sticking to, and achieving, his own.

But, there really was no need to inform little Miss Chatterbox of these things, since it would only spoil her fun. And then he'd be stuck with her yet another while, as she tried to find some other way of ending this evening's get-together with a twist.
So, he'd just take a different route, and make a different yet no less true point;

"At the moment", he thus reminded her of her constant inconsistency where he, his trust and his survival were concerned. "We'll see how long it lasts."

~ * ~ Volition ~ * ~
 
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