Ash/Lyssha looks at Morgan, waiting for her to help explain.
Morgan is starting to regret going and seeing the prince so soon. She keeps her cool regardless.
"I will explain, Majesty, as I am neither mute nor a coward." She looks at the Ratling with the very beginning of a smile.
"This Nosferatu was disturbed by strange noises from below, so he hired me and the other Neonate to enter the basement and find the source. Behind a locked door we found a pathetic creature with many eyes and many arms, each tipped with a human mouth. My honorable companion beat the thing to death and tore off an arm, to show to the Nosferatu. He got all excited and ran over to you. And now here we are.
Do you have any questions, Prince?"
Explain. Don't fuck it up.
As chance would have it, the prince believes this story.
‘There is a traitor in my midst. It cannot be related to these fledglings, they are too young for such horrors.’ The prince is murmuring to himself, before falling silent for a moment, thinking.
‘Reward the fledglings. Ten thousand dollars and a room on one of my upper floors. I shall call upon their services when I require them.’ The prince turns his back and strolls back to the throne, taking a seat. ‘As for you, rodent, you knew of these noises but failed to act of your own accord, are you not ancilla?’
The little Nosferatu stumbles over his words, stuttering. ‘I… well, there… but I…’
The prince does not wait for him to find his voice. ‘I need those who will act when they feel my domain may be out of sorts. You knew but you did not act, instead relying on these far more competent fledglings. You did not even seek to inform me. Leave my sight.’
The prince watches, waiting for the trio to leave.
"What? I saw him not half an hour ago, how is he dead?!"
Nikolai begins pacing, trying to come to terms with his failure.
"Чертов идиот американец, я знал, что что-то подобное случится, если я оставил его в покое слишком долго. Наверное, пытался оскорбить вампира далеко за пределы его уровня мощности. Как я объясню это Путину. , , Подождите."
Goddamn idiot American, I knew something like this would happen if i left him alone for too long. Probably tried to insult a vampire far beyond his power level. How will I explain this to Putin. . . Wait.
Nikolai looks back at Mirella with a mix of realization and confusion.
"I. . . I don't have to tell him. I don't. . . work for Putin anymore. I've been in his service my entire life. . . That thought hadn't occurred to me before."
He sits back down, still trying to process this revelation. Mirella would probably be able to detect the rapidly moving train of thought as Nikolai attempt to make sense of his new status. He had, of course realized that being a vampire would change things, but with the death of Trump, his last tie to his mission - and his old life - he found himself without a purpose. While he briefly mourns the this loss, he is struck with a new idea. The answer is sitting right in front of him! The woman before him is his window to a new purpose. One much more fulfilling than the old one.
He looks straightens in his chair. He looks Mirella in the eyes and simply smiles. He smiles because he knows that she already knows exactly what he's thinking.
‘You see your future now almost as clearly as I do, Nikolai. I would have you act as my personal agent if you would allow. I work now for the Collective of the Sight, but though each of us can see, we require a hand to act upon our behalf.’ Mirella already saw his answer. ‘Of course, you would be paid.’
"Wooow, get a load of that! I didn't know you could dance, Spoonicus!" Cesar is twirling Spoonicus in the palm of his hand. Seems he's no longer lucid. Internally, he takes it as a good time to contemplate the differences between life and undeath. After a minute or so of thinking he reaches the conclusion that living sucks and he was meant to be a Kindred from birth.
A moment later, he stops twirling Spoonicus in the palm of his hand and looks at Nikolai. "Why do you look so happy, did my 'powers' do that?" Cesar looks somewhat confused, an appearance that he seems to constantly contradict through dispersion of his quick wit.
‘Your powers are strong, Cesar, you may strengthen or weaken emotions.’ Mirella knew that Cesar’s future would be decided by his connection to the madness network. Even so, that was clouded her, she couldn’t see where it would lead him.
‘Cesar you must serve Spoonicus well. Remain his loyal knight and you will be rewarded.’ Mirella was very interested to know where Malkav’s curse would lead the young master of dementation, and wasn’t sure Cesar would be lucid enough to appreciate it when he got there, but perhaps that wasn’t what mattered.
Smith, is a little surprised by the far that the vampire prince is so unstable, Understood Sir, if they ship me off before I'm good and trained you'll be the first to now. Gotta ask though, what sent the prince over the edge? Just old and paranoid?
‘Malkavian’ replies Serge. ‘They’re all crazy. Dangerous, if you ask me. Never trust a kook. His worried expression fades and that boisterous smile breaks through. ‘Let’s get you back. You’ve got some settling into vampire life to do.’
Smith may ask questions, however if he does not, then Serge will begin travel back to the coal exchange.
-Really big and cool post-
Though it pains Arete to do so, she manages to pull herself away from the man after pulling the knife out. His blood looks so sweet, so appetising, she almost sinks her teeth in once more just to taste it again, nothing has ever been so delicious. She can’t help but lick his blood off the knife as she walks. The smell fills her senses with a pleasure she was not aware existed.
Arete is in the slums, so of course she has no trouble breaking into the first house she finds. The people here have little money for tight security. The house belongs to a couple with a small girl of four, as depicted by a photo on the mantelpiece. It isn’t a good life they lead, so it seems, but they have what they need. The tiny house that seems wedged between two buildings has an upstairs and downstairs, with what could generously be called a kitchen and the child’s bedroom on the ground floor, the bathroom and master bedroom on the upper floor. The wallpaper is peeling, and has been drawn on in crayon in places. The foyer, which also has two small chairs and an old CRT TV in once corner, appears to double as the lounge. This family is clearly trying hard to work their way up from nothing for their daughter’s sake.
And still, Arete can hear it. She is surrounded by it. The heartbeats. The blood pumping around, rushing through the bodies of those in the house, and even next door as well. The faster beats of the child tell Arete the girl is downstairs. The mother and father upstairs, both of them slow. Both asleep.
Author
Topic: Kindred: Mission one. The generation is born. (Read 21234 times)