Faith Everett
Run Like Hell
This is the night of the hunter
Deliriously pull the trigger, fire
You are my escape artist
Brujah | Bright Aura

---

How curious it was that most of them seemed to be new to the area. Maybe it was mere coincidence, either way it was probably in their favor. A unique collection of skills, abilities and pools of knowledge. She noted the statement from Sergine with a curt nod before her eyes cast over to Abel. She regarded his not so subtle action with a squint.

“Mister Beaumarchais, partager des échantillons avec de nouveaux amis?” the squint faded as she looked around the gathering to match the names to faces.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” a similar curt nod was offered to Geoffrey.

For the most part Faith was well practiced in being fairly friendly and sociable when she put the effort forth. It didn’t mean that the beast wasn’t just lurking nearby ready to crush some skulls. For the most part she was glad to be introduced to some new company. Wasn’t it reassuring to know that in the shadow of potential threat that there was going to be plenty of folks in on the fight. Unless they turned tail and left.

…speaking of which. Her gaze settled on The Black Cat. The right corner of her lip almost raised in a sneer. All she had to hear was his name to confirm who it was. It was a good thing she didn’t seem to hold a grudge for too long. There was also a matter of having well practiced control. There was the chance he could just casually dig up her own past. She wasn’t really afraid of that. Everyone had a past, past lives, past names. She just hadn’t gotten around to bringing it up among present company, particularly Abel.

“Nice to know that Calloway is still as slick as his title. Out West may be real big but kindred move in small circles.”

That more or less may have answered any questions of where she came from, the drawl in her speech had risen a little in recalling his past. He was fortunate it wasn’t an outright roar of his lying, cheating, and thieving ways. It was a long time ago.

She was going to leave that ball in his court on where things were going to go from here on out. She wasn’t interested in seeking out any kind of revenge for something that was also her own failure. He baited a trap and she fell for it. It was fun and delicious until she had to deal with the painful consequences later.

She gave Dio a small wave in return, it was nice to release the tension from her fingers and settle into a more peaceful and calm flow.

Geoffrey Wodeward


To all things housed in her silence

Nature offers a violence

---

It took Geoffrey a moment of thought before it came to him. Part of the reality of his existence was that he now visited a lot of places and met a few people. And Gangrel, despite their reputation among other Clans as being taciturn loners, had some intricate social rituals. Swapping stories of their deeds and trading important information at monthly gatherings.

"Not the Calloway that left that entire Sabbat pack tied up on that Bishop's front lawn outside of Austin." A life on the road meant he could hear little fragments of many things. He spoke up once it occurred to him where he'd heard it.

Since they were talking about that shite going down in St. Petersburg, it seemed topical.

With that, he uncapped the bottle he'd been holding now that he wasn't the only one holding it. Lifted it as if in toast. Took a little drink.

"Is that why you're here, then?" He asked next, plainly,  of Dio. "Running out of reinforcements?"

He had the courtesy, such as it was, to look her square in the face when he asked it. Was he baiting her? Absolutely. Was he agitated about it? Not even. It could be one of any perfectly sensible reasons for her to be making a show of showing her face.

"Good to met you, Faith." Whether it was good, or not, he said the pleasantry like it was exactly that: pleasant. And with that, he was about ready to settle back and let someone else do a little talking. Like Abel, who was smoother and far apt at it. That was, until Sergine asked him their question.

"The city's surrounded by wilderness to the west." He answered with a glance over his shoulder. "And the weather's nice."

Rudolph Longstaff aka Abel Beaumarchais
those boon times went bust
my feet of clay, they dried to dust
the red isn't the red we painted
its just rust

Toreador Ancilla | Blush of Health | Enchanting Voice | Deceptive Aura

---

The Toreador’s bright green eyes flicked toward Geoffrey at the mention of khemia - the dark and curious art. Khemet: the black land, so far removed from the red land. Just as his concoction was far removed from its deep red base, the life-blood, the vitae. The others couldn’t begin to guess how much time, effort, and magic had gone into crafting the drink he now shared so freely. All the better.

“Brewing. A timeless craft,” he said, making a subtle redirection masked as agreement.

Now and then, Geoffrey would say something that gave him away. Something that made him seem older than old, beyond even the label of anachronist. Like he understood too much. They were both performing, perhaps, each playing a role. But to what end, he couldn’t say.

A secret worth unraveling.

“Yes,” he said, responding to Dio with a small smile. “Nothing personal. But in that order, hopefully.” The Anarchs might well serve as a speed bump for the Sabbat...a grim early warning. Canaries in the coal mine. That was the value of the Tower, after all, and the Anarchs had walked away from it for freedom. And freedom usually came with a price tag, sometimes in the shape of a toe tag.

The Baron’s refusal surprised him a little, though. He’d taken her for someone more daring, given her swagger. A devil-may-care attitude lost its lustre if the devil showed they actually cared. Maybe their collective friendliness had thrown her off. Maybe it masked something uncertain. Or maybe it was just paranoia. That was baked into Kindred existence.

He let out a soft peal of laughter at the comment about scotch, a sound as smooth as velvet. “I’m sure there’s some at the club. A Macallan. A Lagavulin. Talisker. Glenfiddich. Sometimes it hurts to see them go down the gullets of podcast alphas and crypto bros. Such a waste. Unless, of course, they become the drink.” Abel left an invitation to Dio threaded between the lines. Just obvious enough to be noticed, just subtle enough to be denied. He couldn’t risk being seen as conspiring with the rabble. But. His domain existed because he’d convinced (read: bribed) the Prince of its value: a neutral zone. A buffer. A DMZ. Sans the fences and landmines.

He tossed the wax-sealed bottle to Travis with a practiced grace, the kind that came from years behind a bar. “Cheers, Cat,” he said, lifting a newly opened bottle in a salute to the cowboy and taking a sip. A light buzz helped the evening slide by. Socializing with the city’s other residents was a necessary evil. But still evil. Every one of them had a monster inside that needed silencing.

“Faith...Everett, I believe?” he said to the newest arrival, punctuating that with the briefest of winks and flicking his tongue over his teeth. He gestured idly at the gathered individuals in turn to bring Faith up to speed. “Sergine, fellow Brujah; Geoffrey and Black Cat, of clan Gangrel; myself, Abel, of prestigious Toreador blood; and agent provocateur Dio, of...well. La ​famille Mystérieuse.”

He wasn’t sure whose blood ran in the Baron’s veins, but he would have guessed Brujah or Malkav. The former, because it was obvious. The latter, because some kind of mental illness was required, after all, to not only openly join the anarchy but try to lead it. He could only imagine it was like trying to lead a pile of raccoons.

Yorick Tsipras
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep
Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there, I do not die

Euthanatos | Notoriety 2 | Medium

---

There was something profound in Geoffrey’s offer, and for a second, Yorick couldn’t figure out what it was. Then it struck him, though; some kind of echo in the dream that carried with it thought and emotion. It was gratification. The kiss that followed gave him equal pause, but only because he wasn’t expecting it. It was another piece in a puzzle he already knew the picture of. For a moment, he actually even felt bad, as if he was violating someone else's privacy and stepping on something precious.

But then the tenor changed again. The vampire seemed to realize where he was, and who he was talking to.

“Yes,” Yorick replied. He felt very strong in this dream. So strong he thought that he could possibly shape it. He didn’t want to, though. Geoffrey’s memories were driving the narrative flow. It was possible that there were nuggets of knowledge to be mined here in this time and place. Something that might be a clue; something that could point them in a direction back in the waking world.

He got onto one of the horses with a smoothness that suggested a long history of riding, even though no such history existed. With a nudge of his heel and the reins, he guided the horse forward from Sebastian’s control.

“Lead the way,” he said, following as they set off from the mountain foothills.

“You infiltrated that chantry. But the physical structure…that’s from my memories. What was it actually?” he asked, falling into line alongside Geoffrey’s mount as the horses trotted away. “Whose stronghold? What were those flying creatures?” He didn’t really think the answers to the questions would be meaningful for their shared mission, but he wasn’t entirely sure.

Besides, he was curious. Was probably going to get him killed eventually.

Faith Everett


Run Like Hell
This is the night of the hunter
Deliriously pull the trigger, fire
You are my escape artist
Brujah | Bright Aura

---

“Same. I know we’ve both seen a blank slate a few times,” there were advantages and disadvantages to relocating. It was going to make a lot more long term financial sense for Abel, it was also an absolute playground of socialization, networking and well…plenty of opportunities for fuckery.

Maybe it was how he said something that made her nose winkle slightly and her brow reason to raise. Faith had been around enough backstabbing kindred to know it was difficult to put much trust into someone. To be honest, she was extremely suspicious of Abel’s intentions, the unspoken ones, when they had originally decided to work together. All these years and he hadn’t given her a reason to turn her back or leave given the opportunity.

“I’m here.”

She was having difficulty finding words. She expressed her agreement to maintain terms with a squeeze of his arm. She hoped that was enough. There was comfort and peace of mind in having terms and some semblance of a contract in place. She figured she had shown enough loyalty over the years to assure him she wasn’t going to make a power move on his assets.

“Mmm, then I’ll make a point to be there personally until you have reliable staffing. I don’t like the idea of trouble coming to your domain. Please let me know the terms of any agreements you make so that they’re enforceable.”

Her lips tightened for other reasons, the casual mentioning of St. Petersberg was edging onto another topic of discussion that couldn’t really take place in their current environment. She knew the games here, some things were best not discussed.
“I don’t have a terrible fondness of that clan, social experiment seems like an interesting twist. Modern times mean modern solutions I guess. Consider me warned. Speaking of warnings, I’m taking on an intern.”

She forced out a heavy sigh. It wasn’t the smartest of her ideas but it was the tugs of her bleeding heart that pulled her to want to take in the stray.

“I can explain more when I can get you alone, if you’re not too busy entertaining wee fanged children?”