Love –

These words I write keep me from total madness. 

You glance away and I have gone and returned. 

-- my thoughts have been with yours, and your travels – the curse of our kind – Is it not you who have taught me that environment forces change?  Therefore we must move to evolve?

I attempt to scrawl what I can, but the wild beast inside wants me to return to you and your womb

To the tornado that ripped right through us that left us blind to the true victims in our wake – that we could not understand – that we do not understand – that we clipped the ties that bound us.  The sea of memory has lost me, swept me up, and I am wrung at your feet –

Like the prodigal son of the story, I must stay away until I must return.

Yours.

Henri.
 

It had been so many years since that night, since that time.
Who?
Dead men do not write letters.
Who knew about him?
She cursed and snarled to herself.
Someone must be playing with her mind.
She stood and crumpled the letter and threw it in the garbage.
She had arrangments to make.
She'd set these assholes straight.
To use the memory of her son against her.
That, she would not forgive.

OOC: First Change for my werewolf, Willow Li!


The moon's cold light filtered down through the clouds.
The girl pulls her coat around her, walking home under the moon.
She should not of been out so late.

She should not of been out so late.
 

The winds rustles in the branches and trash.
A group of boys are behind, laughing drunk.
"Hey, who's this?"
"Shouldn't be out alone.
"Yeah."
"Things happen to girls when they walk alone."

The hand over her mouth muffles her screams.
The hands pull her away, and hold her down.
The night muffles her plight from passing cars.

She is alone.
She is afraid.
She is angry.
The anger runs thick in her blood, and awakens the ancient creature within her.
Her small, desperate form is enveloped in fur and fangs and claws.
Their screams of fear and terror are like a heady draught to her madness.
It feels so good.

She wakes up.
Trembling, crying.
Next to her bed.
Just a nightmare.
Just a dream.
Just a dream.
Just a dream.
 

This is a post for my new mage character, Malaikat al-Maut. Hopefully, she'll be ready for play by next game. www.youtube.com/watch If you would care to, listen to this as you read. I feel like it really helps set the mood.

She sank down
down
Into the cold dark embrace of the lake.
She struggled to scream
To cry
To live.
But the lake only
drew her deeper into it's arms.

She stopped.
She finally relaxed and ceased trying to run.
She accepted Death.
And at that moment
Death accepted her.
She awoke.

The skies were grey and clouded
and the light filtered down and muted
the ruins around her, gold threaded white stone.
She looked through
to the Great Tower
She walked the empty path
and began to climb.
She climbed and climbed
and with every step her unease fell away
and as she shed the last of her mortal fears,
She reached the top.

The cool, damp winds flared,
then calmed and died.
And the air was calm and still.
She sees the names of those
who Death had embraced before her.

She bit her finger,
and with her blood,
traced her name in the dust.
It glowed.
Death had accepted her.
She accepted Death,
and she feared no more.

Sherde was pissed.
Sariel was still alive.
STILL ALIVE!
And he hadn't seen fit to inform his eldest childe of the fact.
Everyone else knew but her!!!
She stalked the gathering, glaring about, searching him out.
She brushed past a man in a skull mask.
She supposed this one must be the infamous Vrai.
She had better things to do.
She demended information from Sebastien, he seemed somewhat suprised, but he gave the information quickly enough, and she left him.
She stopped Jamari, who seemed to not remember her, but that was no matter. Jamari pointed her to the Gangrel meeting.
Sherde managed to thank her without hissing.

There he was.

Motherfucker was just waltzing about.
Damn him!
Sherde managed to rein in her temper, not liking the idea of taking him on in front of the entire clan.
No telling how many would back him.
As the Gangrel speakers droned on and on, she paced the back of the gathering, her feral yellow eyes never wavering from his figure.
She would have her time with him.

Sariel suddenly left the meeting.
She followed him out, finally catching him as he was re-entering the meeting.
She placed a heavy hand on his shoulder.
"Sariel, we need to talk." She growled.
"I know. Later, though."
And he slipped back in before she could stop him.

Furious at being pushed aside, Sherde took up a chair, and bored into his back with her eyes.
He would not escape a second time.
She was so furious.
She had been so angry, so despairing, when she felt him die.
She would never, ever admit it, but she loved him.
Clearly, he did not return the favour.
The bitter taste of betrayl filled her again.
How could she be so stupid?
He had left her once, why would he not do it again.
Sherde was disgusted.

Finally, the meeting was over.
She marched up to him, snarling under her breath.
Sherde could barely remeber what she said to him, or what he said back.
Too busy. Too FUCKING BUSY to tell her that he was still FUCKING  ALIVE!!
She remebered the clawed hand that came and rested upon Sariel's shoulder, quietly showing support.
She ignored it.
Sherde would have happily rent her sire apart, support or no support.
In her mood, she would have killed them all, if she could.
"This is Charles Taxis." The owner of the hand was introduced as.
"He's a good man to go to if you need shelter from a bloodhunt."
Sherde bared her teeth at him in an aproximate imitation of a smile,  murmmered the standard pleasantries.

In the end, Sherde got nothing.
Sariel did not feel that he did anything wrong.
He didn't care.
Hell, she even just fucking found out she had three younger brood mates that she knew nothing about.
Sherde was disgusted, and beyond words.
She followed him for the rest of the evening, unable to decide whether she should kill him or leave him.

It was only after the City of DeKalb had left the gathering, that Sherde remembered something.
She had felt nothing from him.
His blood did not call to hers.
Sherde felt numb.
Sariel had died, she felt it.
Those things.....the people they were playing had died.
And come back.
Like Sariel.
Sherde slipped away from the tarmac.
She had something to do.
A memory to save.
Revenge to take.

Sherde sat quietly at the computer, gently tapping away at the mouse, checking her email. There wasn't to much to look at, now that she had removed herself from the Lance list. Defenitly a lot less deleting. 
Sherde frowned momentarily. One particular email stood out.
Vinne?
They hardly ever had cause to talk outside of Gatherings.
She opened it up, and scanned through it quickly, then read it again, combing each line.
She sat up and smiled grimly.
This.....this changed everything.

Sherde stood as still as Death at her mentor's side, gazing at the altar in the Chapel of Sacrifice. Many thoughts writhed in her mind. Those fools.... How could they forget him? How many slights, how many insults must he take before someone could see what she saw? He was the greatest Predator she knew. Despite his demeanor, he hunted with a feral pleasure. His mind was as sharp as his fangs. His knowledge was nearly boundless. And yet they still did not listen to him. Still they disrespected him. How could he stand it? Surely he knew he deserved more respect? 
The anger flared, and the Beast coiled within her belly stirred. 
"Patience, Sherde."
The Beast snarled, then settled.
"Their time will come when they stand before God."