Random Toreador whinging

[annwfyn.livejournal.com]

It was almost dawn.

Firinne didn't want to go inside yet. Her eyes were beginning to burn with the faint traces of sunlight which were now creeping over the horizon, and her skin was prickling with heat. She would feel burnt and sore when she went inside, but she still clung to the door frame, staring out over the bright flowers in her garden.

She had planted most of them herself, in the small hours of the morning. Jimmy had stood in the doorway, leaning where she was now, occasionally making sharp comments about the idiocy of planting flowers that she'd never properly see.

But he'd appreciated their bright colours, and so she had planted that. Jimmy loved colour. He had said it was because he had spent too much of his life connected to the Shadowlands, where everything was grey, and so Firinne filled the world around him with bright tones and light.

Firinne sighed and pushed her hair back from her face.

That was in the past now.

The world had moved on.

She didn't have Jimmy anymore. When she went back inside, there would be no gangly figure sprawled on the sofa, with a mildly malicious gleam in his eye. She wouldn't have anyone to spar with, fool around with, and ultimately sleep with, in the huge bedroom with the soft red quilt on the bed. The next night, she would speak to mortals, who saw one persona, and Kindred who saw another. She didn't think she knew anyone who had a clue what she was underneath all the carefully applied make up.

Maybe Duncan saw flickers occasionally, which was why she sometimes wanted to cling to him, but there was very little comfort to be had in Duncan. He was rather like a lump of granite in some ways. Firinne was glad he was there - solid and unchanging - but he had a very limited capacity to offer any kind of shelter or refuge.

Jade offered a strange kind of comfort, in her continuity. Jade had been in London when Firinne first came there. She had known the waspish Toreador for years, and their relationship had stayed remarkably constant. Neither of them particularly wanted much emotional closeness - both were far too aware of the others capacity to wound - but both valued knowing that the other was out in the world.

And then there was Kieran Strachen. A very faint smile flickered across Firinne's face. Kieran had been her latest project for some time. He had been pushed into the Praxis of London by her coterie, for reasons which were entirely selfish. None of them had given a damn about the straight forward Gangrel. They had simply wanted a Prince that Alexander Graves would view as acceptable and take as vassal in return for his support in deposing Guile. Strachen had been there. It was as simple as that. No one had expected him to last more than a few months.

Yet he had, and Firinne was vaguely aware that she had contributed to that.

Why had she decided to support Strachen?

Possibly because she had increasingly come to the conclusion that she couldn't find a better Prince, and if she was going to have to settle for someone, she might as well settle for one who was already in the position. Possibly because underneath the quiet and slightly confused exterior, she suspected that Kieran had something to him - some kind of solid strength - and that was something she yearned for in a Prince.

Had she been right?

She had no idea.

Kieran worried her on an almost nightly basis. He wasn't physically strong enough. Any Elder worth his salt could beat the tar out of Kieran, which meant he had to rely on those around him, and that made him vulnerable to being bullied by his alleged minions. He was far far too susceptible to a pretty face, and it made Firinne anxious that she could get quite as much of a response from him just by leaning on his shoulder and whispering in his ear.

Maybe she was a special case, but Firinne really doubted that. The only man she had ever believed when he told her that she was special was Jimmy. She had believed him because she'd poured her blood down his throat on three occasions. It was things like that which made you feel secure in your relationship. In Firinne's world, if a man responded to her, then he would probably respond to any pretty girl in a tight top.

And that worried her.

Firinne pushed her hair back from her face.

She missed Jimmy. Damnit, she missed him so much. It was like a physical ache some nights. She wanted someone who belonged to her, who didn't want her to be that carefully constructive Toreador Harpy, who could make her laugh, who would let her stop worrying and just feel.

Firinne shook her head.

Those nights were gone. Jimmy was gone, and now she was alone.

She stepped back inside her house and closed the door.