Firinne piece on Doomsday
Feb. 12th, 2009 02:39 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
annwfyn.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
zg_shadows“Thou shalt not reveal thy nature to those not of the Blood. Doing so renounces thy claims to the Blood.”
That was the first Rule. And the Rules shall not be broken.
Firinne closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. She needed to not cry. She was not allowed to cry, and furthermore, she was scared that if she started, she would never stop.
“Thou shalt not reveal thy nature to those not of the Blood. Doing so renounces thy claims to the Blood.”
She repeated those words like a mantra inside. They were all that were holding her together right now.
It would be easier to forget about such things. It would be easier to pick up the axe that Duncan had given her and stride forth into the street. It would be easier – cleaner – to blaze out like the Valkyrie she was, and live or die in blood and flames. She wanted to do that. She wanted to stop feeling, stop thinking, and just fight to the last.
“Thou shalt not reveal thy nature to those not of the Blood. Doing so renounces thy claims to the Blood.”
She couldn’t fight without giving herself away. Firinne was too strong, too fast. The axe itself was too heavy. No mortal woman should be able to lift it. She wouldn’t fall below blows that would kill her. She couldn’t fight.
“Thou shalt not reveal thy nature to those not of the Blood. Doing so renounces thy claims to the Blood.”
Yet there was a flame burning inside her. She needed to fight, needed to kill. It was the only thing that would make her right, the only thing that would make her feel human again. The last time she had lived in the middle of a civil war she had been weak, helpless. She hadn’t been able to stop the killings, the rapes, or the hurt. She’d hidden, then fled.
She was strong now.
What human would let everyone around them die if they had that strength? What human would sacrifice the innocent for the sake of a secret that felt as if it was leaking through every crack and pore already?
“Thou shalt not reveal thy nature to those not of the Blood. Doing so renounces thy claims to the Blood.”
But Firinne wasn’t human. She hadn’t been human for over ninety years now. She was a vampire, and she was a vampire bound by lineage and by oath to the Camarilla. The Camarilla had the Traditions, it had Rules. Firinne had always believed in those rules. Without the Rules, what kind of world would the vampires have created?
There had to be Rules. There had to be Rules, or otherwise there would only be monsters, and the Rules had to apply to everyone. What justice was there, otherwise? What right would the Prince of a city have to tell an idiot Anarch that they were not allowed to run races through the city under celerity if he’d pardoned the childe of the Harpy earlier for bursting into flames in public, because the childe was doing it ‘for good reasons’? How could a Prince tell the monsters not to kill, when he pardoned the virtuous, who only killed bad people?
And without the Masquerade, how could any of them feel safe from fires in the day light?
Maybe she could save ten people if she picked up that axe and walked out there tonight, but how many of her own people would she doom?
“Thou shalt not reveal thy nature to those not of the Blood. Doing so renounces thy claims to the Blood.”
And Firinne opened her eyes, and realized that her cheeks were wet with tears.
That was the first Rule. And the Rules shall not be broken.
Firinne closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. She needed to not cry. She was not allowed to cry, and furthermore, she was scared that if she started, she would never stop.
“Thou shalt not reveal thy nature to those not of the Blood. Doing so renounces thy claims to the Blood.”
She repeated those words like a mantra inside. They were all that were holding her together right now.
It would be easier to forget about such things. It would be easier to pick up the axe that Duncan had given her and stride forth into the street. It would be easier – cleaner – to blaze out like the Valkyrie she was, and live or die in blood and flames. She wanted to do that. She wanted to stop feeling, stop thinking, and just fight to the last.
“Thou shalt not reveal thy nature to those not of the Blood. Doing so renounces thy claims to the Blood.”
She couldn’t fight without giving herself away. Firinne was too strong, too fast. The axe itself was too heavy. No mortal woman should be able to lift it. She wouldn’t fall below blows that would kill her. She couldn’t fight.
“Thou shalt not reveal thy nature to those not of the Blood. Doing so renounces thy claims to the Blood.”
Yet there was a flame burning inside her. She needed to fight, needed to kill. It was the only thing that would make her right, the only thing that would make her feel human again. The last time she had lived in the middle of a civil war she had been weak, helpless. She hadn’t been able to stop the killings, the rapes, or the hurt. She’d hidden, then fled.
She was strong now.
What human would let everyone around them die if they had that strength? What human would sacrifice the innocent for the sake of a secret that felt as if it was leaking through every crack and pore already?
“Thou shalt not reveal thy nature to those not of the Blood. Doing so renounces thy claims to the Blood.”
But Firinne wasn’t human. She hadn’t been human for over ninety years now. She was a vampire, and she was a vampire bound by lineage and by oath to the Camarilla. The Camarilla had the Traditions, it had Rules. Firinne had always believed in those rules. Without the Rules, what kind of world would the vampires have created?
There had to be Rules. There had to be Rules, or otherwise there would only be monsters, and the Rules had to apply to everyone. What justice was there, otherwise? What right would the Prince of a city have to tell an idiot Anarch that they were not allowed to run races through the city under celerity if he’d pardoned the childe of the Harpy earlier for bursting into flames in public, because the childe was doing it ‘for good reasons’? How could a Prince tell the monsters not to kill, when he pardoned the virtuous, who only killed bad people?
And without the Masquerade, how could any of them feel safe from fires in the day light?
Maybe she could save ten people if she picked up that axe and walked out there tonight, but how many of her own people would she doom?
“Thou shalt not reveal thy nature to those not of the Blood. Doing so renounces thy claims to the Blood.”
And Firinne opened her eyes, and realized that her cheeks were wet with tears.
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