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zg_shadows2007-01-29 03:07 pm
wraithwitch.livejournal.com) wrote in zg_shadows2007-01-29 03:07 pm
Sabbat - sort of.
(Subtitled: do the damn tarot reading before you walk into the room next time...)
The pale eyed girl watched as they mauled her and then severed her head from her neck. She watched as her ashes were gathered and jokes were made. Later she watched as they performed their ritual - their bloody baptism of their new leader. Finally she left, feeling cold and sick and empty.
====
The shadows and the building had announced her coming long before she arrived, both twitching and thrumming, one in agitation the other expectation.
Max was waiting for her in the drawing room. He stood up as soon as she entered and, feeling faintly ridiculous even as he said it, demanded, "And what time do you call this?"
She looked at him, stricken, her white eyes rimmed with blood.
The Ventrue cleared the space between them in four strides and reached out to hug her to him, ignoring the bloody tears now staining the pattern of his waistcoat. "What happened?" he asked a little more gently. "Where have you been?"
She wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her tail coat, a forlorn little figure in black. "I went to the Esbat," she sniffed.
Max's hands tightened their grip on her shoulders. "You went where?" he asked carefully, the timbre of his voice getting colder.
"I went to see the Sabbat," she affirmed, trying not to cry.
"Why on earth..."
"I've been before!" she wailed. "They were nice before!"
"When?" Max's heart clenched uncomfortably at the thought that Cinnamon could have made not one but several trips like this alone.
"Back in the other London," she mumbled.
Max relaxed a fraction. The old world. Fine. Another nasty thought. "Before or after you became Bedlam?"
"Before."
"Cinnamon!" Max took several breaths, trying to remain calm, and still the wish that Bedlam be locked in one of its own cells for its own protection, never mind anyone else's. "All right. So what happened this time?"
She shivered and wrapped her arms around her middle. "They were going to have a new Bishop – he’s called Emmet – he's Family – I wanted to see what he was like. I wanted to read the cards for him."
"Did you?"
"No. They killed me."
"They what?" Max all but roared, anger impervious to his senses that told him she was whole and well in front of him.
"I knew it was going to happen," she tried to placate him. "The cards told me."
"Then why didn't you bloody well leave!" the Ventrue exploded, all pretence at calm abandoned.
"It was too late then," she told him sounding wretched. "The Tower, Death, the Devil, the Ten of Knives, the Three... It was all in place as soon as the first one spoke to me. I could see it in his eyes."
Max sighed, stilling his anger. "Why did you go?"
She looked at him, her eyes wide and her expression pleading. "I needed to know what they were like."
He closed his eyes, the corner of his mouth twisting in a wry little grimace. Yes, he understood. That was the problem really, wasn't it? It didn't matter how much her heart waxed or waned with her own humanity. Some little sliver of Cinnamon would always hope to see the best in people, would always need to be shown the worst before she believed it. "Did you at least take CheeseApple with you? Where is CheeseApple?" It was rare that Max was actually pleased to see the demonic thing, but once in a while he was willing to make an exception.
Cinnamon's face changed and her demeanour got a little bit colder as the primal side of Bedlam burned gold in her eyes. "CheeseApple's gone to deliver a message for me."
"To whom?" Max asked carefully.
Her lips twitched into a frosty smile. "Bishop Emmet."
"I take it the Bishop is not long for this world then?"
Her hair was white now, her eyes like small suns. "No, we leave him for now... But we know where he is," hissed the many voices of Bedlam malevolently. "And he will pay in full for attempting to destroy our perfect Vessel."
The pale eyed girl watched as they mauled her and then severed her head from her neck. She watched as her ashes were gathered and jokes were made. Later she watched as they performed their ritual - their bloody baptism of their new leader. Finally she left, feeling cold and sick and empty.
====
The shadows and the building had announced her coming long before she arrived, both twitching and thrumming, one in agitation the other expectation.
Max was waiting for her in the drawing room. He stood up as soon as she entered and, feeling faintly ridiculous even as he said it, demanded, "And what time do you call this?"
She looked at him, stricken, her white eyes rimmed with blood.
The Ventrue cleared the space between them in four strides and reached out to hug her to him, ignoring the bloody tears now staining the pattern of his waistcoat. "What happened?" he asked a little more gently. "Where have you been?"
She wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her tail coat, a forlorn little figure in black. "I went to the Esbat," she sniffed.
Max's hands tightened their grip on her shoulders. "You went where?" he asked carefully, the timbre of his voice getting colder.
"I went to see the Sabbat," she affirmed, trying not to cry.
"Why on earth..."
"I've been before!" she wailed. "They were nice before!"
"When?" Max's heart clenched uncomfortably at the thought that Cinnamon could have made not one but several trips like this alone.
"Back in the other London," she mumbled.
Max relaxed a fraction. The old world. Fine. Another nasty thought. "Before or after you became Bedlam?"
"Before."
"Cinnamon!" Max took several breaths, trying to remain calm, and still the wish that Bedlam be locked in one of its own cells for its own protection, never mind anyone else's. "All right. So what happened this time?"
She shivered and wrapped her arms around her middle. "They were going to have a new Bishop – he’s called Emmet – he's Family – I wanted to see what he was like. I wanted to read the cards for him."
"Did you?"
"No. They killed me."
"They what?" Max all but roared, anger impervious to his senses that told him she was whole and well in front of him.
"I knew it was going to happen," she tried to placate him. "The cards told me."
"Then why didn't you bloody well leave!" the Ventrue exploded, all pretence at calm abandoned.
"It was too late then," she told him sounding wretched. "The Tower, Death, the Devil, the Ten of Knives, the Three... It was all in place as soon as the first one spoke to me. I could see it in his eyes."
Max sighed, stilling his anger. "Why did you go?"
She looked at him, her eyes wide and her expression pleading. "I needed to know what they were like."
He closed his eyes, the corner of his mouth twisting in a wry little grimace. Yes, he understood. That was the problem really, wasn't it? It didn't matter how much her heart waxed or waned with her own humanity. Some little sliver of Cinnamon would always hope to see the best in people, would always need to be shown the worst before she believed it. "Did you at least take CheeseApple with you? Where is CheeseApple?" It was rare that Max was actually pleased to see the demonic thing, but once in a while he was willing to make an exception.
Cinnamon's face changed and her demeanour got a little bit colder as the primal side of Bedlam burned gold in her eyes. "CheeseApple's gone to deliver a message for me."
"To whom?" Max asked carefully.
Her lips twitched into a frosty smile. "Bishop Emmet."
"I take it the Bishop is not long for this world then?"
Her hair was white now, her eyes like small suns. "No, we leave him for now... But we know where he is," hissed the many voices of Bedlam malevolently. "And he will pay in full for attempting to destroy our perfect Vessel."
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It's not really very likely she's dead, is it?
=)
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Try telling them that, though...
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Good story :)
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Cinnamon remembers the Runnymede Esbat quite fondly - they were all well behaved and lovely when she was there, all concerned with slaying demons and therefore saving the world. She's really quite upset that the Sabbat here are so scanky!
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there's a question hoping for the answer 'no'.
The long answer is complicated and confuses even me.
The short answer is that world walking is weird and universes are mutable. To my knowledge the ZG universe didn't have a Bedlam entity prior to it being summoned there so she had to come from somewhere. Once she arrived the universe warped slightly and tried to pretend she'd always been there.
Is she the Cinnamon from Cam? No. Might she be someone who a couple of centuries and worlds back used to be Cinnamon from Cam? Yeah, probably.
There is a third and supreme answer to all this, which is of course: 'I dunno. Ask Jez. And then tell me.' =)
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Obviously, it is between you and jez how it works, but I am uncomfortable with it and wish it wasn't messing up my sense of internal consistency about the world.
Oy vey. If I can't get a straight answer out of jez, I'll just let people play their old garou characters and say it's all some kind of weird magical wazz, and it's a clever plot. I think inflicting every garou PC that jez always loathed on his characters is a petty, but satisfying revenge. ;)
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I seem to remember we were in the big hall and that we weren't all that friendly to you.
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Well the Sabbat weren't saying 'oh greetings my lost cousin - do come in for tea, darling - let us swear immortal fielty to one another'.
But they were civil enough. Conversations were had with real words, not just growling, and there was no bloodshed. Also we stayed for the entire game and didn't have to run away nor were we followed when we left.
That's a bloody good result, I thought.
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I seem to remember I was playing Carl, my "genius" brujah. He tended to go with his gut, and he didn't like you lot, you were new and strange, and hence untrustworthy.