Character fiction from a troupe Vampire: The Masquerade LARP...
Liminal Spaceby Simon W.
The dirty lie that our culture likes to tell us is that the only important kind of love is the romantic kind. It's supposedly secondary to everything else; the love between parent and child, the love between siblings, and it's most definitely supposed to be so much stronger than the love between friends. We are told that friendship is a different feeling than romantic love, rather than both of them simply being different facets of the same feeling.
It is, as I said already, a dirty lie. That's one of the things you learn real fast when you realize that you're aromantic. And tonight I feel the weight of that lie; hanging around my neck like a chain. Arne is dead and it's partially my fault. Granted a lot of it is his own damn fault! He's the one who wanted to come and kill Phoenix Society folks and he's the one who, once we got jumped, refused to keep his mouth shut. He told me he'd be with me to the end... and then less than an hour later he was ashes at my feet. Maybe someday I'll have it all sorted out, but at the moment my rage is equally directed at both him and the assholes who killed him.
I guess he was with me to his end. But what about mine? The last lesson he tried to teach me consciously was right before my release. He told me "don't hesitate". I don't know what else I am supposed to do when I don't have all the facts.
I'm still a prisoner. I'm still uncertain of what my future holds, although Arne's ashes certainly are a grim reminder that I'm still in a great deal of danger. I should be thinking, or planning, or scheming. But all I can do is feel this horrible emptiness. My brother, my friend, the closest thing to family I had in this complete nonsense existence I have found myself in is gone.
It is, as I said already, a dirty lie. That's one of the things you learn real fast when you realize that you're aromantic. And tonight I feel the weight of that lie; hanging around my neck like a chain. Arne is dead and it's partially my fault. Granted a lot of it is his own damn fault! He's the one who wanted to come and kill Phoenix Society folks and he's the one who, once we got jumped, refused to keep his mouth shut. He told me he'd be with me to the end... and then less than an hour later he was ashes at my feet. Maybe someday I'll have it all sorted out, but at the moment my rage is equally directed at both him and the assholes who killed him.
I guess he was with me to his end. But what about mine? The last lesson he tried to teach me consciously was right before my release. He told me "don't hesitate". I don't know what else I am supposed to do when I don't have all the facts.
I'm still a prisoner. I'm still uncertain of what my future holds, although Arne's ashes certainly are a grim reminder that I'm still in a great deal of danger. I should be thinking, or planning, or scheming. But all I can do is feel this horrible emptiness. My brother, my friend, the closest thing to family I had in this complete nonsense existence I have found myself in is gone.
I guess now I find out what kind of Brujah I am. I suspect no one is much going to like the answer; me most of all.
