Retrospective

This is fan created fiction about a character in a Vampire: The Masquerade live action role playing game run by Mind's Eye Society. If you are a fellow player, please remember that anything you read here is considered out of character knowledge. If you are a lawyer, please don't sue me; I'm not making any money off of this and it's just for fun.

Retrospective

by Simon W. 

July 2120

The blue flaming sword went cleanly through the neck of the Ba'ali that she'd cornered. As his head left his shoulders, he briefly erupted into green flames. Marianne hissed in pain but she held herself in readiness to have to fight again. This time she didn't need to, the flames had been his last defiant gasp. 

There was nothing left of him now but ashes. The cultists, on the other hand... She turned and looked at the mess that was the room. Thirteen dead humans; some by self-inflicted wounds but most of them died to the sword in her hands, which was now starting to lose its blue glow. Marianne shook her head and then proceeded to do the painstaking, dirty, and slow work of dismantling the ritual and stacking bodies and body parts in a pile. 

After the last of the ritual components has been rendered inert, she briefly left the wreck of a building long enough to get the gas cans from her vehicle. Then she came back and doused everything and everyone liberally. Once all that was finished she lit a torch and threw it into the center of the room. Then she walked out.

She watched the building catch fire from across the street. Her Beast didn't like the flames but she refused to not stay. That would be showing fear. After the building was well and truly blazing, she made a phone call. 

"It's done," she said to the person on the other end of the line. "Keep emergency services away for at least another hour to make sure it's all destroyed by the time they can get here." Her face darkened at whatever they said. "No, there were no survivors. You didn't ask me to save anyone; you asked me to solve your problem and I have... effectively." 

She hung up the phone, got into her vehicle, and drove away. She had a temporary place to stay for the day and then she'd head back home tomorrow. When she arrived at the temporary haven there was a red rose placed at the entrance. Marianne narrowed her eyes and looked around. But she saw nothing, even as she focused so that her senses were all as acute as possible. 

That day she slept holding the rose clutched in her hand like a security blanket.

How had she gotten here?

That was the thought on her mind as she made her way to her more permanent home the following night. She'd left California in the summer of 2020 chasing after Vanessa who was, in every possible way, the one that had gotten away. She'd thrown her lot in with the Sabbat for long enough to gather the favors she'd needed to bust Taggart out of his box in Mexico City. By the time she'd done that, he was more sane than she was and he'd been the one who'd been imprisoned in a box. 

It was a strange pairing, her and Taggart. They'd set off to hunt infernalists and Ba'ali the world over. The demons had been banished back to their realm but their influence never completely disappeared. And there was always someone willing to sell their soul for power. Marianne burned with the desire to kill all who had made such a bargain and Taggart never disabused her of the idea. If anything he encouraged it any time she started to doubt her cause. 

The one constant in the last century had been that periodically she'd get intelligence about a particularly nasty set of cultists or a true Ba'ali wrecking havoc. Every time, she would find a rose, Vanessa's calling card. They had been dancing around one another now for a century. Vanessa ran. Marianne chased her. Marianne never caught her. At most she might get a brief glimpse of a woman in red off in the distance. She had no reason to believe they wouldn't do this dance for all of eternity, locked forever in this strange, unhealthy relationship. 

Marianne sighed. There were always going to be more Ba'ali to kill. And maybe someday, she'd see Vanessa properly again... but it was entirely likely that was the day they both finally killed one another. 

Becoming The Thing I Hate

This is fan created fiction about a character in a Vampire: The Masquerade live action role playing game run by Mind's Eye Society. If you are a fellow player, please remember that anything you read here is considered out of character knowledge. If you are a lawyer, please don't sue me; I'm not making any money off of this and it's just for fun.

Becoming The Thing I Hate
by Simon W. 

"Don't become the thing you hate." 

Konstantin is very serious when he tells me this. And he has good reason to be. Contrary to popular belief I actually am aware that I'm quickly going off the rails. In the last year, the choices I have made have been.... well if I'm polite I'll say they are questionable. If I'm honest I'll say they are downright dangerous.

All I can say is that each one seemed like the best choice I could have made at the time. Hindsight is 20/20 though so I can see where I made missteps and I can see where I went wrong.

The question now is can I course correct? Is it possible to continue fighting against the Great Evil and not lose myself to it? If it isn't, then I really should just throw myself at some Bal'li and die at their hands, hopefully taking at least one of them down with me. It is literally the way I can ensure I do the least amount of damage.

Is there another way?

Konstantin thinks so. He tells me this is a marathon and not a sprint. He tells me that what separates me from my enemy is my capacity for mercy.

I'm pretty sure my capacity for mercy died somewhere in Mexico City...

How do I resurrect it? I'm tainted, flawed, literally deranged, and can hardly even stand to be in the same room with myself. The only thing I'm certain of these days is that I have no certitude. The dreams of roses haunt me, whispering in my ear while I sleep.

Is this what made all of those Kindred sign those contracts? This feeling of helplessness and despair? God, if that's the case I actually feel sorry for them. They didn't get the help or security they wanted if that is the case. The Great Enemy lies.

Everybody lies...

What do I know that is true?

I trust my Anarch brothers and sisters in San Diego.
I trust Tank.
I trust my faith in God.
I trust my belief that protecting humans from Kindred is always the right choice to make.
I trust that my being adversarial toward the Great Enemy is always the right call.

Maybe I can crawl out of this well of despair I've found myself in. Maybe, just maybe, there is hope...

Her

This is fan created fiction about a character in a Vampire: The Masquerade live action role playing game run by Mind's Eye Society. If you are a fellow player, please remember that anything you read here is considered out of character knowledge. If you are a lawyer, please don't sue me; I'm not making any money off of this and it's just for fun.

Her
by Simon W. 

Content Note: the song lyrics are Gravity by Vienna Teng

"Hey love,
Is that the name you're meant to have...
for me to call.
Look love,
they've given up believing,
they've turned aside our stories of the gentle fall"

Marianne sat in the one non-bathroom room in her haven that was devoid of books. In fact it was completely empty save for an apparatus from which she could hang a heavy bag. She didn't hit nearly as hard as most of her clan mates but she still occasionally need to hit something.

No, occasionally she needed to break something. And heavy bags were vastly less valuable and far more replaceable than people. She'd started buying them in bulk.

"But don't you believe them.
Don't you drink their poison too.
These are the scars that words have carved
on me."

She thought that she was content with her life the way it had been. As a human she had had a healthy, loving relationship that had only ended due to tragedy. Or possibly heroism. But really, you can't have one without the other, she thought sarcastically. Still, her husband had died a hero and been buried by the Navy with honors.

"Hey love,
that's the name we've long held back
from the core of truth"

She'd met James when he was posing as a college professor. Deep into grief that had probably swerved hard left into major depression, she hadn't really even questioned the fact that she'd suddenly found herself enrolled in a Materials Science class that met at midnight. Looking back that should have been a clue since she'd been working on a Master's degree in English. But met him she had and eventually he asked her if she wanted to leave the shambles that trying to live without her husband had become and, quite frankly, she had jumped at the chance. Some combination of blood, shared experiences, and similarity in temperament meant that they became best friends.

"So don't turn away now...
I am turning in revolution.
These are the scars that silence carved
on me.

This is the same place.
No, not the same place
This is the same place, love.
No, not the…"

Everett and she had met literally in fire and blood. He'd killed her, then embraced her, then run off with her fleeing his angry sire and living in some weird fantasy where he'd saved her from the evil Tremere. But she wasn't a damsel in distress and he for sure wasn't a hero. Still they had enough in common so that when they weren't fighting they were actually shockingly compatible companions. Granted, everything is easier when blood is involved. Marianne snorted; it was kind of the hallmark of her romantic life once she stopped being human. And honestly she had thought that's where she would stay forever.

"Hey love,
I am a constant satellite
of your blazing sun.
My love,
I obey your law of gravity.
This is the fate you've carved on me...
Your law of gravity...
This is the fate you've carved on me...
On me."

But then... she had met Her. No blood, no violence, no real trauma at all. A shared love of music, art, and beauty had drawn them together. And it was just so easy to relax with Her. Marianne had briefly wondered if it was possible to be in love for real as a vampire. One of the things Marianne liked about Her was how much she needed Marianne. Being needed, always Marianne's Achilles heel..

Of course, that was over now. And it had ended, almost prosaically, in betrayal. No, not for another woman (or man). Not a growing apart due to a lack of interest. Not any of the normal things that drive people apart. No, Marianne had to hand it to Her; when She betrayed someone it was with the kind of over the top drama one could only expect from a true artist.

Marianne sat in her empty room staring at the heavy bag. She couldn't even bring herself to hit it right now. She just felt so empty; full of more grief than anger. She sighed. Nothing to do but try and keep on keeping on, she supposed, even if the yawning emptiness in her heart dragged on her like a black hole in space, swallowing all of the light that touched it.

Connor - A Retrospective

This is fan created fiction about a character in a Vampire: The Masquerade live action role playing game run by Mind's Eye Society. If you are a fellow player, please remember that anything you read here is considered out of character knowledge. If you are a lawyer, please don't sue me; I'm not making any money off of this and it's just for fun.

Connor - A Retrospective
by Simon W. 

Our first real conversation and our last conversation were about the same thing, the importance of Humanitas. If symmetry were important I could take comfort in this.

Symmetry isn't that important to me, alas. I could deal with a lopsided existence if my friends would stop dying... or being captured and "held indefinitely" by their Sect's internal police but that is a different friend and a different story.

Right now I want to talk about Connor, or if we are being formal Doctor Connor Villanueva, Lord of Sand and Sea. I remember when he got that title. I didn't see it; I was even then off chasing some demon or another (small d demon, I hadn't yet started chasing the large D kind); but from what I hear he stood against a Fae Lord because the Fae Lord in question was hurting people.

That was Connor in a nutshell; constantly standing up and telling people bigger, stronger, or more powerful than himself "no". It's part of why we got along, because we have... no had; I have to use the past tense for him now.

We had that in common.

Connor had his faults, mostly in the fact that he was overeager and impetuous. He also tended to lean toward self-righteousness. Again.... we had those things in common. I still have those faults. And now I'm not sure who to share them with. Because Connor was deeply empathetic and he understood what I did even while it worried him.

I don't even know why he was killed. And I don't know if I will be able to do anything about it. It's gotten to the point where my list of enemies is so long and so dangerous that getting vengeance for the murder of my friend isn't at the top. Connor wouldn't want me to get vengeance though, so maybe this is actually the best way to honor who he was and what he thought was important.

I'm going to try and be a better person for his sake. I don't know if I'll succeed.

But our first and last conversations give me hope, and right now I need all of that I can get.

Nightmares, Curses, and Consequences... Oh My!

This is fan created fiction about a character in a Vampire: The Masquerade live action role playing game run by Mind's Eye Society. If you are a fellow player, please remember that anything you read here is considered out of character knowledge. If you are a lawyer, please don't sue me; I'm not making any money off of this and it's just for fun.

Nightmares, Curses, and Consequences... Oh My!
by Simon W

October 31, 2019 - Sundown

The blood was everywhere. On her hands from the countless times she'd murdered. In her eyes from the tears she'd cried from anger, frustration, and sorrow. And in her heart from the sheer uncountable number of times it had been broken. Love lost... dreams dashed... every negative human emotion centered on her. She adsorbed it into her very soul every night and then dreamed about it the following days.

It was exhausting. It was the combined negative energy of the eleventh most populated city in the United States and surrounding metro area. Nearly three and a half million people... nearly three and a half million private hells and they were all on her shoulders. Frankly, Marianne was starting to think that fighting against literal demons from hell was probably easier.

She wanted to stop. It was torture. But then she remembered the rain, the despair, the miasma that had overtaken the city when the other way had been tried. She sighed. This way was better. Which really just goes to prove that, as fascinating as they were, Donzella was absolutely correct about Mages being dangerous.

The nightmares each day were overtaken by memories each night. She saw the Infernal cultists fall before her in the church as they tried to stop the cleansing of a holy object. She remembered killing them and no matter how much she wanted to do otherwise she couldn't convince herself that it hadn't been a terrible and dire necessity. And hazy, half formed memories were surfacing... of being underground, of thaumaturgical rituals, and ancient hungry vampires.

***

The ritual was clearly thaumaturgy but it was old, so impossibly old. And the Kindred in the center of the warding circle was most certainly not a Tremere.

"My name is Umushtart - and I have been the guardian of this place for a very long time; since the day Tiberius expelled the Egyptians from Rome, and the twilight of the Xin Dynasty began to dim."

Before Marianne could ask any questions of this mysterious Kindred, there was an inhuman roar. It was impossible to tell if it were of fear, anger, or triumph. Umushtart spoke again, “You have come here seeking answers. And you shall have them - but you must help me stop them."

Marianne looked at Veda and Mrs. Sterling. "Who are they?" she mouthed at them. Umushtart answered: “The First Named. Childe of The Unnamed…”

The three Kindred who came at them were older and more powerful than anything Marianne had ever fought against. She had already been hurt more than once on the way down from disabling the thaumaturgical wards. She wished that the others were with them, but they'd gone down a side passage. Veda and Mrs. Sterling, both far more capable combatants than herself, drew their attention while Marianne helped where she could. Umushtart showed her abilities as a combat thaumaturge as well.

It was a brutal slog of a fight. Working together they managed to destroy first one, then another, of the ancient Baali until only The First Named remained. Even then, four on one, it was a struggle to not succumb to his fury. As there was a shake and a rumble of something happening down in the side passage that no one could see, he finally came to the end of his resources and the blow landed upon him that would kill him. Before he turned to ash he spit out words that were so full of venom they needed no translation. That was a curse and Marianne braced for impact.

The impact didn't come. Umushtart spoke, "Today...you have...ended a great and terrible evil. Your friends...below" she says, motioning down with her head as the other group arrives, carrying their wounded as well. "Did as much as you did. This place...and its contents...are yours now. The world...and my masters...will be..."

Whatever she meant to say no one ever heard as her veins turned black and she, herself, turned to ash.

***

The trip home was quiet and then, as though by magic, the memories had lay quiescent for months. Marianne suspected that what had been hidden in her psyche was probably the impetus behind her making the decision to learn to fight better; and her increasing desire to learn more and more about the infernal and demonic specifically so that she could destroy it. While the events of the last several months could be seen as impetus themselves, there had been an unexplained urgency to it all. An underlying motive which now was becoming clearer.

November 1, 2019 - Sundown

Marianne woke up from another day of nightmares. She suspected it was the Mage's working that had unlocked the memories she had lost over the summer. She sighed, and went to stand up. Instead of her effortlessly graceful movements though, she was slow, jerky, and the room looked... off.

She carefully made her way to the bathroom to wash up and prepare herself mentally for the night ahead. They all seemed so fraught lately. It was frustratingly more difficult than it seemed like it should be, as though her sense of balance were off somehow. She got to the bathroom, flipped the light switch and caught a look at herself in the mirror.

A stranger looked back at her. A stranger who had no left eye. As she stared in horror at her reflection the weight of everything that had happened in Italy the previous summer suddenly landed on her shoulders. The curse of The First Named had finally landed and nothing in the rest of her life was ever going to be the same...

Aftermath of Grief

This is fan created fiction about a character in a Vampire: The Masquerade live action role playing game run by Mind's Eye Society. If you are a fellow player, please remember that anything you read here is considered out of character knowledge. If you are a lawyer, please don't sue me; I'm not making any money off of this and it's just for fun.

Aftermath of Grief
by Simon W 


Marianne unlocked her door and quietly entered her house. It had been a long night, or at least she assumed it had been. The last memory she had was when she had arrived at the other house. It was nearly dawn now. Soon she'd slip into another kind of oblivion; that of death-like sleep.

She suspected the memory loss was a side effect rather than the goal. Although, maybe it was a kindness on his part. God knew she appreciated the missing hours right now. She didn't know what, if anything, she thought about during the hours she couldn't remember but she could imagine.

Juanito and William's deaths upset her in the way that deaths always do. But she could at least feel content that they felt like they'd done what they were born to do. She didn't like it and she wished to God she could have prevented it. But one some level she knew that if they hadn't died fighting this demon they'd have thrown themselves at another one. She recognized herself in them that way. Elika's words spoken in grief barely touched her; not because Marianne felt the other woman was wrong, far from it in fact; but because she recognized both Elika's emotions and the kernel of truth in what she said. She had rushed in. She hadn't done it as heedlessly as Elika assumed; it had been part of the plan. Marianne had the magic sword and her job had been to distract and draw focus so that the other three could attack the demon. They were all much better fighters than she was.

Make that, rather, they had all been much better fighters than she was. Now they were dead, killed by the demon. She owed them her life, as they had taken the blows meant for her. Yes, they had killed the demon in the fight but it felt like a very hollow victory.

Spyder, on the other hand, never should have been there. He had never cared about demons and infernal stuff before. It hadn't been his passion or his cause in life to combat them. He'd been there because the people he'd sought refuge from were demon hunters. He should have been off partying with Lorena or trolling the Cammies with Julien. She had to accept that he'd been there primarily as some attempt to win back her affection and that gutted her. The last words he'd said to her before he'd died were that he loved her and she couldn't even wrap her brain around the fact that she didn't believe him. No one who had acted as selfishly and callously as he had could possibly understand what love was. But then, maybe that's what he'd thought love was? She'd never know now.

Marianne wandered through her house, full of books and artifacts. Memory loss was probably not the healthiest way to approach grief and guilt. But she'd be lying if she didn't admit that it was weirdly making things a little easier. For now at least... there'd be hell to pay later but she'd worry about that when it happened.

Letters Never Sent

This is fan created fiction about a character in a Vampire: The Masquerade live action role playing game run by Mind's Eye Society. If you are a fellow player, please remember that anything you read here is considered out of character knowledge. If you are a lawyer, please don't sue me; I'm not making any money off of this and it's just for fun.

Letters Never Sent
by Simon W.
Dear Chris,
Why did you have to go back in a second time? You'd saved one man. Why was saving another crew member more important than your own life? You were so young. We were so young. Our lives together really had so much more potential. Your death left a hole in my heart that nothing, not blood, not friendship, not religion, nothing, has ever been able to fill. It's not your fault and I know for a fact that you didn't do it on purpose but your death broke me in ways I will be contending with for, well eternity possibly.

Dear Professor,
I probably could send this but I won't. Not the least of which because it would have to pass through so many hands and I know, even if not explicitly read, the general tone of my letter would be known by many before it got to you. You are still my best friend, distant though you are. You have, in the time I have known you, lied to me, angered me, probably even literally betrayed me. And I know that you always felt justified in doing it either to protect yourself or because you thought it would protect me. I only have it in me to forgive one person on earth for doing that. And it's you. And you're not even here anymore; you're off doing some research. I guess it just sucks for the rest of the world that you are the only one with a pass on forgiveness, eh?

Dear Everett,
I don't know if my biggest regret is that you died and I wasn't the one to pull the trigger myself or that you died and I couldn't save you. I loved you. And I hated you. And I love you. And I hate you. And I would probably move mountains to get one more conversation with you and if I were granted it I'd probably screw it up because I am a literal emotional basket case. And that's not even entirely your fault... but you're also not completely blameless either.

Dear Konstintin,
If you cared less I'd like you more. For the love of all that is holy you have got to stop trying to protect me, from myself, from the outside world, from the literal demons under your city. Just accept that I'm a lost cause. Please... please?

Dear Zia,
I know you care. I also know that you've figured out how to be sneaky enough to let me let you care. I don't know if I want you to teach everyone else your trick or if I want to swear you to secrecy about it. I waffle nightly on this.

Taggart,
At this point I think we associate due to sheer bloody stubbornness. You're a monster. You're a literal monster. And yet, there are far worse monsters out there and if you're willing to teach me to fight them I think associating with you is a fair trade off for that. Besides, everyone keeps telling me to stay away from you and while I'm not arrogant enough to simply assume that I am right and the entire rest of the world is wrong I have to admit that I am now curious enough to see just how far down this rabbit hole I can go. It's an odd feeling to be staring my own self destruction in the face and feel more curiosity than fear.

Spyder,
I have no heart left to break. I can't explain that to you. You took the last part of me with you when you "died" and I'm not able to withstand that pain again. Enjoy your new life because I will have no part of it. I make a lot of stupid mistakes but I'd like to think I don't make the same one twice.

Dear Vanessa,
I love you too. I shouldn't. I know I'm setting myself up for nothing but pain, drama, and probably in a few years I will hate you because I can't seem to NOT hate everyone I love eventually. But yeah, I love you too.

The Cause

This is fan created fiction about a character in a Vampire: The Masquerade live action role playing game run by Mind's Eye Society. If you are a fellow player, please remember that anything you read here is considered out of character knowledge. If you are a lawyer, please don't sue me; I'm not making any money off of this and it's just for fun.

The Cause
by Simon W. 

Marianne carefully unpacked the boxes and boxes of books which made up the bulk of her haven. She lived surrounded by them. The only concessions she made to trying to make her home look like a normal human lived here was that the bedroom had a bed in it and she actually used the shower. The living area was filled with book shelves, a couch, and a desk and chair. The dining area held more bookshelves. The kitchen? Well she used kitchen cupboards as bookshelves.

She was putting them away on autopilot, the Dewey Decimal system doing most of the work for her, while she was lost in thought.

Everett had been an objectively terrible sire. No one who knew him could disagree and people who knew his childer only had to look at the fact that the one who had been effectively adopted was a lot more stable than the one who had drifted around on her own for decades. Marianne knew that her feelings about him were anything but objective. And still, she knew he had been a terrible sire.

He'd taught her almost nothing. He wasn't truly an Anarch so he couldn't teach her about the sect he claimed she belonged too. His opinion of the Sabbat was simply that they were there to be killed, by him preferably. Most of what she knew about actually being kindred came from what she had learned before she had met him, when she had been the Professor's ghoul. The only thing he'd really ever tried to tell her had been so garbled by his own issues that she hadn't really understood at the time.

It was shortly after they'd fled from Los Angeles. She'd had no idea what drove him eastward with such fervor at the time. All she knew was the he ran. And then, somewhere in the middle of nowhere New Mexico they'd been jumped by Sabbat. It was just three of them, which is probably what saved their lives because Everett fought them alone. He insisted Marianne stay out of the fray and she was more than willing to do so. He bloodied them up well enough so they could flee. And as they raced down the highway he tried to explain.

"The blood gets up, ya know? It's what makes us Brujah. It's what makes us... it's what makes us us. There's something that burns in all of us and when you see it you've got no choice but to stand up for it. Mine is the Sabbat, you see." He spit. "They all gotta die, you see."

Marianne did not see. And he'd never really bothered to explain. In the following decade she loved him, hated him, and left him. But she never really understood exactly what he'd been trying to get at.It had been other Brujah, later on, that she met that explained the Cause to her. And she had assumed that she'd just not really had one. It made sense given her history.

As she methodically put the books on their shelves she knew she'd been wrong all those decades ago. Because now her blood was up. Because now there was something burning in her heart that would not die. Because now she knew exactly what it was that drove her forward to eternity.

"It's not right," she said to herself. "Like playing chess with a damned pigeon. It's gonna shit all over the board, knock over all the pieces, and declare itself the winner no matter what you do. And that... that's not right. I'm not playing any of their games. I'm not joining any of their teams. I won't be corralled and emotionally manipulated. Nope, it's time to stand up and tell them 'no'. Because I don't like bullies and I don't like being forced to choose and I really, really don't like these damn Ancients!"

Cold Comfort

This is fan created fiction about a character in a Vampire: The Masquerade live action role playing game run by Mind's Eye Society. If you are a fellow player, please remember that anything you read here is considered out of character knowledge. If you are a lawyer, please don't sue me; I'm not making any money off of this and it's just for fun.

Cold Comfort
by Simon W

Marianne stared at the note. It was written in a spare hand, as though the writer were more used to taking research notes than penning long letters. Or maybe she only thought it looked that way because she knew who wrote it. It occurred to her that it had been several decades since she had seen this handwriting. So much of the communication in recent nights was typed that hand written notes happened rarely. She wasn't old enough to really miss such things and moan for a past that no longer existed like some Elders she knew. It was just an observation.

It was also a lie.

Well... maybe not.

Right now she wasn't thinking about the past that no longer existed so much as she was thinking about a past and future that might have been had things not gone very, very differently.

The noise was absolutely horrific. Acolyte Dashwood hadn't even realized that the wards could be that loud. But then, she'd also never experienced a bunch of angry Kindred trying to break into the Chantry before. From the reactions of everyone around her, this was entirely unexpected. Something crashed behind her and she could feel some sort of magical discharge. She ducked instinctively, not wanting to get hit by whatever it was. She'd learned the hard way that magic discharge from careless Apprentices hurt, a lot. 

She headed to the lab to make sure the Professor wasn't still there. She didn't think he'd be foolish enough to not leave but one never knew how much he was paying attention to the outside world when he was in the middle of his research. Granted, could anyone NOT pay attention to these terrible sounds? Above the screeching of the wards now there was a giant, nearly feral sounding yelling. The crowd of Kindred had breached the walls and they were angry.

No one was in the lab, thank goodness! Acolyte Dashwood wondered where to go next. Nothing was orderly or sensible right now. There was an evacuation plan, of course, but no one was actually following it that she could see. As she made her way through the chaos she finally found the Professor. A tall man with a blonde crew cut and a scar on the back of his neck was advancing on him.

"Hey!" shouted Marianne. "Hey, blondie!" That caught his attention. He turned around. Marianne casually raised her middle finger in an insulting way. He took the bait, and started coming toward her. "Run, Professor," she shouted as she ran away from the Kindred now chasing her. 

And thus Marianne's life as a Brujah instead of a Tremere began. She had had many decades to try and reconcile herself to the fact that this was the case and she had even found things to value about her clan. If she were very honest her personality was more suited to who she was than to who she could have been. But it was still a sore spot.

And the letter writer knew that! So sending her a note to A. Dashwood was hurtful, cruel, vindictive, and rude. She'd cried over that note for the better part of the evening.

Toward dawn a thought occurred to her. Why would he want to hurt her feelings so much? Maybe... just maybe... he wasn't as immune to emotions as she believed.

It was cold comfort but for now she would take it.