What the Twilight Sees (original) (raw)
November 29th, 2010
October 6, 2010
The rage was so strong that she nearly frenzied twice. How odd it was, that a sequence of electronic worlds – words that didn’t really exist if one thought about it, for they were nothing more than electric manipulations of primary colors across a flat and passionless screen; untouchable, intangible and forever trapped in the mystical ether called the internet – could send a series emotions through her core that shook her very being. Of all the times he could have possibly chosen to be noble, he had chosen now.
“Although I stated when we met at Conclave that I would not be able to consider the mantle of Clan Head, I would like to rescind that comment.”
It took her another forty-five minutes to read the rest of the letter, the first forty-two of that spent in a screaming fit the likes of which the de Medici Manor House in Sanford had yet to experience. Servants ran towards her… and then quickly away, abandoning the entire wing of the massive home for fear of their lives. Nothing escaped her ire, glass and steel, ceramics of ancient age down to modern pieces collected in a whim smashed with equal force.
“I realize that I would have two rather prominent positions that I would have to step away from (Prince of Atlanta and Didasklos of Apollo), I am not completely against the idea.”
Did he? Did he truly realize exactly what he would loose? Or had he become seduced by the false siren’s cry of temporary glory? It seemed impossible that any member of the Clan with any sort of self-worth – with any sort of desire for self-preservation! – would even contemplate the notion of serving as Clan Head. Did he not realize that the Justicariate were nothing more than rabid dogs barely held at bay by the hands of their elders?
She’d seen what they were capable of doing. No member of the Camarilla who lived longer than their first decade could escape the specter of their wrath. Entire cities vanished overnight. Entire populations of Kindred, even those that had stood as monolithic powers among their society, reduced to ash before the next sunrise. And Octavius, her beloved Black Rose, wanted to waltz right into their presence like it was some sort of privilege?’
“There will be more concerning my vision for the position after I hear more of what the clan as a whole would look for in a Clan Head, I wanted to at least state that I might be interested.”
Might be interested? She knew her beloved Black Rose better than that. The fact that he had written at all proved that he had already set his considerable mind towards it. And what The Black Rose of Milan wanted, he usually got. On a silver fucking platter. Gift wrapped with a bloody black bow. And with an entourage of young, stupid sycophants to hang on his every infuriatingly perfect expression as he unwrapped and enjoyed his latest toy.
She snarled out another cry of mingled rage and anguish, hands grasping empty air as she looked for something unbroken to smash – and paused. The thought that crossed her embittered heart stilled it, stole her righteous fury and left a cold pit in its place. What if this wasn’t another toy for him? What if this wasn’t a laurel for him to hang upon his mantle and glance at lovingly from time to time?
What if he was serious about leading the Clan? About answering for and offering himself if needs be to cover the errors of idiots. Certainly the Toreador Clan had its fair share of morons… but even she had stuck her neck out time and again to protect someone simply because they bore the same blood.
“buona notte, Octavius Sage Prince of Atlanta Disdasklos of Apollo Black Rose of Milan”
“Bullshit,” she seethed, eyes narrowed at the computer screen. “I won’t let you do this, Octavius. Not unless I can help keep you from stumbling into the pit out of your blind loyalty.”
She whirled about and screamed through the shattered doors for someone to ready her private jet.