Eight bottles remain.
It can be said that the body is a tableau, and can be arranged in nearly any position. I have been bent backwards, spread-eagled, trussed up... even curled in a shrinking shadow as the sun crept ever close. I have done the Gnostic Mass. I have learned many mudras, and something of the art of the yoghi.
In light of these things, to press one's forehead to the floor would seem a relatively small thing.
It is easiest to think that what I did was politic. I shone as brightly as I was able to keep the attention of the Cardinal from Sarah, so she might be able to grow. I took what responsibility I could, never once mentioning the Fair Lady in Red who said she would be near to protect us. (Perhaps she was. Who can say when a ghost is near?) With the Seneschal as my ally - and now, my lovely Warden - appeasing the Harpy seemed the right thing to do.
And yet.
A Ventrue tells me to kneel, and I do. A single, sharply worded command. How can I know whether the desire to do so was mine? She is the Harpy, and to gainsay her publically would be a social suicide... but if she is willing to use me so to gain favor with the Cardinal, my Danse becomes even more complex.
Other news... since the night of the Rite, I can feel my senses growing sharper. I can taste the different substances in the bottles that my "grandson" has kindly delivered to me. Shades of flavor from different countries, ethnicities... I might be able to pick out those with diabetes or high cholesterol, if I tried. I can see better when the light is dim. I can hear Ms. Adams and Mario in their late-night talks, even from the distant quarters I keep.
There are eight bottles left. Perhaps another before I rest.
In light of these things, to press one's forehead to the floor would seem a relatively small thing.
It is easiest to think that what I did was politic. I shone as brightly as I was able to keep the attention of the Cardinal from Sarah, so she might be able to grow. I took what responsibility I could, never once mentioning the Fair Lady in Red who said she would be near to protect us. (Perhaps she was. Who can say when a ghost is near?) With the Seneschal as my ally - and now, my lovely Warden - appeasing the Harpy seemed the right thing to do.
And yet.
A Ventrue tells me to kneel, and I do. A single, sharply worded command. How can I know whether the desire to do so was mine? She is the Harpy, and to gainsay her publically would be a social suicide... but if she is willing to use me so to gain favor with the Cardinal, my Danse becomes even more complex.
Other news... since the night of the Rite, I can feel my senses growing sharper. I can taste the different substances in the bottles that my "grandson" has kindly delivered to me. Shades of flavor from different countries, ethnicities... I might be able to pick out those with diabetes or high cholesterol, if I tried. I can see better when the light is dim. I can hear Ms. Adams and Mario in their late-night talks, even from the distant quarters I keep.
There are eight bottles left. Perhaps another before I rest.