Choices
“I’m sorry”
But was she really?
Was that really the her that’s buried deep down beneath the stone cold detachment of age and experience as a monster?
Do I really even wanna know?
The sun’s starting to rise. I feel it. Making me heavy. Slow.
I can’t even hear the Moon’s comforting voice sing to me. Or my blood sing back to her. So I stand and lean forward, letting myself fall off the building. Already starting to change as I do. I’m vapor before I’m even halfway down to the ground. Vapor that flows under the metallic flaps of the warehouse service entrance and reforms into me before I let myself sink into the dirt below.
She’s sorry.
I’m still alone.
** ** **
Maybe it’s the house. Maybe it’s just the land around it. I don’t really know what it is that makes it feel so big to me.
First I’m on four legs - then two.
Off to see my “shrink”. To play the game of “figure you out while you figure me out.” And like always the two of us would come out of it assuming they actually -won- this round and neither being right.
It’s when I go to leave that she stops me.
Somehow I’m sitting across from her with a glass of Scotch. Never even liked the shit when I was still breathing, but I ain’t gonna disrespect her.
"I would like to offer you the position of Assistant Reeve of New York City."
Just like that. She just whips it out and slaps it right down on the table for me as she takes a sip of her own drink.
The fuck is a “Reeve” anyway?
Sherif, it turns out - in Vic terms.
Yeah. Like I don’t got -enough- shit on my plate already, right?
"If I accept this, I -will- be a lil' … well 'stretched thin' so t' speak. What with my responsibility to the Movement, my coterie, and Ethan's 'grooming' o' me to be another 'envoy', if you will, 'tween us and the Urath- sorry. Werewolves. "
I’m not takin’ my eyes off this one for one -second-.
"How long do I have to think about this?"
She shrugs. "Take your time. I would like to announce at the next gathering, but I am not looking at someone else for the job so there's no hurry.”
Just -what- is her angle?
We talk, as we always do, about stuff. And as always she wants to know what I think. About the Covenants. The Clans. Other Kindred in the city. And most importantly, she wants to know “why I do what I do”.
So I tell her.
“I mostly just try to do whatever's right. What's 'right'? What's wrong, fo' that matter? I used to go by how I was raised back in ma breathin' years... But nowadays…”
My eyes close and I can almost feel the Moon’s pull.
"When I look up at the sky and the moon shines down on me ... my blood SINGS to me!!"
She takes a drink and looks at me a moment, as though appraising me.
"Your blood sings to you, Benjamin, because you toy with your Beast. Your head wants to deny it but your blood feeds it. It is the dance we all dance, the game we play. It is why I do not take things too seriously...our very existence is a game."
Swing and a miss.
Close, sweetie, but alas, no “it’s a boy” for you.
But she -does- touch on something else. Tips her hand, just a bit, whether she realizes it or not. And it gets me thinking.
"And that, ma dear, is where we disagree. I 'on't believe what we are is so easilly su'mized like that. Like everything it’s got layers.. .the 'game' as you put it, bein' jus' -one- of 'em."
The thought of her ‘playing’ is scary - and interesting to tell truth.
"Definitely one o' th' more 'in'ertestin' layers. But still. A layer, just th' same."
The silence sets in and gets comfortable while I take my turn studying her.
"We all got layers. Me. You. “
And I play a short bluff myself. Poke. Prod. Get a little bold. See how she reacts.
“Maybe someday I might be able to git me a look at some o' yours. Maybe sometime soon if ahm lucky."
She just cocks her head to the side and drops her voice.
"Tell me, Benjamin..." She leans forward, closing the distance between us and croons, "Is it my body or my mind you're more interested in?"
Wow.
She’s two for two.
And yet, so am I, ‘cause I gotta be honest with myself. I’d never actually -thought- of it. And that’s what those frickin’ MEKHET do - they make you think whether you want to or not. Still… it’s obvious she doesn’t understand just what the rules of engagement are with someone like me. Posing a question makes it abstract. And what might be abstract for her isn’t necessarily so for me.
A good play, though- I gotta admit. Even if she really -doesn’t- get it.
But I’m a sport and I really -do- respect her. So I’ll share.
"You're goin' on th' assumption that th' two -have- t' be seperate f' some reason."
She probably still didn’t understand. But it was cool.
** **
That kind of understanding came from one of the most unlikely places.
The young Gangrel on my mostly earthen floor, bare as the day she was born, stretching her arms out in front of as though reaching for some imaginary prize.
Maybe it’s how cute she can be sometimes, despite how much I just wanna shake her. Maybe it’s the lingering memories of whatever it is we’d just done ‘til sunup last night all over this little place. Whatever it was I couldn’t help but smile.
“What’re you -doin-, crazy-ass?”
“Growing tentacles, boy. It’s what Gangrel -do-.”
“No, mamacita.” I show her my claws. “ -This- is what Gangrel do.”
There’s a fire in her eyes that makes my spine straighten. If I had a tail, it’d be pulled between my legs.
“No, bitch, it’s what -you- do. Not me!” Sitting up and leaning on her palms, unashamed, unabashed, wearing nothing but an ear-splitting grin. “I’m special.”
“You’re a princess.” I roll my eyes.
“Hell, yeah puto! And don’t you forget it!”
She’s so refreshingly simple.
Not stupid. Not slow. Simple. Honest. Proud. Straightforward. Not to mention, exactly the welcome distraction I didn’t even know I needed.
My face slammed into the concrete HARD as her knee crunched down into the small of my back, her forearm on the back of my neck and I knew things were broken in ways that -were I still alive- would’ve most certainly killed me.
Hurt like a bitch.
“How’s the carpet, carpet-muncher?” Giggling as she kissed the back of my neck.
“Ge’roff!!”
“Ha! Not until you say it.”
“JODETE!”
“Aw, and here I was thinkin’ you’d be able to take care of that -for- me ‘Benny’ “
“I said get OFF!”
She slammed my face down again.
“Not until you -say- it!”
“NO!”
“Say it!”
“FINE!!” And with a wry little smirk, since we both know it’s part of the game, “ ‘m yr btch.”
“What was that mush-mouth?”
“I’m your bitch!”
She let go just enough for me to throw her off me, turn the tables and put Fang to her, making her heartfelt laughter break into soft coaxing moans of pleasure.
I snap out of it and we talk about Covenants. She proves -way- more insightful than I had previously given her credit for
We all have layers
And at least she understood the give-and-take I was looking for.
The bare-bones honesty that I’d try to project around others yet’ve rarely seen for myself.
The strength of simplicity.
** **
I’m back at my “shrink’s” place and her servant shows me to the library. She isn’t there and I can already tell. I pace. I can’t help how impatient I’m getting. I had so much resolve on the way here and now? I just wanted to see her. Not later, but right -then-!
The servant said something. Something about waiting. I sunk into the floor before I could let my judgment lapse and split her open like a too-ripe melon.
I stay in the floor the rest of the night.
And all of the following night.
Finally, she arrives and I’m a lot more happy to see her than I thought.
Something in her eyes or just the comfort of ‘normalcy’ setting in? Seeing what should be in it’s proper place actually -in- said place.
This was, after all -her- house. It’s only right -she- be here.
She’s offering me Scotch again. This time I refuse.
I make my decision and share it with her.
Questions are asked an answers are given - and now I’m her “deputy”.
"A'rright then. I accept, as long as it's understood that I'm 'on reserve'. That unless something up or you're not around, I can still handle my own, stuff. Like bein' Carthian Prim. And learning what I gotta learn from Ethan. Coo'? "
My eyes never leave hers. But I can’t shake the feeling that I’m sort of .. bracing myself, as it were, for something. But what?
Best not to let it get to me.
"So uhm.. do I call you 'boss' now? 'cause I'm pretty sure that might make me look .. well... not to great to other member's o' th' Movement."
Giving her a wink. She likes her games after all, right?
"What with you bein 'Vic" an' all."
Testing, testing .. you there?
She looks at me, her own eyes intense. "I would never want to risk your own standing within the eyes of the Movement, nor do I make anyone call me boss."
In a flash her eyes turn cold and unreadable...and she winks back.
Good. She might just be starting to get it, after all.
I know we’re pretty much done, but I’m feeling lazy so I jokingly make a quip about getting my own room.
Her hand slips in mine and she’s got this wicked little glint in her eye that just throws me for a damn loop.
“This is quite a small house, Benjamin, only a few bedrooms. Come on, I'll show you to yours."
She takes me upstairs and gives me this grand tour of what looks like some supped up hotel suite an I’m pretty speechless.
There’s greens and browns. A sunken tub and bed. Even my own bathroom!
What is this Vic-chic’s -damage-? I mean, really? All of this? For me? What the hell?
"You -know- I gotta ask. Why? Why all this? and why -me- of all Kindred? I just.. f'give me if' ah jus'.. don't -get- it right about now I mean.. I ain't nothin' so special.."
Her fragile looking hand’s on my chest as she pushes me back into a chair -comfy as hell, too- and gets this fierce look on her face.
She locks eyes with me and goes on about my “potential” Makes a comparison of me to Mister Kent (which I take as a compliment) and even suggest I’d make a good Vic (not so much).
My own gaze wanders all over this green and brown and earthy space. A den. This crazy Shadow Vic lady made me a fuckin -den- in her house!
“So ... you think I'm ... 'woodsy'? "
Before I know it I’m chuckling. She really -does- think I’ll be some “House Gangrel” for her, does she?
"Potential, eh? Seems like I've been hearin' that since I first came on the scene. 'he's got so much -potential-' But potential to do .. what, 'zactly? hm?”
Her statements were heartfelt, but just like all the other Older Ones, ultimately empty. Poor thing. Still isn’t sinking in, is it?
"Why do you think I refused to take your cues and turned down what could've most likely have turned out as you an' I sharin' a bed that night? "
She’s got that proud Vic “oh really?” look on her face before she responds in kind.
"Quite certain of yourself, aren't you?" She almost looks serious for a moment, then laughs a bit. "I do not play guessing games, Benjamin, why?
Certain? Damn straight. And I’m not the game-playing type. At least not -these- kinda games.
" Remember the talk we had some time before the last gathering? We talked about change. Desire. Tending t' one's humanity. And I said something. I'd come to the conclusion that we, as Kindred, do the things that we do. for pleasure or for pain, for better or for worse, not because we -have- to , like th' livin' but because we -choose- to.
Now, when an' if I make that -choice- to be that .. 'close' t' you... I just wanna make -damn- sure I'm not seein' .. or hopin' ta see .. someone -else's- face when I look at yours.
I wouldn't do that t' you. I respec' you -too- much f' that.”
It was true. Fear was coupled with that, yeah But it didn’t make it any less true.
“ I wouldn' do that to maself. I done been through too much to add another layer to this heap o' mess inside o' me. "
I was starting to feel cold again. Memories threatened to pull me under.
“I love you. But FUCK you, right now! Fuck. You.”
Her eyes welling up with tears as I forced myself to turn and walk away..
No. I won’t let this shit take me over. I -will- find joy somehow.
A look at the face of the woman-thing infront of me with her cat-like curiosity and I feel myself lighten up again.
God, I’m such a -sucker- for that.
"Sides.. wouldn't that be like.. against the whole.. shrink.headcase priviledge or.. sumthin'? I mean.. -regardless- o' how hot said shrink is."
She gets closer. It’s obvious she sees right through my bullshit defense mechanism.
But she’s merciful.
She talks about her change into this state being a choice she made rather than something done to her - like with me. She recognized the incongruity and still wanted to be near me.
Bless her black heart for that shit, man.
"Heh. But ah'm -here- now, right? That's gota count for somethin', huh? It's gotta win a guy -some- kinda points witcha..righ'?
She tells me it’s not about points. And she’s right. She’s right and I’m tired.
And still so alone.
And I’ve got some reading to do.
Well. If there’s anything a certain ankle-biting Gangrel reminded me of - it’s honesty. So honest is what I’d be.
I was going to bed to read. And she was going with me. (Where I could keep an eye on her pretty little high-maintenance Invictus ass.) And when the sun came up I was sleeping in the floor and in the in-between there’d be no hanky OR panky.
And that was that.
Still don’t get why but she actually -went- for it.
We talked about meaningful nothing and used it as a thin veil behind which we’d keep playing “figure the other out”.
And it was good.
She left me with a kiss and head full of confusion.
I was pissed despite myself.
What the hell -is- it with these damn Mekhet women?!!
But was she really?
Was that really the her that’s buried deep down beneath the stone cold detachment of age and experience as a monster?
Do I really even wanna know?
The sun’s starting to rise. I feel it. Making me heavy. Slow.
I can’t even hear the Moon’s comforting voice sing to me. Or my blood sing back to her. So I stand and lean forward, letting myself fall off the building. Already starting to change as I do. I’m vapor before I’m even halfway down to the ground. Vapor that flows under the metallic flaps of the warehouse service entrance and reforms into me before I let myself sink into the dirt below.
She’s sorry.
I’m still alone.
** ** **
Maybe it’s the house. Maybe it’s just the land around it. I don’t really know what it is that makes it feel so big to me.
First I’m on four legs - then two.
Off to see my “shrink”. To play the game of “figure you out while you figure me out.” And like always the two of us would come out of it assuming they actually -won- this round and neither being right.
It’s when I go to leave that she stops me.
Somehow I’m sitting across from her with a glass of Scotch. Never even liked the shit when I was still breathing, but I ain’t gonna disrespect her.
"I would like to offer you the position of Assistant Reeve of New York City."
Just like that. She just whips it out and slaps it right down on the table for me as she takes a sip of her own drink.
The fuck is a “Reeve” anyway?
Sherif, it turns out - in Vic terms.
Yeah. Like I don’t got -enough- shit on my plate already, right?
"If I accept this, I -will- be a lil' … well 'stretched thin' so t' speak. What with my responsibility to the Movement, my coterie, and Ethan's 'grooming' o' me to be another 'envoy', if you will, 'tween us and the Urath- sorry. Werewolves. "
I’m not takin’ my eyes off this one for one -second-.
"How long do I have to think about this?"
She shrugs. "Take your time. I would like to announce at the next gathering, but I am not looking at someone else for the job so there's no hurry.”
Just -what- is her angle?
We talk, as we always do, about stuff. And as always she wants to know what I think. About the Covenants. The Clans. Other Kindred in the city. And most importantly, she wants to know “why I do what I do”.
So I tell her.
“I mostly just try to do whatever's right. What's 'right'? What's wrong, fo' that matter? I used to go by how I was raised back in ma breathin' years... But nowadays…”
My eyes close and I can almost feel the Moon’s pull.
"When I look up at the sky and the moon shines down on me ... my blood SINGS to me!!"
She takes a drink and looks at me a moment, as though appraising me.
"Your blood sings to you, Benjamin, because you toy with your Beast. Your head wants to deny it but your blood feeds it. It is the dance we all dance, the game we play. It is why I do not take things too seriously...our very existence is a game."
Swing and a miss.
Close, sweetie, but alas, no “it’s a boy” for you.
But she -does- touch on something else. Tips her hand, just a bit, whether she realizes it or not. And it gets me thinking.
"And that, ma dear, is where we disagree. I 'on't believe what we are is so easilly su'mized like that. Like everything it’s got layers.. .the 'game' as you put it, bein' jus' -one- of 'em."
The thought of her ‘playing’ is scary - and interesting to tell truth.
"Definitely one o' th' more 'in'ertestin' layers. But still. A layer, just th' same."
The silence sets in and gets comfortable while I take my turn studying her.
"We all got layers. Me. You. “
And I play a short bluff myself. Poke. Prod. Get a little bold. See how she reacts.
“Maybe someday I might be able to git me a look at some o' yours. Maybe sometime soon if ahm lucky."
She just cocks her head to the side and drops her voice.
"Tell me, Benjamin..." She leans forward, closing the distance between us and croons, "Is it my body or my mind you're more interested in?"
Wow.
She’s two for two.
And yet, so am I, ‘cause I gotta be honest with myself. I’d never actually -thought- of it. And that’s what those frickin’ MEKHET do - they make you think whether you want to or not. Still… it’s obvious she doesn’t understand just what the rules of engagement are with someone like me. Posing a question makes it abstract. And what might be abstract for her isn’t necessarily so for me.
A good play, though- I gotta admit. Even if she really -doesn’t- get it.
But I’m a sport and I really -do- respect her. So I’ll share.
"You're goin' on th' assumption that th' two -have- t' be seperate f' some reason."
She probably still didn’t understand. But it was cool.
** **
That kind of understanding came from one of the most unlikely places.
The young Gangrel on my mostly earthen floor, bare as the day she was born, stretching her arms out in front of as though reaching for some imaginary prize.
Maybe it’s how cute she can be sometimes, despite how much I just wanna shake her. Maybe it’s the lingering memories of whatever it is we’d just done ‘til sunup last night all over this little place. Whatever it was I couldn’t help but smile.
“What’re you -doin-, crazy-ass?”
“Growing tentacles, boy. It’s what Gangrel -do-.”
“No, mamacita.” I show her my claws. “ -This- is what Gangrel do.”
There’s a fire in her eyes that makes my spine straighten. If I had a tail, it’d be pulled between my legs.
“No, bitch, it’s what -you- do. Not me!” Sitting up and leaning on her palms, unashamed, unabashed, wearing nothing but an ear-splitting grin. “I’m special.”
“You’re a princess.” I roll my eyes.
“Hell, yeah puto! And don’t you forget it!”
She’s so refreshingly simple.
Not stupid. Not slow. Simple. Honest. Proud. Straightforward. Not to mention, exactly the welcome distraction I didn’t even know I needed.
My face slammed into the concrete HARD as her knee crunched down into the small of my back, her forearm on the back of my neck and I knew things were broken in ways that -were I still alive- would’ve most certainly killed me.
Hurt like a bitch.
“How’s the carpet, carpet-muncher?” Giggling as she kissed the back of my neck.
“Ge’roff!!”
“Ha! Not until you say it.”
“JODETE!”
“Aw, and here I was thinkin’ you’d be able to take care of that -for- me ‘Benny’ “
“I said get OFF!”
She slammed my face down again.
“Not until you -say- it!”
“NO!”
“Say it!”
“FINE!!” And with a wry little smirk, since we both know it’s part of the game, “ ‘m yr btch.”
“What was that mush-mouth?”
“I’m your bitch!”
She let go just enough for me to throw her off me, turn the tables and put Fang to her, making her heartfelt laughter break into soft coaxing moans of pleasure.
I snap out of it and we talk about Covenants. She proves -way- more insightful than I had previously given her credit for
We all have layers
And at least she understood the give-and-take I was looking for.
The bare-bones honesty that I’d try to project around others yet’ve rarely seen for myself.
The strength of simplicity.
** **
I’m back at my “shrink’s” place and her servant shows me to the library. She isn’t there and I can already tell. I pace. I can’t help how impatient I’m getting. I had so much resolve on the way here and now? I just wanted to see her. Not later, but right -then-!
The servant said something. Something about waiting. I sunk into the floor before I could let my judgment lapse and split her open like a too-ripe melon.
I stay in the floor the rest of the night.
And all of the following night.
Finally, she arrives and I’m a lot more happy to see her than I thought.
Something in her eyes or just the comfort of ‘normalcy’ setting in? Seeing what should be in it’s proper place actually -in- said place.
This was, after all -her- house. It’s only right -she- be here.
She’s offering me Scotch again. This time I refuse.
I make my decision and share it with her.
Questions are asked an answers are given - and now I’m her “deputy”.
"A'rright then. I accept, as long as it's understood that I'm 'on reserve'. That unless something up or you're not around, I can still handle my own, stuff. Like bein' Carthian Prim. And learning what I gotta learn from Ethan. Coo'? "
My eyes never leave hers. But I can’t shake the feeling that I’m sort of .. bracing myself, as it were, for something. But what?
Best not to let it get to me.
"So uhm.. do I call you 'boss' now? 'cause I'm pretty sure that might make me look .. well... not to great to other member's o' th' Movement."
Giving her a wink. She likes her games after all, right?
"What with you bein 'Vic" an' all."
Testing, testing .. you there?
She looks at me, her own eyes intense. "I would never want to risk your own standing within the eyes of the Movement, nor do I make anyone call me boss."
In a flash her eyes turn cold and unreadable...and she winks back.
Good. She might just be starting to get it, after all.
I know we’re pretty much done, but I’m feeling lazy so I jokingly make a quip about getting my own room.
Her hand slips in mine and she’s got this wicked little glint in her eye that just throws me for a damn loop.
“This is quite a small house, Benjamin, only a few bedrooms. Come on, I'll show you to yours."
She takes me upstairs and gives me this grand tour of what looks like some supped up hotel suite an I’m pretty speechless.
There’s greens and browns. A sunken tub and bed. Even my own bathroom!
What is this Vic-chic’s -damage-? I mean, really? All of this? For me? What the hell?
"You -know- I gotta ask. Why? Why all this? and why -me- of all Kindred? I just.. f'give me if' ah jus'.. don't -get- it right about now I mean.. I ain't nothin' so special.."
Her fragile looking hand’s on my chest as she pushes me back into a chair -comfy as hell, too- and gets this fierce look on her face.
She locks eyes with me and goes on about my “potential” Makes a comparison of me to Mister Kent (which I take as a compliment) and even suggest I’d make a good Vic (not so much).
My own gaze wanders all over this green and brown and earthy space. A den. This crazy Shadow Vic lady made me a fuckin -den- in her house!
“So ... you think I'm ... 'woodsy'? "
Before I know it I’m chuckling. She really -does- think I’ll be some “House Gangrel” for her, does she?
"Potential, eh? Seems like I've been hearin' that since I first came on the scene. 'he's got so much -potential-' But potential to do .. what, 'zactly? hm?”
Her statements were heartfelt, but just like all the other Older Ones, ultimately empty. Poor thing. Still isn’t sinking in, is it?
"Why do you think I refused to take your cues and turned down what could've most likely have turned out as you an' I sharin' a bed that night? "
She’s got that proud Vic “oh really?” look on her face before she responds in kind.
"Quite certain of yourself, aren't you?" She almost looks serious for a moment, then laughs a bit. "I do not play guessing games, Benjamin, why?
Certain? Damn straight. And I’m not the game-playing type. At least not -these- kinda games.
" Remember the talk we had some time before the last gathering? We talked about change. Desire. Tending t' one's humanity. And I said something. I'd come to the conclusion that we, as Kindred, do the things that we do. for pleasure or for pain, for better or for worse, not because we -have- to , like th' livin' but because we -choose- to.
Now, when an' if I make that -choice- to be that .. 'close' t' you... I just wanna make -damn- sure I'm not seein' .. or hopin' ta see .. someone -else's- face when I look at yours.
I wouldn't do that t' you. I respec' you -too- much f' that.”
It was true. Fear was coupled with that, yeah But it didn’t make it any less true.
“ I wouldn' do that to maself. I done been through too much to add another layer to this heap o' mess inside o' me. "
I was starting to feel cold again. Memories threatened to pull me under.
“I love you. But FUCK you, right now! Fuck. You.”
Her eyes welling up with tears as I forced myself to turn and walk away..
No. I won’t let this shit take me over. I -will- find joy somehow.
A look at the face of the woman-thing infront of me with her cat-like curiosity and I feel myself lighten up again.
God, I’m such a -sucker- for that.
"Sides.. wouldn't that be like.. against the whole.. shrink.headcase priviledge or.. sumthin'? I mean.. -regardless- o' how hot said shrink is."
She gets closer. It’s obvious she sees right through my bullshit defense mechanism.
But she’s merciful.
She talks about her change into this state being a choice she made rather than something done to her - like with me. She recognized the incongruity and still wanted to be near me.
Bless her black heart for that shit, man.
"Heh. But ah'm -here- now, right? That's gota count for somethin', huh? It's gotta win a guy -some- kinda points witcha..righ'?
She tells me it’s not about points. And she’s right. She’s right and I’m tired.
And still so alone.
And I’ve got some reading to do.
Well. If there’s anything a certain ankle-biting Gangrel reminded me of - it’s honesty. So honest is what I’d be.
I was going to bed to read. And she was going with me. (Where I could keep an eye on her pretty little high-maintenance Invictus ass.) And when the sun came up I was sleeping in the floor and in the in-between there’d be no hanky OR panky.
And that was that.
Still don’t get why but she actually -went- for it.
We talked about meaningful nothing and used it as a thin veil behind which we’d keep playing “figure the other out”.
And it was good.
She left me with a kiss and head full of confusion.
I was pissed despite myself.
What the hell -is- it with these damn Mekhet women?!!