Inertia
It had been taught to her long ago that despite their nature, Kindred were not the static creatures most believed them to be. Through experiences, choices, and the world around them, they learned, grew, adapted, and changed. This was one of the first things her first mentor within the Ordo had told her.
Miria smiled at the memory of Cook's face when the ghost of Georgia told him of their history together. Priceless. It gave her some feeling of satisfaction, even as her head had still throbbed from the pain of their torturous method of gleaning the truth of her loyalty. It was touching to see Kincaid when she all but stormed into the meeting with Jack, when Mercury had gone for help to her and Sirius.
Solomon had seemed somewhat surprised at seeing her wounded.
"They said you had approved it."
"I told them I would prefer if they could refrain... I imagine they...misinterpreted my words." But what was done was done, and the Ordo would hopefully now-after several investigations- be satisfied.
The rest of the night went mostly downhill from there. Halfway through the night, several Kindred were possessed by an kind of entity she would later hear of as Strix, enemies of the ancient Kindred who sought their destruction. She was standing within reach of Akuete and Sirius when this happened...when almost the entire room erupted in frenzy. She had calmed down her old friend, thought to talk to him, thought to get to Kenzie...
...brushed aside, by their respective entourages. Ordered to attend the Ordo as they went about the city doing damage control for multiple Masquerade breaches. She wouldn't see her cousin or anyone else who had time for the rest of the night.
She was glad that Mercury had called it an early night go return to paintings. He had been inspired by a set on display earlier that had instilled in the both of them visions of a very personal nature. She wished she could figure out more of them, she wanted dearly to take the next step if what they had shown her was even remotely true...
But she couldn't see the path ahead anymore.
Miria threw the wineglass against the wall, tired, so tired, of nothing, no matter her action or inaction. There was a time I knew what was going on, there was a time I felt I did something meaningful. There was a time that things... happened, that I could affect.
Was that why "I" was Lance before? Was the world this... boring... for her? Somehow... I don't think it was. But I'll never know.
I'll never truly know.
It wasn't for lack of things happening at home that she felt frustrated over. She had failed in trying to keep Lukav alive. Talon chose not to heed her words, her advice and warnings that destroying him for what ultimately amounted to nothing would only bring trouble to his door. The new praxis that inevitably ensued installed her as the Seneschal. People were dying, there were still skin flaying monsters rampaging about Baton Rouge, a naval ship had imploded, court members were regularly getting kidnapped and ransomed... she had spent the last gathering running around downtown trying to get a gem the size of a small boulder to a place the spirit inside could be restrained while mortals that even got near it were dying, being reborn as zombies with skin flaying cravings that could shoot fire, lightning, ice, or acid at whatever was closest.
...it just seemed that no way of approaching it made a difference.
She didn't stop caring, but she did stop being surprised. And in the resulting stagnation, Miria began to despair.