Portsmouth, NH October 23, 2005
It is too late to make the drive back to my home in Connecticut tonight, not with the sudden arrival of rain and the pain from the cuts and holes in my flesh. Victory was had, and none who left on the bloody errand were lost. In hindsight there were a thousand ways it could have been better executed, but there were a million ways in which events could have played out worse. The Dirae fight well together, though perhaps I might suggest that they take a few nights in the upcoming months and train for what is to come. Concentrate on learning to harness the gifts of their lineage in ways which complement one another. Every one of the family lines here in New England must do this as I think about it. Perhaps I will raise the topic with my father, Marcus, Alexsandyr, Elauit, and Lilly. And to take it another step beyond the work alongside family, gather members of each house and begin forging out of them a weapon with which to slay our foe. I have the knowledge gleaned from training with the converted Children, the experience facing Geneve and fighting beside the Treasure’s Childer in the past, and also possess ties to nearly every one of the larger Kindred families nearby. All of which can be used to bring us together. We are past the time to put these plans in motion. My father counsels patience. Yet every night builds their numbers and knowledge of us. We must act, strike when the enemy expects patience from a direction they do not expect and on a field of your own choosing. I must make him understand. My Sire is a great leader, but he does not understand war. Not as I, or Simon, or the others who have bled in battles both mortal and Kindred do.
My car has been sitting for a few minutes in the drive in front of my father’s house while I ponder all these things. The rain is hammering against the windshield and there is quite a strong wind blowing. We have had our last night of joy this year to celebrate the passage of time, and fresh from its bounty struck a blow for our cause. The season is changing, and winter has always brought with it change to Portsmouth. We are moving towards the part of the year in which my house has traditionally risen in power. Even as the nights deepen so too does our fist clench about the neck of Fate, bringing her to heel. When this rain turns to ice our resolve shall likewise turn cold and hard.
I open the car door and step out, immediately feeling the heavy drops of water splashing against my skin and then finding their way into the open wounds under my coat. Streaks of ash loosen and begin to wash away while I stand out in the downpour. I close my eyes and call on the power of the Blood to enhance my senses, magnifying the feel of the rain on my body, the smell of the weather and the season, the sound of the storm. For a few seconds I imagine that this is what it is like to be alive. I can hardly remember anymore, only in the heat of battle or in the arms of my love. A moment like this is so fleeting I cling to it with all my strength. I can feel an awareness in my Blood, no doubt my Sire sensing my arrival and the power of the experience.
Standing there, I think back to the last few moments before the Malcolm’s sword cut through my armor and I tumbled into darkness. I know I had wounded him terribly, knew instinctively that there was fear in his heart as the vitae inside him was consumed hungrily by his powers in order to battle me, even after having struggled against Nona. I knew even as I fell that Luther or Pawel would finish the work, closing like hounds on the chase as they were. In the state which I had achieved, the perfect union of the man and the Beast working together, there was a clarity and a strength of will to be found which I had not experienced before. What I was not prepared for was the burning thirst in me when I awoke, or the desires I would have to conquer before I could bring myself back under control. In the end I feel now some sense of having tasted both the blood of Malcolm and of Evelyn, though they are faint and distant to me. The binding comfort of my ties to Rebecca remains strong, made all the more so by my feelings for her. If the strange mirror truly shows my deepest desire, then what I witnessed inside only proves the words I have spoken to her.
I can feel that dawn is not too far off. Father is moving through the house towards the door to let me in. Reaching back into the car I withdraw a wrapped bundle. Inside rests the sword of another of the Saint George’s foes. Another who would stand against our destiny, by usurping the place of those who would be our allies. Our house must gather others to our banner, must forge them in blood and oaths to a common cause. This night it was the Dirae who become sealed closer to us. Soon we must move on to the others, until our ancient enemy looks upon us and sees not one small serpent in a nest of backbiting vipers, but as the alpha of a wolf pack which is circling him for the kill.
The door opens and I approach. We will talk of the past night before I depart tomorrow and of what is to come.
For tonight, I am weary and desire nothing but peace.
My car has been sitting for a few minutes in the drive in front of my father’s house while I ponder all these things. The rain is hammering against the windshield and there is quite a strong wind blowing. We have had our last night of joy this year to celebrate the passage of time, and fresh from its bounty struck a blow for our cause. The season is changing, and winter has always brought with it change to Portsmouth. We are moving towards the part of the year in which my house has traditionally risen in power. Even as the nights deepen so too does our fist clench about the neck of Fate, bringing her to heel. When this rain turns to ice our resolve shall likewise turn cold and hard.
I open the car door and step out, immediately feeling the heavy drops of water splashing against my skin and then finding their way into the open wounds under my coat. Streaks of ash loosen and begin to wash away while I stand out in the downpour. I close my eyes and call on the power of the Blood to enhance my senses, magnifying the feel of the rain on my body, the smell of the weather and the season, the sound of the storm. For a few seconds I imagine that this is what it is like to be alive. I can hardly remember anymore, only in the heat of battle or in the arms of my love. A moment like this is so fleeting I cling to it with all my strength. I can feel an awareness in my Blood, no doubt my Sire sensing my arrival and the power of the experience.
Standing there, I think back to the last few moments before the Malcolm’s sword cut through my armor and I tumbled into darkness. I know I had wounded him terribly, knew instinctively that there was fear in his heart as the vitae inside him was consumed hungrily by his powers in order to battle me, even after having struggled against Nona. I knew even as I fell that Luther or Pawel would finish the work, closing like hounds on the chase as they were. In the state which I had achieved, the perfect union of the man and the Beast working together, there was a clarity and a strength of will to be found which I had not experienced before. What I was not prepared for was the burning thirst in me when I awoke, or the desires I would have to conquer before I could bring myself back under control. In the end I feel now some sense of having tasted both the blood of Malcolm and of Evelyn, though they are faint and distant to me. The binding comfort of my ties to Rebecca remains strong, made all the more so by my feelings for her. If the strange mirror truly shows my deepest desire, then what I witnessed inside only proves the words I have spoken to her.
I can feel that dawn is not too far off. Father is moving through the house towards the door to let me in. Reaching back into the car I withdraw a wrapped bundle. Inside rests the sword of another of the Saint George’s foes. Another who would stand against our destiny, by usurping the place of those who would be our allies. Our house must gather others to our banner, must forge them in blood and oaths to a common cause. This night it was the Dirae who become sealed closer to us. Soon we must move on to the others, until our ancient enemy looks upon us and sees not one small serpent in a nest of backbiting vipers, but as the alpha of a wolf pack which is circling him for the kill.
The door opens and I approach. We will talk of the past night before I depart tomorrow and of what is to come.
For tonight, I am weary and desire nothing but peace.