Rapid Response, Lingering Thoughts
The parched soil of the desert floor was comforting. Not because it was familiar, but because it was timeless. Unlike seasonally changing forests, trees that counted rings each year, this dirt just was. Just like the timelessness of unlife.
To the desert, Liesel could have been here just last week, or a hundred years ago - it made no difference and not very much had changed. In a way, it lifted the burden of passing time, and that was refreshing; a sensation quite contrary to the bone-dry air.
Currently they were staking out Madson's Chantry. She was reminded of an excursion long ago, coming up through Francois' territory in (a much smaller) Dallas. Just before she had truly been assigned to focus efforts on the Northwest United States, under Nero.
Her jaw tensed, but no one was paying attention to her, just the Chantry, which was good. She had served under him for a very long time, without fail. Regardless of the cold demeanor with which most Tremere regard one another, idiosyncrasies get learned over time, a magus becomes less a thing and more a person - despite best efforts otherwise.
She had liked him. More than liked him. Admired him. Had been proud of him. Was content to serve under him. Even after his status within the Pyramid had been diminished, he had been her Lord and mentor, and she wanted to build him back up.
And then Alaric killed him. Without so much as a courtesy call.
Nero was foolish to have gone into his domain alone, to be sure - but Alaric didn't have to kill him, he chose to. For boons from the Brujah. For his quest to gain status from Pascek. For whatever else, maybe for Vaux. For reasons that she was bound to suppress - those were the ones that stung most.
He had trained her, challenged her mind, honed her skills. She had been his protégé and cherished his instruction. She had been meant to replace him, but not like this...
Liesel had given him the benefit of her age, connections, network, successes. In the end he had thrown it all to disregard. Why? Maybe there was something to the rumor that he was not of his own mind and will.
It left her feeling torn - but there wasn't much room for feelings in clan Tremere. If Nero hadn't been plotting to bring her down, he certainly hadn't been hindering those who were. Typical, non-committal Nero.
Now, it was what it was.
Even if she was better off that he was dead, she missed him.
With but a thought, she could recall the low sound of his voice; grooming him so that he struck an impressive visage on the occasions that demanded it. Countless hours they had shared considering politics and maneuvering, discussing philosophical principles. Mostly she recalled the bond of dry and sarcastic humor that had run between them.
*****
Hours later when her fingers touched the ashes of Lord Madson, she reminded herself to ask Germaine for some of Nero's.
To the desert, Liesel could have been here just last week, or a hundred years ago - it made no difference and not very much had changed. In a way, it lifted the burden of passing time, and that was refreshing; a sensation quite contrary to the bone-dry air.
Currently they were staking out Madson's Chantry. She was reminded of an excursion long ago, coming up through Francois' territory in (a much smaller) Dallas. Just before she had truly been assigned to focus efforts on the Northwest United States, under Nero.
Her jaw tensed, but no one was paying attention to her, just the Chantry, which was good. She had served under him for a very long time, without fail. Regardless of the cold demeanor with which most Tremere regard one another, idiosyncrasies get learned over time, a magus becomes less a thing and more a person - despite best efforts otherwise.
She had liked him. More than liked him. Admired him. Had been proud of him. Was content to serve under him. Even after his status within the Pyramid had been diminished, he had been her Lord and mentor, and she wanted to build him back up.
And then Alaric killed him. Without so much as a courtesy call.
Nero was foolish to have gone into his domain alone, to be sure - but Alaric didn't have to kill him, he chose to. For boons from the Brujah. For his quest to gain status from Pascek. For whatever else, maybe for Vaux. For reasons that she was bound to suppress - those were the ones that stung most.
He had trained her, challenged her mind, honed her skills. She had been his protégé and cherished his instruction. She had been meant to replace him, but not like this...
Liesel had given him the benefit of her age, connections, network, successes. In the end he had thrown it all to disregard. Why? Maybe there was something to the rumor that he was not of his own mind and will.
It left her feeling torn - but there wasn't much room for feelings in clan Tremere. If Nero hadn't been plotting to bring her down, he certainly hadn't been hindering those who were. Typical, non-committal Nero.
Now, it was what it was.
Even if she was better off that he was dead, she missed him.
With but a thought, she could recall the low sound of his voice; grooming him so that he struck an impressive visage on the occasions that demanded it. Countless hours they had shared considering politics and maneuvering, discussing philosophical principles. Mostly she recalled the bond of dry and sarcastic humor that had run between them.
*****
Hours later when her fingers touched the ashes of Lord Madson, she reminded herself to ask Germaine for some of Nero's.