{Savage} Danse Macabre (Part II)
Regarding the slender, white clad man before him for moment, Johannes’ face regained some of its earlier stoic pose of duty and determination. His jaw set, his gloved hands at his sides, the answer rolled off his tongue easily…almost as if it were a thing rehearsed, but with a curious, driving emphasis.
“There was a time I believed I would be victorious over my enemies solely due to the blood running through my veins. The pure and noble heritage of my family knew no defeat, and it was easy for me then to see I was destined to continue the tradition.”
“Service. Duty. Loyalty,” the words were spoken with such a quiet passion that there was not a shred of doubt to his sincerity, nor the conviction those words held for him. “These were not pretty words spoken by politicians, but dictates from my veins.”
“Though some time later I found that though my geneology had provided me with great strength, it was not a laurel upon which I could restfully lay. My blood demanded action, demanded sacrifice. To show my ancestors my worth and my adherence to their precedent, I myself would prove that I was the best, doing more with my noble line than any had before.”
During the impassioned speech, his eyes had grown slightly distant with memory but now, they returned to the room and the object of his dissertation. Looking directly at Beau, once more he continued.
“I do not rest on the name of my, our, blood. My place in this family was taught to me long before I received my Sire's kiss, but with it the same ethic that had been indoctrinated as a child -- there is no greater value than that of service to something greater. Some see that 'something greater' as their own personal kingdoms or the destruction of their rivals. I, as every member of this line who carries his great name, have done and proven true the example set by our progenitor. We all serve. The Invictus holds within it none more noble than we. None. We enrich kindred society itself with our action. Many within this Estate see their nights pass in quiet idleness. We ensure our nights are filled with successes and triumphs.”
“Since my birth, reinforced in my rebirth, no man, woman, nor government could hope to cause me ruin, cause me failure. Since my births I have risen to every occasion granted me, and when none were presented I took victory and opportunity from my enemy to place it at the feet of my betters. Ever has it been since my embrace. I have destroyed werewolves assaulting your Sire and my Grandsire, seen the putrid blood stain the halls of gather. I have stood at Lord Savage's back, daring Jared Cade's horde to strike at us, and smote all who attempted. Twice. I have destroyed Gangrel who would seek to escape Prince Salvatore's wrath by launching themselves off rooftops, and ensured the safety of four members of the Trust, as well as the First Estate entire, at a large gathering in San Francisco early this year.”
“Ever have I done all possible to further the Savage name, and with it that of Invictus. Unconquered. Unconquerable. First and most noble-born. Ever have I fought on grounds both social and martial four our continued strengths and the destruction of our weaknesses.”
His jaw tight, Johannes continued, eyes burning with inner fire, “In service to my nation I lived by a simple phrase -- 'We give death. We take death.' It was the solemn vow of a once-great organization defeated by corruption and the lack of order. I would not see the First Estate, our Line, or any city we rule descend into wanton corruption and filth -- I now am in a position to further this, our, state as I never have been before. With or without the Savage name my battles will continue, but it would be a fool's errand to deny the strengthening of our line.”
“I have laid myself before the wicked talons of Lord Severus, the diabolic gaze of Lord Salvatore, the unwaveringly cruel voice of Lady Evelyn, and before even the beast unmatched within Lord Edward Savage himself. All of these and more have regarded my words and my countenance as you do now. All of them have seen the undying flames of action that carry my every motion. There are some within our Covenant who do not act. There are some within our Covenant who do not uphold the tenants. There are some within our Covenant who would best serve by dying a traitor's death. I assure you, dread Uncle, there are none who escape my sights unmarked. None who refuse this line nor this Covenant's true wishes and find themeselves safe from my sword.”
“My blood, this vitae, is not red from patriotism nor oxygen. This vitae is crimson to stain all it touches, to leave a mark on any who dare upset it. To represent the fire, the hate, and the purpose we serve.”
“We are Unconquered. I am Unconquered. Together we are a rock upon which the waves break and the castle depends. I am Savage in all but name, Uncle. Six weeks hence shall see if the line entire agrees.”
Finally, as the emphatic near-tirade ground to a halt, Johannes nodded slightly in respect, both to his uncle and to the Savage family crest hung over the fireplace. Straightening, his face remained as impassive as ever, though the pride this man felt in House and Blood was painted on his face, hiding just beneath the surface of a face otherwise devoid of expression.
Through it all, Beau sat quiescently, his head tilted to the side in study of Johannes. Carefully waiting, he’d turned his head to the side to regard his chalice after the first few moments, feigning boredom and disinterest. He hadn’t looked at the man a single time during the entirety of it, sipping from the cup and watching the fire as if allowing the entirety of the oration to wash over him without effect, though he could not see any effect in the man from it.
He stared on, allowing the moment to drag out while he considered all of Johannes’ words, staring into the flickering light of the fire. When he did allow his head to turn, the other man might as well have been a piece of furniture for all that he was noticed by his uncle’s roving eye. Beau focused on this and that, digesting and waiting, letting Johannes draw the impression that he had been forgotten as easily as the ghoul who poured for them.
‘Wait it out, let the silence drag on uncomfortably as if you had been caught up in other thoughts…now. Finally, Beau’s eyes turned upward once more, the movement languid and lazy, in keeping with all of the others but his eyes did not come to rest on Johannes’. Instead they stopped just over Johannes's head, a lord keeping his eyes above the height of one who is not his equal.
“I have heard of your career as a soldier, mon petit Neveu, and of your career amongst the damned. You have, in fact, done very well by your chosen Covenant, the Clan which gives you Blood, and the House who shared it with you. These facts are incontrovertible and as hard as you, dear nephew.”
The smile returned to his face, but no longer smoking or friendly, nor even warm…it fell well short of his dead white eyes. He sipped from his cup, savoring the taste a moment before speaking again. This was a thing that needed to be carefully done, to get past this one’s command of himself and draw out the wrath he hid away. In truth, there were few who focused their wrath so beautifully as Johannes, but it was not yet time for approval.
“Clan Ventrue has many who are cruel, determined, dedicated, and dutiful. The First Estate has many more, due to the resources of many Clans at once. House Savage has provided both with many in their time, but therein lies the crux of the matter at hand.”
Now. As he set aside the cup he focused his blood, flooding it into flesh and bone, he moved with a speed no human could ever match and fetched up just short of Johannes, nose to nose. Eyes, lazily hooded yet, met his nephew’s with a burning intensity that he hadn’t allowed to show in many...many years. All but his beloved Sire and Grandsire had been allowed to believe him a bored, dissolute, empty dilettante with no passion left in him, and it suited him that it was thus. If none of the others knew him well enough, understood his purpose in living beyond the bounds of life, it served him far better. He allowed his eyes to remain half closed while they burned with their fanatic light and his voice was honeyed with deceptive mildness, at odds with the sudden movement, posture, and burning gaze.
Scorn laced the mildness, carefully placed threads of it designed to strike at Pride and to spark Wrath. “You say that your excellent service record has made you worthy of learning what it means to truly become Savage? We have many soldiers...you are one of many, and while good that does not distinguish you as worthy.” A smile crept back onto his lips, unbidden. “It distinguishes you as a servant.”
The Alder Ventrue turned slowly away from his young counterpart, turning his back to him in a rather deliberate display of either contempt or trust, the difference could be split by a razor's edge and the ability to do so clouded with rage if his barbs had found purchase. Lazily, as if entirely unafraid of having this dangerous man at his back, he reached out to take up the cup once more and moved to open the doors of the balcony. He stared out over the water, letting the crash of the waves soothe his irritation at Johannes’ lack of response.
‘You don’t want him to fail, so be pleased, for the love of God.’
Still, there was more. One last slap and then they would move to either further discourse or to fight, if the German’s iron control gave out at last.
“You will give your all, your everything for this House. It is what you are.”
He turned his head slightly to the side, letting Johannes drift into his peripheral vision, but not giving him the courtesy of turning to face him fully. Still treating him as one would a servant or a harmless, fangless wolf. He saturated his voice with quiet amusement and mockery and spoke.
“Any of us would do so, whether we have awoken the blood or no. You are not special because of that, Chere.”
“There was a time I believed I would be victorious over my enemies solely due to the blood running through my veins. The pure and noble heritage of my family knew no defeat, and it was easy for me then to see I was destined to continue the tradition.”
“Service. Duty. Loyalty,” the words were spoken with such a quiet passion that there was not a shred of doubt to his sincerity, nor the conviction those words held for him. “These were not pretty words spoken by politicians, but dictates from my veins.”
“Though some time later I found that though my geneology had provided me with great strength, it was not a laurel upon which I could restfully lay. My blood demanded action, demanded sacrifice. To show my ancestors my worth and my adherence to their precedent, I myself would prove that I was the best, doing more with my noble line than any had before.”
During the impassioned speech, his eyes had grown slightly distant with memory but now, they returned to the room and the object of his dissertation. Looking directly at Beau, once more he continued.
“I do not rest on the name of my, our, blood. My place in this family was taught to me long before I received my Sire's kiss, but with it the same ethic that had been indoctrinated as a child -- there is no greater value than that of service to something greater. Some see that 'something greater' as their own personal kingdoms or the destruction of their rivals. I, as every member of this line who carries his great name, have done and proven true the example set by our progenitor. We all serve. The Invictus holds within it none more noble than we. None. We enrich kindred society itself with our action. Many within this Estate see their nights pass in quiet idleness. We ensure our nights are filled with successes and triumphs.”
“Since my birth, reinforced in my rebirth, no man, woman, nor government could hope to cause me ruin, cause me failure. Since my births I have risen to every occasion granted me, and when none were presented I took victory and opportunity from my enemy to place it at the feet of my betters. Ever has it been since my embrace. I have destroyed werewolves assaulting your Sire and my Grandsire, seen the putrid blood stain the halls of gather. I have stood at Lord Savage's back, daring Jared Cade's horde to strike at us, and smote all who attempted. Twice. I have destroyed Gangrel who would seek to escape Prince Salvatore's wrath by launching themselves off rooftops, and ensured the safety of four members of the Trust, as well as the First Estate entire, at a large gathering in San Francisco early this year.”
“Ever have I done all possible to further the Savage name, and with it that of Invictus. Unconquered. Unconquerable. First and most noble-born. Ever have I fought on grounds both social and martial four our continued strengths and the destruction of our weaknesses.”
His jaw tight, Johannes continued, eyes burning with inner fire, “In service to my nation I lived by a simple phrase -- 'We give death. We take death.' It was the solemn vow of a once-great organization defeated by corruption and the lack of order. I would not see the First Estate, our Line, or any city we rule descend into wanton corruption and filth -- I now am in a position to further this, our, state as I never have been before. With or without the Savage name my battles will continue, but it would be a fool's errand to deny the strengthening of our line.”
“I have laid myself before the wicked talons of Lord Severus, the diabolic gaze of Lord Salvatore, the unwaveringly cruel voice of Lady Evelyn, and before even the beast unmatched within Lord Edward Savage himself. All of these and more have regarded my words and my countenance as you do now. All of them have seen the undying flames of action that carry my every motion. There are some within our Covenant who do not act. There are some within our Covenant who do not uphold the tenants. There are some within our Covenant who would best serve by dying a traitor's death. I assure you, dread Uncle, there are none who escape my sights unmarked. None who refuse this line nor this Covenant's true wishes and find themeselves safe from my sword.”
“My blood, this vitae, is not red from patriotism nor oxygen. This vitae is crimson to stain all it touches, to leave a mark on any who dare upset it. To represent the fire, the hate, and the purpose we serve.”
“We are Unconquered. I am Unconquered. Together we are a rock upon which the waves break and the castle depends. I am Savage in all but name, Uncle. Six weeks hence shall see if the line entire agrees.”
Finally, as the emphatic near-tirade ground to a halt, Johannes nodded slightly in respect, both to his uncle and to the Savage family crest hung over the fireplace. Straightening, his face remained as impassive as ever, though the pride this man felt in House and Blood was painted on his face, hiding just beneath the surface of a face otherwise devoid of expression.
Through it all, Beau sat quiescently, his head tilted to the side in study of Johannes. Carefully waiting, he’d turned his head to the side to regard his chalice after the first few moments, feigning boredom and disinterest. He hadn’t looked at the man a single time during the entirety of it, sipping from the cup and watching the fire as if allowing the entirety of the oration to wash over him without effect, though he could not see any effect in the man from it.
He stared on, allowing the moment to drag out while he considered all of Johannes’ words, staring into the flickering light of the fire. When he did allow his head to turn, the other man might as well have been a piece of furniture for all that he was noticed by his uncle’s roving eye. Beau focused on this and that, digesting and waiting, letting Johannes draw the impression that he had been forgotten as easily as the ghoul who poured for them.
‘Wait it out, let the silence drag on uncomfortably as if you had been caught up in other thoughts…now. Finally, Beau’s eyes turned upward once more, the movement languid and lazy, in keeping with all of the others but his eyes did not come to rest on Johannes’. Instead they stopped just over Johannes's head, a lord keeping his eyes above the height of one who is not his equal.
“I have heard of your career as a soldier, mon petit Neveu, and of your career amongst the damned. You have, in fact, done very well by your chosen Covenant, the Clan which gives you Blood, and the House who shared it with you. These facts are incontrovertible and as hard as you, dear nephew.”
The smile returned to his face, but no longer smoking or friendly, nor even warm…it fell well short of his dead white eyes. He sipped from his cup, savoring the taste a moment before speaking again. This was a thing that needed to be carefully done, to get past this one’s command of himself and draw out the wrath he hid away. In truth, there were few who focused their wrath so beautifully as Johannes, but it was not yet time for approval.
“Clan Ventrue has many who are cruel, determined, dedicated, and dutiful. The First Estate has many more, due to the resources of many Clans at once. House Savage has provided both with many in their time, but therein lies the crux of the matter at hand.”
Now. As he set aside the cup he focused his blood, flooding it into flesh and bone, he moved with a speed no human could ever match and fetched up just short of Johannes, nose to nose. Eyes, lazily hooded yet, met his nephew’s with a burning intensity that he hadn’t allowed to show in many...many years. All but his beloved Sire and Grandsire had been allowed to believe him a bored, dissolute, empty dilettante with no passion left in him, and it suited him that it was thus. If none of the others knew him well enough, understood his purpose in living beyond the bounds of life, it served him far better. He allowed his eyes to remain half closed while they burned with their fanatic light and his voice was honeyed with deceptive mildness, at odds with the sudden movement, posture, and burning gaze.
Scorn laced the mildness, carefully placed threads of it designed to strike at Pride and to spark Wrath. “You say that your excellent service record has made you worthy of learning what it means to truly become Savage? We have many soldiers...you are one of many, and while good that does not distinguish you as worthy.” A smile crept back onto his lips, unbidden. “It distinguishes you as a servant.”
The Alder Ventrue turned slowly away from his young counterpart, turning his back to him in a rather deliberate display of either contempt or trust, the difference could be split by a razor's edge and the ability to do so clouded with rage if his barbs had found purchase. Lazily, as if entirely unafraid of having this dangerous man at his back, he reached out to take up the cup once more and moved to open the doors of the balcony. He stared out over the water, letting the crash of the waves soothe his irritation at Johannes’ lack of response.
‘You don’t want him to fail, so be pleased, for the love of God.’
Still, there was more. One last slap and then they would move to either further discourse or to fight, if the German’s iron control gave out at last.
“You will give your all, your everything for this House. It is what you are.”
He turned his head slightly to the side, letting Johannes drift into his peripheral vision, but not giving him the courtesy of turning to face him fully. Still treating him as one would a servant or a harmless, fangless wolf. He saturated his voice with quiet amusement and mockery and spoke.
“Any of us would do so, whether we have awoken the blood or no. You are not special because of that, Chere.”