"They blazed a trail I dared to run...
They built this world and I have come
I need another, like a brother, for a cryin' shoulder
This could be the last time you will stand by my side
I can feel my soul - it's bleeding -
Will you fly with me this evening...?"
Saturday was Runnymede Cam/Wraith. Atmospherically it was good, and it was obvious the STs had put in a lot of work and have every right to be proud of it. Still, I wish I hadn’t gone...
It did seem that the translation from vampire to wraith was uneven, with a few people being able to do everything and most others lagging spectacularly. (I was kinda disappointed that my four year old character had only two 2nd level basic powers as a wraith, neither of which were in the least use to me.) The most fun and activity my character had was a brief talk with CheeseApple about optimism biscuits (sort of like jammy dodgers). The two things that my character had ever been deeply involved in had been taken away from her for various reasons, and she had for other reasons been purposefully kept away from plot for the past couple of months. Feh. So I suppose it should have come as no surprise that she did not get to personally achieve any of her goals, and the good things which were achieved were nothing to do with her. Still, everyone else seemed to have a really crispy time so I should stop being blongey on the subject.
Cinnamon smiled as she watched those she knew walk through the gate of the Orpheum. She hoped that the tears stinging her eyes were clear - harder to spot in the gloom than blood.
Tobias, arm in arm with Sophie Christie and one of Max's childer, gave her a grin which faltered at the last second. "You are - you are coming aren't you?"
"It's where you're all going isn't it?" she replied, making his smile lift again. "Oh - do make sure Bruce doesn't lag," she added as she caught sight of the other Malkavian.
Bruce had seen her too and weaved his way to her side. "What you waiting for?" he asked, genuinely confused, tugging at her sleeve.
She shook him off with a smile. "I want to watch. I want to walk in last."
"Why?" He was suspicious.
"Because then I know for sure. I know for sure everyone who is meant to be safe is safe and no one got left out."
Bruce shrugged and relaxed again at that - it was such a Cinnamon thing to want. "I'll watch too then."
"I suppose I ought to look for CheeseApple in a minute," she mused. "You can bet I'll have to drag him in by his ear."
"That's because he's naughty," her clan-brother said. And Cinnamon did not disagree.
The two Malkavians sat down a few paces off and watched as one by one the ex-kindred of Runnymede stepped through the gate. There was - as there always seemed to be in the Camarilla - an ongoing debate as to what lay through the Orpheum, as well as what had been achieved, what had been lost and who was to blame. Amidst the bickering and conversation two or three of the company scattered instead, having their own reasons to trust their luck to the shadowlands rather than a supposed paradise.
"What about Cass?"
Cinnamon looked doubtful and unhappy. "I don't know."
"You should ask your cards," Bruce opinioned. "They always know things."
She looked as if she would disagree but then appeared to change her mind and let the deck slip out of its box. Eyes closed she cut the cards, dealing a hand on the dusty ground.
Bruce fidgeted and peered for the best view. "What do they say?" he demanded with a six year old's impatience.
Her fingers traced over the card faces. The Fool and five of knives. Seven and four of wands. The Star. Strength. The Moon, six of knives, the Adversary and the Magician. She sat stock-still for a moment, untangling the web of cause and effect in her head. Suddenly her finger jabbed triumphantly at a card and, "She's there!" she said.
"Where?" Bruce demanded, trying to interpret Cinnamon's slightly manic look. "Eh? You mean in heaven?"
She nodded emphatically. "North too - he did it - he got them there - I don't know how..."
He scrabbled to his feet keen to see the missing Family members, but stopped and looked back down at Cinnamon imploringly.
She laughed. "Go on," she ordered. An exasperated smile. "I won't be five minutes - promise. Go and find us all a good spot for a floor party."
Bruce rolled his eyes, but turned at last to the portal as his Primogen bid. "I'll set my alarm you know," he warned, pointing exaggeratedly at his wrist-watch.
She smiled.
Sean crouched beside her, watching her as she watched her clan-mate's departure. "You never did teach me how to read tarot," he said, glancing down at her cards. She made a non-committal noise and hastily gathered them back into their box. "Bruce said you wanted to wait an' go last... that's cool." He was talking half to himself, filling up her silences as he always had. He wondered if she was aware that a certain Ventrue had elected to stay in the city rather than risk being 'cast down' should hell catch his scent. Dammit - the Gangrel could hardly care less, but Cinnamon would be upset. He glanced up, trying to spot the last Prince of Hertfordshire, but couldn't see him. "Um, Cinnamon, y'know that Max isn't..."
"I know." She cut him off tightly.
"Right," Sean swallowed, hastily backing away from that subject.
The courtyard was finally empty. The Malkavian got to her feet and dusted off her trousers, tapping the tips of her boots on the ground to get her legs used to standing again.
Sean took hold of her hand and they walked the few scant meters to the gate. The Gangrel looked between the portal and the Malkavian, glad of a safe haven with all he loved - his hard won prize at last within his keeping. No more saving the world, no more fighting, no more silly fuckers messing it up for the good guys - hah - and no CheeseApple in sight either!
She paused at the very brink of the gate. The Gangrel looked at her, eyes wide with the anticipation of happiness. She leant close and, “I love you forever,” she whispered.
He grinned. “I love you too.”
The smile faded from her eyes. “I love you,” she repeated sadly. “Now go away.”
The boy opened his mouth to argue, confusion clouding his face, but before the words left his lips Cinnamon was pushing him, and leaning through her, suffusing her features in shadow was CheeseApple. Both the girl and her shadow drove a solid hit against his breastbone that took Sean by surprise and forced him to step back to regain his balance - a small step, but one that took him through the Orpheum.
The Malkavian and her Kiabit stared after him as the blinding light of heaven swallowed him up. Tears were falling freely from her eyes but she made no sound and her face was set in a mask which grimly refused to crack. She stood for a moment, trying to regain her sense of self after she had so ruthlessly decimated it.
CheeseApple was uncommonly silent - respectful almost - perhaps he recognised just what the act had cost her and was proud.
Cinnamon wiped her eyes roughly on the back of her hand, as if that could stop the tears, and turned away from the portal. She crouched down briefly to speak to little sekhmet and skritch the kitten behind the ears. “Come on,” she whispered. “We’d better get going.” Sekhmet looked back to the Orpheum, and then followed her mistress.
Max peeled himself away from the gloom of the alcove where he had been watching and fell in step companionably beside her. "Not for you the lofty adulations of heaven, hm?" he asked lightly, quoting from Cinnamon knew not where.
She sniffed and ignored him.
Max discarded his easy smile and stepped smartly in front of her, halting her progress and holding her by the shoulders. "Cinnamon." He gave her a little shake, wanting her to meet his gaze. "Cinnamon where are you going?"
She stayed stiff and silent, staring at his shirt collar.
"The door's back there. Paradise is back there - Sean is back there - your friends are back there - all the ones you ever missed - they're back there."
"Not all of them," she muttered mutinously.
He brushed her argument aside as he started to gently turn her around. "Isn't it fascinating how some people walk off into their own stories and not into the generic 'happy-ever-after'?"
"Max!" Angrily she pushed his hands away. "I'm not a child any more!" Her words were caught between a growl and a sob. "I can't make-believe the bad things away! And I can't follow them," she gestured to the Orpheum. "They've earnt it - they've won. I haven't. I still have things to do."
His expression was grave and only slightly mocking. "And what lost souls have you still to collect?"
She looked at her boots. "Lots," she murmured. He still seemed to be waiting so reluctantly she gave him her list. "All the ones I promised. Bedlam. Cass an' North. Surreal. Merlin. Jon an' Rodriguez an' the Lady Venture. You. The skeletons an' my ship. And anyone else who's fallen through the cracks."
Max picked imaginary bits of lint from his shirt cuff. "Quite the schedule," he commented airily, stepping to the side so she could pass, unhindered. "Well then, I would hate to detain you further, your time is obviously a dear commodity."
Numb, biting her lip and hating his pointless flippancy and his even more pointless Ventrue airs, Cinnamon walked away. At the edge of the city she turned to gaze back for the last time - and beheld Maximilian not three paces from her. She stared at him as if he was mad.
Max made a little affected gesture signaling, 'oh - you mean what am I doing?'. "I'm saving you time. No no, don't thank me, I'm a terrible travelling companion - most inconvenient I'm sure - but this way it saves you having to come back to find me."
She refused to acknowledge hope. "What about your city you have to look after?"
"Oh that? Hah - I can do both!"
"You can't quest with me and watch over..."
"I can," the Ventrue interrupted indignantly. "Who says I can't? Look at this..." He faced the necropolis and surveyed it sternly. "City of Arawn - I command you to surround the gate of the Orpheum and not to fall down." Obligingly and by continuing to exist, the city fulfilled the order. Max spread his arms. "See? Perfectly possible."
A tiny smile dared the frozen landscape of her face. "You're a loon," she muttered.
"How rude! I most certainly - might be a little bit," he finished smoothly. "Have you any idea where Bedlam is? Or any of the others for that matter?"
"No."
"I was afraid you'd say that."
In other news utterly unrelated, this morning before work I had a conversation with my father about the fact he currently has no money (is owed a substantial amount, but currently really seriously is at the end of his debt-stretching financial tether.) But that was more of a side note to the main subject of my mother and her 'scattiness'. To whit, it has got much worse and really cannot be ignored despite the fact that she keeps trying to cover it up and refuses to acknowledge it. My elder two and younger siblings are all freaking in a most unhelpful way which only heightens my mother's wish to pretend all is well with her world. When my mother returns from Portsmouth there are going to be several talks had, all of them containing the command, "Go to the doctor."
Also today the optical computer mouse didn't work all day at the book shop today. Have you any idea how impossible that makes it to run our catalogue programme thing? Search for books? Couldn't. Order books? Couldn't. Click on anything? Wouldn't. Move where one directed it? Didn't. Make me want to smash it into pieces? Oh certainly. I ended up working out all the keyboard short-cuts by swift and long experimentation. Blergh.
I need another, like a brother, for a cryin' shoulder
This could be the last time you will stand by my side
I can feel my soul - it's bleeding -
Will you fly with me this evening...?"
Saturday was Runnymede Cam/Wraith. Atmospherically it was good, and it was obvious the STs had put in a lot of work and have every right to be proud of it. Still, I wish I hadn’t gone...
It did seem that the translation from vampire to wraith was uneven, with a few people being able to do everything and most others lagging spectacularly. (I was kinda disappointed that my four year old character had only two 2nd level basic powers as a wraith, neither of which were in the least use to me.) The most fun and activity my character had was a brief talk with CheeseApple about optimism biscuits (sort of like jammy dodgers). The two things that my character had ever been deeply involved in had been taken away from her for various reasons, and she had for other reasons been purposefully kept away from plot for the past couple of months. Feh. So I suppose it should have come as no surprise that she did not get to personally achieve any of her goals, and the good things which were achieved were nothing to do with her. Still, everyone else seemed to have a really crispy time so I should stop being blongey on the subject.
Cinnamon smiled as she watched those she knew walk through the gate of the Orpheum. She hoped that the tears stinging her eyes were clear - harder to spot in the gloom than blood.
Tobias, arm in arm with Sophie Christie and one of Max's childer, gave her a grin which faltered at the last second. "You are - you are coming aren't you?"
"It's where you're all going isn't it?" she replied, making his smile lift again. "Oh - do make sure Bruce doesn't lag," she added as she caught sight of the other Malkavian.
Bruce had seen her too and weaved his way to her side. "What you waiting for?" he asked, genuinely confused, tugging at her sleeve.
She shook him off with a smile. "I want to watch. I want to walk in last."
"Why?" He was suspicious.
"Because then I know for sure. I know for sure everyone who is meant to be safe is safe and no one got left out."
Bruce shrugged and relaxed again at that - it was such a Cinnamon thing to want. "I'll watch too then."
"I suppose I ought to look for CheeseApple in a minute," she mused. "You can bet I'll have to drag him in by his ear."
"That's because he's naughty," her clan-brother said. And Cinnamon did not disagree.
The two Malkavians sat down a few paces off and watched as one by one the ex-kindred of Runnymede stepped through the gate. There was - as there always seemed to be in the Camarilla - an ongoing debate as to what lay through the Orpheum, as well as what had been achieved, what had been lost and who was to blame. Amidst the bickering and conversation two or three of the company scattered instead, having their own reasons to trust their luck to the shadowlands rather than a supposed paradise.
"What about Cass?"
Cinnamon looked doubtful and unhappy. "I don't know."
"You should ask your cards," Bruce opinioned. "They always know things."
She looked as if she would disagree but then appeared to change her mind and let the deck slip out of its box. Eyes closed she cut the cards, dealing a hand on the dusty ground.
Bruce fidgeted and peered for the best view. "What do they say?" he demanded with a six year old's impatience.
Her fingers traced over the card faces. The Fool and five of knives. Seven and four of wands. The Star. Strength. The Moon, six of knives, the Adversary and the Magician. She sat stock-still for a moment, untangling the web of cause and effect in her head. Suddenly her finger jabbed triumphantly at a card and, "She's there!" she said.
"Where?" Bruce demanded, trying to interpret Cinnamon's slightly manic look. "Eh? You mean in heaven?"
She nodded emphatically. "North too - he did it - he got them there - I don't know how..."
He scrabbled to his feet keen to see the missing Family members, but stopped and looked back down at Cinnamon imploringly.
She laughed. "Go on," she ordered. An exasperated smile. "I won't be five minutes - promise. Go and find us all a good spot for a floor party."
Bruce rolled his eyes, but turned at last to the portal as his Primogen bid. "I'll set my alarm you know," he warned, pointing exaggeratedly at his wrist-watch.
She smiled.
Sean crouched beside her, watching her as she watched her clan-mate's departure. "You never did teach me how to read tarot," he said, glancing down at her cards. She made a non-committal noise and hastily gathered them back into their box. "Bruce said you wanted to wait an' go last... that's cool." He was talking half to himself, filling up her silences as he always had. He wondered if she was aware that a certain Ventrue had elected to stay in the city rather than risk being 'cast down' should hell catch his scent. Dammit - the Gangrel could hardly care less, but Cinnamon would be upset. He glanced up, trying to spot the last Prince of Hertfordshire, but couldn't see him. "Um, Cinnamon, y'know that Max isn't..."
"I know." She cut him off tightly.
"Right," Sean swallowed, hastily backing away from that subject.
The courtyard was finally empty. The Malkavian got to her feet and dusted off her trousers, tapping the tips of her boots on the ground to get her legs used to standing again.
Sean took hold of her hand and they walked the few scant meters to the gate. The Gangrel looked between the portal and the Malkavian, glad of a safe haven with all he loved - his hard won prize at last within his keeping. No more saving the world, no more fighting, no more silly fuckers messing it up for the good guys - hah - and no CheeseApple in sight either!
She paused at the very brink of the gate. The Gangrel looked at her, eyes wide with the anticipation of happiness. She leant close and, “I love you forever,” she whispered.
He grinned. “I love you too.”
The smile faded from her eyes. “I love you,” she repeated sadly. “Now go away.”
The boy opened his mouth to argue, confusion clouding his face, but before the words left his lips Cinnamon was pushing him, and leaning through her, suffusing her features in shadow was CheeseApple. Both the girl and her shadow drove a solid hit against his breastbone that took Sean by surprise and forced him to step back to regain his balance - a small step, but one that took him through the Orpheum.
The Malkavian and her Kiabit stared after him as the blinding light of heaven swallowed him up. Tears were falling freely from her eyes but she made no sound and her face was set in a mask which grimly refused to crack. She stood for a moment, trying to regain her sense of self after she had so ruthlessly decimated it.
CheeseApple was uncommonly silent - respectful almost - perhaps he recognised just what the act had cost her and was proud.
Cinnamon wiped her eyes roughly on the back of her hand, as if that could stop the tears, and turned away from the portal. She crouched down briefly to speak to little sekhmet and skritch the kitten behind the ears. “Come on,” she whispered. “We’d better get going.” Sekhmet looked back to the Orpheum, and then followed her mistress.
Max peeled himself away from the gloom of the alcove where he had been watching and fell in step companionably beside her. "Not for you the lofty adulations of heaven, hm?" he asked lightly, quoting from Cinnamon knew not where.
She sniffed and ignored him.
Max discarded his easy smile and stepped smartly in front of her, halting her progress and holding her by the shoulders. "Cinnamon." He gave her a little shake, wanting her to meet his gaze. "Cinnamon where are you going?"
She stayed stiff and silent, staring at his shirt collar.
"The door's back there. Paradise is back there - Sean is back there - your friends are back there - all the ones you ever missed - they're back there."
"Not all of them," she muttered mutinously.
He brushed her argument aside as he started to gently turn her around. "Isn't it fascinating how some people walk off into their own stories and not into the generic 'happy-ever-after'?"
"Max!" Angrily she pushed his hands away. "I'm not a child any more!" Her words were caught between a growl and a sob. "I can't make-believe the bad things away! And I can't follow them," she gestured to the Orpheum. "They've earnt it - they've won. I haven't. I still have things to do."
His expression was grave and only slightly mocking. "And what lost souls have you still to collect?"
She looked at her boots. "Lots," she murmured. He still seemed to be waiting so reluctantly she gave him her list. "All the ones I promised. Bedlam. Cass an' North. Surreal. Merlin. Jon an' Rodriguez an' the Lady Venture. You. The skeletons an' my ship. And anyone else who's fallen through the cracks."
Max picked imaginary bits of lint from his shirt cuff. "Quite the schedule," he commented airily, stepping to the side so she could pass, unhindered. "Well then, I would hate to detain you further, your time is obviously a dear commodity."
Numb, biting her lip and hating his pointless flippancy and his even more pointless Ventrue airs, Cinnamon walked away. At the edge of the city she turned to gaze back for the last time - and beheld Maximilian not three paces from her. She stared at him as if he was mad.
Max made a little affected gesture signaling, 'oh - you mean what am I doing?'. "I'm saving you time. No no, don't thank me, I'm a terrible travelling companion - most inconvenient I'm sure - but this way it saves you having to come back to find me."
She refused to acknowledge hope. "What about your city you have to look after?"
"Oh that? Hah - I can do both!"
"You can't quest with me and watch over..."
"I can," the Ventrue interrupted indignantly. "Who says I can't? Look at this..." He faced the necropolis and surveyed it sternly. "City of Arawn - I command you to surround the gate of the Orpheum and not to fall down." Obligingly and by continuing to exist, the city fulfilled the order. Max spread his arms. "See? Perfectly possible."
A tiny smile dared the frozen landscape of her face. "You're a loon," she muttered.
"How rude! I most certainly - might be a little bit," he finished smoothly. "Have you any idea where Bedlam is? Or any of the others for that matter?"
"No."
"I was afraid you'd say that."
In other news utterly unrelated, this morning before work I had a conversation with my father about the fact he currently has no money (is owed a substantial amount, but currently really seriously is at the end of his debt-stretching financial tether.) But that was more of a side note to the main subject of my mother and her 'scattiness'. To whit, it has got much worse and really cannot be ignored despite the fact that she keeps trying to cover it up and refuses to acknowledge it. My elder two and younger siblings are all freaking in a most unhelpful way which only heightens my mother's wish to pretend all is well with her world. When my mother returns from Portsmouth there are going to be several talks had, all of them containing the command, "Go to the doctor."
Also today the optical computer mouse didn't work all day at the book shop today. Have you any idea how impossible that makes it to run our catalogue programme thing? Search for books? Couldn't. Order books? Couldn't. Click on anything? Wouldn't. Move where one directed it? Didn't. Make me want to smash it into pieces? Oh certainly. I ended up working out all the keyboard short-cuts by swift and long experimentation. Blergh.