But it was that Thursday that had provided the smile upon his face that week.  Because deep in his cold heart, Simon detested parties. He could enjoy the company and respect the art, but as a whole, there was no real tactical advantage to be gained.  Such events made one soft.  Such events presented too many prying ears and too many unknown ( Read more... )

Lorenzo’s gathering was a stark contrast to my own some six months ago.  Cloaked in white and flowers and soft music.  Having spent the past few months in quiet contemplation, in the utter darkness of my home, my return to the Dance was sharp and quick.  I am always struck by the Court of New York City, its amalgam of characters and contrasts.  The ( Read more... )

Act Three

Simon slid the bodybag towards Xavier.  Audra stood between the two brothers, exhausted from the night’s events.  The elder Brother, known as Lucifer, stood in his cut attire and stillness, analyzing the world openly with armored and guarded emotion.  The younger Brother, known as Michael, stood in his ebony, wearing his wrath upon his ( Read more... )

Act Two

“Is there anything you wish to know?”

Simon was cloaked in utter wrath.  He stood at the center of his home, with Audra at the couch and his guest at the entrance, illuminated only by the luminescent rod Brogan had brought with him.  The Warminister frowned and paused, running the various scenarios in his mind.

“Just one,” responded Simon ( Read more... )

Act One

Simon sat in utter silence.  Molly was curled in his lap, sleeping soundly for the past few hours.  The Warminister had not stirred since their departure, melting into the darkness of his home.  Left alone with his own bleeding thoughts, wrapped tight in a cocoon of rage, the Khaibit reflected on the past few nights with vicious clarity.  ( Read more... )

…

For over four hundred years I have worn the same face.  My hands, my look, have remained untouched since my embrace.  But I look into the mirror and I simply do not recognize the man I used to be.  I doubt anyone would.  I have thoughts, concepts, notions and instincts of the young man I was…but no real truth.  I know I wanted to live forever…but ( Read more... )

As always, I shall write this and keep it with the others.  To present it to you when the time shows itself.  The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of activity.  Several months of preparation and planning were focused into a single event.  Into a single night.  The War against the Brood is over.  United under a single cause and a single banner, ( Read more... )

Sometimes we choose the path we follow. And sometimes our choices are made for us.

In a small tiled room, deep within his tomb, the Warminister sat in utter silence.  His wrists hung off his knees, his hands broken and shattered with splintered bits of bone piercing his knuckles.  Small rivers of blood trickled down his hands and arms, intertwining ( Read more... )

“The Journey is never easy, and the path full of hardships, but the rewards are great.”

Simon gazed out the airplane window, resting his head on the thin plastic glass.  Twenty thousand feet below the land was dissected by illuminated lines, slicing the world into shattered pieces.  Scars on the Earth, tread upon by thousands each and every night ( Read more... )

A sealed glass jar slid across the oak coffee table.  Within it was a pile of ash, especially brittle and shattered, a soft blue tint echoing in the pitch of darkness.  Executing a series of slow moves without thought or doubt, Simon removed his blades, placing them on the table as well.  The last weapon set there was a thin obsidian dagger, ( Read more... )