Call me Anne.
((This is a WoD roleplaying blog for a Nosferatu fledgling.))
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Somewhere north, far afield from LA, rises a brutalist black skyscraper with thick, smoked glass windows. In the marbled lobby sits a matching, unlit black brazier, encircled by an array of inlaid golden bars. The plaque on it reads:
'To the Eternal Victories of Dwayne Lokason Masters
May the Flames He Evokes Never Die'
All of the building's employees have been sent home. The only remaining figure stands in front of the brazier, her finely tailored suit doing much to disguise the sharp points of her shoulders & elbows right up until the cuffs meet her brittle, scaled wrists. From there, it's easy to see the inhuman pebbling of her skin and the sharp nails curving talonously from her fingertips. They click-click-click softly against the lighter as she turns it over and over again in her right hand, silently debating whether she ought to light it.
There is a chance the offering will be worthless, despite its detailed construction. A wasted effort; something she strives to avoid at every possible turn. If it turns out to be hollow, no more than the smoldering cigarette ashing away on a snack cake, then she will know that her capacity for this - whatever name it may have, whether it's faith or love or something more ephemeral - has withered away inside of her, along with so much else. That, too, would be valuable information to have.
Finally justified, Anne flips open the lighter and strikes it decisively. Despite her past two years of training on the Path, she still feels a flicker of something catch in her chest when she opens her mouth to speak. "I kindle this first in the name of fire, your divine element." Lighting a stick of incense, she carefully lowers it into the brazier and lets the thin plume of smoke waft lazily about as the tiny pool of natural gas catches as well. "I kindle this in the name of chaos, your divine heritage." If she could admit she felt fear anymore, it would be at this dreadfully reckless point: scooping up the can of gasoline, closing her eyes, and splashing it at the fledgling flame. Thankfully, although she feels the droplets now staining the leg of her suit, she does not catch fire - but the kindling in the brazier does, rapidly swallowing the last of the incense.
But the test of bravery self-discipline has not ended yet. Kneeling by the brazier, Anne reaches beneath it, finding the valve that controls the flow of natural gas. "I kindle this in the name of love, your divine core." The flames greedily consume the increased gas flow, blossoming into a full blaze. She doesn't stand immediately, remaining on her knees and staring directly into the thing that dares her to frenzy. It seems appropriate, somehow, to show deference. Respect. Love.
After a moment, she rises again, her pointed ears twitching slightly. "May this offering be pleasing to the god of love, Dwayne Lokason Masters. May it burn forever in your honour."
She pockets the lighter and straightens her blazer, the orange flames reflecting and dancing in the dilated pupils that threaten to swallow her sclera. Love. Love. Love. Does an offering require love? Is it a greater failing to feel it still, even after all this - or not? Anne doesn't know and the questions niggle at her, gnawing at the threads of the Path she has worked so hard to drill into herself. Whatever the answer is, however deeply she has buried that spark, the eternal flame will burn in the lobby of her building, dedicated as a persistent tribute. The next time she reaches out to pay him homage, she has already decided to offer a sacrifice of blood.
I suppose it was a place for me to think. Of you. Of circumstances. Of many things. The value of clearing one’s mind is difficult to quantify.
I named them. The tulip you gave me. Kara. The other tulips I planted to join the first bulb. Mouse. Admiral. Long John. The sunflower in the next pot over. Apollo. My research indicated they would benefit if I spoke to them. I did for a while.
((Blog drop ‘cause I love writing with all of y’all but Anne’s still sunsetting, which means I eventually need to... write as other characters now.
@universal-rambler - sci-fi fantasy grandma (and personification of a vague philosophical concept) kidnapping other people’s children to take them on whirlwind adventures (OC, with ties to Hellblazer universe)
@the-bad-guy-wins - asshole artifact hunting Lasombra THE LEGEND Alyosha Popovich (Sabbat, VtM sideblog to nosferanne)
@a-rose-of-the-dust - AU of Anne as a Toreador instead of a Nosferatu. If you like social chameleons white-knuckling their way through super pretentious situations and The Great Gatsby, probably the blog for you! (Camarilla, VtM, sideblog to nosferanne)
@fork-meet-socket - Volt the electric young hooligan ready to throw down against THE MAN any day of the week. And put forks in sockets. On the run from Sentinel Services, committing petty larceny and street cons for fun and profit. (X-Men OC, marginally inspired by the setting specifics of The Gifted)
@frag-your-masters - David the cranky, old as dirt ghoul with a love of apple pie and a sincere hatred of all vampires. Probably isn’t helped by the fact he is ghouled to Alyosha, who lives to provoke rage in others. Follow for sad, bitter old times. (Ghoul, VtM)
In theory, I also write over on the following, but I am running out of silly and flippant ways to describe my characters:
@enchanted-motley (Changeling the Dreaming multi-muse, paragraph only, sideblog to nosferanne)
@synchronicitywave (John Constantine, Hellblazer, not yet launched)
I don’t think back on high school often. It seems like a long time ago now.
I’m on my way now. I haven’t assisted with one personally, but after looking up the term, yes, I have seen one in the past. The general knowledge seems to be emphasizing a lack of obstruction to your airways. Please instruct me on your preferred methods and any details the common knowledge may omit, if you would?
It comes back to me sometimes, when I’m dealing with my mom..
I figured you’d look it up.. I don’t need a doctor, just need to be watched. Kept on my side and no fingers in my mouth. If I do vomit it miiiight be lava, that’s normal. Shouldn’t last longer than 5 minutes. I’ll be sleepy and like I’m drugged for a few hours after..
Thank you, I will ensure no additional harm comes to you and that you aren’t left unsupervised until you feel safe again. Although I will not risk the lava, for obvious reasons, I’m afraid that will need to wait until it has cooled.
… I think there were times I felt something like that. Contextually speaking, I can only guess that this is related to my offer, but I raise an eyebrow at the thought, considering what I am.
Would you prefer another person to keep watch?
Contextually yeah.. I’ve yet to meet anyone who’s genuinely said they had a good time in high school.
Honestly.. No, I wouldn’t. I trust you to be able to handle it if anything happens. Texted you my location, have you seen a clonic-tonic before?
I don’t think back on high school often. It seems like a long time ago now.
I’m on my way now. I haven’t assisted with one personally, but after looking up the term, yes, I have seen one in the past. The general knowledge seems to be emphasizing a lack of obstruction to your airways. Please instruct me on your preferred methods and any details the common knowledge may omit, if you would?
nosferanne replied to your post: Who’s got some free time to hang out wihht me a…
I can make myself available.
Do you remember the feeling of like.. middle or high school and the girl you’re crushing on with her perfect face and straight As and captain of the cheerleading squad and everyone loves her.. is somehow always there when you’re about to do something embarrassing, like dance the worm on the floor really badly while losing bladder control?
... I think there were times I felt something like that. Contextually speaking, I can only guess that this is related to my offer, but I raise an eyebrow at the thought, considering what I am.
I’ll admit my position leads me to a specific worldview, but I’m not a stranger to all the internal and external factors that play into it. I wonder, should you do everything absolutely correct and still encounter a setback, if you’ll treat yourself as a friend..
It’s a pleasure seeing you again. Can I ask what behaviors you have rejected so far?
A friend? No, I wouldn’t think so. I’m no friend to myself, I simply am myself. Setbacks and obstacles are to be overcome, failures require correction, and neither invites the gentleness a friendship implies.
It’s good to see you again as well. I... suppose it’s no secret I chased affection, approval, validation, tenderness in some misguided urge to fill a perceived hollowness. Looking for my superiors to tell me what a good girl I was, what a rising star I could be. For partners to tell me they loved me, that they needed me as much as I needed them. I now understand that neither my supervisors nor my relationships could fill that. It’s entirely up to me to drink as deeply as necessary out of this existence to find satisfaction and meaning. What’s more is that the approval-seeking leaves one vulnerable to becoming the tool of another’s schemes. I’d much prefer to be the author of my own designs.
Shed a few other habits as well, stopped wasting so much of my time on leisure, began applying myself with focus. I’ve done a great deal in a comparatively short amount of time, it’s difficult not to look back on my ghouling and embrace with annoyance at how much I could have done back then if I’d had this mindset.
And you, Dwayne? Where have your journeys taken you? What draws you back again? Where will you go next?
