Death is the most cunning of creatures, he begins to walk with us the day we are born, as children we instinctively fear him, but soon enough we learn about him from our families. As we grow older we convince ourselves we are not afraid of him. And yet as we grow older and older he looses his fear, we grow used to him, and then one day we accept him as reality and again we fear him no more but not out of a sense of invincibility but instead out of a sense of friendship. In the end what we should truly fear the most becomes our best friend.
When I was alive it had been so simple, love my wife, raise my daughter, Die old and happy. Fate it seems, as they say, has a sense of humor. That humor, in my opinion, borders on the sadistic with flavorings of evil ice bitch. Life obviously didn't work out that way and here I stand my second gathering of the kindred of Chicago and I am staring at an elevator set to take me into the bowls of the Earth to the Nosferatu's disgusting excuse of a supposed home.
I have often wondered why they insist on sticking to the underground. Like any good member of the First Estate I respect tradition but honestly with the way the world works today I have to surmise they only do it to be able to justify their sense of persecution. Don't get me wrong they assuredly got the short end of the stick on the curses of the beast scale but really its better than being Gangrel.
I was on edge this evening, more so than any other a feeling had come upon me shortly after waking a sense that someone was looking at me. At first I wondered if the off his rocker Scourge Anderson was following me. It took awhile but I finally realized that it wasn't the case. The sense of other kept moving and I felt as though they were close but still a ways away from me. I was not sure what it was but I decided that I could only go on about my night and what would be would be.
The elevator took me down and I noticed the stench within seconds. I took a deep breath of the last of the fresh air and ceased to breathe the air would allow me to talk when necessary while avoiding the stench as long as possible When the elevator doors opened and I saw the newspapers strewn out as some hobo's attempt at decor I new at once the Nos were playing it up. Their pitiable sense of persecution justifying this absurdly obvious attempt to make the rest of society uncomfortable. I would have none of it, and dutifully wiped my feet on the make shift door mat, and strode in with purpose. I made my way around the room aware I was still unacknowledged in the city and could be disposed of without a seconds thought by some. Anderson had learned who my sire was at the last gathering, it had not been my wish to tell him but his insistence on questioning me despite the princes granting of hospitality had led me to believe him unstable enough, that had I not given him sufficient reason he would have killed me where I stood.
I found a dark corner and lurked, many things can be heard when one stands still and many things can be learned one one listens, I did both. Not long after I arrived however, the feeling of other drew closer and closer, until I felt as though it were almost on top of me. When suddenly the elevator door opened and my Sire walked in. The feeling suddenly became clear to me. I had heard from others of Blood Sympathy but having for the past 20 years painfully gone out of my way to avoid my sire I had never felt it. I pushed it to the back of my head however, he still thought me dead, and my standing there had to be a bit unpleasant for him. He had known a childer was in the city all night, of that I was sure, if I had felt the Blood Sympathy surely so had he.
He engaged in conversation with others for a moment and glanced in my direction. Our eyes met and for the briefest of seconds the urge to smile wave and scream "yeah that's right you family desecrating, murdering cock sucker I survived and now what are you going to do about it" welled up in me. I forced it away, those were mortal emotions enhanced by the beast. They could do me no good, and could only result in my utter destruction. He continued his conversation for a moment then excused himself and approached me.
"I thought you were dead"
"There was a plane, it crashed, I survived"
"Under normal circumstances I would take matters into my own hands in this issue but recent events have occurred that make you being here most advantageous." I nodded in acknowledgement. Not trusting myself to speak further for the moment. The implication that had I come sooner and at a time not convenient I would be dead, plain in his statement. "What do you call yourself now" he asked glancing around to see if anyone seemed focused on us.
"Anthony Dunn" I responded
"Interesting, does anyone know who you are?"
"The Scourge, I was forced to tell him, and he choose to blab it on the street so soon I am sure everyone will know"
"I suppose there is no point in hiding it then, I will make formal claim on you later. There is an Invictus meeting shortly will you attend"
"Of course matters of our covenant are important"
"Should I expect some attempt at revenge for what occurred between us?"
"You did what you had to do" The words tasted bitter upon my lips, he had needed do none of it. But bridge water and all that bullshit.
"Then there is no need to bring up what happened between us to anyone else"
"Agreed"
The rest of the night proceeded rather quickly, upon learning who my sire was during the covenant meeting the Prince instantly granted me acknowledgement within the city. No time after that I was whip of clan Ventrue, and would stand in for my sire on his extended absence that was soon to occur. I found myself with mixed emotions on such news. I wished greatly to get to know him further, the man had changed much in my life. Yet knowing he would be far away calmed many fears as well.
I stuck close to him for the rest of the night, listening to all around me gathering further intelligence. I had spent much time in the military training for a job I had been able to perform only for a month before being discharged for being wounded. I was not martial in any way, but my skills fell to other areas and quietly listening to all around me was a very useful skill.
I could bore this journal with details of further conversations but in truth, a hundred years from now when I dig this out of a box and read over it...I don't really care to remember what inane drivel was spewed by the rest of the kindred in the city. I am sure it would seem vastly important at the time but really who truly cares in the end?
