I don't usually do these in my ic journal. But today i'm making an exception.
Meme - 40 questions.

Read more... )
Status of application to reinstate Angelique Beaumont to sanctioned play - Pending High.

EDIT: DST Comment "That character is so Beth it hurts my brain"

"Why is the Khovros ordering us around? Standing before her? Shes' our covenant mate and we need to get her out of here."

"NO. She needs to remain."

Ceri stood, her mind scattered in peices at the events. Emotions flooded her like the blood she'd taken from Ambia, and she recalled Khovros stepping between her and Red, placing himself as her guard. An open declaration.

If her heart had beat it would have stopped at that moment. Becuase it made it all perfectly clear.

You are his property. You sacrificed everything to him in the simple act of baring your throat. He tamed and collared a Gangrel without blood, without sex, without.... Oh what have i done....

The realisation of her heart was like dying. Later, Aaron summoned her, and talked with her. He was worried. He'd spotted enough, and warned her about the Invictus elder, and she bent her head and said it was too late.

It was. Becuase even without a blood bond she gambled her heart and finally understood how broken she was, after Vitorrio, and the Khovros.

Red talked to her, and in that talk Ceri saw a glimpse of a direction, a way out. To take the darkness of the underworld, and learn from it, a place in her faith she'd not trod for a long time.
ooc. Standard disclaimer - use this, you loose it.

Red/black eyes look into each other’s in the dark….

Hai, how you doin'?

Ceri stirs faintly.

'I miss you'

'I love you and miss you, too. I hope you're safe.'

'He’s ... not feeding me the way I... need it'

'Come back to me, then, and we'll show him. I love you, Lady, and I want to show you what Kincaid has taught me.'

'I can't .... stuck here.....'

'Have faith, have faith, my darling love, my Hierophant. We'll get you out. We'll bring you home'

Deep in the dark, Ceri lays on the stone, and wonders what happened to her faith, why it changed so much…. As she lay there, dreams flickering around her mind, she wondered at the ties between her faith and her family, and her actions and feelings for Khovros.

As she lay there, deep in the torpor, a kindred kneels beside her, pinning her to the stone, as he drips a single trait of vitae into her mouth….

And she is ripped from the dark embrace of her sleep, back into the body that had lain dead and still for months…..

And so hell begins again.
ooc. I nearly did not post this. Then i thought about it and decided i would, primarily it is reflecting a change in her spriritual attitudes that [livejournal.com profile] angelsamael, [livejournal.com profile] wayfarers_lodge, and [livejournal.com profile] madame_latour might find interesting. Akuete in particular would giggle and kick her legs in the air with delight. Seeing quite a bit of this would have been seeds planted back when Ceri was living with her in Sedona....


She lay in the dark room, still as a corpse.

In her dreams she wandered the corridors of her torpor, fragments of her past floating past her…..

Read more... )
Hmm. I need a mage icon. I actually don't have one. Interesting. - EDIT. Picture now.

However, that was not the thought my title refers to. I have finally come to realise several things, which all result in me being quite frustrated.

The first and biggest is that Alex is broken. I seriously doubt I can play her as written, for a number of reasons. One of the reasons is that its remarkably hard to break into the Arrow game. I'm finding it next to impossible. And given this character has been Arrow for over 20 years, more like 30, for her to not know people or have plenty of ties is unheard of. Granted she spent 15 years contemplating her navel and most awakened society did not see or hear from her, but still, getting ties out there to reflect the character is verging on impossible.

I actually don't think I can play her like this. She's broken. Its been commented that Alex is more Arrow than Thyrsus. In a way thats true. I'm meeting with the ST next week to talk over how to change her to make her not broken. Its wierd, I have not been able to play anything in mage since retiring Angel. Its like she was the thing that worked. Part of it is that i feel no emotional resonance with Alex, which is incredibly rare when I write something. I don't know why that is.

I need to know, becuase the way Alex is now, and the way i relate to her, I'll just give up and retire her and go back to square one.


I went hunting for an Argentine Tango peice that summed up a vision for a particular relationship I'd like to see develop ic. Then I found this, and for a fleeting moment imagined the three men who have had, or will have, an impact on Ceri's life in some way or another. So... The Inquisitrix, the Khovros, and The Hermes.

Watch this, its white hot and damn I love it.....


Feb. 12th, 2008 06:42 pm
OOC Post!

My wiki's are looking a little bare.... so here! Go rumor and put things!


Yes, i actually made one for Alex.


And Shivva needs a picture - one of me, as her.


River's looking really bare....

Something i want to talk about.

Yesterday morning I had a bad dream. It was a strange one that mixed elements of the SCA and cam scene, and involved a social situation where someone who I consider a friend offended me. It was very very silly, not even anything important, but we argued and it was a very barbed argument. After some reflecting, I think I know what it was about.

Loss of trust. I accept that I have lost the trust and possibly the friendship of several members of the ravenscarred players. But I now also acknowledge they have damaged mine too. Discussion of characters organising hits, players playing politics, not sure if I can trust what people say.

I’d like to see some degree of responsibility taken for making me feel that way, whether it is deserved or not. It’s the only way I have a chance of accepting this and us moving on. Rebuilding a relationship.

I hope that is not too much to ask.

Some people have done a lot of work to help me get past this – Amber and Pat and members of the Wolfe von Stahl in particular. I am still not sure how to move past this. What I am sure of is that if I am to rebuild a friendship with these people then I need to trust, and visa versa. And right now I don't.

I don't know how to fix this, or get it off my mind. I'd really like to get it off my mind. Now, I'm reaching the stage where I may be ready to talk, however uncertain I am about the wisdom of that.

Yes is is unlocked for a reason.
This will become a scene. I'm thinking the hobgoblin Shivva escapes will be the Jabbawocky.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

Ceri dreams, lying in the dark…..

…they’d been talking, the strange girl who had helped her in the bush, her target had tried to capture Ceri…. (flash back to the past - hell, mortal captive in the hands of monsters, sense of pain mixed up with pleasure) …. He had attacked, and stunned Charli so she crumpled to the floor…. Ceri leapt at him, but he caught her and threw her into the wall over the bed, she attacked again, her claws out, and he used his strength to pin her down, wriggling beneath him…. (flash back to the past – a mortal lying in kindred arms, body spread out like a feast, fangs in her flesh – sense of violation coupled with fear, but addiction too) …. He rips open her shirt and pounces for her throat, and begins to feed as the body beneath him stops struggling…. The word ‘nooooo’ sounds like a bell…..

The dreaming Ceri watches, looking at herself pinned by his mouth on her throat, sucking, Charli insensible on the floor…. There is an evil darkness in the room, black tendrils coalescing around him, as the blood runs out of her….

Everything slows down….

…. In slow motion Charli stirs….. he tightens his grip on the body as the blood runs out and her soul comes into sight….. the dreaming Ceri, watching the scene sees it hovering against his fangs…. The realization that he was going to eat her, sucked into that black mess of diablerie all around him… and Charli is moving fast, and strikes…….

The enemy dissolves to ash, and Charli cradles the torpid kindred in her arms, trembling slightly at what her sight had witnessed – that sickening black evilness with yet another soul between his teeth…
Copyright to both me and [livejournal.com profile] charliegir1
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ooc. It appears my muse is not done with Ceri yet. Regardless of whatever i decide. So therefore....

And remember, everything in my journal is ooc only. Anyone caught metagaming because i'm writing, will be lined up against a wall and shot. Got it? Good.

DANCING - Sometime in December

Ceridwyn had been sitting in the library, surrounded by books and tomes, reading when she was interrupted. She was so engrossed in the tome, turning pages carefully, making notes, coordinating a plan on how to deal with the contents of Natalia's haven, she missed the figure standing in the doorway, watching her every move. He'd hidden his beast, and appeared mortal to all intents and purposes. He was dressed incredibly well, a beautifully cut suit, black brushed bowler hat, the very figure of a successful man. She by contrast had long auburn/brown hair hanging down her back, a bright red tee shirt, and cargo pants, and bare feet. Her body was curved, and she moved fast, naturally impatient. As she read she muttered softly "Kincaid… I need that case….." and trailed off.

The figure in the doorway stepped into the room, clearing his throat, smiling. She looked up, on alert immediately and he closes on her, getting into her space, charm working overtime as he bows over her hand.

"Good evening Lady Hierophant, I am the Hermes." The words are as much a flourish as the bow. Ceri suppresses her amusement, only her lips quirking slightly, for a moment forgetting that her hand has remained in his.

A memory flashes across her mind… standing in a hotel room, Vittorio looking down at her, eyes filled with emotion as he saw his Gwynefar, and wrapped her in his arm after centuries apart….

She gestures him to a seat away from the desk, and sits herself, crossing her legs, all elegant grace, a change from her movements before as her mind segues from Ceri’s animalistic predator to the charming elegant young woman she was as a mortal.

The Hermes sits, smiling charmingly as he watches her, taking her measure, noting the changes. They talk, dancing around each other, testing defences, getting close. He enquires about her family, it is clear they are a force to be reckoned with, and she closes up, drawing back at the invasion. He steps back, noting her boundaries, weaknesses, strength, gathering information. The dance continues, and he leans into her, drawing closer as he speaks. She falls silent for a moment, her defences lowering, a look of recognition….

Flash across her mind, sitting at her dresser, wiping the blood from her mouth from where those men had hit her…. And then Vittorio, bending down to the drops of ruby liquid as his tongue snakes across her mouth, gathering the blood….

The memory is brutal in its intensity, packing a punch to her heart, and Ceri forces her defences back in place, as she smiles and chooses her next question.

"Why do you want this alliance?"

He answers, watching her reaction. She listens, thoughtfully, measuring each word, her expression neutral.

"That was your free question. Next one will cost you."

She smiles, her eyes lighting as the game comes into view. The verbal dance begins again, a tango this time, all control and deliberateness. They each win and loose some, a game of verbal chess, each look, flash of eyes, curl of lips, hand adding layers of meaning. As the meeting comes to an end, he stands and takes her hand, lips brushing her knuckles and notices the subtle shift to her body language.

After he leaves, she stands in the centre of the room, one hand to her mouth as the memory floated around her. Her ribs tighten, like a corset laced around her, held prisoner, and her eyes drift closed for a moment, memory of the two kindred colliding – lips stroking across her knuckles in a kiss, and a phantom mouth against the nape of her neck…

"Well… this alliance proposal will be interesting…." she trails off, sighing slightly "I really need that case of lacrima now, Kincaid…" She sits back down.
When does the spirit break, that a mind sits in darkness and despairs of the healing of its soul?
A wound so terrible that it seems insurmountable to heal this, to even understand it.
Time is the key they say, that with time and comfort and care all wounds are healed.

Ana wakes from the darkness, shuddering. She crawls out of bed, noticing the time as she heads for the kitchen.
5.09pm. Not sunset, that she knows.
Nightmares again. Even when she cannot remember them, she always knows when she has them. The feeling of cold, of something terrible hidden out of sight inside her mind.

Do you want to taste it? The words whisper in her mind. You are thirsty aren’t you? The words fill her memory, in a voice long despised. For a moment a flicker of memory lights up in her mind, of laying on the floor of a room, a figure crouched over her. Hate rages inside her, she wants to attack her, and at the same time she cannot. They have been feeding you my blood, little betrayer. You will not hate me for long. The words are whispered in an ancient tongue.
Tell me you’re thirsty, childe, and I will give you a drink.
Tell me you’re thirsty, little one.

She leaves the dark room, leaving her captive on the floor.
Days pass, the thirst increases, she grows weaker. The shadow comes back. One night when Ana wakes, the shadow is standing over her.
A finger brushes over her lips, parting them slightly, leaving a smear of liquid on her mouth. She is too weak to fight it, to even say anything. The liquid burns slightly, she can smell it.
Tell me you are hungry and I will feed you.
Ana cries, and tastes the drop on her mouth. I am hungry.
The shadow lowers her hand to Ana’s mouth, laughing a low, gutteral laugh. Then drink my little traitor. And as the blood begins to flow, she smiles. Her victory, her revenge, is only just begun.

This is cam writing, from a long time ago, but not that you could tell, from this. It would just be a horror story.

I"m leaving it unlocked because i think a few might be interested in the inspiration....

At the beginning of the Year of Fire in the old chronicle, Juliet, my Assamite and her schismatic counterparts, were attacked by a group of Loyalists. They included Xavier Greyson, but Juliet was marked by one of the others - there was a member of the Web of Knives there, and she was marked to be torpored only, and delivered to Melusine. I thought about the vengeance that the elder Warrior would have on the child she believed betrayed her, and it crossed my mind the greatest vengeance would be to remove her will utterly... hence the story. Its a lot more likely that Rach would have tortured her till she died - but thats less of an interesting story.

She's a little lost at present, my baby Nos. I heard this, and realised this nailed why.

Ian Moss, live, singing "When the War is Over". He was the guitarist in Cold Chisel, and they wrote this and it was one of their bigget hits. Jimmy Barnes features.

A modern classic of Australian Rock, written for our Vietnam Veterans.
She lay in his arms, her body arched, throat bare. His arms held her close, one hand buried in her hair, as his mouth suckled at her throat, the scent of her blood filling their nostrils. She sighed in utter ecstasy, her body trembling as he fed, and as she grew cold he withdrew, his tongue snaking over her skin to close the wounds.

She lay still, letting the aftermath wash over her, and slowly rose from his arms. They spoke for several minutes, and then events drew them apart, as Ceri went to hunt. She went to her haven, wandered about, and finally, close to dawn made the decision.

She returned to the Lancaster estate, what little blood she had seriously depleted by her travel. Black crept around her vision, and she wrote a letter, placed it with the flower of Demeter on her bedside, and after showering and cleaning, drifted to sleep.

The moment she fell to torpor the Song in her blood winged its way around the world – in the US, her sire dreamed of a snap as her childe succumbed to the sleep….

Laying in the bed, in a white cotton dress, she lay, trusting he’d protect her till she was ready to face the world.

* * *

That night, the Khovros had been up for some time, and there had been no movement from Ceri’s rooms. Going to her room, he paused, when he saw the still figure in the bed. Beside it, a letter, and a flower in a glass of blood. He read it, and there was no reaction as he stood, looking down at the still figure. Only someone who knew him well, perhaps might have spotted the control in the stillness. Silently he leaves, gives instructions to several of his people, and later that night, lifts the limp body from the bed, and places her somewhere safe, till she is ready.

The End.

Ooc. Thank you to Ben for letting me keep Ceri in his care during my break.

This… is not going to be a popular decision. And I am not really sure when I am going to action it, now, or after Saturday.

I’m placing all my pc’s into freeze. Right now, I’m not capable of living my life, and getting through the day, never mind playing a character. I may keep Shivva semi active, to keep setting up her story, etc in down time. Games will be a no no, and I’m not going to play anyone else.

Ceri…. I’m going to torpor. I have to get her right away from me, and this situation. To make people leave me alone.


I… have been shaking, twitching, disassociating, crying, having nightmares, and feeling very threatened and hated. I know opinion is divided on if I deserve what is happening to me.

I don’t want this to become a flame war on my LJ. I’m going inactive so I can address the stress management problem this has triggered. I ask politely that no one make this any worse or start having a go at me or anyone else.

I know this will derail some people in character. I’m sorry, but right now I’m barely coping with my life, never mind my characters. And that means as a responsible player I get out till I can cope.
Till further notice, i'm not playing Ceri. I might play her at the game next weekend. But the week in between, no scenes.

I'm back to considering retiring her. I don't see any other option.

If i do, I'm offering my STs the chance to end her on Saturday. Shes' not being made an NPC.

The period in between is .... a variation on the 24 hr rule. Its been too upsetting for me to make an easy decision.

I'm sorry.
As some of you know, over on [livejournal.com profile] ravenseer I've been doing a meme that is music I love, that i find. But this one, I decided to put here, because its a beautiful beautiful peice of music for Ceri.

For [livejournal.com profile] angelsamael and especially [livejournal.com profile] charliegir1 who wrote a song meme to this that would melt steel. Ladies, you two are unbelievable.

Ceri sat in the window sill, her eyes dark with pain. In the next room, blood on the pillows betrayed her tears.

I cut this part out of me, to stay loyal to my faith, to my vow to Kincaid. To help my people here.

She curls her arms around herself, a slight tremble apparent.

So lonely… and he can’t be right… he just… can’t…

The tear tracks down her cheek.



March 2009

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