basts_tail

Freedom

The Angel girl stops the bike on the edge of the road as her phone goes off. She looks at it, and smiles, reading the one word and replies.

“Freedom, you ask.”

“For me, freedom is for all creatures to strive towards what is great about themselves and their potential. Its the right to self determination, to make one’s own choices, without fear, or favour, or manipulation, or bias. This is what I do, for people. I remove those parts that manipulate them in a certain direction. The Seers, and their machinations, the magi and their hubris. Enlightenment is not about power. It never was.”

Che kicks the bike into gear, and roars onto the highway.




Masks

Che sits on the ridge, looking out over a red sunset. “You can never hide from yourself. Masks are only really for other people, and the price you pay to hide like that, if you are hiding from yourself, then you are caging yourself into being something you are not. In the end, all you can do is face what you are and who you are, and acknowledge that.”

“Strangely, since coming out here, I’ve seen nothing of the seers. Its my guess they know Angel’s around, and maybe what I’m doing, but are content to leave me do my thing now I’m away from the consilium. Of course, the tower could have something to do with that. They’re like roaches disappearing down holes when stuff that big comes to town. But out here is the most honest I can be. Helping folk out, letting fate take me where it wills.”

Love

That thing that makes you rise each night, it is central to what keeps you going through your life, or your requiem. It makes you both great and terrible at once, for the things you will do in the name of love can be great, and can be terrible. In the end, it is most truly about sacrifice, and those things you give up, to protect the ones you love.


Loyalty

*laughs*
Loyalty… hmmm. An Invictus asking about an Acolyte’s view on loyalty. That’s funny.

Honor. Not breaking one’s word. But maybe the real question is … word to whom? Yourself? Your oaths?

Me, mine is to family. But that’s a whole other story…. *smiles*




Stubborn

*laughs* Pig headed. My family. Not quitters. Staying power. Survivalist. Yep, I think that covers it.

For the original meme, go here. http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/28674.html

This is for those players I miss so very much - Nick Crowhurst, Rach Hopkins, and all the other Assamite players and family members Juliet had such fun with.


Juliet – Family

She sits in the comfortable arm chair, looking out a window onto a sunlit field. Long black silken hair falls to her waist, smooth and straight, and her eyes, mercury grey to most, turn to a silver surface as she turns the word over in her mind.

“Family. Blood, love, honor, loyalty… community. Not always blood relations, but those ties that bind people together. What will you sacrifice for a member of your family to know or realize what they truly are? And what will you realize about yourself seen through the eyes of those you call family?”

She smiles, eyes shining as she recalls doing just that.

“Someone does not just stop being family if they break the rules or estrange themselves. This is not about decisions, wise or otherwise, nor just about actions.”

As she speaks, you see two phantom figures, seemingly sentient, watching. One is a man, small, delicately built, with old eyes, and epitomizing the ideal of loyalty and honor. The other is a woman, dark and forbidding, epitomizing the ideal of justice and vengeance. They both smile.

“The phrase blood is thicker than water comes to mind, but its not just blood. Its loyalty and love and community too. Both of these people were family, one by blood, the other by loyalty. Both of them taught me things about myself I’d never have found without them. And both of them I taught, for at the end of all things, I am the Guide to a healing path.”

"If you woke up and I was in bed with you, what would be your first thought?"
(Now post this in your LJ and find out what mine would be)

EDIT: Odd so far everyone has assumed Ceri....

Present Day
She stood in the underground room, meticulously working on her spell, learning mastery of the art that she had practiced for over a century. One nail slipped into the skin of her arm, cutting, opening the vein as flickers of a past long gone flashed in her mind…. She began to cast, each step, each movement as deliberate as the first, calling her blood to obey her will. Finally it was ready, and sitting in the middle of the circle, nude on the cold stone floor, she pushed her will outward. As the effect spread, she had a sudden vision of the woman who first showed her what it meant to be an Acolyte…..

You cant always get what you want


1875
He sat, reclining in the chair, watching the room. His peers moved too and fro, politicking, so much said in the flick of a wrist, the shift of a hip, a slight bow without breaking eye contact. A voice caught his attention, silky, teasing, amused at someone’s expense – debating the relative ethics of kindred faith, with a member of the Lance, a childe whose confidence was greater than his wisdom.

I saw her today at the reception
A glass of wine in her hand


“Vittor, come join us” the prince said, calling him over to the group. “This aught to amuse you.”

He moved silently across the room, looking at the flushed face of the neonate, the prince lying indolently, and his companion, a tall Persian woman with red hair, the owner of the voice, and the speaker he overhead. The prince introduced them, his hand on her arm, in a subtly proprietory gesture of ownership, a fact that did not go unnoticed by Vittor or the Persian. She smoothly moved her arm out of his, to hold out a hand, and he meticulously bowed over it, not allowing his mouth contact her skin, meeting her eyes.

I knew she was gonna meet her connection
At her feet was a footloose man

There was a second of connection, one that Vittor hid well, his composure shaken and almost betraying his secret. The debate continued, and he listened, occasionally playing devil’s advocate, and soon enough the Persian’s attention was drawn off the childe, to the man before her.

You cant always get what you want
But if you try sometimes well you just might find
You get what you need

And so the game began.

Weeks passed and the dance raged on, stepping around each other, pushing limits, arguing, debating, setting traps, skillfully avoiding them, daring each other to expose just a little more......

And I went down to the demonstration
To get my fair share of abuse
Singing, were gonna vent our frustration
If we dont were gonna blow a 50-amp fuse

Vittor hid well from her probing, her touch, her language, till one night when he slipped in his role, and saw the realisation in her eyes. The following night, when he rose, dressed, and went to hunt, he pauses at a corner, and sees her waiting, watching. They walk, and talk, and she keeps touching him, flirting, hand against his back. Asking questions, debating topics in private dining rooms, and slowly the manners become more relaxed, more feminine, as he listens to her speak.

Present day
She lies on the floor, her blood smeared over her, as memories wash over her – the debates the crucible in which her faith was born and a path appeared… One memory is held in her minds eye, as clear as the moon in the night sky…..

I saw her today at the reception
In her glass was a bleeding man
She was practiced at the art of deception
Well I could tell by her blood-stained hands

“…. And why are you so sure being an Acolyte would suit me more than Sanctified?” The words are a challenge to his companion, as they sit in her haven.

She smiles, and stands, walking around his chair, the delicate scent of the rose perfume filling his senses, reminding him of … places of peace, safety, love…. Heaven…. He shifts in his seat, the last thought causing a very slight crease on his forehead. His companion speaks for some time, and they debate certain points, till the silence falls.

He sits, studying her for some time. Thoughts chase through his head, about this woman and the things he has seen her do, the faith she so vehemently protected, the many dreams he had had about things from the past, heaven and hell, angels and demons. He rises and walks to the window, looking out over the rose garden, thoughtful. Finally he nods slightly, to himself, and he turns, and smiles.

She has not moved, the elder watching his every move, the subtle differences between him in private and public. His eyes crinkle with amusement, and a smile completely without artifice appears. She stands, knowing that finally the deal is struck, walks towards him, and kisses his lips. As she draws back, one hand slides down his arm, to the hand, and taking it she pulls off the glove, and then the other, and looks at them. Nodding, knowing her suspicion confirmed, she smiles and speaks.

“If you want to learn, show yourself.”

They find themselves in a private room, drapes all around, and Vittor locks the door. He reaches up and undoes his hair, uncoiling it down to his shoulders, and unties the cravat, the coat, and drops them to the floor. He pulls off his boots, stockings, and the slender feet are completely in keeping with the hands. He unbuttons the trousers, and the long johns, and slides them down, revealing shapely legs. With every action, every step, someone entirely new, shining with promise, appears.

Finally, all that is left, is a cloth around the figure’s hips, and the bandages binding her flat. She pauses, that moment, her first Hierophant, and the sight of the Dark Mother.

You cant always get what you want
But if you try sometimes you just might find
You just might find
You get what you need


She unwinds the bandages, and kneels. Above her head, Bianca smiles.