OOC. This is set prior to the previous post, after an odd conversation with Amani, asking her about her future, and what she wants from her life. There are hints in the conversation that Amani is not what she seems, and Zahira has lived in her house long enough to know there is odd things about her.

This is the moment she begins to be reeled in.


Zahira went to the linen loft, to reorganise it, calm, impassive as always as she spoke to the other servants. The senior staff watched her a little unfriendly, as she left her mistress’s audience chamber, but said nothing, and she went about her duties without interference.

Once she was alone, she sat down, and as she folded and organised, her face paled and her heart jumped, the shock and fear of the conversation striking home.

Oh my… what is she? Why is she asking these questions?

She knew without a doubt a change was coming. Something in her told her that her mistress had the power to destroy her without a thought, not just in her power over her, but something else.

She has not aged a day in over 10 years they say….

She is only seen at night….

She is much, much older than she looks…

Somewhere, deep in her bones, she felt fear, like she’d become prey for something a lot more dangerous than a man’s lust.

Until then, I want you to think on what it is you most enjoy about this life, and what you most value

Zahira sits down amid the linen, and contemplates the instruction. Something in that statement…

What do I enjoy in this life? Why did I say no to marriage?

Because it is true what you said – what man would respect a wife and accept her as she was?

My work here… My life here….

What do I most value?

Nothing I’d reveal to anyone….

Hopes and dreams?

To… to have both…. To transcend the limitations of a woman’s life? Or a slaves? I can’t say that…..

What do I tell her??

* * * * *

Zahira listened to Majid speak, asking questions about the things she found out. During their conversation, she watched him, noting the way he looked at her. Her behaviour had changed, she felt more aware that of all the men she’d met, she liked him and respected him the most – perhaps because he accepted who she was, and her skills and did not try to fit her into a gender role.

After she walked away, back to her other duties, Majid watched her go, noting the changes in her. He had tried to reassure her, and knew from her questions she had jumped to the conclusion of their Mistress’s nature. His mind floated back to a private conversation…

You like her, I can see that. She’s worth your time.

It depends on her, it would not be appropriate for me to press a suite upon her.

If you do, or if she does, you have my approval.

Thank you ma’am.

Go gently. She’s only ever seen violence.

* * * * *

Weeks pass, and she watches Majid, as he watches her. A subtle change to their mannerisms with each other becomes slowly apparent, as Zahira comes to realise that there is a man who accepts her as she is, and one she likes and respects.

He notices the change, the awareness, the mannerisms, and nods quietly in satisfaction.

Amani, watching the pair, smiles.

In the days after that fateful conversation, Zahira watched as the other staff were moved from her quarters. That she was ill, only the senior staff told the others. She said nothing, knowing the real reason, and sat curled by a window, slowly adjusting to her state.

She looked the same, but she did not feel the same. Majid, or one of the 3 women, remained within sight of her, and she remained in the house, not venturing outside. It gave her a lot of time to think, remembering the things Lady Amani had said, and ponder her own reactions.

On the first day, the reactions she pondered the most was her physical one – the taste of the blood, the sensation as it took over her body, remaking her into them. The… desire… as it welled into her mouth was something she'd not expected, and now she could see and feel the weight of that loyalty Lady Amani had spoken of.

Majid watched her, pleased, as she watched him. Sometimes, while they were alone, he would ask her how she was, and her eyes would say 'I trust you' and talk a little. The skills were less of a shock than her body's reaction to the taste. She had to watch herself to not move too fast, and it made her slightly clumsy sometimes, as she had to right herself or stop something from being knocked off balance. The cut was easier, although she did notice how ingrained the thought pattern was, that this was no longer a threat. She'd have to watch that later – to not heal without thinking before witnesses – a threat to them all. But above all else, she could not stop thinking about her body's reaction to sucking on her mistress's wrist, and the taste of her.

It did not do for a proper girl to be passionate, but now she was finding the world behind closed doors, was very different to the public face. A lot like her.

That night she went back to Amani's rooms, and closed the door behind her, and bowed as normal. Majid sat outside, and she watched him as he watched her, as she went to the door, and disappeared inside. They spoke further, Zahira curled on a cushion close to Amani, listening, asking questions, and then… the bite, the taste, and her drinking her mistress's blood, her body flushing and firing as it went to work on her.

She was trembling after, her eyes dazed, but it slowed faster this time, as the yoke of servitude slipped a little tighter on her. The mask she displayed to the world slipped a little more, as her love for her mistress strengthened, allowing her to show more of the girl under her impassive exterior.

Amani was pleased. Everything she had seen so far was indicative of what she had expected from this one. She would turn out well.
All requiem pc's retired.

Caitline is a courtesan, who was born in the 1870s. Embraced around the turn of the century, released 1905 in France. She's Ventrue, OD, and will be a spoiling practitioner, not a coil's monkey.

Ties are welcome - I have a chunk of history to fill, including how she joins the OD and her exposure to spoiling.

Email me at raven dot steps at gmail dot com to talk more, or leave a comment here.

For those wanting to know about Ceri - in a few weeks a post will be made public, after the next vamp game. Events go live this weekend, 31st May, but I am not posting her final story till after game, because it affects events in the next vampire game.

Thanks to Sadhbh for helping me with this.
I have finally unlocked all the writing I did for Ceridwyn, and indexed it.

For your interest.


http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/10684.html Meeting Vittorio- 1809
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/9655.html Ceridwyns mortal father – 1810
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/3448.html With Vittorio, France 1813
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/3921.html Fallout, falling, and control – 1813
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/8698.html A temper tantrum - 1815
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/5775.html Descent into Hell - 1818
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/5966.html In hell - 1818
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/4986.html Escape – 1819
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/18847.html Embrace - 1825
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/22726.html Lessons with Dominion - 1825
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/18246.html Song meme - Meeting Kincaid - 1875
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/35961.html Hunting brood and meeting Charli - 1952

Chronicle events

http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/2831.html Running – Oct 2006
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/3730.html Dreaming - Nov 2006
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/4115.html Home and memories - Nov 2006
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/4776.html Heaven and Hell - Nov 2006
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/5339.html Loyalty and Politics - Nov 2006
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/6496.html Music - Nov 2006
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/7565.html Journey to Perth - 23 Nov 2006
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/7844.html On the Train - 24 Nov 2006
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/8136.html On the train part 2 - 24 Nov 2006
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/8434.html Racing the sun – 25 Nov 2006
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/8952.html Things you should not do – Perth, 25 Nov 2006
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/9172.html A debate (headspace post) 25 Nov 2006
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/9248.html Legacies – Nicolette and Ceridwyn – Dec 2006
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/10806.html Mortality, and immortality – Christmas Eve 2006
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/13819.html Unity - Jan 2007
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/14004.html Song meme, The Inquisitrix - Jan 2007
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/17157.html Goodbye to the Inquisitrix – Feb 2007
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/18477.html Loss of community - April 2007
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/22500.html Ravenscarred – June 2007
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/26257.html Return to Aust, and the start of the search – Sept 2007
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/30936.html Facing your Vice - Dec 2007
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/31199.html This is how I pray – Dec 2007
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/35637.html Meeting the Hermes - Dec 2007
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/32249.html A new Tribulation - Summer Solstice Dec 2007
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/32749.html On the Rack - Summer solstice Dec 2007
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/33808.html Loss of Faith - Torpor – 8 Jan 2008
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/36254.html Torpor dreams - Jan 2008
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/39254.html Torpor - Dreaming of Faith – March 2008
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/40290.html An agonising return - Revival – 9 March 2008
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/40656.html The Underworld - 9 March 2008
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/41980.html A meeting with the prince – March 2008
http://raven-steps.livejournal.com/42070.html The beast unchained – March 2008

Last post – 13 May 2008
- Coming subject to ST call -
A post to Aus-gangrel.

In the earth, surrounded by bush, deep in a ravine, Ceri lays
dreaming. This is not a coherant dream, but madness, loss of faith,
flowing like ribbons of blood that she craves with an ecstacy that is
frightening. She feels stronger now, and darkness gathers, black birds
circling, the horror and strength of her family, of Her, screams
around her. In the dark, she turns from the wise, in control Acolyte,
to a ravening monster, no faith, nothing to hold back that rage and

Abruptly it stops, strangled into submission.

The eyes that peer out at you are those of someone whose entire faith
and belief is gone - nothing is holding in the rage. To anyone who
knows Ceri, its a stark and frightening sight.

She does not speak, and then is gone.
OOC. Another warning. Use this and its cheating. That includes if you know she's awake, if you know she's talking to Aaron, and anything else. Important, given the current state of play and ic politics.

Read more... )
Becuase it feels like a Gangrel song. Or a family song.

"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> PLEASE note that this is ooc knowledge, and you don't know it unless Ceri said it to you in a scene. So no meta gaming or picking fights for some of the content therein.

Hmmmm. Now, what did i get done over the last few days

1. Danced the tango through a cyclone
2. Drowned
3. Battled a seamonster
4. Watched a kindred who was more selfless than most of us deserve. Si, your sacrifice will never be forgotten.
5. Discovered that sometimes humans are scarier than us
6. Don't touch if the Mother did not bless you first
7. Rescued a salmon that turned out to be a mara
8. Learned a very very very old tale about a vision quest for knowledge, and trod its footprints
9. Met my neice, Veronica, and gave her away to the Invictus and Makoto with my blessing
10. Discovered that the court have decided that I am leading the Acolytes of Sydney no matter what anyone else says
11. Recieved two petitions for membership, and questioned and tested one
12. Ran damage control for Stahls sex life. Yes you heard correctly :-)
Ceri's voicemail at present, from 14 September 2007.....

"Heya.... Off dodging the navy in search of an old woman.... leave a message at the 'caw'"

(sound of a raven's call instead of a beep)

leave me a message guys..... heheheehehe

This was an idea i got off [livejournal.com profile] ravens_lair
His was quite priceless in its flippancy. :-)
Rachel is my baby nos. not so long ago i got to thinking about the effect kindred have on mortal society, particularly after a few stories i read.

“In search of angels?”

October 2004

Rachel looked at the article, reading it, and rereading it till its details were burnt into her mind. The car was wrecked, and all the other occupants killed, except the boy. He had been rescued, by what witnesses claimed was an angel. She would not have thought any more about it, but her cousin, a nurse at the hospital had said that the boy was dying, lost the will to live, till that night….. She recalled her cousin’s fervor, at finding faith, that angels were out there looking over us, and this proved it.

Putting the article down, she looked at the TV screen in front of her. The fuzzy image was of a man standing over the child’s bed, very blurry, and then the shadow of great black wings spreading over the room, and then….. he was just gone.

It was strange.

Logging into her network, she set the search parameters for similar occurrences throughout the US and went to bed. May as well have some fun while she was holidaying.


The Little Hawk hunted and learned fast, feeding from animals, and mimicking people. She almost always seduced as she hunted, a young woman alone, prey for the wicked and unruly. She had spent a month following Dominion as she hunted, learning and observing, but the images in her mind were building to a desire…. The sense of mind numbing pleasure she could remember dimly from her life before…

One night, as she hunted, she saw a man. He was beautiful, a remarkable strikingness to his features, and he caught her eyes, drawing her in…. So she hunted him….. He did not look kindred….

Outside the town, he pressed her into the wall, kissing her and touching her, seducing her, even as she tries to seduce him to get a bite. As he does so, he drops his obfuscation and she realises he is kindred just as her fangs stroke his skin. He spins her so she’s trapped between him and the wall, and feeds, taunting her with the scent of his own blood, beading against his throat. She wilts under the kiss, and as he stops, he exposes his throat for her, letting her lower her lips to the ruby drops…..

As she does so, out of nowhere, all hell breaks loose…...

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

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. 



March 2009

89101112 1314
15 161718192021


RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 26th, 2017 05:23 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios