It had been a surprisingly busy couple of weeks for Doctor Powell and, for once, she was rather pleased to be doing something relatively inactive. The feeling wouldn't last for very long, but the Haunt intended to make use of the free time while it was still available to her. With that in mind, she had sent a message to Brenn, asking if the other woman was available to meet up and chat. It was something, Doctor Powell decided, that had been a long time in coming. Each time the opportunity for them to converse arose, something serious seemed to steal them away from the chance.

She had decided that the Ridge Motel would be a suitable place to meet: well known to the both of them, with rooms to speak in private, without fear of being overheard. It wouldn't be quite the same as having a relaxing conversation in a scenic environment, but the good Doctor would have to work with what was available to her.

She was in one of the upper floors, a small space that was nonetheless relatively comfortable, with two armchairs, a beaten-up television and a single bed in the corner. The television was currently on, and Josephine was flicking curiously through the channe;ls as she waited for Brenn to arrive. She did not possess a TV in her Haven, and the sheer amount of commercials on each channel was still something of a marvel to her.

Brenn's response was rather simple, only consisting of the words "I'll be there". Nevertheless, it's not long before a few abrupt knocks sound on the door to the Motel room. Brenn had been 'cultivating' her Herd that evening, but a chance to talk to her Whip, and to get to know more about her family had been a long time coming, and the young Haunt didn't mind handing the reigns over to her ghoul for a few hours.

Thus when Dr. Powell opens the door she finds Brenn, dressed in her typical 'street clothes', standing on the door step, hands clasped behind her back.

"Good evening, good Doctor. How have you fared under Dianna's shade this evening?"

Hearing the knock, Doctor Powell flicked the television off and headed over to the door, remote control still in hand. She gave Brenn a quick smile of greeting, and stepped aside with a small gesture for her to come in. "Quite well, thank you. I trust you're also well?" the Haunt asked simply.

"This...isn't the most...lavish of places, but make yourself comfortable." The chair that Josephine had been using was quite obvious, by the small dent in the seat from where she had been seated for the last hour or so. A light sweater is tossed across the back of the armchair, leaving her looking quite relaxing in a khaki camisole and jeans. "I'm glad that you were able to come," she added, her voice quite sincere.

"Well, I can't complain; nothing is good or bad, after all; only thinking makes it so," Brenn replied, an irrepressible grin that did horrible, horrible things to her lip spreading over her features. She strode, with all the grace and presence of a three legged warhorse, over to a half-rotted chair that faced Doctor Powell and plopped into it without further ado.

"Thank you for inviting me over for a chat, Whip Powell. We've long been due an introduction, and yet, ironically, I think we might have started off on the wrong foot. I'm well aware that I made quite the fool of myself at the last gathering of the Clan so hence I know this might be the reason for this conversation. If that is the reason for this discussion, then I'd merely like to suggest that outside, and largely personal, factors were involved that night. That may change nothing, but perhaps it's something to keep in mind."

Doctor Powell nodded wordlessly in acknowledgement of the thanks. It flittered across her mind that it was far more pleasant to be able to speak to Brenn in a calmer, less official environment. She could not help but wonder if it was simply tense or potentially tense situations that set the other Kindred off; or perhaps she was afraid of Sidor. It would not be entirely unexpected, some people were simply scarier than others.

"What matters, Ms. Lawrence, is that...you say that you are sorry to the Priscus and Ms. Hazelton - unless, of course you have already...taken that step." She gave a slightly nonchalant shrug, and a wry smile touched her lips. "I...don't have eyes and ears everywhere, so it could be...something I've missed." The good Doctor paused for a few seconds, studying Brenn, albeit not in a 'bug under a microscope' sort of way. She seemed merely contemplative, perhaps considering her next words.

"And I didn't...only request you come here so that we could talk about...dry, official subjects-," she assured the other Haunt. "-But I do think we should...get that out of the way first. I'd simply like to get to know all members of the Family," she stated, voice remaining quietly sincere. "And make sure all of them are keen to...work together to obtain our mutual goals. We're not...a large Family in this Domain; and I personally...believe that we should stick together. With that in mind, when he heard my intention to speak with you,...the Priscus asked me to extend his assurances that you aren't going to be exiled from the Family. In case...that was a concern of yours."

A strangled sound, one that might have been a shocked laugh, forced itself from Brenn's throat.

"Exiled? From the Clan? I didn't even know that was fucking possible, actually," she began incredulously. "But assuming that I did know that that option existed, exile wouldn't have ever been something that I would have anticipated. The only grief the Family should have with me is over ill-begotten words and a few disagreements, so I'm very glad to hear that exile is not something that is being considered...But, enough on that, I suppose. No use talking about what might have been. Indeed, indeed.

"Well," Brenn continued, her grin now utterly obliterated, "you said that you wish to learn more about me, yes? I'm more than happy to regale you with my biography, but I don't know anything about you, Dr. Powell, so would you be willing to perhaps tell me a bit about yourself? I assure you I won't arbitrate."

Doctor Powell gave a firm nod, just once as Brenn responded. She could understand the incredulousness, could understand too any concern that might stem from hearing the possibility of such a severe punishment. It was a punishment that would not come to pass, not here and not now. She hoped never at all; to be thrown from ones family was a terrible burden to bear. "There are, of course...consequences to any action that might be deemed serious enough to...warrant a punishment," she replied, her tone remained calm and unaccusing.

"But simply-," the good Doctor stated, firmer now. "Do not let it happen again. And I don't...say that to put you in any sort of ridiculous hot seat- it's...the same instruction I would say to anyone." It most certainly was not the new Whip's intention to make Brenn feel that she was being unfairly treated, or even bullied. The Haunt shrugged a few seconds later, as though jerking away the distasteful conversation now that she was prepared to proceed with lighter topics.

"I will...naturally, oblige questions you might have...about me. I don't intend to...pry every little bit of information from you, while keeping myself...utterly mysterious." The smile that Doctor Powell supplies is easily given, her voice returning to a pleasant conversational manner. "Tell me...a little about yourself. Wherever you want to start."

Brenn merely nodded at the Whip's last statement about the exile, and then grinned slightly as the role of the Storyteller returned to her, confident that the troubles with her clan would be settled in due time.

"The fitting place to start is the beginning, I would say, so my tale begins less then a half decade ago in the City of Fallen Angles. It was there that a young professor and a young nurse married and introduced a third life into their small family. Their household was fairly prosperous, fairly loving, and fairly exciting, as it hosted many academic talks during the evening, and such was the place where I was raised. My childhood was free of many worries, and in most regards it was an excellent place to grow up, but the one thing it didn't do was prepare me for how harsh the world can be. Oh, no...I found that out on my own.

During my teenage years, I had taken to wandering around parts of the city, sometimes with friends, and sometimes just by my lonesome, and as was bound to happen, I one day found myself walking through wrong neighborhood. Some of the residents were rather quick to prove this point..." Brenn added, a slight growl entering her voice. "Nevertheless, I was still fortunate, because it was an experience that I survived...and learned from. There was a time afterwards where Fear was my captor, keeping me indoors and away from the warmth of the world and the thriving pulse of life, but eventually the enticing draw of the city's rhythm and the promise of glorious things on the horizon broke my bonds. I realized that if I was going to thrive and grow, then I couldn't live in terror's shadow, I had to build confidence, and I had to ensure my own safety...So I learned to box," the young Haunt said abruptly.

"My parents didn't really expect it to help much in the realm of self defense, they mainly saw it as something that would help me restore my confidence and feelings of security, but after the first class I had taken to it. There was definitely something empowering about learning to use my body as a defense, to learn to rely on nothing and no one else, even when it came to a base contest of physicality. I trained for years, and I trained hard. I trained so that when it really came down to it, I wouldn't be helpless, and so I would never again have to pay for stepping onto the wrong patch of pavement. It wasn't until I graduated from College that this goal became a reality, but in the end the time I spent learning to punch things actually had a large pay off, but that's another part of this story," Brenn declared, gesturing offhandedly.

"As I briefly mentioned, I graduated college, with a double English-Journalism major, and I got a job as a journalist for a local paper. I wrote on the side, both prose and poetry, and that's where my passions used to lie, but I earned my living as a reporter. I was rather good at it, or so the editors seemed to think, but nothing ended up coming from it; I was killed before my career got far. You see, there was one night where, after working late at the paper, I decided to take a scenic route and walk through a park on the way to my apartment...That was the night my Sire was waiting for me, and I never made it home...

"Now!" Brenn exclaimed, holding a finger in the air, "I believe I'll stop my story for a moment here, before I get too ahead of myself, and ask you, Dr. Powell, what your days where like when a pulse was still mandatory."


Doctor Powell listened carefully as Brenn told her tale, and made no attempt to interrupt to ask questions. She found that when listening to one explaining something important so in-depthly, it would better to save any comments until the end to keep from breaking the flow. Her face held only that obvious note of interest; suggesting quite obviously that the Haunt was genuinely interested. Hearing someone's history could be very telling: into attitudes, behavioural patterns, ticks; not least because it helped to become familiar with a previous unknown.

Josephine smiled faintly, and bowed her head once in a slow show of agreement. "I do...say that I'd tell a little of myself," she acknowledged. "Although I...don't quite have the same capacity to...tell a story," the Haunt laughed a little. No that ability had been solely Roger's, although he would have steadfastly denied it.

"Unlike you, I...came from a larger family. I was...the only girl, placed firmly between three older brothers, and one younger." She spoke so infrequently of her family - perhaps the opportunity had never arisen before, but only dribs and drabs had ever been mentioned. The good Doctor preferred to hear stories of other's, than to chat at leisure about herself.

"My...main company came from my grandparents...growing boys had little attention to give a young girl, just starting to walk and talk," Doctor Powell smiled fondly, but shrugged lightly a moment later. "But I...found ways to earn their attention..." She went no further with any amusing anecdotes, although she was relatively certain that she could recall some should she try. The good Doctor did not appear to be the comedic sort of storyteller.

"You can probably guess what came next..." she added. "I began to...study medicine. It was difficult, not the...studying itself, per se - although that was no...ridiculously easy feat. It was...hard, studying amongst people who...thought women had...no place being a doctor. Much less a surgeon, and...going to the Front, administering to...so many." She paused, the ghost of a memory passing across her face. Josephine shook her head, her eyes fixing on Brenn again.

"History lessons at school will...probably tell you what the war was like," the Haunt added. "The...difficulties that ensured afterwards. I...returned home...after the war. I learnt to fight, at first sparring with my brother. And...a few years later, I...was Embraced. Obviously," she added ruefully.

"Si...Pardon...the Priscus mentioned that you were one of the first female doctors," Brenn commented, leaning forward, her interest piqued, "but I'm not sure which war that would place you near. I apologize for this being an unpleasant topic, but did you practice in the War to End All Wars, or the one after that?"

An eyebrow arched slightly as Brenn began to speak; but a small nod replaced the brief expression as the other Haunt corrected herself. That was good to hear - even she retained the use of formal titles, in regard to those Kindred she spoke to frequently. "It was the Second World War," Josephine supplied softly.

She hadn't given it so much thought over the years - one of many memories that she had, perhaps, pushed aside in favour of more recent events and activities. That ignorance was not necessarily a good thing; but stark reminders could be...difficult. Still, if the Haunt was disconcerted by the inevitable mention of the War, she masked it relatively well.

"A...long time ago now, of course," she waved a hand in a slightly dismissive gesture. "And it was...a valid question, besides," Doctor Powell stated with simple acceptance of the topic.

"Thank you for the answer, though. I know the pains the past can brings with it," Brenn murmured, pausing to sit mutely for a few moments.

"Well, very well. I believe it's time to stop stalling and to resume recounting my past," she began again, lifting her gaze to meet the good Doctor's again. "It was late in the evening, or perhaps the very early morning, when I set off for home, but the was moon aglow and loomed large in the sky above, it's light setting the night alive with possibilities. A warm breeze blew all around, vibrant and refreshing, and I thought it would be nice to take a short jaunt through a nearby park and stretch out the muscles I'd hadn't been using for most of the day. It was a foolish notion," the young Haunt proclaimed, her posture growing rigid.

"Now, I do suppose the fate the befell me wasn't the worse that could have happened, not the worst bane, but it was there in that park that I died. I was walking down a well used path, but something attacked me from behind, and unfortunately no one else had the same lack of sense to be in the park that night. The...thing that Embraced me had strength far beyond mine, and the blows I rained on it had no effect. And so I was drained of blood, and dragged into an abandoned building a few miles off. When I awoke, I didn't recognize my surroundings, but I felt the Beast, and I felt my old friend Fear nestling deep inside me. So for a time, I was weak and I fell under the insane sway of my Sire, a wretched being that called itself the Crux, but it wasn't long before I...broke contact with my murderer and sire." Brenn broke off again, the pungent memory of her early nights as a Kindred flashing across her mind's eye; where upon a brightly lit street her gaze had found a still pool of water, yet the eyes that met her gaze belonged to a visage so twisted and grotesque that she started as if her reflection had sprung at her.

Josephine nodded simply - not in the manner of one just polite nodding at approrpriate points; but some understanding reflecting in her eyes. She knew what it was like, far too well, to fight a monster with superior strength and to realise that the fight was never going to be won. Not then at least. In the end, the good Doctor had beaten her Sire. But it had been such a long time in coming, and even then the moment had been unexpected.

"So many of us are...turned violently, against our will...I suppose somewhere, there are some who are willing Embraces," the good Doctor murmured, although the response seemed to be an inner reflection rather than specifically directed at Brenn.

"But you...found yourself here, eventually. I know you arrived a little before I did...but by how long?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Brenn replied, her voice quiet, yet unwavering. "Perhaps two months, perhaps just one. Time is becoming surprisingly fickle now, I find...Also, thank you for listening to my tale. I've told it a few times, but this was the first recounting where I told the tale as I felt it should be told; as some have noticed, I have a penchant for the dramatic, which not everyone appreciates, but it has it's place in my mind. That said, if there's anything more of your tale that you would like to tell, then I'd love to hear it, but...I know that sometimes it's better not to speak of things that dwell in memory like bleeding wounds."

Doctor Powell nodded a little, inwardly feeling relieved that the conversation was flowing with such ease. She would have dealt with any problems that might have arisen; but it was certainly much better to converse without bad feelings. "You're welcome," the Haunt responded softly. "I don't ever intend for you - or anyone in our clan - to feel uncomfortable when coming to me."

She knew well enough what it was like to be forced to converse with someone she disliked.

"Or Priscus Grigoriev, for that matter. He wants to help our clan be united; and I wouldn't say it if I didn't believe it."

Brenn's mouth quirked, her upper lip twitching apart, at the mention of the Priscus and briefly a hand rouse, almost as if to hide her mouth. "Pardon, Whip Powell, but I don't see division in the family...aside from our kin that live in the bowels of the city, of course...No, on the contrary, I see that we have an interesting future ahead of us, and furthermore I do not mistrust the intentions of the Priscus or yourself. Now," she continued, splaying the hand out to her side, "I suppose that my words might lack weight due to the the manner in which I acted during the gathering, so let me say this to hopefully put it to rest. My words were ill-spoken, and I apologize for disrupting the gathering, but what I said was did not come from ill-intent, but rather, from ill-judgment. Also, from ill-timing. But that's not important. No, you see, the things is, the Priscus and I do not agree with each other. It's not that I don't hold respect for him, I do, but I hold no love for him, and whenever we meet it's like two bullet trains trying to share the same track. Now, this is not an excuse. I know where my folly lies, and I believe I've finally learned a distinct lesson from it, and I hope that both you and the Priscus will hold some faith for me in that regard."

"We do have an interesting future ahead of us," Doctor Powell agreed softly. "My point was simply that... with the earlier misunderstandings, at the meeting... for example; were they not acknowledged... and dealt with, they could have very easily become a division. But... I'm glad such misunderstandings have been rectified." Perhaps because she had never had the goodness of a Kindred family before, she was even more determined to ensure nothing got in the way of good relations.

Simon would have found it hilarious. A flash of perverse delight rose inside her for a moment- her Sire couldn't find anything hilarious anymore.

"I would hope that... in the future, we can understand each other better so that we... can avoid past mistakes and misunderstandings. And we can build on that."

"It's going to take time, good Doctor. I'm sure you know that, but it is going to take time. We can be like wolves---or perhaps sharks are a better analogy---but regardless; whenever our kind smells blood seeping from a wound, our hackles rise, and we just go insane. It's instinct. It's a little gift the Beast gives. Its the prod that screams for us to attack the weak, the thing huddled on the ground, the thing struggling to rise again, and its also a blind that shapes merciful hands into rending, grasping jaws that must be torn away. It's imbedded in our psyche, manifesting on the tongue's tip just as it stains the teeth. It is unfortunate that there is such a wound among the clan, because that means that some of us might go mad from the blood. Watch for it, good Doctor, watch and it shall appear," Brenn professed, eyes gleaming like bared steel. "That said, I share the same hope, a hope for improvement, and I am going to work towards that goal."

Been there, done that, Doctor Powell's more sardonic tone resounded in the privacy of her own head. No, the madness is never... pretty or desirable.

"It... is perhaps a cliche, but... there really is aways room for improvement," the Haunt grinned slightly, and chuckled. "Always."

Brenn thought about mentioning something about preachers and a choir, but instead she merely nodded. Talking about improvement and then turning around and acting like a wolverine caught in a bear-trap would be more than just hypocritical, and in truth it wasn't the Whip that inspired hostility; it was dwelling on past events.

"So, speaking of improvement, good Doctor, where do you wish to improve? When you came to this city, what did you hope to find?" Brenn asked, somewhat hurriedly, trying to change topics without derailing the conversation.

"I wished to... find people who understood, Ms. Lawrence. And... I have," Whip Powell answered simply. She made no attempt to explain what exactly she wanted people to understand - and indeed, there were a great many possibilities.

"I find... Sacramento to be a unique place... for people like us. Although... some may disagree."

"I'm glad you've had the fortune to find what you sought after, good Doctor. It's rare to find what we look for, in my experience."

"Have you find what you're looking for?" Doctor Powell asked softly, and her attention remained focused wholly on the other Haunt. In her experience, everyone was usually searching for something; even if not everyone found what that something was.

"Not even in the slightest," Brenn replied, her mouth twisting into a rictus grin.

Doctor's Powell's expresson slipped into a vague smirk. "What is it... that you're searching for, then? There are... usually people to be found that can help, if you... know where to look."

"That's definitely possible, but I'm somewhat doubtful. What I seek is a place. Preferably my place, but a place would also do. Now, I don't just mean a position in a geographical or socio-political sense, although that is a part of it, but rather what I seek is knowledge of where I fit into this fascinating machine that we call a Domain, so sophisticated in its simplicity, so shrouded by supine situations that it feels like walking through smoke filled streets. I think that I'll eventually find this place, but for now I'm lost inside the search," Brenn replied, her grin, along with her tone, warming towards a conversational quality.

"Most people are... lost in that very search. If you don't... look the right way, or... know the right people, or... flatter the right people, the climb up the ladder is... longer." The good Doctor was thinking of her Sire; she had known the real him, but the front that he had protrayed amidst the high-flyers of Chicago had been oblivious, in the face of his charming smile and silver-tongue.

"That simply... makes it more satisfying when you... achieve what you desire."

"Yeah, that's definitely an interesting facet of that, isn't it? It is, largely, a universal experience, but at the same time, it's a largely individual experience because of the nature of what each person is looking for. It goes back to that saying, 'We're all individual's together', doesn't it?," Brenn replied after a slight pause, her brow's raised in a faintly questioning expression.

"It... is a true statement," Doctor Powell responded lightly. She glanced sidelong at the clock, and smiled faintly. "Unfortunately I... do have another engagement that I have to attend to. I would like to... chat again," she added sincerely.

"Hmm. Yeah, I suppose the conversation did die not so long ago. All we've been doing is giving half-hearted chest compressions. Nevertheless, with a certain blend of science and alchemy, I am sure it can be resurrected, at a later date, in a way so that it is not malicious because it is miserable," Brenn intimated standing from her seat and moving to the door. "I will bid you adieu for the evening, Whip Powell."


"Ahh, and I... was under the impression my... conversational abilities were getting... so much better," Whip Powell remarked, in a voice that was quite dry. She tugged her cell from her pocket, fingers idly brushing across the buttons. "I hope the... remainder of the evening treats you well, Ms. Lawrence. Stay... out of trouble," the Nosferatu added simply.