Asa slammed the limousine door closed, half hoping it hit her in the face or broke an outstretched hand or leg.

Godddamn that woman.

There were always the ups and downs, and she just never fucking got it. No matter how long they'd been together, or what what she knew lay beneath the Masquerade, she was still Kine. Sublime Kine, but still...

Asa pushed thoughts of his lover out of his mind, thoughts of her still in the limo, screaming epithets, as he made his way into The Sterling. The Sterling, bastion of the Carthian Movement, and hosting tonight's idiocy. Another faux Court, another evening of Covenant's jockeying for position and status. Another evening which should be spent partying his ass off and fucking Nika and whomever else they found brains out. And Feeding, of course. The lovely ruby red lifeblood.

He ignored the silly Invictus syncophant babbling in his ear, showering him with silly made-up titles and whispers of who did this or how that affected whom. Finally he pushed the man away out of sheer irritation. It wasn't that Asa himself was anyone special -- far from it -- but you could hardly take the Invictus seriously. They were a poor cousin to the powerhouses represented by the Carthians, Lancea et Sanctum, and Ordo Dracul. Even the Sanctified has all but divorced themselves of the clowns who called themselves "The First Estate."

And so... faux Court. No Prince since Tobias, and cultured anarchy was still the flavor du jour. Perhaps if they ever could all agree on a Prince, these silly monthly rituals could be done for. As if anything ever changed. A person defecting here, or seduced there. The garden of Unaligned, like himself, squeezed and felt for ripeness, sniffed for aroma, judged worth attempting to tear from the vine or left for a later harvest. Women had been thrown at him. Offers of wealth, of power, vain attempts to add another coin to the scales of a triple detente.

He smiled and joked with those he knew, some hunting companions, some business associates. The city's elite held personal courts throughout the crowd, and Asa couldn't help but feel deja vu. Just like last month. Just like the month before. And the month before that.

I am immortal, and I have found Purgatory. Or is this Hell?

The crowd parted, for a moment, as he looked around in exasperation. It parted, like clouds bowing before the golden righteousness of the daystar... and the brown eyes of an angel swept across his for the briefest of moments, before the storm clouds of finely clad bodies obscured the divine again.

Who are you?