2016 Summer Solstice

[Victoria Stamford]

Victoria only had time to smile at Vivian's response before the event looked like it was starting.

Then when Silver got up and spoke she decided on a whim that she might understand more by participating than sitting at the side. She noticed others deciding to participate and found herself near the albino woman along the edge of the outer circle.

As David Silver began and spoke the ritual she was moved at the eloquence and delivery of the rite. What he said resonated with her own sense of loss and persecution. For a moment she thought that she understood the appeal that such a faith would have...a shared hardship...shared loss and how that would pull acolytes together. Names that she knew were brought to her mind's eye, her own loss, and she spoke out with the others.

"We mourn them all..."

[David Silver]

"We Mourn them all." David echoes in time with the others, he does not gauge their reactions, for that is between them and the crone. He thinks of all of those who had gone before, Paresh, his sire and mentor, Bogdanah, Chris, Jose, Susan, Papa Zafei, Daymian. And tonight, on this night of wind, Nao, who would have been the avatar. Their absence pushes him on, his brothers and sisters of the Crone. The Crone will have her blood, the Circle must be held. He focuses inward, as the next portion of the ceremony draws in those personal feelings.

"This is a time of mourning, we mourn our friends, brothers and sisters, destroyed by its rays.We also mourn for ourselves, as a farmer mourns for the milk cow that dies. Our food is happier now, and grows fat on wine and fruit. But our time to hunt them is destroyed, our time to feed is killed. The Sun kills us by Light. The Sun kills us by Hunger.

The Sun kills us. We mourn our deaths."

David repeats the line with everyone, before continuing. He feels the burning grip of the beast as he stares at Katya, and those kindred behind her. He feels the beast's desire to fight, to flee. And David does not let go of his control, but nor does he bottle those feelings. This is the truth, the beast knows. He lets himself see the rage, see the terror, and holds it in his heart.

"For our deaths are close at hand tonight. Tonight we walk with peril in one hand and desperation in the other. Tonight we see that death walks among us, with her knife bright in the moonlight and our vitae, our blood dripping from the edge. Tonight we remember those who we thought would never pass, who belonged to be with us tonight, who deserved the title of Immortal. And tonight, we remember that their physical immortality has ended. That they are no longer among us. Tonight we call to each other and to the Crone, to beg succor and relief from the devastation that we can now see plainly. We are in peril every night, and every gauzy drape or wall of words we place over it only hides the truth from ourselves.

We are one step from death."

[Ciara Maskelyne]

Ciara bows her head at Silver's greeting, the gentle smile breaking just long enough for her to mouth a silent "Thank you" before the ritual started. As David directs everyone to their places, the thin Ventrue makes her way towards the small arrangement of seats at the edge of the gathering. She wasn't one of the faithful, nor was she ready to rekindle a relationship between herself and whatever higher powers there may be. She was here to honor another sort of Covenant; the one that allowed the diverse members of the Domain to coexist in harmony. If the Crone were willing to open their place of worship and its rituals to outsiders, Ciara would be more than willing to represent her Family and Covenant's good will.

She remains standing as the ceremony begins; though it has little to do with any discomfort she might feel from the company she found herself in. While she loved the dress she was in, it lent a certain impracticality to setting and standing gracefully...

She listens intently to the tale that is told, waiting patiently for the right moment to repeat "We mourn them all." in unison with the others.

The next lines are a surprise to the Ventrue. To hear the leader of a ceremony confess weaknesses; even the universal terrors of Sun and hunger common to all Kindred, was something new to her ears. Usually the masses are reassured that their membership offered them protection. Her curiosity is instantly piqued for what comes next. "The Sun kills us. We mourn our deaths."

Again the conversation turns away from the expected; warnings of danger and death in the evening air instead of reassurances of safety and security. When David turns his words to those that had passed, Ciara suddenly felt out of place. She thinks back over her time in Sacramento and is unable to think of anyone she had lost during that time that she had cared for. Well, that wasn't entirely true. There was the memory of one person that no longer resided in the city that pulled at the back of her mind. He had even saved her life. For all the time since past and all the dangers lurking in Sacramento past and present, she had a hard time imagining he had met Final Death. Carried off into the night by a band of merry drag queens, perhaps, but not dead...

In spite of the seriousness of the ritual and her own self-control, she can't keep a slight smile from perking up her lips as she says. "We are one step from death."

[Victoria Stamford]

"The sun kills us. We mourn our deaths," she said with guarded emotion.

Victoria did have a sibling...or more accurately...had at one point. While she wasn't lost to the sun, the woman's loss came to mind anyway, and Victoria still had mixed feelings about the loss. There was a profound joy at the destruction of one who had be embraced as a rival, yet there was also an immense sense of gratitude that through that woman's sacrifice, Victoria survived.

David's words had dredged up past memories she had preferred forgotten and she hid her feelings with a somber mask. She was grateful for the change in tone of the ritual and instead focused on trying to understand this Crone's role in their faith. So far they were petitioning for relief from suffering and hardships?

Immortality is not guaranteed to anyone, not even us, she thought grimly in agreement.

"We are one step from death."

[Kenneth Gilroy]

Technically Kindred couldn’t die from hunger, sun induced or otherwise. Though he supposed the ravages of torpor could ‘kill’ someone’s mind. However, the prayer so far seemed to deal primarily with physical death.

Not that that there seemed to be any grand revelations there. The sun rose every morning. It was a fact Kenneth knew well and no cries to the Crone (or God) would stop it.

He did agree on one point. That survival demanded calling on others. That cooperation was key to finding the strength to survive the centuries. However, even if they agreed on that, David’s other words still range true. That they were one step from death. For how could lasting cooperation exist between predators irrationally hell-bent on killing each other. How could trust form when the mere mention of a power created through mutual understanding of their religions was enough to demand its destruction because of ideological views of what was ‘holy. Any alliance had to be fragile under those circumstances.

[Robert Cross]

Cross is lost.

Not because he hasn't been paying attention, but because what Silver is saying doesn't make any sense. It's all premised on the fact that none of the Kindred gathered here tonight deserve death. Sure, none of them want to die (again), Cross included, but who among them is guiltless, who among them could claim that destruction is not their due.

It's all just too much.

Monsters begging for succor. The damned bemoaning their condition rather than accepting that they 1) deserve everything that comes their way and 2) are doubly damned because, no matter what, they'll do anything to avoid what they deserve. Again, Cross included. This is the paradoxical position offered by the Lancea Sanctum, as far as Cross sees it: the monster is already damned, the monster must accept that position and work to fulfill its promise, without hoping or wishing for succor or comfort. There are no winners in this game. One can only hope to keep playing, for now at least.

Absorbed in his own thoughts, Cross lapses into silence during this round of call and response, his unfocused eyes still pointed vaguely toward those enacting the ritual.