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  1. #11
    Alice Hart's Avatar
    Presence
    (Disquieting)
    Mask of Tranquility
    Striking Looks
    (Pale Wraith)
    Alice Hart

    Baddacelli
    Acolyte and Valkyrja of the Circle of the Crone
    Danger Sense ●
    Status; City ●●●, Clan ●●, Cov ●●

    Lyssa Wolfe. Ghoul

    Curse

    Past her Albinism, Alice is naught but a doll, beautiful in her impossible perfection. Taking on a inescapable sheen of artifice, both movements and manner seem, hollow and fake. She's nothing but a marionette, limbs jerking and twisting as if pulled by invisible strings.

    Marring her unnatural beauty are her eyes, or the lack of them, vacant pits of visceral horror.
    Stats

    1
    OCC
    +1
    SL
    -1
    NOS
    2
    PRE

    "I mock you not, Child of the Morrigan." Alice says feeling like she was on the set of Game of Thrones. "My appearance and bearing is not all that the Gods and Goddesses have laid upon my shoulders." Her Nosferatu affliction made sure nothing she did was seen as sincere, and that she looked like a Doll who's strings could be pulled, but she was born this bone-white, and that, Alice realized that the first trial the Gods had placed before her.

    The owls' call punctuated the proclamation the Stormcrow had made, and the words reverberate through the Haunt and Alice slowly, tentatively begins realizes that there might be truth in them. Perhaps all of her failures was what was keeping the Circle from flourishing. Might other Acolytes have heard of poor pitiful Alice Hart and the complete and total hash she's made of the Circe in Sacramento.

    "I do not trust you. A chance meeting, even one with the touch of the divine, dose not trust make." The sounds of Scylla biting - no, tearing into her wrist and letting the precious vitae spill echos loudly within the Pale Wraith's ears. "You will on the first of the month go to the Nox Populi nightclub and present yourself for Acknowledgement, but if you wish to find succor within these borders you will do this regardless.

    "No, my task to you. Is one we will undertake together. To build trust, we will learn each other, and work together. First you will need context, and knowledge of me."
    Even if by the end of if Alice didn't know if Scylla would still willingly call her High Priestess...Alice wasn't even sure if she was worthy enough to be call thus. "During the last Summer Solstice the Brood attacked our place of Worship with Fire and Fear. The Rite was completed, but soon after every other Acolyte abandoned the city. I was terrified, and was poised to abandon my tentative steps towards embracing the Crone in all her guises, but then my Blood thickened and my eyes..." Alice pulls her amethyst sunglasses from their perch and opens her eyes, pointing the sockets towards the knelling Kindred. "fell to ash. It was then I realized that it was for a reason, that I had purpose. I left Sacramento to find a cult that would accept my presence and initiate me. Eventually I did, they doubted my faith, but mine was not to be shaken. No matter what they did to my flesh, I endured. I returned to Sacramento and since, have proudly called myself Acolyte."

    Alice take a moment in the stillness of the night to center herself, and order her thoughts into a proper and frankly not lamely said way.

    "Since returning, I have hunted the Brood. I have killed one of their number and have secured two more. A willing blaspheming worshiper, and....a soul driven to madness. Once a proud member of the Domain, now twisted and used as a puppet for the Brood to worship. That success I might have, is paltry. We have no temple, and the grounds that once observed our worship are a scarred and charred ruin. My task to you, that we will undertake together is to right this wrong.

    "We will rebuild, build a Circle greater then Sacramento has ever known! A true phoenix rising from the ashes!"


    Alice's words raise up and abruptly fall, their loudness aching within Alice's ears, but still Alice doesn't move as she awaits the Stormcrow's judgement.
    Health: | Willpower: | Vitae: | Mimetismo 1: Certain Sounds Active

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  3. #12
    Scylla's Avatar

    Scylla
    Scylla

    Owl!

    2
    PRE

    Though Alice could not see it, a look of annoyance crossed Scylla's face when the Priestess began to talk before her sacrifice of vitae had been complete. Nevertheless, the Priestess' words were wise, and so Scylla did not protest and instead lowered her arm back to a position of rest as she silently listened.

    Though remaining silent became difficult as the tale of the temples destruction was told. Blood slowly dripped from the wound on Scylla's wrist, sliding down, and down in sluggish rivers over the contours of her brutally clenched fist. Her muscles were pulled taut, straining against ligament, tendon, and bone as rage rose. Though, unlike a mortal's body, the Stormcrow did not shake, nor did she draw breath. She was like an statue carved from stone, and only when the Priestess' words ended did Scylla dare relax.

    "By all that I am, I will help you make it so,"
    the warrior promised, her voice having gone throaty from the grief, and rage, and beneath all of that, the Faith.

    "On the day named for Saturn, I shall appear as you bid me, and from then on, like the Bahari, who claimed the nails from the corpse god's tree, we shall rise, stacking the heads of our enemies to form our altar. I have done it before. Decius Calvisius Pacuvianus and Gaius Decius Castus, Aethelred and Eadgyth, Rick and Pamela, all in their own times, have I stacked beside those others taken by myself and my sistren and brethren."
    Scylla. Gangrel. Stormcrow. Crone.


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  5. #13
    Alice Hart's Avatar
    Presence
    (Disquieting)
    Mask of Tranquility
    Striking Looks
    (Pale Wraith)
    Alice Hart

    Baddacelli
    Acolyte and Valkyrja of the Circle of the Crone
    Danger Sense ●
    Status; City ●●●, Clan ●●, Cov ●●

    Lyssa Wolfe. Ghoul

    Curse

    Past her Albinism, Alice is naught but a doll, beautiful in her impossible perfection. Taking on a inescapable sheen of artifice, both movements and manner seem, hollow and fake. She's nothing but a marionette, limbs jerking and twisting as if pulled by invisible strings.

    Marring her unnatural beauty are her eyes, or the lack of them, vacant pits of visceral horror.
    Stats

    1
    OCC
    +1
    SL
    -1
    NOS
    2
    PRE

    Alice might not be able to show the truth of her emotions like everyone else, but she could still tell when someone was sincere, the depth of the emotions in Scylla's voice settled an uneasy something within the Wraith, even as it woke something...other.

    "Good." the word was stilted, but the there was a mockery of emotion threaded through it. "With Zephyrus' breath upon us and the Stars on high, they witness your oath. And mine." Like the Gangrel before her, the Haunt too bites into her wrist and offers her vitae to the earth. "The Circle we weave will be that of Blood and Faith. It will not be a place for shallow souls whispering about trees and the sun's nurturing embrace, their pitiful, shallow, untested Faith. Our enemies flesh shall feed the soil - our foundations, their bones will make our alter. Their blood that which would do us harm shall be used to protect that which they would tear down."

    It wasn't anything Alice would have said or done when she was alive, nor was it anything that she would have said or done a year ago, but after last Summer, and after Bea...the ice bound wraith coiled, it's hissing whisper crying for Blood...and for once. Alice was in complete agreement.
    Health: | Willpower: | Vitae: | Mimetismo 1: Certain Sounds Active

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  7. #14
    Scylla's Avatar

    Scylla
    Scylla

    Owl!

    2
    PRE

    "Beatha ó bhás, síocháin ó cogaidh, eolas ó amhras," Scylla murmured, the rustle of cloth heralding her gesture of prayer to the Blind Priestess before her.

    A simple prayer, and yet it was profound. It was the Truth that every Stormcrow followed. They took up axe and spear, sword and shield, arrow and bow, not merely for defense or vengeance, but because they fed from the Dead, and learned a Truth from them: the plants of the woods and fields grew, the stag and the cow ate of them, the wolf and butcher slew them, and, in time, they too died, their flesh returning to earth so that the plants could grow.

    Not all were blind to this truth. Scylla knew that the mystics of Science had discovered this cycle and taught it to the rest of the world, and yet, there were deeper mysteries buried deeper within that truth, mysteries that could not be discovered in the lairs the scholars occupied, mysteries that could only be learned from the madness, chaos, and ferocity of a struggle to claim a life.

    How sweet was it that the Blind Priestess had already learned this?

    Smiling, Scylla reached out to companionably pat the Wraith on the shoulder and then bent to pick up her pack once more.

    "Come," the Stormcrow said, "night flees fast. Let us walk. I would hear tales of this city before I meet its master."

    Irish from Google translation

    Good to end the Scene? We will have to have a longer one after Court
    Scylla. Gangrel. Stormcrow. Crone.


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  9. #15
    Alice Hart's Avatar
    Presence
    (Disquieting)
    Mask of Tranquility
    Striking Looks
    (Pale Wraith)
    Alice Hart

    Baddacelli
    Acolyte and Valkyrja of the Circle of the Crone
    Danger Sense ●
    Status; City ●●●, Clan ●●, Cov ●●

    Lyssa Wolfe. Ghoul

    Curse

    Past her Albinism, Alice is naught but a doll, beautiful in her impossible perfection. Taking on a inescapable sheen of artifice, both movements and manner seem, hollow and fake. She's nothing but a marionette, limbs jerking and twisting as if pulled by invisible strings.

    Marring her unnatural beauty are her eyes, or the lack of them, vacant pits of visceral horror.
    Stats

    1
    OCC
    +1
    SL
    -1
    NOS
    2
    PRE

    Scylla's words, her...prayer made Alice grasp the point that she needed more languages under her belt.

    The Stormcrow drew closer, and the Wraith hissed, uncomfortable by the closeness, Alice shifted where she stood. Not away, but the inhuman stillness that draped over her fled as the women's hand patted her shoulder.

    "Yes, the night always flees, until the cycle comes round on itself, and it is the day that does the same."


    The pair, no the trio, leave the park where their fated meeting occurred, the Night Chorus that wonderfully wove through their Vows rises up, heralding the changes to come.


    I'm good to end, I definitely want Alice and Scylla to have met before Court! And yes! We need to have a longer scene after Court!
    Health: | Willpower: | Vitae: | Mimetismo 1: Certain Sounds Active

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