Hollow Note

[Robert Cross]

So, music and painting. Cross has little interest in the arts. Never has, alive or dead. To him, they are little more than pointless diversions. There are better things to do, or at least more pressing concerns. Still, he nods pleasantly along as Cynthia explains. What she chooses to waste her time on is her own business.

I like you. There's just something about you, that isn't as...biting, as I've become accustomed to.

Alice's words draw a look from Cross. For a fraction of a second there is surprise in his eyes as he processes them. It's a very naked assessment of this new arrival--and it strikes the Burned Man as premature. There's something else that strikes him as well: who's company is so biting? Could it be his own? Cross knows he's not easy to be around at times. Most times, frankly. But the sentiment worries him nonetheless.

When he speaks, though, none of this is apparent in his neutral tone: "Very good. I can show you to the remains of the previous Pit later. It may be easler to clear that space for use once again than starting from scratch."

Cynthia's question seems to amuse Cross, if the faint smile on his lips is any indication: "Sorry to say I'm not very creative," he replies. Not unless you count coming up with novel ways of hurting people. "Though I did help to design and construct the catacombs down here, which was very...satisfying. In it's own way." He pauses, as if considering the words he's just spoken. "Other than that, I spend a lot of my time focused on security issues. Here, and throughout the domain. And studying the Testament of the Dark Prophet." That last bit has a testing quality to it. How would this new arrival react to his confession of Faith?

[Alice Hart]

A strings pulled nod, "Thank you for taking that on." Shifting her body to face where Robert's voice had come from. "I showed her the entrance to where all the old places. There's nothing but rubble, and debris filling them. It didn't take long to do a tour." With only a few open areas to explore, a brief mention and a stop to indicate what was behind the rubble. "Miss Weiss might need a refresher when she starts work..." Maybe she'd trust Robert's eyes more them Alice's memories.

There's a pause in the flow of conversation and Alice laughs her hollow laugh, "Thanks. It's nice to be liked."

Thinking on Cynthia's question, Alice opens her mouth and...finds she doesn't have anything to say. "I used to worry over the Caldarium and how it would look and how to set it up...now I've been focusing on the Domain, and...other things." like desperately quelling the ever-thrashing of the Wraith and the undeniable siren's call of the Blood. "Including my own Faith." she adds after admits his own.

[Cynthia Weiss]

"We'll get started later then." She said with a nod. Cynthia listened to the two talk. A hint of disappointment was in her eyes as she received her answers. The Artist had hoped for more than business from the two. "You two sound pretty busy these nights. You seem to be handling the responsibility well." The topic of religion did pique some of the Haunts interest at least. "Finding and having faith during the Requiem is something I can understand at least. I've not had much luck in that area myself." Old, half remembered threats of Damnation and burning metal from earlier nights of the Danse echoed somewhere deep in her mind

[Robert Cross]

Busy? Absolutely. Handling the responsibility well? That's a little more difficult to say.

After all, Cross is just returning from a sudden, and unsanctioned, departure from the domain and his duties therein. Still unsure of his place or the reception of the Prince. And Alice is constantly on the edge of starvation due to her own indiscretions. They're getting by, but Cross would not say they're doing well. Sometimes he finds himself wondering if dedicating themselves to the Kindred of this city demands too much.

"Yes--the Domain tends to take up a lot of our time. But, then again, we've got forever. So." He shrugs. "But it's not without its rewards." A subtle push in the right direction: make yourself useful and you'll prosper. Even if the cost can be high.

The struggle for faith is something the Burned Man is familiar with. "It's hard, I know. Finding a reason--a purpose. Given what we are. But it helps." At least it'd helped him. And Alice as well. Though they follow different paths. "Why do you think you've been unlucky in that regard?"

[Alice Hart]

Alice keeps her silence there's not to much for her to add, or ask.

Though she does nod, her strings pulled nod, when it seems appropriate to do so. Prove she's listening, though her attention is mostly focused on the Wraith, and it's ever-thrashing and that gnawing edge of hunger.

"Faith?" a topic that Alice and Robert both have an opinion of, "Purpose?" something she'd sought when she came to Sacramento. She found it, or it found her. "Two things I came to Sacramento without. And only one of them I was looking for. Faith is funny like that I can sneak up on you, maybe you're here for a reason, a purpose beyond your own reasons."

[Cynthia Weiss]

"No. Just the potential for a very long time." Cynthia corrected Cross, her reply seemed to be by reflex.

Fingers rapped against her knee as she contemplated the question. How does she phrase It? "...Well, show up in a Sanctified domain looking like this-" She pointed to herself, the hair and the dark makeup on her face."-and it tends to raise questions. Usually about the Brood." The implications were left unsaid, but did not take a genius to guess what they were. "Also never had much luck in getting a closer look into what was going on with the Acolytes."

The Haunt shrugged. "Its always possible. I try not to rule out anything that could change how my nights play out. But for now at least, I create and that has given me something at least."

[Robert Cross]

Cross watches Alice closely as she speaks, but what he's seeing is something else altogether: the Doll with the amethyst eyes he'd met over a year ago. So unsure of her path through the endless night. And so different from the Kindred standing before him now. Yes, Alice has been sorely tested by recent events, but she is nonetheless completely in possession of her power and position. Her Faith and her Purpose. It's still startling. And incredibly attractive. The Burned Man finds himself wishing they were alone.

But they're not, and his eyes drift back to Cynthia as she speaks. As she corrects him. Something about that seemingly automatic revision of his statement rubs him the wrong way. Though nothing, save a very slight clenching of the jaw, reveals his annoyance. "Yes, perhaps you're right," he answers. "We are not immune from...misfortune." He wants to say judgement, he wants to say punishment.

If he takes offense at her comments concerning the Dark Faith as it is practiced in other cities, he keeps it to himself. "That's unfortunate. No worries about that here, though. We've seen the Brood, dealt with them. And we know that appearance is no indicator." The idea is downright ridiculous to Cross. The heretics might look like anyone. That was one of the things that made them so dangerous. A flash of memory: a man, dressed in a suit, working his way through a blood-soaked and benighted warehouse, as palpably evil as anyone Cross had ever seen.

As for creation, Cross has little to say on the matter. And so he keeps his mouth shut.

[Alice Hart]

Alice laughs her little hollow laugh as Cynthia corrects Robert, the Doll hadn't used that phrase exactly, but the sentiment is one that had passed her lips many times before.

"You just have to play your cards right." her murmured voice adds onto Robert's words.

Alice nods, remembering the words Robert and Ale spoke over the Beauty Boy and the guy in the suit. "Stomping out the Brood isn't as easy targeting someone based on looks. They're everywhere and can be everyone."

"Every Circle is different, as is every Acolyte. We are bound by our beliefs, but our individual paths of worship are different." Shifting her pose, "Anything is indeed possible. Our nights are long, and numbered only by our survival instinct, or luck. You might find yourself in a weird place...or a weirder place. Faith can help with that."

A moment, head titled as she considered.

"I'll be hosting the Summer Solstice at the ruins of the Crone Farm." tilting her head towards Robert, "It seems only...fitting that I do." Her head turns towards where the toxic mess of smells seems to come from, "You are welcome to to join me."

Maybe it was for the best that Longstreet was on ice.

[Cynthia Weiss]

Cynthia tilted her head to the other side. Her eyes scanning his face and saw the little tells across his scorched, stoic features. "I'm sorry Mr Cross. Its something older and more cynical Kindred have gone out of their way to drill into my head over the years." That fact was stated as calmly as she could to the Whip. ​No eternity on earth. Kinda disappointing. Any sorrow from that fought barely crossed her face.

1 Success

1 success

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2017-06-05 08:05:42		Cynthia Weiss rolls 3 to Reading Robert Cross (10 Again)		2, 8, 1		1 success

A bit more of the tension Cynthia felt built up deflated a little as she took the the rest of the burnt mans words at face value. "That's good to know. I'm still glade the Satanic Panic finally died down. Even our kind is taken by stupid trends." The artist rolled her eyes. The situation was ridiculous as it sounded back then and she had front row seats to bear witness to it.

The drumming of her fingers stopped completely when the invitation was given by Alice. Everything about her straightened out and her attention was fully on the Eyeless Doll. "Why thank you Miss Heart... I might do that. Assuming nothing gets in the way of course." Open invitation without veiled threats was a refreshing change. Still, suspicion was starting to nag at her mind. It was obvious what she was doing. Unbound for so long... Wonder if she really thinks she can change that.

[Robert Cross]

The Burned Man simply shrugs. "It is what it is." We serve no other purpose than the Will of God, Cross reminds himself. As annoying as Cynthia's correction may have been, she's right in the end.

"I'm not sure such a panic could take hold here," he replies. "We're too familiar with the Brood to fall back on baseless assumptions." A small smile touches his scarred features at her eye roll. "It's only those who are left to speculate about such things rather than confront them that have time for such stupidity." There's a certain bitterness, but also a certain pride, in these words--after all, their most recent confrontation with those vile Heretics is still very fresh in his mind.

As Alice turns the conversation to the activities of the Circle--Her activities--Cross looks back toward the candle flame where it dances in the gloom of the Caldarium. Letting the rages and strains of his Beast distract, without, of course, letting it get the best of him. Trying not to feel the discomfort of their divergent paths, their differing Faiths. Trying to simply be and accept the facts. She belongs to the Crone. He belongs to the Lance. And yet, he loves her.