Blood and Gods and Darkness

[Lawrence Taft]

Taft shrugs. He's considered a great many things in his life. And after it. He'd always imagined, though, that his Sire made her intentions and machinations pretty transparent. All the better to groom him.

A thin-lipped smile follows Krieg's statement. "Flattery, is it? You'd make a good salesman, you know. But, all humor aside, I must confess that the Dragons came closest to wooing me. I served under one, for a time. Watched him rise from nothing into greatness. For all intents and purposes, he embodied all that their covenant strives for: mastery of self." He shifts in his seat, realigning his resting position even as he changes tactics. "So indulge me, if you will...an elevation of self was almost enough to swing my loyalty. But service? Seems the means to just the opposite. Humbling myself." His expression is neutral, now. Revealing little. Though the unbroken, unblinking gaze might suggest that Krieg's answer is important, indeed.

[Lawrence Taft]

Silence occupies the side of the room with the Shadow. The Haunt has pretty much laid his soul bare, hasn't he? No reason to lie about all of this. It's a certain kind of poetry - an honest expression of one's agenda purpose. If nothing else, Taft finds himself entertained. The sentiment manifests on his face.

"I would offer you applause, but the gesture isn't usually received well in such a small crowd. So let me just say, friend, that you make a compelling argument. But..." he smiles, mid-pause, lending even more emphasis on the 'but'. "I did promise some sharing of my own, didn't I? That medium for truth I mentioned the other night? One that outshines paper and stone? It is blood itself. You see, written truths are limited by the words used to articulate them. The imaginations of the reader can take them a bit further, but, ultimately, that which is written is meant for one purpose: communication. Truths lie dormant in the blood for centuries, or even reignite recent events under a new perspective. These truths aren't the answers to a specific question. This, in itself, is a limitation. Every thought and song and feeling that has been experienced by man exists. In the blood.

"Unfortunately, as tempting as the offer of 'godhood' is, I must challenge it. It may be true that I found the Dragons lacking, but the same could be said of the Circle." Taft's smile has disappeared, but his expression doesn't suggest mockery. Merely a serious face for a serious discussion. "My reservations stem from the fluidity of politics. Men have waged war in the names of gods and themselves since time immemorial, have they not? The desires and motivations of a populace shift, inevitably, over time. New gods. New laws. New opinions. My philosophy revolves around these changes, mind you, but it also requires a level of freedom. The choice to honor a covenant isn't done lightly, as I'm sure you agree, and there are consequences surrounding it. If I commit to one, I shun the rest. And when destiny requires my quill or sword, a political limitation could stand in the way."

If ever a web has been weaved, Taft surely spins one now. With the simplest of statements. "Tit for tat? I could be persuaded."

[Lawrence Taft]

"Perhaps there's truth in what you say, though I will admit that my values - my core - are immutable. The which is for sale," he says with a grin most unpleasant, "this 'mercenary' aspect, as you call it? Is my loyalty. So really, this boils down to the question: does your Circle seek more voices to add to its chorus?"

He doesn't wait for an answer, as if the question were rhetorical. "All you would need to buy my loyalty is a simple favor. You see, my craft requires freedoms that some in power are hesitant to grant. If you were to, say, put in 'a good word' on my behalf I would gladly strengthen your Circle. And, once the decision is made, I can promise you to take the transition seriously. The wisdom of your goddess can only enhance my abilities, after all." Now he does wait. For the imposing Haunt to make his own decision.

[Lawrence Taft]

Who are these monsters? Twist, Alessandra and now Krieg. None of them seem motivated by greed or lust for power. Or if they are, they hide it well. Very interesting. Is it caution or fear that motivates them?

Taft summons a smile. "I've met many of our kind who snap at every scrap thrown their way. Your devotion to a cause is... admirable. I truly mean that. I won't make false claims of a high moral road, but resisting temptations is a very good way to survive the nights." He flattens his hands on the table, leaning away with a thoughtful look on his face.

"I wasn't lying when I said that I, too, have a cause. The masters I choose must never interfere with it. So it may be that I simply would not fit in your Circle. Or, perhaps, I would fit very well indeed. Let's revisit this on another night. Our talk has been informative. You have things to consider, as do I."

[Lawrence Taft]

Rising slowly, first, then offering Krieg a hand to shake, Taft smiles. It does not meet his eyes. "Thank you for your advice. And I hope your goddess smiles upon you, as well."

With that said, Taft excuses himself first from the room. All this deliberation has him feeling peckish. He simply must find somewhere to have a bite.

Taft will exit. Unless, of course, Krieg does/says something to call him back. Otherwise, great scene.