Amazing, really, what one can accomplish with a lifespan ranging over a century. Secrets uncovered, truths learned, and power recognized. Tabitha would be proud. And, perhaps, she would fear what he's become. One to rival her in ability, if not in strength of the blood. That would come, in time. He can't help but think back on the night she left. How sure he'd been - and how she'd laughed. Things are different now.

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A cold wind blew over the sound. Colder rain mixed with sleet poured down from the sky. Waves lapped at the rocks and concrete piled and stretched to break them before they met the beach. No sane person would choose to be out there, at night, in the cold and the wet and the wind. It was perfect. They were alone.

"Ya're gonna see things ya'll wish ya hadn't." said the former slave, in heavily accented English. Water flowed over her ebony skin, which was barely covered but for a dirty scrap of a dress. Taft stood in front of her, his unblinking gaze drinking in the beauty and power she commanded.

"Some truths wrack da mind. Learnin dat all ya knew was a lie. Ya're forced ta accept a new reality, and leave da one ya were so sure of behind."

Taft nodded once. "I'm prepared for that. I've died and come back again. That's enough to shake most to the core, yet here I stand. Unafraid." His voice was confident, but Tabitha's eyes pierced even deeper than his own. She saw the uncertainty in his heart.

"When da blood gives ya power over da minds of others... ya begin ta forget yar own life. Ya give away yarself for every thought ya claim. Tell me now dat ya still feel da same way." Like an omen, thunder cracked in the distance. Lightning lit up his Sire's features. Light glinted off her fangs as she smiled cruelly. "If I leave ya on dis very night, tell me ya'd still feel sure of yaself."

"I do, and I would." he lied. "I know what I need to know the follow the Threads. It is not my role to preserve memories of my own life." It was well rehearsed. Indoctrinated. Still, somehow, this didn't make it true in his mind. He still doubted. He still clung to what made him... him. "Only to observe. Be the knife that prevents a war. Be the whisper that starts one. All to shape the world as we see fit."

Tabitha laughed. First quietly, then with her head thrown back and voice ringing out to rival the drowning noise of the surf and rain. "Have it yar way, little man." she said, stepping backwards. She didn't pause to find her bearings. Just simply... fell back from the makeshift walkway of the sound. There was no splash. Taft ran to the edge where she'd fallen and saw only waves.

He'd talked himself into abandonment. He shivered as the cold realization cut to his very core.

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He raps his fingers on the wooden armrest of a chair. Things have changed, now. Others fear him for the power he possesses. Ignorance, mostly. Despite this, their fear can be used. He just needs to right means to ply it...