Shades of Grey, Shades of Red

[Lawrence Taft]

The balding Shadow has been here before. With a much larger guest. The motel serves it's purpose. A quiet, out-of-the-way meeting spot where those seeking discretion often visit. Usually for baser, more carnal reasons. Of course, Goto is an appealing woman to look at... but Taft's desires for such things have largely withered under the years. His passions lie elsewhere. And now, a graceful Shadow has given him the opportunity to - at the very least - express them. Standing outside the rented room, back against the faded and peeling door frame, Taft cuts an arguably impressive silhouette. Archetypally the Shadow. Silent. And still. Only the steady breathing afforded by stolen life separate him from the scenery. From the dead.

Not at all idly - as such is far from his nature - Taft draws the key from his pocket. He grips it like a talisman between his thumb and forefinger. Planning every word and imagining every question Goto might have. He is ready for this evening. He's been ready for quite some time.

[Lawrence Taft]

Bookkeeping. Blush of Life active.

[Izayoi Goto]

After the whispered words spoken by the women in highest power within the Domian, Izayoi had been wishing for a private meeting with her Priscus, that she and Takeda-sama had been given leave to court him into the Invictus was the perfect reason for any that might discover her meeting, within this less then optimal location.

Approaching the by the house motel, Izayoi allows her blood to flow, lest some fool spy her and her deadened features. She wears black, sleek feminine lines. Indigo accents, with silver highlights. Wrap as they ever are is her diasho. Killing steel, and that of her soul.

The light steps she's known for halt, hitching as she comes upon the rising tides of Jigoku rising. The gates of hell rattling. Baying demons just under the surface, she feels the urge to flee. Hide herself away in the night, but she forces the urge down, just as she steps.

She has many long years to master herself, and the gnawing beast within.

"Mister Taft, good evening." she greets, a slight, but still polite bow given.

  always armed!

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2018-06-06 17:44:26		Izayoi Goto rolls 8 to Izayoi Goto rolls 8 to ToS Katana (Wits 4 + Larceny 3 + Obfuscate 1) (10 Again) (10 Again)		3, 7, 4, 10, 2, 1, 4, 10, 4, 9		3 successes
2018-06-06 17:44:07		Izayoi Goto rolls 8 to Izayoi Goto rolls 8 to ToS Wakizashi (Wits 4 + Larceny 3 + Obfuscate 1) (10 Again) (10 Again)		10, 6, 3, 5, 6, 6, 4, 6, 7		1 success

[Lawrence Taft]

Urges rise to his throat as his dark eyes find Madam Goto. At her core, she is more frail than even her body might suggest. A creature to be supped on and discarded. But this would serve no purpose. Darkest urges aside, Taft makes room for lesser evils.

"Madam Goto. Thank you for joining me." He returns an incline of his head. The key between his fingers finds the door in a fluid movement. "Please, come in." A darkened room inhales the night air as the door crack open. A faint, stale smell on the air is noticeable. Dull, grey carpets and yellow wallpaper seem to cement the trend of an absence of quality. Rather than flick on the overhead lighting, Taft makes his way to a small table with two chairs. He spins knob on the table's small lamp until it clicks, setting the room aglow in yellow lighting.

"I apologize if the accommodations aren't to your liking. If I understand correctly, those of your Estate are used to finer things." There is no edge to his voice; a simply spoken, matter-of-fact statement. This seems to be all the preamble he needs before taking a seat at one of the chairs and diving into things. "What have you heard about me? Specifically. I know you mentioned talk of 'dangerous tastes'. Can you elaborate?"

[Izayoi Goto]

Following the Spider to his web, might not be the most intelligent thing Izayoi had ever done, but if this night evolved in the way she anticipated, then it surely would be worth it.

With a critical eye she scans the room his key opened and found it like any other by the hour motel she'd been in. Unpleasant to the extreme, while making her thankful she was already dead before she every stepped foot into the cesspool.

"You assume correctly in that as a member of the First Estate I am used to a certain quality to my surroundings, but outside of that...well. Needs must."

She finds the chair opposite his and sits.

"I have heard of 'dangerous tastes', and that neither Her Majesty, nor Her Grace hole any esteem for these tastes. Though truthfully, the manner in which they presented this made it ever so tempting..." she smiles then, one shadow to another, "I assume you'll forgive my pressing need to know."

[Lawrence Taft]

"Well said."

The casual way in which he leans on the table is unlike his normal, somewhat deliberate way of doing things. It may suggest a certain level of relaxation or trust. Perhaps due to the presence of another who might be able to keep up with his train of thought.

"I suppose I could allow it. You seem genuine enough." Taft does, indeed, answer her smile with one of his own. The need for guile here is nonexistent. Frankly it would be counterproductive. And nothing he hasn't already spoken about openly with more 'influential' parties. "Those one might consider my 'ancestors' refined a method of creating artificial ties - much like the bonds of Sire and offspring. These serve not only as a means of demonstrating loyalty, but also as a way to tap into knowledge only the blood itself remembers. In this way, I remember experiences not my own. A single taste from another Kindred allows me to call on these memories at my leisure. Essentially stripping away the barriers between myself and deeper truths. Understandings."

His enthusiasm shows itself a bit in the pitch of his voice, but he, for the most part, remains oddly comfortable. Casual. He shifts his weight back on the chair, the arm he'd been resting on now draws an arch from the table to his temple.

"I told the same to the Prince. I even offered this service to her Grace - Judex Twist. And, as you can imagine, shortsightedness ruled their responses. The Judex failed to see the merit in accepting my gift, and the Prince forbade me to practice outside of her supervision. It's obvious she fears what could result in a lack of... moderation when using this gift. Amaranth." An oddly beautiful word, despite the grim finality of the practice. "You can imagine my confusion at their protests, considering the practice of using blood bonds to compel loyalty." A First Estate tradition.

[Izayoi Goto]

Izayoi observes Taft's posture, his animation and exuberance. She listens without judgement shown and felt. Her brow quirks, "Anything that toes the lines of Amaranth will be watched with all due care, I assume with how free you have been with this information that the risk is minimal?" the kunoichi assumes that with the information Taft had given of this ability, his lineage someone as connected at the Prince and Hound are it would be child's play to simply ask after the bloodline and receive correct and more importantly trusted information.

"Did they assume that they would be tied to you?" the ability to bind others together in something resembling the bound of sire and childe was attractive, especially when you first take the reins and begin your rule. "Forgive my assumption, but for you to bring your talent to Her Majesty's and Her Grace's attentions it leads me to believe that you can bind other to you, bind yourself to others, and possibly bind others to someone outside of this chain. Those outside of yourself." she quiets pondering.

Then after a moment of silence she pursed her lips together and looked at the Spider in his ever intense eyes, "Did they ask any questions at all?"

[Lawrence Taft]

A single nod. "Tying oneself to the most powerful person in the Court leaves little room for a rogue Mekhet, running amok and consuming souls. While I cannot dismiss the dangers of addiction and hunger, it seems unlikely that I could not be restrained. If that hunger ever got the better of me." The spider has difficulty hiding his look of satisfaction. His cousin is able to think with her head and not her feelings. It shouldn't be surprising that the Gangrel Prince responded as she did. They are known as Savages for a reason...

"The matter is complicated, but ultimately those who's blood I consume hold the edge over me. The bond is of kinship - shared between progeny and Sire, and between the progeny of the same Sire. I've spent many years studying the effects, and can tell you that this bond certainly does make those on either side more... susceptible to gifts of the blood. From one another. But the scale tilts with the effect of the Vinculum. The powers I wield do not make me immune from this. So those I have tasted will always hold the edge in this regard. The 'false love'." Taft exhales a long breath from his nose. "In not so many words, I thought I had made this clear. I can't imagine how this could be construed as binding one of them in service to myself."

Even now, the eastern Shadow remains receptive. Thoughtful. Attentive. When her eyes meet his again, his answer is solemn. "Many. But every question was tainted with incorrect assumptions. It was like taking part in a trial, if you've seen such a thing. The prosecution uses baited questions and assumed facts to trick the defendant into admitting to a wrong." His hand breaks free from propping up his temple to make a dismissive arc through the air. "But I digress... the Prince feared that the memories my abilities call upon were personal in nature. It is more likely to learn the secrets of her Majesty's last meal's great-great-grandfather than her own." A beat. He straightens again and his gaze intensifies. ​"Unless a memory of my own is forfeited in exchange. Only then could I access the memories of the 'donor' directly. And then, only temporarily." Even the most receptive and objective listener would be given pause by this statement. A double edged sword that pierces the wielder as much as his target, yes, but Kindred are creatures of privacy.

[Izayoi Goto]

She nods, an elegant dip of her head. "Were I in her shoes, and had one with abilities as your approach me, with this offer I would take it. The risk, while manageable, is still present and having an available avenue of prevention is attractive. Especially when you made this offer without prompting...?" her voice turns towards a question, the arch of her brow add to the effect, she waits a moment for confirmation, or denial. "But, our esteemed Prince does wear red and brown."

"Assumptions and bias." voiced, after another moment for the kage no akuma to parse the words. "The fact that you have been advertising the services of this skill is telling. Speaking of dedication and an appreciation of the craft. The acceptance of balance." She angles her body, but doesn't reach out, "We cannot control the intellect of others, nor how our words are understood by them. Many times my own words have been plainly spoken, but for those not of the Mekhet....my words were apparently labyrinthine."

Another elegant nod, "I have watched crime dramas, I can imagine their accusations hidden among their questions." Her brows rise, "Truly? Even I who had not the benefit of time nor, excess questions did not believe that when you spoke of memories among the blood that there would be distance. You wish for those ancient secrets lost in beneath time and sand and memories....is the exchange of memories temporary for both parties?" she asks, tilting her head, eyes alight.

[Lawrence Taft]

"Indeed." is his confirmation. The Shadow had high hopes that such a generous act would be well received. He had been wrong. If only a Shadow had been in power on those fateful nights. Goto's admission lends the thought a brief re-imagining of his time in the city. In this scenario, a certain Weaver would have been spared a frightful lesson at Taft's own hands.

A small curvature in the corner of his mouth gives away his genuine amusement, acknowledging the all-too-true statement of the other Clans' shortcomings. Or, at least, a statement true to the image he would paint them by. "I often wonder if all those Egyptian musings are true. Mekhet and other Kindred hardly seem related at all. But that is a discussion for another time." This evening, it seems, is an evening for action. Time wasted musing over the origins of the Clan would only delay long awaited progress.

"Just so." he answers, slowly nodding again. "Theoretically, anything is possible. But only tremendous acts of will can make the transfer permanent. The exchange of knowledge lasts, but the illusion of the memory being from one's own past is... fleeting." The alternative - the lifelong forfeiture of one's own identity in the search for truth - had been the very crux on which Tabitha both warned and tempted him.

"I appreciate your candor, and your interest, Madam Goto." Taft tips his head again, in something of a bow and an affirmation at once. Convincing himself as much as expressing it. "Though I am left with few options. I intend to stay in Sacramento for some time, and my loyalties to my new home were not exaggerated. So having been expressly forbidden to practice my craft - my services - for my allies, I am bound only to perform them on our enemies. Any knowledge I can access is as fleeting as the lives of those who's blood fuels it. A temporary resonance with mortal blood can be used, though to much lesser effect." Leaving nothing to say of the bond of kinship and Vinculum. Neither of which Taft would gain from feeding on the Kine.