Prisci Palaver

[Patience]

"Damnation is already a willful crime against God, though unavoidable." And necessary, as the Church recognizes. "Without forethought, it is an abomination," the Bishop intones. "Such carelessness is for idiots and blasphemers." Her already unfortunate face contorts into a mask of disgust.

But then the mask breaks and her expression melts into something closer to levity: "And it yields a flood of unbearably human childer, yes?" Somehow, this sudden shift in affect is even more disturbing than her previous state of righteous indignation.

Her hands raise from their position on the table with an inhuman slowness, arms levered up on elbows, until her fingertips meet in front of her, steepled. All the while, she listens to Lenora. She inclines her head, ever so slightly, to show her assent and appreciation of the Lord's words.

"I will not lie: It is refreshing, Lenora, to hear you discuss these matters. I have spoken to more than a few of the Damned in this city, and none have approached your level of understanding." She pauses to let the praise sink in. Whether Lenora knows it or not, such words are rare coming from Patience.

"I will say this: we do not test. We punish. We scourge. Because we are Damned and they, the kine, are sinners. Every one of them. And they deserve our predation. Whether or not redemption enters into it," her shoulders give the barest shrug, "is not our concern." Fingers interlace and now her hands make one, large fist. "It is for the Lord to redeem. It is for his Holy Wolves to bring his Judgement and his Wrath to the living."

Hands relax, fingers disentangle, steeple again. It's like watching a pair pale spiders fight. Or mate.

"My covenant is the only one that admits the truth you have just spoken. That our purpose is predation. And it provides the reason for that truth: the Will of God. Others will tell you that we must change, evolve, escape, or brace ourselves against the facts of our existence. The Dark Faith asks only that we perform the task for which we were created." What will the Priscus of Lords make of that, Patience wonders.

Lenora's response to her request makes the Haunt's eyes shine with an eerie satisfaction. "Very good. I agree, your place is established. But I do think you would like to watch me work." As she says these final words, the Bishop observes Lenora closely with her glaucous eyes.

[Lenora]

Lenora listens to the talk of damnation and the masking of vampiric nature, but doesn't offer additional thoughts. It was clear the two of them disliked the notion, though for what Lenora assumed to be two very different reasons. Patience was concerned with her Faith. Lenora herself was concerned with utilitarianism. The Kindred gained nothing by imbibing in the cuisine and drinks of the Kine when they were only in the company of fellow vampires. Burning the blood in that fashion was a waste.

"Truly, yes," she offers as the conversation turns to ill-prepared childer, "One could go mad believing themselves human in our condition. Beyond the skin we wear we are entirely different."

She did offer the Haunt a soft smile at her praise, appreciative of the compliment. "Thank you, Patience," she says, "I owe much of my understanding to a very long and thorough education. I will not see the fruit of my sire's labors wasted."

There it was again, the mention of her lineage, it was clear it was a matter of pride for the Ventrue. She was well aware of the role she possessed as it's newest scion.

A head tilts in genuine curiosity as the Haunt begins to discuss the Lancea Sanctum's central tenant in detail. It was beginning to sound like a budding attempt at recruitment.

"Are you suggesting you want me to engage in the practice of ensuring the Kine are punished?" she asked, "Or are you suggesting I already do?"

Lenora gives a slow nod to the final statement. "There is much we can learn from suffering," she says, "It can serve as a better teacher than success at times, even if it discomforts the soul."

[Patience]

"I am suggesting you already do..." Those unblinking eyes examine Lenora closely. With something approaching open hunger. Her lips twitch.

"You are truly lovely, Lenora," Patience says, her voice soft. Its intimate register is unnerving. "Everything about you promises pleasure. They must come willingly. Only to suffer the fruit of their desire, their greed, their pathetic need for control..." A beatific look comes over the Haunt's face as she describes it. She is most at peace when considering the horrible fate of the Kine.

"But you know all this," she grants the Lord, with a respectful nod. "There may come a night, however, when you wonder why it must be this way. I am simply asking that, rather than behaving as so many of our regrettably uneducated peers, looking to change yourself, to evolve, you come to me, to the Church. That you allow me to advise you, to provide you with guidance and support." As simple as that. Patience does not push any further. Lenora is already well on her way, does not require the same kind of education as, say, Dirt Nap. The seeds planted, the Bishop is happy to let them grow.

The topic of Faith broached and her offer made, Patience moves on to a topic that is clearly preferable for Lenora: "It seems we both benefited from a thorough education. One day, we might be called to do the same. If the Lord wills it. I'm curious, what was your sire's method?"

[Lenora]

Lenora smirks at Patience's discussion of what she feels the Ventrue evokes. Certainly, the Haunt was unnerving, but if she kept this up Lenora might find her almost endearing. Almost.

"How kind of you, Patience," she offers, "I am no Daeva, but I am more than confident in my abilities."

Control? Oh if only she knew...

A mysterious smile hits the Lord's face as she ponders her lineage, but tonight was not the night to discuss it.

"For the moment, I will afford you a promise," she says, her tone content, "Should you hold Mass, I will attend. More than that I cannot say, not tonight. However, should the need come I will consider your offer of guidance."

As the discussion moved to her sire, an expression of admiration spreads across the Ventrue's features.

"The Baroness is not an impulsive Kindred," Lenora begins, piecing together how best to regale the ideology of her sire, "My time among the Kindred began as a ghoul, Bishop. In that time I served as the steward of her estate and as a representative of her holdings. Most visitors did not speak to my sire, they spoke to me and I often served as the first point of contact for many Kindred who had come to see her. Therefore, learning etiquette and how to navigate in what was to become my world was paramount. When I succeeded I was rewarded, when I faltered I was... corrected."

In the typical Ventrue fashion.

"The end goal was always to become Embraced, but I had to prove myself through consistent practices - and loyalty. Had I failed, my only reward would have been to be reduced to what certain other servants of the estate had become," she said, her tone non-chalant, "All Kine can have a purpose. Some simply won't perform as they should until they can no longer protest."

A drone with free-will is a threat to Unity.

The wayward thought is shaken from the Lord's mind, though the momentary pause is clear in her expression.

"All told, Patience, I succeeded," she continued, "It was a moment I doubt will ever fully fade, even as my age stretches into the centuries. To succeed where so many had failed... it's invigorating."

"And you? How did you come to accept what we are?"

[Patience]

Patience mirrors Lenora's smile. But her curse twists it, perverts it. Where the Lord is charming, the Haunt is repulsive.

"When I hold Mass, I will serve you communion myself." A promise for a promise. And perhaps, when that night comes, Patience will be able to rip the scales from Lenora's eyes not with words, but with deeds.

The details of Lenora's life and death clearly capture Patience's attention. As she listens, she settles into her chair. Not that she seems to relax. It's only that the strange and displeasing geometry of her bodily disposition slowly and subtly shifts.

"Service," Patience echoes, approving. "To serve is to receive a gift. The gift." Bulging, unblinking eyes, take on a fanatical sheen. Her voice is low, unsettling and sensual.

"We learn through service what power is. It starts with being an instrument. A tool. Perhaps a weapon."

Patience seems like she might continue her discourse, but instead pauses. She examines the beautiful corpse sitting across the table from her. Gaze ticking from one perfectly sculpted feature to the next. A predatory inventory. "And not all instruments are created equal. What happened to those that failed where you succeeded?"

Lenora's question receives careful consideration. The Bishop's chin tilts up, eyes roll toward the ceiling. Is she remembering? Praying?

"I accepted what we are because I had no choice. Already I knew I was different. Even as a little girl." What was Patience like as a girl? Was she innocent? Shy? Naive? Could she possibly have been pretty? "And then I was Damned. When I was delivered to my Father, he showed me how different I truly was. What I was always meant to be. I too was made to serve, in a manner distinct from your own service. It is the way of my Blood. Even our Damnation is different."

Her answer is suitably vague, but something in Patience's tone hints at a possible willingness to continue if pressed.

[Lenora]

Eyebrows raise at the promise of communion, but Lenora merely nods.

"Service is the best way one can assess their own skills," Lenora muses, her tone agreeable, "It is less about inborn affinities than it is with the ability to persevere and adapt. To endure is to learn."

Just as Patience analyzes her beauty so to does Lenora take in her ugliness, her gaze shifting from filmy eyes and strangle mottles on the skin as the Bishop speaks. Long moments pass before Lenora finally chooses to answer.

"That was dependent on their ability," Lenora offered, answering the Haunt as she asked about her predecessors, "As you said, 'not all instruments are created equal'. Should they be of some use, they were retained by the Baroness. Their failure was not forgotten, however. Thus, while they lived out their natural lives in the Baroness' estate. They were broken and robbed of much of their will to ensure they remained complacent, joining others who had been selected for such service."

A tilt of her head is offered.

"Then there were those who did not boast such use or who had offended the Baroness too gravely," she continued, her tone waxing to an almost inhuman coldness, "Such dull or confrontational tools become liabilities. Thus, for the greater harmony of the... estate, they were eliminated. Their remains were likewise discarded, usually through the assistance of allies within the Domain, some of which shared your Blood."

A few blinks later and Lenora cleared her throat.

"Admittedly, the task of elimination was not something that fell within my duties," she says, her tone returning to its usual pleasantness, "As you've seen, that is not the arena I was molded for."

"Truly?" Lenora asked as Patience discussed her past with vague brevity, "You were aware of our world in your youth? I myself spent 24 years in ignorance. Before that life was quite different."

Then the Bishop made her final observation, noting their polar opposite in the nature of their service.

"And yet we have come to similar understanding," she said, "Once again, our sires afforded us with a great gift. Truly, you and I both have been blessed with a fine education in that regard."

[Patience]

"And to learn, for us, was to un-learn certain habits: the habits of the living. We endured the stripping away of our assumptions. Those assumptions held by mortals that plague so many of our peers. The instrument is tuned, the weapon sharpened."

She pauses, considering.

"Though, for me, the question of birth, of something in me from the beginning, was very important."

She offers Lenora a smile. It is mysterious and edged with a measure of cruelty. Listening to the fate of the Lord's compatriots only sharpens that sadistic quality.

"You Lords. You have a talent for that, don't you? Diminishing will. Ensuring compliance. It is admirable. What my Family achieves with fear, yours achieves with command. It is elegant." Though it lacks a familiarity with the uses of horror, which Patience perceives as a weakness.

At the mention of her Blood, Patience smiles and nods. "Oh, I am glad my Cousins could be of service. Though I think you will find that my Blood is slightly more rarified than that of your average Worm."

Patience unfolds her hands from in front of her, holds them palms out toward Lenora. So that she can see what is there.

"Look," she insists. In the middle of those palms are faint traces of scars. As if each had been, at one time, pierced by some sort of weapon.

"I did not know about the Damned. I knew the Truth: that the Lord is real. That He exists. That the suffering inflicted upon His son might be visited, in turn, upon those He chooses. Even a child. I learned that there is no difference between His Love and Divine Pain. Do you understand?"

She folds her hands in front of her again. Watching Lenora to see if she can comprehend the revelation.

"All of this I learned very early. Long before I met my sire. Though it is the reason he chose me."

[Lenora]

"They will come to see things as we do, Patience," Lenora offered, "The only alternative is madness. To remain whole any Kindred must accept their role in predation."

Lenora's cordial smile tugs a little wider as the Haunt before her complimented her family's signature gift.

"It's elegance is dependent on the user. It is a conscious decision whether to inflict our gift on Kine and Kindred with the deftness of a scapel or the blunt force of a hammer," Lenora says, "I personally find that adopting one's adaptability in either arena depending on the target. Not everyone is swayed with kind words and they need to be pushed more abruptly."

Lenora only nodded as Patience admitted membership in a Bloodline, or at least that's what Lenora assumed. She would not discuss the Bloodline of her lineage though, she had yet to ascend to it. It was a mixed blessing.

Lenora glances to the palms, splayed out like scarred, pale spiders.

"There are two kinds of pain," she offers as Patience ends, "One lacks higher purpose, a thing of animals and savages. The byproduct of our mortality. The other offers reformation of the self. Pain is a valuable tool beyond the base games our people play, it can also be used to see the truth. Whether that truth is of oneself, of the world, or of the nature of one's peers is dependent on the experience. This pain removes the fog that obscures the lenses with which we use to view the world. It enforces honesty and, in the end, understanding."

It may not be exactly the answer Patience was looking for, but it was the one that Lenora could provide. Their conversation thus far had been candid and the Lord saw little reason to be dishonest now.

"Admittedly, my sire's reasoning were less focused on what I was. She chose me because of my heritage and, perhaps, on a certain whim," Lenora admits, "She already knew what I could be made to become. What mattered was whether or not I had the bearing to understand the truth she was giving to me."

[Patience]

The Haunt offers Lenora a grim smile. More of a grimace, really.

"Of course. It's only that, given my Faith, it is my duty to help them along. To help them see the Truth of our Damnation." As difficult as that may be.

"Here, our Family's talents differ. With us, it is only blunt force. Horror, madness. The application always lacks subtlety." And all the better for it. "Your...adaptability must be useful. Have you ever miscalculated the approach?" Say, by using a hammer where a scalpel would be the proper tool.

"Do not forget," the Haunt adds indulgently, "that pain can also be a message from God. Even a gift." In fact, it is His preferred language. Of this, Patience has not doubt. Though she does not push the issue further at present.

"Well, she chose wisely," Patiences replies. "And now that you have been made into what you are, with a clear understanding of your Damnation: what is it that you want, Lenora? What do you seek to achieve now? What are your plans for Sacramento?"

A long pause. The air around Patience is stale, flat. Despite the fact that she does not breath.

"Because I think we can help one another. Given our similar...dispositions."

Sorry for the delay!

[Lenora]

Lenora grants the Bishop a soft nod. Patience's Faith was clearly genuine, but she faced a difficult duty.

"Failure is as powerful a lesson as pains at times, Patience," she offered as Patience questions whether she has ever made a mistake. "True testaments of strength must be tempered with the understanding of how to correct them with the tools one has available. It is a lesson I have learned and, surely, in the years to come, I will be reminded again. Our education never truly ends."

Yes, Lenora was admitting missteps. Her Pride was a quiet thing, quite unlike the near-megalomania she had often seen in others of her Family. Their egos could make them foolish. Thankfully, it seemed possible that would not be a reality in the domain of Prince Alessandra Antinori.

"I will consider what you've said," Lenora says as the Haunt again reminds her of God's gift.

Then came the Bishop's question of her desires. Lenora rested back in her seat, hands slipping from the table to rest upon the armrests, though her eyes never leave her companion. Pondering Patience's question, Lenora remains oddly silent as her face adopts an almost blank expression, ultimately bereft of emotion. Perhaps it was content of the question or the phrasing, but the result was that Lenora's carefully cultivated mask fell.

"To prepare," the Ventrue, her voice soft, but as unfeeling as her features, "Then to grow as I was made to do."

Steven Youngblood I am treating Lenora's blankness as evidence of her Conditioning under her sire due to her phrasing of the question (i.e. triggers). I am uncertain if you want to include a skill check to afford Patience unlimited sink the option to see if she picks up on the signs. Given the character's past, I feel its only fair to offer a window for other characters to catch on the clues.