Shadows and a Lord

[Conner Wells]

Conner's apprehension rises as the wooden rack is wheeled in. He'd wondered if there was going to be some sort of ritual beatdown, given that Mr. Kowalsic was already in a position where he couldn't fight back. But it looked like this was a little less about giving satisfaction to the Succubus and more about making a point. Where death was no longer an option, the wages of sin must be pain.

But a strange relief washes over Conner as Mr. Kowalsic is the one chained to the rack, while the younger Kowalsic remains shaken, but otherwise untouched. Thank God. He meant it too. Sire guilt he could handle; the Lancea Sanctum practically ran on it. The younger Kowalsic would live and learn, as he realizes HE must as well.

The Nosferatu Clan of Sacramento begin huddling up, and Conner can't help but admire their tenacity. He certainly envied their unity of purpose. Something to strive for, I suppose. After all, if Haunts could stand each other and with each other like that, why not Shadows? Except they're not spread so thick as we are. Maybe that was part of the reason they were so visceral to each other? Not enough minds and quirks to dilute the Bestial desire for dominance in a group.

But that epiphany was for another time. For now, Conner watches and waits content that the Prince chose to show mercy where it was needed, and justice where it demanded. There was comfort for him in that, however small.

[Maeve]

The flaying was... horrifying. To think such a beauty could do such horrible things... well, of course she would. It's what Kindred do. We're all monsters. Monsters that could rip each other apart at any moment.

Her beast raged within her both with a sense of 'yes, this is justice' and 'stop it!'. To the best of knowledge given, the Kindred had broken the masquerade, which could be a sentence of death, but blaming the archon as well? He deserves this, but the human in her rages against the pain, rages against what seems to be wrong. Harming people is wrong, which is something naïve that still flutters inside of her like a child. But then, she's always been like this. Justice is a dual edged sword when your perceptions of what justice truly is splits into two. If she were human, she might have vomited.

She can't help but do it, look at Conner, her bright blue eyes searching for some kind of support that this is something that can be witnessed and gotten through. After that moment, she gazes back. When it is done, she takes note of the conversation about Edward and Jennifer.

A look? You all are complaining about a look? Something wrong? Seriously. Are you all fucking crazy right now? She can't help but feel another part of her beast stir, the one looking for equality, where people can have their opinions and express them silently without getting fucked over by a bunch of mad puppets. But of course, she'll always be called naïve for it. Naïve for thinking that the old ways are ridiculous, that the lack of self-expression leading to punitive action is abhorrent.

She steels herself though, her eyes looking more confused than anything as she gazes over. If anyone were to note her, she just looks bothered by the situation. On which side is anyone's guess.

And then the Prince is pipping up further, away from the congratulatory speech for Twist, angry for interruption. The waves of anger would hit anyone smack in the face. She turns her gaze away then, down to the ground. All she wants to do is leave at this point, have this stupid night be over. It'll be over soon, won't it?

Of course, once the night is over, Conner will be banished to the barrens like she'd been the month before. She would visit. With what, she wasn't sure, but he deserves a little company.

[Milton]

Twist moves forward with her bloody work and Milton's apprehension passes through terror and into fascination. The whole arc of his experience is clear in the subtle changes worked upon his bloodless visage. The obvious effects of the proceedings on the Lord are muted, understated, completely in keeping with his overall blandness, but nonetheless present for anyone paying attention.

The Archon is undeniably an artist and Kowalsic is her Canvas. No: her clay. The consummate sculptor, she searches in his dead flesh for a new contour, a new design. She cuts away what is trapping the object of her vision and what she uncovers is something altogether different than the Haunt who once occupied the rack.

Milton does not know what to call this feeling. What's the name for something that partakes, in equal measure, of desire, disgust, fixation, and fear? The Beast, however, does not require a name. It revels in the spectacle, without reserve. It sings for blood. And the Man feels shame at this enjoyment, which cannot accept, identify with, and yet cannot stop.

It is confusing. Messy. Milton does not like messy, but what can he do? He is here at the Prince's command.

Jennifer's sharp words for Edward draw his attention. For a moment, he's thankful, for the distraction and that Mr. Heinrich is being called to account. But, with the Prince's irritation so obvious, Milton can't help but see Jennifer's rebuke as a misstep in the current context. Even if Edward likely deserved the Haunt's ire. Milton hopes that Lady Hazelton's apologies will prove sufficient. For her sake.

Where to look? The Haunts have closed ranks. The confrontation between Edward and Jennifer is best avoided. If he returns his eyes to the scene on the rack, he may never look away again. Instead, he finds himself glancing at Quinn. Wondering what she makes of this demonstration. And knowing he cannot ask.

[Quinn Durant]

Quinn watched as the Archon began to skin Kowalsic's back. She can't claim to have seen a skinning before. Other tortures yes, but most were more symbolic of the actual crimes, but this felt more personal. Quinn wasn't sure what part of it bothered her more, the fact that she was watching a skinning or the fact that it was Twist doing the skinning. Like it was boiling something amazing down to spare parts. The slight light in Quinn's eyes was the stirring of the beast inside.

The beast would always delight in destruction, and yet Quinn's beast preferred the more insidious sins. Not the blatant ones. She took no pleasure in the spectacle, but a resigned sense of Justice being done. You had to get creative with Kindred punishments, and frankly these spectacles reminded them all of what they truly are. No matter how you dress them up.

Jennifer's voice interrupting the inspection of Kowalsic's flesh made Quinn wince slightly. This was not the time to air this grievance, and it was a misstep on Jennifer's part. Was Edward getting to her that much? Apparently so. It just had to come to a head here? Right? While someone's just gotten skinned? The Prince's annoyance in this moment was almost palpable. Edward feigning innocence was disingenuous. Quinn blamed the pressures put on Jennifer's family for the breach in etiquette, but breach it was. She hoped the apologies would be enough, at least she apologized instead of acting ignorant like Edward was doing. Poorly played all around.

Quinn felt eyes on her, and looked at Milton, noting his glances at her. Once more she felt compelled to act, but resisted it. Instead she stepped back silently and placed a hand on either of her fellow Shadows shoulders. The message clear: Stay strong, stay steady, stay silent and endure. It wouldn't be long now, and they could leave and put this horror behind them.

[Conner Wells]

Blade meets skin, meets flesh, and Conner steels himself against the unholy barrage of sensations against his superhuman senses. Each tear and grunt and steely shred aggravating his Beast. Let me do it! Let me rip and tear! Maybe then I can earn my way out of exile! Fat chance of that. Let the Court Hound to her work; even bitches deserve their treats.

He can't bear to look away, but nor can he ignore Maeve's glance. There was Humanity there; that precious, tantalizing desire for something beyond that hideous strength that clamored for satisfaction.

3 successes

Date	Action	Roll	Result
2021-07-27 14:56:53	Conner Wells rolls 5 to Reassure w/ Subtlety (Manip + Persuasion) (10 Again)	8, 6, 9, 4, 8	3 successes

It's all in the eyes. He looks at his azure Shadow cousin and his eyes soften just a bit. Just a bit longer, we WILL get through this. It was as much to him as it was to her. There would be time afterwards to process this, to process his own impending exile and slow, torturous reentry into Elysium's good graces...

But then a serpent's whisper disrupts the silence, and is answered by a lion's roar. Conner would've bowed out of impulse if his Beast hadn't locked him into place, like a rabbit trying to avoid notice in the underbrush. For once, this screw-up wasn't his. Priscus Hazleton? and Heinrich? Was this a show within a show? A planned ousting for some prior slight? Or an of-the-moment callout? Still, he admires the Haunt Priscus' recovery even as the Incubus flounders. He feels Quinn's hand on his shoulder and his resolve strengthens. He steadies his stoic mask, hoping that Maeve follows his lead. Though he can't help but turn his eyes briefly to Twist, wondering if the Archon would be avenging two slights today.

[Maeve]

Maeve steels herself, Conner's reassuring look calming her some, but she tenses again as she feel's Quinn's hand on her shoulder. A moment of solidarity for the Shadows. There is, of course, a fakeness to it. Can solidarity really exist between those in a group when they are fractured? She doesn't know. At the moment though, things grow even more tense.

Twist speaks in a foreign tongue and all she can pick out is the word Daeva. What's going on? She can only imagine punishment. Will there be further punishment for speaking? What will happen with Edward and Jennifer? Certainly the Prince will take Jennifer's side, right? Then she remembers that Edward is a Daeva as well.

Chill out - Failure

failure

Date	Action	Roll	Result
2021-07-27 22:56:28	Maeve rolls 3 to Chill (Composure + Subterfuge) (10 Again)	1, 1, 3	failure

Punishment for a look. Possible death or flaying at the same amount for a look. This is too much. She can't handle it. If she had a heart, she would be filled with a true panic. Well, isn't that was her beast is for? Run. She needs to run. She can't run. She feels like a trapped animal. Like an idiot, she slips her pinky in a hold with Conner's, gripping it tightly, the rest of their hands and fingers simply looking as if they are just barely touching. Practically innocent. But who is actually looking? All eyes are on Twist. It would be idiotic to look anywhere else. Aside from Edward, she supposes.

[Milton]

Milton does not speak Italian, but the words "Daeva" and "Nosferatu" used in the exchange between the Prince and the Archon are unmistakable. What could it mean? Nothing good, the Lord imagines.

And then the Prince departs. Milton bows deeply, though he's sure Alessandra's eyes will not witness his act of devotion. Let the rest of the court look upon his fealty.

Upon straightening, he allows his eyes to return to Jennifer, then Edward. He stares, unblinking, at the Succubus. How much longer will his disrespect be tolerated?

[Quinn Durant]

Quinn watched the Prince say her peace and depart. And yet she was curious where this was gunna go? More punishment? Or were they gunna dick around for another hour or two?

She noted the panic on Maeve's face, and she checked Conner and then Mr. Northbridge down the line. She squeezed her two Shadows shoulders again gently. A reminder to hold it together for as long as this took. Not to much more. Not to much more....

[Conner Wells]

The exchange between Archon and Prince is veiled behind an unfamiliar language; Conner picks up some key words: 'Daeva' and 'Nosferatu'. It helped that much of Kindred jargon had no easy counterpart in other languages. He can't help but admire the use of code between the two Court officials: Italian was a bit of a curveball compared to, say Spanish or French. The two of them clearly trusted each other, or at least had a grip of the language to keep others out of the loop.


And then the Prince...leaves? Mr Kowalsic remains, like a beached whale hung up and struggling to breathe. Conner's mind goes back to Quinn's discussion of Elysium's laws, especially the last one: The Prince AND ANYONE SHE MAY DESIGNATE are immune to these Elysium laws. She'd just given Twist diplomatic immunity to pursue whatever means she saw fit to repair the slight against her. Heinrich he could understand; Twist would have to be his Priscus, and therefore was in the perfect position to punish him. But Priscus Hazelton? Another Court officer? Perhaps there would be a fight after all? Maybe a part of him just wanted to see the beautiful Succubus broken and humbled? Or perhaps the Haunt Priscus would be the new spectacle; sliced open for all to see and despair.


The tension creeps into his limbs, his undead form denying the typical sweat and fidgeting common to fearful anticipation. But then Maeve curls her finger around his, and something electric shoots from that brush of skin into his mind...


A memory: another moment in time when his hands had been colorful and alive. A time when someone precious had linked fingers with his in a very similar way. Seeking validation; protection; comfort.


"Is it gonna be okay *****?"


The Beast inside is muffled by an all-to-human monster. A ripping, ravaging thing that would tear worlds apart in the name of those precious to it. He carefully disconnects for just a moment before looping his hand behind Quinn and returning the gesture, but tighter, more firm. His expression is ferociously calm, as if sure as night that nothing terrible would come to pass. Because if it did, God Himself would answer his call to smite whatever fool dared to threaten...


But the current show was ongoing. And the lady, though slim and terrible, had yet to sing.

[Maeve]

The squeezes from Quinn was anything but comforting. She didn't want Quinn touching her or acting this kind of sweet. At the same time, it's a show of solidarity. It's what she's supposed to do and perhaps it is even what she wants to be doing. Quinn cared about her once, maybe she still does... it's not something she wants to really thing about. No, she'd rather think about-


And then he disconnects his pinky from hers and if her heart could have sank, it would. No. no. no. No, you aren't allowed to not reciprocate now. That's not fair. Thoughts begins pouring in her head faster than she can possibly process. Hate, fear, jealousy, confusion, longing, more terror given the situation, all course through her.


And to top it all off, Twist now has a license to kill. She could do whatever she wanted at this point at the blessing of the Prince.


She swallows, even though she doesn't need to. She needs something to ground her, keep her steady if Conner- she feels his hand touching hers from behind Quinn, gripping her pinky. She could cry, she wanted to cry. This whole evening has been too much. She feels stirred up in a way that she would just break.


She takes a slow breath, trying to remind herself she's still partially human, even if all the monsters in the room want to deny it, and she's allowed to be terrified and want to eat everyone at the same time. And slowly, one by one, stretches and curls her fingers around his. If no one was going to be behind them to see, she might as well. And to a degree, who cares at this point? Twist might kill someone. That's more important than two Shadows needing to support each other in a terrifying moment.