A new Shadow...

[Albert Baker]

The address given turned out to be in Land Park and further looking lead to a detached plain gablefront house in yellow brick, red roof tiles and the windows and doors as well as the fence and porch painted in white. Passing through the fence and over the white cobblestones leading through the small lawn some steps could be taken on the porch and upon ringing the door bell the door would open.

Inside the path lead through a small room with an iron wardrobe and wallpaper with white roses on blue to the living room where an oval wooden table stood and two places at it being prepared with notebooks and various writing implements. On the wall were the same 70s-wallpaper and some paintings, framed and under glass. Finally the door to another room opened and the host appeared, sitting down and gesturing for the guest to do the same.

[Marilyn]

In accordance with the agreed-upon hour, the silhouette of a woman appeared at the designated threshold. Draped in an assemblage of somber hues, her attire held a tenuous grasp on modesty, she adhered to the instructions bestowed upon her, her gaze oscillating betwixt the embellishments adorning the room. A fusion of intentions coursed through her — a simultaneous absorption of minute intricacies that helped decipher the mental image of the de facto proprietor of the place and a vigilant quest for any signs of treachery.

As the door swung ajar, parting the veil of mystery, and as the host emerged, a smile graced Marilyn's countenance. A ruse carefully crafted to hide the roiling anger she felt growing in her chest that tried to prompt her into the uncontrollable fit of rage that every kindred has to contend with at some point in their Requiem.

"Professor Baker, if I'm not mistaken?" she ventured, her voice suspended in a timeless moment as if the very fabric of existence held its breath in anticipation.

[Albert Baker]

Al mentally recited a prayer to calm the raging instinct once his guest entered before entering the living room. He had relaxed the usual clothing standard to ash grey dress trousers, a white dress shirt with a purple tie, red slippers with silverwork floral embroidery and a red cardigan with the words of the four Purusuthas (goals for the human life in Hinduism) repeatedly embroidered in white. A faint but friendly smile bid her welcome though it flickered for a moment into a frown upon seeing her attire.

"Welcome, Miss Marylin. Have a seat. I'm Doctor Baker indeed.

Paintings

Thepaintings show upon closer inspection landscapes: the first one shows chalk seaside cliffs with the sun setting over a lighthouse. The second one shows a cottage in fields of heather. The third one shows a lake at night under the light of the stars and the full moon. The fourth is a garden in Spring with colourful flowers and blossoming trees and an old looking house in the background. The fifth one shows a church in Gothic Revival style illuminated by the rising sun.

[Marilyn]

Albert's furrowed brows did not escape Marilyn's observant gaze, yet she held fast to her serene smile. Throughout life, she had received directives on attire and appearance from men like Albert, an all too familiar script echoing in her mind. Fleetingly, a memory wafted through the corridors of her thoughts—an opulent chamber suffused with muted lighting, a clandestine encounter with a man akin in age and appearance to the Mekhet Priscus.

As she gracefully accepted the offered seat, her eyes once again roved over the canvases adorning the walls, each stroke of paint a testament to the artist's vision. "Thank you." she murmured "... and thank you for having me." her tone draped in a semblance of modest gratitude. With a calculated gesture, she crossed her legs, her demeanor a tapestry of feigned modesty and poised confidence.

"Are these places reminiscent of your childhood, doctor?" she wondered, her words an attempt to kindle a convivial exchange with the esteemed Priscus.

[Albert Baker]

Al just nodded with the faint smile.

"You're welcome."

Concerning the pictures he nodded again, though he chose to leave out that they were also valuable because Victor had painted them. That fact was nothing for a first meeting.

"They remind me of the country I once called home, yes. They show me what I can no longer see for myself, given that the journey would be dangerous and the day is barred to me due to my condition..."

He paused for a moment, before opening his briefcase and taking a folder out. For a moment it seemed as if he wanted to ask something but didn't find the words for it, 'small talk' was hard, after all. Then he opened the folder.

"I hope you can forgive me for cutting straight to the chase, but you might have noticed I'm not good with people... And it might be good to get to the required parts quickly."

He took a piece of paper out of the folder and handed it to her.

Laws of the Domain

http://nwod.org/wiki/index.php/Laws_of_the_Domain

"Please read this document carefully. After that we'll continue with the other necessities."

[Marilyn]

"I see," she murmured, the weight of Albert's words sinking into the silence that enveloped them. A momentary pause hung in the air, charged with contemplation, as Marilyn grappled with the essence of what had been shared.

"Our condition, indeed," she finally concluded, her voice tinged with a hint of somber recognition. Sensing Albert's unease, she offered a sympathetic shake of her head, as if to assuage any perceived inadequacy on his part.

"You were doing just fine," Marilyn reassured the doctor, acknowledging the inherent challenges of their circumstances. With a composed demeanor, she accepted the proffered piece of paper, her eyes alighting upon the inked letters that danced over each straight line. Words, laden with anachronistic jargon and suffocating legalese, unfurled before her. It was a mechanism, a method employed by the established few to maintain their grip on the unestablished many, the chains of eternal serfdom that tied kindred to their Danse and kept them on their toes.

"I believe I have grasped the essence of this," she declared, her statement veiled in cryptic allusions, heavy with layered meanings. Serenely, the Mekhet awaited the next indication, her gaze unwavering, a testament to her understanding and readiness to proceed.

[Albert Baker]

Al mentally took note of the cryptic allusions with a raised eyebrow.

"Alright, to the next point, then..."

An ominous pause lingered in the room before it was broken, while his gaze focused on her quizzically and the smile faded.

"Have you committed Amaranth ?"

[Marilyn]

Marilyn felt the weight of anticipation as Albert paused to deliver the question. It pierced the tranquility that enveloped her, jolting her from the realms of her thoughts. Not because she had ever committed such a foul crime but because she had lingering skepticism that anyone would ever confess to it willingly.

“Diablerie?” Opting to use the more visceral term. Marilyn hesitated for a fraction of a heartbeat, her mind racing to unravel the depths of Albert’s intentions. With a gentle exhalation, she drew upon her resolve, her voice clear and resolute.

“Never.” she said with a finality that brooked no further discussion.

[Albert Baker]

The response to her answer was a nod, before the folder was closed abruptly.

"Before we get to the last formalities and your questions, I'd like to get to what should have been the beginning..."

Focusing his gaze at her, Al tented his hands.

"I'd would like to know who you are, what brought you here from where, what your profession is, how skilled you are in the gifts of our family and what you wish to achieve here..."

He paused and the hint of a smile returned.

"The better to help you with integration, you see?"

[Marilyn]

The recently arrived Mekhet, ever watchful of her more seasoned cousin, maintained a measured attentiveness. Though his initial response seemed contented, she could not release the tension within her. This place was unfamiliar, a haven belonging to a stranger. As the words coalesced, Marilyn plucked them delicately from the air, their weight assessed, their significance woven into her mental cartography of the Priscus—of the kindred standing before her.

Albert, in his inquisitive manner, crafted his inquiries. Some held a semblance of sensibility, while others faltered in their intention. And then, there it was—the flicker of a smile, betraying his concealed motive. Shadows will be curious… The mistake lay in Albert's premature presentation of the Laws of the Domain, specifically the mandates of presentation and acknowledgment.

This oversight granted her a slight margin of maneuverability.

"Indeed," she replied, a tinge of amusement infusing her words, an indication that she had unraveled the doctor's charade. "Sure, I’m positive you are doing this out of extreme concern for me doctor..."

She paused momentarily, allowing the words to settle before continuing with an air of mild uncertainty. "To be honest, I am not sure I know how to answer all of these questions.” A light shrug. “However, I can tell you that I’m motivated by self-preservation, seeking refuge from the sun and not running out of blood." Ah, the enigmatic nature of the Kindred, their responses never straightforward even when they overstated the obvious.

"As for profession? I don’t think I have one... being fed and finding a shelter takes most of my time and energy" Weren’t all kindred to a certain extent in the same conundrum? Having a profession seemed like a luxury. And within the context of an immortal being, superfluous.

"And as for my powers of the blood? I guess they are pretty much the same as yours, we are family and I understand that’s one of the things we all have in common. Right?"

The words lingered, suspended in the air, as the Shadow and her cousin navigated the intricacies of their kinship. Within this exchange, a delicate dance unfolded—a dance of veiled truths and half-revelations—a dance that mirrored the very essence of their immortal existence.