Over a year had gone by since Arnold Culler had discovered his potential Childe. Months spent lurking in shadows in silent observation of the lithe black woman with no regard for the law regarding personal possessions. She was so graceful and skilled, while being practical and prudent. He had been so certain of her that he had even ventured to ask the Prince for the permission to embrace her. He had gone so far as to organize a test of her prowess to convince him of her skill.

He had been so certain.

In the end he had discovered certain... flaws.. in her personality. Things that had been barely noticeable to him until he had delved deeper in his observations. Things that were relatively innocuous in the woman as she was, but should the Embrace exacerbate these flaws... Arnold could not risk it.

Now it was all he could do to curse himself for wasted time. To lament that he had extended himself to ask for permission, making himself vulnerable to gossip - as he had discovered during his meeting with Victoria Stamford - and now for no other end but to have to go to his friend and lord and admit that things had not gone as planned.

Still, it was something to consider that he had been fortunate enough to discover the girl's ineligibility for the 'gift' that Arnold had to offer. To usher her into the Danse Macabre only to have her misstep would have been troublesome, perhaps even devastating.

I have every intention of living forever, and forever is a very long time...

Those words he'd spoken to the Prince once before were no less true to Arnold now than before when he'd spoken them.

Allowing his heavy weight to sink into an easy chair in his Haven on the top floor of his Hotel Arnold Culler considers his failures. His grip on the goings on in Sacramento had suffered with his recent obsessions. He would no longer allow his livelihood to suffer and with it, surely, his reputation.

As impetuous as the Ventrue Priscus had been she had correctly accounted Arnold's shortcomings to him. Though Arnold had nothing to fear from the woman's own accomplishments, it was always disconcerting to hear one's shortfalls retold to you by someone who had not been there to witness them firsthand.

And then there was the issue of the Brood in Sacramento. An issue that made Arnold's blood boil in rage - threatening to overwhelm him. He had been deceived and betrayed by the woman Jessi, and not a night went by that he didn't contemplate her ultimate fate - he still hadn't decided whether to kill her or hang her up like mythical Prometheus, with Arnold being the terrible eagle - descending on her night after night to rip her to shreds, only to revive her for the next night's torture.

The time had come to clench the gauntlet. He had been comfortable in his tower, but his place was on the street. Arnold would prove his worth as he had in the past, by smiting his enemies and driving them before him. And when the dust cleared, and Arnold stood victorious over the fallen, only then could there be no doubt in anyone's mind of his power and where his loyalties lay.