Heathcliff paced the floor of his makeshift office in Greevey's apartment as he waited for Madison's arrival. The past twenty-four hours had been eventful, to say the least. His Blood had boiled and coagulated into something stronger, and as it did, he had an uncontrollable urge to...punish himself. He hadn't been able to think straight until he had carved a cross into his hand. Perturbed by this sudden masochistic compulsion, he did something he loathed. He called Sebastian.

To his surprise, his Sire picked up right away and laughed at his Childe's naivete as he explained the intricacies of the Bloodline to him, the reason Heathcliff had been sired in the first place. And then the elder Haunt said something into the phone, and unleashed a torrent of ancient memories within his Childe. His father, arguing with the local diocese, studying him, telling him that something was wrong, why did he bleed so? Heathcliff suddenly remembers the wounds he experienced in his youth that had aggravated his father so.

The Stigmata.

Sebastian then told Heathcliff what to do. Reveal himself to the local Sanctified. This was the purpose of his unlife, and it was time the faithless Staley took his rightful place worker of the Dark Miracles.

"Oh, but they also might call you a demon and try to kill you. Be prepared for that, My Son." With a final laugh, Sebastian hung up, leaving Heathcliff in quite a shock. Sebastian hadn't referred to Heathcliff as My Son since the Embrace, not even when he learned his Childe had been named Seneschal.

So Heathcliff paced, the same knife he had cut himself with Obfuscated upon his person, his spectral companion, Maria, having been warned that she might have to help her Anchor this evening, as he waited for Paladin Wells to arrive.


Madison arrives at the appartment a bit bewildered and concerned. Heathcliff had sounded very......odd on the phone. Normally the man was a nervous srt in her opinion, but this evening he seemed much more distraught. She couldn't imagine what could be the problem. He had just recently begun to explore his beliefs as a kindred and shown his interest in the teachings of the Sanctified. It didn't help that the Mother Superior never seemed to be pleased with what he accomplished. It always seemed like it was never enough for the woman. This did not surprise Madison in the least. She would think, though that the woman would be more understanding. Considering the current fate of the covenent, she would not turn away any who showed interest in the Dark Prophet.

She heads up to the door of the appartment and knocks. The place didn't look too bad really. It was much better then the seedy hotel they'd used as a meeting place in the past. The fact that it had been Mariel's choice and was a place of constant sin didn't really surprise Madison either. Come to think of it, not much had rattled her since her embrace. Her blood allowed her to hide her emotions from others but sometimes it felt to Madison as if it suppressed them as well.

She waits for the door to open, not becoming impatient or intolerant. Simply waiting.


Heathcliff takes a deep breath, out of habit, places a polite smile upon his face, and opens the door, standing out of the way to allow her entry. "Miss Wells, thank you for responding so quickly. Please, come in. We have much to discuss." He points toward the humble chairs and small coffee table that are the highlights of his 'office.' In the corner rests a small television, and on the wall opposite, the bright, Picasso-esque painting of a woman singing on top of a piano. The odd style allowed the player at the bench to keep one eye on the woman while the other stared out of the painting, presumably at the viewer.


Madison enters and takes one of the chairs, quirking an eyebrow at Heathcliff's statement. "Do we? Then please begin."

She takes stock of the office without comment. The Seneschal was in dire need of some funds to gain himself a proper meeting place. Maybe she could help him with that. One of such standing should have a nice desk at least.


Heathcliff watches Madison take in his simple office. "Do forgive the sparse furnishings, Miss Wells. I find that guests are anxious to leave if you offer them little comfort." He chuckles. He shuts the door and takes a seat. Here goes nothing. "Paladin Wells...I have recently discovered the truth behind my Embrace. My Sire recommended I prove my Blood to the city's Sanctified." He opens his palm to her, revealing the crude cross carved within. "Are you familiar, Paladin, with the Gethsemenai Bloodline? Sometimes referred to as the Ecstatics?"



Madison frowns at the cross and then looks up at Heathcliff, her face showing no shock even though she would have gasped had she not been Sotoha.

"I am Sanctified, Seneschal. Every Sanctified is familiar with that particular Blood. Are you saying.....?" Her face and body go as still as only the dead can. "To embrace a child of the Stigmata is strickly forbidden. All Sanctified know this. The Gethsemanai are feared and respected for this reason. Most would call for one's death in a matter of mere moments should they choose to put one with Stigmata at risk."


Heathcliff nods, putting his hand away. "This is the true reason that my Sire fled after my Embrace. It had nothing to do with my attitude toward the teachings of the Dark Prophet, and everything to do with his own safety. Yes, Paladin, my blood is Gethsemenai. I experienced the Stigmata as a child, though my father tried to hide me from the probings of the Church, and the truth from my mind, through hypnosis. He was a man of medicine, of science, and could not accept a miracle." His dead eyes roam the beautiful woman's face closely as he speaks, looking for any hint of violence to come. "But, unlike so many other things the Father asks of us, I do not ask you to take this on faith alone. Indeed, I can prove it. My Sire has told me how to exhibit the Stigmatica, and I believe I understand how to use it. Shall I call for one of my herd to join us?"


Madison shakes her head. "No, Seneschal, that will not be necessary. You have no reason to lie to me about what you are and considering the circumstances, you have more reason to hide it."

She leans back in the somewhat uncomfortable chair and contemplates what this could mean for the covenent, for her. "Seneschal........Heathcliff......" Her voice becomes softer as she continues to speak, using his first name not to insult or get his attention, but to speak to him as a Paladin rather then a citizen of the domain. "This could go one of two ways. It could cause serious problems with the covenent, or it could be our salvation. While some do not trust those of your blood, some revere it. I.......do not do either actually. To me the blood does not show what kind of person a kindred is, but rather what kind of potential they have. However, it is more important to me to know what it is you are looking for here. What is your next step?"


Heathcliff smiled at Madison's use of his first name. It wasn't very pretty to look at, but it was clear Madison's answer, and subsequent questioning, was found satisfactory. He was a little put out that she hadn't responded with rapturous devotion, but this was more than negated by the fact that she hadn't drawn a weapon.

"Please, Paladin. Call me Cliff. Indeed, I didn't ask you here to play show and tell with the Blood," he says, though a lingering flirtatiousness in that awful voice hinted that Heathcliff would be open to any number of other games they could play together. "I have asked you here to request your support for my Bishopric." The playful tone gone, his grey eyes gaze across at Madison seriously. "It is no secret that the Sanctified have become little more than a joke, akin to the Carthians, in the time since Benton Black's disappearance. Part of the problem is Mother Superior. While obviously a fierce warrior, and a Kindred not to be trifled with, her people skills are, frankly, nonexistent. Coupled with the fearsomeness of her Beast, no one wants to join our Covenant while she remains in the city. And she will not leave until you have chosen a worthy successor to Black. Why, precisely, she leaves that choice to you and does not make it herself, I do not quite understand..." he trails off, the mystery nagging at his mind for just a moment before he brings himself back around to the point. "Meanwhile, the pagans continue to swell under Circe's leadership."

Heathcliff lets the implications of a strong Circle sink in while he rearranges the phlegm in his throat, before continuing, "I propose to you that I am that successor. I have the political clout, thanks to the Prince's faith in my loyalty and ability. And now, I prove myself anointed by Our Father through the performance of the Dark Miracles." The Nosferatu smiles again. "At least, that is the way I suggest we present it to the city, in the hopes of gaining converts. The end goal is to strengthen our Covenant back to legitimacy and beyond, and I believe I give us the greatest chance to succeed in this." Finally, Heathcliff leans back in his seat, steeples his fingers in front of his lips, and asks, "Enough from me. What are your thoughts, Madison?"


Madison's expression visably darkens at the mention of the Mother Superior and it is beyond obvious to Heathcliff that she cares nothing for the woman. Other then possibly finding her at the end of Madison's sword.

"The Prince does not like her at all nor did he ike her simpering choice of a......convert.......or whatever the hell Mariel was supposed to be." She spits the name as if it is a vile, disgusting bit of blood that dripped into her mouth. "I share his opinion. That is one reason we have gotten no where in this place."

She sits still in her chair then and her face returns to it's complete blankness. A skill he would have noticed in the past. Her small rant is the first real emotion Madison has shown to anyone in quite some time. Except maybe Sebastian, but the memory of that betrayel only causes more bitterness to rise before she pushes it aside.

"The Mother Superior placed the burden of chossing the Bishop on my shoulders because of my own blood. I am Sotoha. As a Paladin, I am honor bound to pledge myself to the next Bishop. Bo0dy, mind, and soul. He or she is to be my Lord or Lady and Master. Because of that responsability and that burden, I am set to choose who I will trust with my life and who I am willing to die for."

She looks at Heathcliff for a long scrutenizing moment as if she is memorizing every pore of his skin. "Are you prepared to take up the responsability of being the Bishop and spiritual leader of this domain Cliff?" She uses the term of familiarity to try and soften the seriousness of the question, not wishing to intimidate him.


In some ways, Madison's singular attention is even more disconcerting than Heathcliff's own Cursed stare. It was as though the woman were trying to consume him with her eyes alone. And not in the way he typically enjoys. He pauses to weigh the question before him. Certainly, it is quite a responsibility- not just to the Church, but to Madison. If she is to dedicate herself to him so wholly, compelled by her own Blood, then he will have to ensure her faith is validated. In short, Heathcliff will have to be a better man- and vampire. He remembers feeling this way in the past, in the days preceding his proposal to Beth so many years ago.

And you failed her, his inner critic is quick to point out, so you will certainly fail Madison.

Another, long-buried facet of Heathcliff's mind speaks up then, its voice hoarse from years of neglect: You've grown. You've learned from your mistakes. Have faith.

"Madison," he answers finally, his wet, grey eyes slightly more moist than usual. "I am. I'm sure I cannot fathom the true depth of your commitment," he says, steeling his jaw, "but I will not fail you as Lord, if you choose me. So help me God."


Madison nods, seeing the conviction in his eyes and wondering if he could be right. She had seen a number of kindred come and go claiming to be the Bishop she needs but none of them had proven anything except how fast they could run out of the city. Heathcliff was Seneschal. He has a reason to make this work. And, she believed he was once touched by God even if he was dammed now. Maybe this is the sign she had been waiting for.

With a solem look she answers. "All right Seneschal. I will accept you as my Bishop and Lord. However, we will need to inform the Mother Superior of my decision before you can be anointed and before I can pledge myself to you."

The words seem foreign to her, having been such a long time since she'd spoken them. The magnitude of her decision decends upon her but the relief of finally having a Lord overwhelms the weight.


Heathcliff smiles at her, then reaches across to squeeze her hand reassuringly. "Very well. The sooner we tell her, the sooner she leaves town and we can begin rebuilding." He takes out his phone and calls Mother Dearest and asks her to meet them here, at his office. He puts it away, telling Madison, "She's on her way."

Mother Superior arrives much quicker than either Heathcliff or Madison anticipated. Had the woman followed Madison here, or had she been spying on Heathcliff, from behind her Cloak? The conversation is brief. Donna Marie already knows about Staley's blood, of course, and Madison's presence here makes the motive for this meeting abundantly obvious. She tells them that she will leave the city this very night, but first, she offers her blessing upon the Bishop, the Paladin, and the task before them.

When she has departed, Heathcliff exhales deeply and quirks a half-smiles at Madison. "Do you believe she's really going to leave?"


Laughter bubbles up from her suddenly and she covers her mouth so Heathcliff doesn't think her rude. She clears her throat after a moment, regaining control. "No, I do not. But I know that if she doesn't leave after we tell the Prince, he will kill her."

She shrugs as if it is of no consequence to her anymore. She looks at him again, ready to make her vows and gives him a slight nod. Then, she kneels before him and looks up into his eyes.

"Bishop Heathcliff Staley, I, Paladin Madison Wells, pledge to you my sword, my service, and my honor. Your continued existance is my only priority. Your saftey is my only concern. I will guard you, guide you, and be your trusted compaion from this day forth until the end of my Requiem."

Her voice trails off and echos through the office. After a few moments it is clear to heathcliff that she will not stand unless bidden to.


Heathcliff smiles. Certain parallels are not lost on him. "Paladin Madison Wells, I accept your Pledge. Rise," he says, offering her his hand up. "We have much work to do."