piper90 | [Video]

[A minute wince. The wyrm wolves are..unpleasant to think about.]

Yes, well, the time I was invited to tea by one of those 'Spiral Dancers', I think we were rather equally unhappy with how it went. He's probably still trapped there, trying to guess the password.

But you know, it is absurd to hear any hints about unnaturality from a shapeshifter. Your lot claim to be half-spirit – why yes, I know about that. Living beings, mystically anchored by the ties to your spiritual duties. Kindred are just the reverse, spiritual - essences of being, who are mystically anchored to our material bodies. If I wanted to talk hypocrisies, I could just hear it from an Elder.

We're living manifestations of Gaia's will. We were made specifically to be Her warriors. You guys are the walking dead with better table manners. It's not hypocritical to suggest that there's something unnatural about a living corpse.

[ Kenzie snaps out her reply, irritation starting to crawl around under her skin. How could you even compare the two? Just thinking about it felt wrong. ]

Weird thing is I feel like y'all would be way more Weaver-aligned than Wyrm-aligned, if anything. The Wyrm abhors static and unchanging things. It wants to destroy. The Weaver, though, she's all about putting something in amber and keeping it that way forever. And yet...

Kindred have those who claim we were born from divine will and action too. That doesn't make either party not beings made of otherness – or convenient to slot neatly into one designated slot.

[She offers a one sided shrug.]

It's almost as if it's a false dichotomy. Death, rebirth, growth, creation and order from chaos. Those are all necessary aspects to life – and despite whatever you may think of us, we are living, if not alive.

It's not a "false dichotomy!" It's imbalance.

[ Kenzie lifts her hands and even adds finger quotes to the term. ]

It's supposed to be a triad. Three forces working in harmony. The Wyld creates, the Weaver gives order, the Wyrm destroys that which is no longer needed. But the Weaver got tired of all her pretty webs getting eaten by the Wyrm and trapped him. He went mad and instead of just destroying that which needs it, now the Wyrm wants to destroy everything.

[ At least that's the version Mackenzie was told. ]

Which definitely makes vampires way more of a Weaver thing, if I think about it. So why do so many of you reek of Wyrm? You're stuck between two different states of being. Maybe it's because the Wyrm is always trying to chew on you...?

[ Kenzie is no scholar, so she's just spitballing. ]

[ She doesn't look terribly impressed.]
So you're proposing that we stink of being metaphysical chewtoys, and somehow that's our fault? Truly, the compassion of Gaia's warriors is mighty.

That's not entirely how it was explained to me, however. The triat, yes – the Wyld, making nothing, never dying. Is, but cannot make. The Weaver, makes, but cannot be. The Wyrm who returns what is to be forged anew. All of them corrupted, all of them lost and turned upon another. A temple with only two pillars cannot remain standing. How can you kill any of the triat without killing Gaia herself? How could any of the three be fallen unless all were?

[She smiles bleakly.]

It was not a terribly cheerful conversation. But it certainly makes more sense from my perspective that what is imbalanced in one part of the cycle is necessarily so broken in the rest. However convenient a scapegoat one might make.

It's a theory, I didn't say it was true.

[ Kenzie lets out an angry huff of breath, settles her hands at her hips as she gathers her thoughts. ]

Fuckin--, I was always told leeches are of the Wyrm. And y'all stink like the Wyrm, too, so that's just the facts. I just thought since y'all are never changing, maybe you come from the Weaver. Not my fault you all fucking stink!

[ She throws her hands up helplessly, as if there was nothing she could do about. ]

And yeah, it's out of balance, because the fucking Wyrm got driven mad by the Weaver. They're both out of balance! And then the Wyld, too, because Wyld is getting eaten up by Weaver and the Wyrm!

[ Kenzie sucks a breath through her, practically snorting. She can feel an itch of anger running across her skin and she tries to clamp down on it. ]

And yeah, we're fucking idiots for thinking that we could put it back right. Fuck!

[ Her hands clench into fists. ]

She's still our Mother! We still have to fucking try, even if all we can do is prolong the inevitable for just one more day.

[ Her hand slaps against her chest, angry tears stinging the corners of her eyes. ]

That's it! That's all we have left to give Her is our lives, even if it's hopeless. Of course I know how fucking broken the Triat is! I've seen what every one of them does. The web-choked gauntlet in the cities, the stink of chemicals poured on virgin land and, the way poison fucking tastes in people's water. Wild spaces disappearing every year.

[ She growls, low in her throat. ]

We know it's broken. There's just things you have to tell yourself to keep going when you have a beating fuckin' heart.

Edited 2020-11-04 04:07 (UTC)

[Her expression is largely impassive through this rant, as she carefully does not interrupt – but Beatrice does take a half step back, angling closer to the exit again. Just in case.]

So long as you do know the truth. But why does it always come down to your lives?

I do not hold anyone idiots or mad for attempting to put right what once was broken – but I do charge martyrdom as an ill-fitting substitute. I don't believe that one's blood watering the earth has more value than their life...and what madness is, as the saying goes, is attempting the same action over and over and expecting different results.

This is why the truth is paramount above all. Because your battle is not lost yet.

[She turns half away, hands clasped behind her back. As far as Beatrice is concerned, the polite reaction to Emotions (tm) is to pretend not to see them and offer up information instead.]

As for our nature, you're likely correct that we're closer to the Weaver as you would define us. We lived as mortals in her domain, and died and remained unchanging within it as well. If I had to theorize on what rings out to your kind as Wyrmish - [she hesitates] - well. We refer to it as the Beast. A super-charged id, in essence. It knows only the basest instincts - survival, fear, anger. Destruction. To lose control to its scrabbling at the mind is to become a passenger, for the Beast knows not friends from foe, innocence from guilt. A howl of inhumanity that exists in every one of us, always waiting.

The Theurge seemed to think it a familiar description. It is what it is.

[ Kenzie seems to do her best to pull herself back in--to draw in and be a little smaller. She drops to the floor and begins to do push-ups as Bea speaks, trying to drive out excess agitation and energy through sheer movement. She pants as she replies, never slowing. ]

We do what we have to. That's it.

[ Mackenzie doesn't know what else to say. She isn't really a leader, she's just a weapon to be pointed at the enemies of Gaia and let loose. She's made that her identity for years and being asked to look for an alternative aside from 'die for Gaia' makes her uneasy. ]

It's not lost. You're right. We have to keep fighting because there's still hope. I just accept that I'm gonna die one day.

[ Like the rest of her pack. ]

Sounds like Rage.

[ As much as she hates to compare the two. ]

You drop too deep into it, it can bring you in thrall of the Wyrm, make you do things you'd never do ever in your waking mind. The Rage doesn't give a fuck tho. It wants to do what it wants to do.

[The reduction of a building storm of tear-your-head-off werewolf eases off her stance, and Beatrice half-turns back. She watches the flurry of push-up movement with an air of vague fascination.]

You just never turn off, do you?

And while this may come ironic as coming from one of my kind – we would know better than most. We all die one day, Ms. Haynes. I've known this since the first wraith spoke to me as a mortal girl. Only the work that can be done matters. As it is written, "You are not obliged to complete the work, but neither are you free to desist from it."

[The topic of Rage itself seems to make her more uncomfortable than the concept of being in a small room with a raging wolf.]

It - sounds more familiar than might be expected given that most Kindred can't turn into wolves, yes. But we don't generally - it is considered rude to talk about the Beast to others.

Nope, I only turn on.

[ Did Mackenzie just wink at her? Couldn't be. Nope. ]

Yeah, I've heard that one before. It's one of my favorites, honestly. Kept me going through some fucked up shit. It's just weird to me that y'all live forever and just... I dunno, fuck around pulling fucking strings. Ever been a fuckin' lee--vampire that like, used all their fuckin' bullshit influence to I dunno, fight climate change? Or something like that?

[ There's a muted grunt as the conversation continues, an acknowledgement of what Bea says. ]

We have to talk about Rage. It's what drives us. Fuels us. Not talking about would just be ignoring the problems it can bring. Thought you guys were supposed to be smart.

[ A pause and she ceases push-ups and drops down to sit, wipes sweat from her brow. ]

...So why don't y'all talk about it?

You - what?

[Huh. What. What did that comment and definitely-not-wink mean? Wolf culture is weird. Beatrice blinks back at Kenzie, a confused furrow appearing between her brows. It takes her a minute to speak again, as she has been thrown off her game.]

I, ah – we – ahem.

We share the basest parts of the experience, but the lies that the Beast whispers as it attempts influence, pleads for control? Those are all very..individual. It is routine and personal all at once, and to lose control is obviously shameful. And destructive. It would be akin to talking, repeatedly and loudly, about public bowel movements.

Furthermore, there are those of us that exult in the Beast and they are – well. My own Kindred have been at war with them for several centuries. No one in their right mind wishes to be like them. So they're...the equivalent of smearing their bowel movements on the wall?

Hm. I think that comparison got a bit away from me. [Okay, so maybe she's still a little flustered.]

[ Not even Kenzie is really sure, if she's honest. She leans back onto her elbows, peering up at Bea with a furrowed brow as she seems momentarily flustered (victory!) and then tries to explain. A great meeting of supernatural minds, this. ]

Yeah, losing control for us is shameful too. But it's also something we expect will probably happen to everyone at some point. That's just how rage works.

[ Kenzie lets out a low 'hrm'. ]

So the ones that revel in it are even bigger bastards than normal. Interesting. Huh. Just seems interesting to me that y'all don't do like, support groups or anything like that to help people with that kinda thing. Rage is bad, but community support helps people get through the worst of it.

[Beatrice looks momentarily baffled before, despite herself, she lets out a sharp and bitter laugh.]

Ha - ah, no. We aren't like your lot, we're about as far from pack creatures as can be. It would be dreadful. The Beast is not overly tolerant of others of its kind - a multitude of Kindred in one place, discussing and riling up their Beasts? It would be a massacre. Besides, who would be fool enough to expose their weaknesses to another? To draw a target upon themselves, helpfully identifying where one should sink the fangs in?

[Beatrice shakes her head, still looking as if someone did their best to tell her a funny joke in an alien language.]

Those sorts with more feelings in their heart than sense in their head rarely survive to see the next dawn. And to what end? Everyone sitting in a circle, feeling self-pity over the maxim "a beast I am, lest a beast I become?" Our monsters do not need to be coddled with attention, their lies do not have to be paid heed to. No, it's for the best that one gives it the bare minimum and not one step farther.

[There's a small amount of kindly, almost pitying, condescension in her voice, as if she's giving a lecture to a newborn vampire. Repression good. Anything else is unthinkable. Coincidentally, she also has the highest number of frenzies in her coterie.]

That just sounds so weird to me.

[ She wrinkles her nose, brow furrowed. ]

We help each other get it out. Or dial it back.

[ She shakes her head and looks grim. ]

Well... sounds shit if you ask me. Sorry, but the vampire social club sounds like a pack of dicks. How do you all stand each other? Actually you know what, don't answer that.

[ She rubs a hand over her face, then moves to push herself back to her feet. There's a harsh bark of laughter that's not really amused. She just needs to vent somehow. ]

Sweet Mother, we are both fucked up creatures aren't we?

Edited 2020-11-05 03:38 (UTC)

Whatever happened to being Gaia's finest handcrafted warriors?

[Beatrice sniffs, and does her best to regain her previous air of haughtiness. It mostly results in something leaden settling into her.]

Perhaps we may seem - disturbing to those used to a deeply different life, but it's merely a matter of perspective.

[She tucks a stray strand escaping from her bun back behind her ear, giving Beatrice an excuse to look back away. Not that it's galling to have vampires so neatly summed up, or anything.]

Humanity is so scarred by the Garou that they have - what, collectively decided to not see what is in front of them? Yet would you truly trade in the travails of being lupine to instead return to being ignorant? To not have a chance to know the world's hidden undercurrents, to never be able to meet your fate head-on and under your choice?

I do not regret who I was, but neither do I regret this.

Seeing a garou in the war form punches the 'freak out' button in the human psyche to the point that most of them just block out the experience of encountering one from their mind or make up another explanation. Somethin' about when we used to ride herd on humans more directly in the distant past.

[ Mackenzie shrugs, her expression settling into something serious and thoughtful as she listens to Bea speak. She reaches up, scratches at her chin, tilts her head from one side to the other. Hm. ]

I have regrets, but not about being who and what I am. Just saying, we're both a bit fucked up, y'know? All this monstrous stuff buried underneath lookin' neat and civilized.

[ A toothy grin follows. ]

[Beatrice sniffs haughtily in response to the grin.]

Civilization has, in itself, always been necessarily monstrous. My humanity never did anything for me as a mortal, this is an-. Anyhow, I am perfectly civilized and neat... don't lump us in just because not everyone feels the desire to play fetch if a stick is lobbed. Or harass the mailman. Although at the least, it's already been clarified that your kind can eat chocolate. We were unsure.

[Beatrice is completely straightfaced as she says it. Teasing a Garou might be a terrible idea, but throwing herself into doing that is a mountain much smaller to climb than even the concept of talking about emotions with Garou. Or anyone.]

One of us has to suck the blood out of people to live. Nothing neat or civilized about that, far as I see it.

[ Mackenzie's retort is short and sharp. Not quite angry but there's an edge to her voice now, some of the jocularity falling away. Despite that, her reply almost comes off as light-hearted teasing. Almost. ]

And hey, fetch is a lot of fun. Don't knock it until you try it, Li'l Miss Leech.

Why do warriors of Gaia set humans apart? [The words are meant as snide, but there's some genuine underlying curiosity.] We all require something else's sustenance. Life feeds on life – there is no way around it, Ms. Haynes. Although if Garou are not the predators they present themselves as, and you have gone – what is it the children call it. Go vegan? In that case I salute your efforts.

[A pause, before a hint of slightly fang-y amusement.] I suppose our preferred prey are rather more environmentally unfriendly than the rest.

You've also made the error of underestimating my ability to play fetch. I assure you, I would be quite excellent at it, I've just no ancient ancestral desires.

[By good at it she means she would cheat shamelessly with telekinesis. Beatrice pokes back, oblivious to how it sounds-]

Why, are you offering to play pitcher?

'Cuz it's our job. We get just as pissy about our wolf-family too. More pissy, since there are so few of them left. I've gone vegetarian in the past, honestly. It's not bad--but I do like a good venison burger. Way better when it's a deer you hunted yourself.

[ There's a soft snort. ]

There are some of us who think we should go back to culling humans again. Think that it might save the planet. Not sure I agree.

[ Then Bea says that and the wolfish smile just gets wider and wider as she steps over and leans into Bea's space, bristling with predatory energy. ]

Oh, Bea, bless your heart. I don't think you could keep up with me, even with the whole undead thing. But if that's what you need to loosen up a li'l bit...

[ Kenzie's smile is positively lascivious. ]

Edited 2020-11-10 17:01 (UTC)

[Beatrice absolutely refuses to step back, frowning challengingly upwards at Kenzie. If the wolf thinks she can be intimidated into fleeing or some sort of fight–]

I didn't realize the merest suggestion of fetch would get you so raring to go. You might test me one day, Haynes – it's true that my speed has been sapped by this place, but you'll find raw physicals aren't everything.

[She adds, belatedly, in a blatant lie to anyone that has talked to her for five seconds-] -and I don't need to 'loosen up.'

I'd like to note that most of us do, technically, hunt our own deer ourselves. It's just not deer.

Aw, princess.

[ Kenzie is just 90% smirk by volume at this point. ]

I get it. Being a corpse makes it hard to make connections with other people.

[ She takes another step, intruding further into Bea's space with all her life and warmth and blood and Rage. ]

[In contrast, the closer Kenzie gets, the more Beatrice's aura of cold is palpable. Most leeches may be room temperature but her? She's actively freezing. Leeching the warmth back out of the air, as it were. She's also refusing to budge or cede any ground, the stubborn scowl growing proportionally with Kenzie's smirking – although her wariness has gone up a notch, her skin paled as blood giving the pretense of life rushes elsewhere in response to the threat.]

Connections? If you think that just because here I have no one –

[She stumbles over the words for a moment. Remembering that she has left everyone behind is – it's not something Beatrice has time to think about now. Or ever. She sets herself firmly back on track.]

– It doesn't mean that I will roll right over for you. If you want to go here and now, fine, tell me, but I haven't the tolerance for these games, Ms. Haynes.

[The pointed tone emphasizes how much she does not appreciate being called princess.

They may also be having very different conversations right now.]

Nah, if you rolled over it'd be boring.

[ Mackenzie seems to not be dissuaded by the literal frigidity that Beatrice is radiating. In fact, she seems to lean into it more than before. Her smile is wide and toothy ('the better to eat you with, my dear' comes to mind) and she actually reaches out to give Bea's chin a little nudge with a couple fingers. Brr. ]

I do like a good hunt, Bea. It's the wolf in me, you know? If you don't want to play games, though, all you gotta do is ask. You won't even have to call me Miss Haynes. 'Less you're into that.

[ Her voice fairly drips with insinuation. They are one hundred percent having very different conversations. ]

[Being touched is – unusual enough. Threatening enough, even when not by someone that feels like embers. Her nostrils flare as Beatrice jerks her chin up and away, meeting Kenzie's stare furiously. She may have reflexively hissed a tiny bit like a very indignant cat. Her fangs are fully poking out now when Beatrice speaks, tone clipped.]

I'm no one's entertainment.

Whatever it may be that you're on about now..I am fairly certain it violates both being vegetarian and the quote everyone be cool unquote mandate. [Yes, she really does say that outloud.] If you wish to put me to the test, you will find I don't disappoint – but decide carefully and stop blithering nonsense or stop talking at all.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

sorry i have been sick ;;

it's OKAY. I was last week too.

hell week hell week

Re: hell week hell week

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject