Waking with evening's freshness (Rosalyn, Wed. 4/4/07)

[Detritus]

You open your eyes, fragments of the previous day's dreams bouncing around in your head: long ago meetings with elder Kindred and other luminaries of the supernatural community, prison rescues, the last time you saw your brother, just before draining him dry in your first nights as Kindred. You're lying on a large bed, and turning to your left, you see your sire, still asleep, lying next to you. When you turn to your right, you see the Councilor standing at the side of the bed, studying you, specifically you, in silence.

"Did you rest well?"

[Kalzazz]

"Very informatively"

[Detritus]

"I wonder," the Councilor says, and her eyes move to your sire, "who is the ultimate source of this information. Or even if there is more than one such source." She looks back to you and asks, "Did you feel at all as if you were sharing your dreams?"

((As far as you can tell, the answer is no, which you may render as you see fit for Rosalyn's response.))

[Kalzazz]

Rosalyn considers a bit then shakes her head

"As far I can tell I was alone"

[Detritus]

"I think there is still a chance that Sidana could be influencing you directly, Rosalyn," the Councilor says. "Especially if she is receiving support from Goratrix." A fleeting look that you can only describe as worry crosses Meerlinda's face when she names the renegade Tremere Councilor. "You are well-protected here, but it is possible to raise better protection still for you."

"I thought we had decided against that, Councilor," Gwynnis says, evidently having woken up during this last exchange. "She has as much claim to those memories has her alter ego, anyways."

"I believe sunrise decided matters last night," replies Meerlinda. "Given enough time, however, I can protect us all far beyond what a simple warding of the room can provide. There are other avenues of investigation, and memory recovery."

"You barely had time for yourself last night. Tripling up the preparation time seems wasteful."

"You may forgo protection if you wish, Justicar, but should not Rosalyn decide for herself? She is certainly the most vulnerable amongst we three, in her present condition." Gwynnis looks at Meerlinda for a long moment, then throws up her hands.

"If you wish it, Councilor. Rosalyn, what the Councilor is proposing is to protect your dreams from intrusion, by means of a protective spell that she would cast upon you directly. It is not harmful, but it is somewhat time-consuming, and time is of the essence here. Nonetheless, if you feel you need such protection, the Councilor can provide it."

[Kalzazz]

"I do not believe there was any harm to the dreams, so I do not think it will be needed, but thank you for the offer"

[Detritus]

((What Rosalyn knows right now is all she has to go on in this next exchange.))

"As you wish," the Councilor replies. Her face and tone of voice seem neutral enough, yet you still get the sense that she believes both you and your sire are taking a needless risk.

"There's no need to pout, Meerlinda," Gwynnis says. "Though, you're really pretty when you do. I think someone is angling for a dose of the joy buzzer for herself tonight." The Councilor's lips compress for a moment before she can smooth her face.

"That will not be necessary," the Councilor says.

"Suit yourself," your sire replies, a sardonic grin on her face. Then there's a knock at the door, which the Councilor answers.

"May we enter, Councilor?" Rebekka asks. "There is a newcomer to the city, one I think the Justicar will be interested in seeing." Meerlinda lowers the ward protecting the room to admit several women: the Prince, Dru and Brooke, and a brown-haired woman of a height with Rebekka. Prince and Councilor move to the bed, and the brown-haired woman speaks.

"As is the Tradition, I recite the lineage of Magdalene Defoe, Toreador of the 7th Generation. My name is Magdalene Defoe. I am Toreador. My sire is Sidana Quinnell."

"Welcome to New Orleans, Mag," the Prince replies. Both your sire and the Councilor study you for any reaction. Dru and Brooke do as well, for that matter, and Sidana's childe is so intent on the Prince's face that she might as well be staring at you.

"Thank you, my Prince, and I once again congratulate you on ascending to rule here in New Orleans."

[Detritus]

((This incident happens somewhere around 1707-8. There's no strong driver for the timing to be any particular moment, and Rosalyn would be hard-pressed to provide a precise date anyways.))

You find yourself in a room that seems strange for a moment before you realize it's the Presence Chamber (http://www.artchive.com/web_gallery/J/James-Stephanoff/The-Presence-Chamber,-Kensington-Palace,-from-The-History-of-the-Royal-Residences,-engraved-by-Daniel-Havell-1785-1826,-by-William-Henry-Pyne-1769-1843,-1819.html) in Kensington Palace. You're seated in the only chair in the room, a curve-legged piece placed before the cold fireplace, one of many pieces like it in London named after Queen Anne, the monarch-turned-childe that stands before you to your right. Standing with her is 17th-century London's Ventrue Primogen, Helena Casimir. To your left stands your sire, and behind her the same woman who has just walked through the door to the master bedroom in New Orleans, your childe, Magdalene.

A number of London's immortal luminaries stand behind the two pair of Kindred nearest to you. Councilor Meerlinda and her progeny, Dr. John Dee, the Tremere Regent and Primogen, stand directly opposite of where you sit. With them is Oliver Thrace, whom John has recently given the Embrace, with your permission. Rebekka is also in attendance, having just arrived from Paris and already presented herself to you earlier in the evening. The Malkavian Primogen, Mariel, is there with her own newly sired childe, Drusilla. And Wynn, Gangrel Primogen of London, is there with his own childe, Quinton McDonnell. These childer were also sired with your explicit consent, and all three have been recently accepted as neonates into London's Kindred society. Gwynnis is first to speak.

"The facts of the matter are plain, my Prince, and not under dispute. The sovereign ruler of the British Empire, Queen Anne, was given an illicit Embrace in an attempt to undermine the well-established order of the Kindred community. Her sire fled after his plans amounted to nothing more than the wind and dust of abject failure, and he has neglected to release his childe into proper Kindred society. On the basis of the violation of the Tradition of the Accounting, and the destabilizing threat her mortal identity places upon our society, she must be put to the Final Death."

"No one disputes the irregularity of Anne's Embrace, Majesty," says Helena, "but I must dispute your esteemed sire's interpretation of events. Her Majesty the Queen was Embraced by an interloper, and against the express wishes of the Ventrue of London. It was the Ventrue who secured her and who watched over her, both for her own protection and that of the Commonwealth's, as well as to ensure that the stability of Kindred relations was maintained despite the irregularities surrounding the Queen's Embrace. On behalf of my clan, I beg of you, Majesty, to show clemency in this case. Spare the Queen, and permit her to claim the status of neonate."

"You mean that you kept her as a sacrificial offering if your petty schemes blew up in your face," Gwynnis says dryly. Helena turns and scowls at your sire for a moment before smoothing her face again.

"Your plea for clemency is moving, Primogen," you say with just a touch of frost in your voice, "yet it is not wholly convincing." You hold Helena's gaze in silence until you're sure she understands the intentionality of the double meaning of your words, that you're aware of her feeble attempt at deception. "And how do the other Primogen advise?"

"The balance of power between the Crown and its ministers has long favored the ministers," says John, "whom we control almost exclusively between us, Majesty. It is my opinion that the sitting monarch is of little concern to us as a neonate, but that her destruction would be upsetting enough to the mortal order that it is best to be avoided, if at all possible."

"The childe's mortal identity is immaterial," Mariel puts in in animated fashion. She strides forward until she nearly blocks the line of sight between you and your sire, and faces towards the Ventrue. "Acceding to Primogen Casimir's request would set a dangerous precedent. Who will be next to employ such a gambit, emboldened by your lack of reaction in this case? She must be put to the Final Death!"

Mariel points at Anne, and a spark forms on her fingertip. Magdalene's eyes widen in alarm, and she instinctively shrinks back until she's arm-in-arm with Drusilla. Both neonates begin to turn away from the elder Malkavian. Gwynnis moves to interpose herself between Mariel and the Ventrue at the first crackling sound, and Meerlinda raises an arm in a warding gesture. The other Tremere watch Mariel warily, as do the Gangrel.

"Lady Thunder," your sire says, unable to contain a grin despite the gravity of the situation, "we agree on what must be done, yet it is neither your place nor mine to carry out any sentence before it is pronounced by Her Majesty the Prince."

Mariel looks down, startled to see herself sparking. She pinches her fingertip as if snuffing out a taper, and then curtsies deeply to you.

"Forgive me, Majesty. I do forget myself, at times, in my moments of passion. Yet my shortcomings do not diminish the danger that the neonate Queen represents if allowed further existence."

"I would have you no other way than what you are, my Lady," you reply with a little smile of your own. "So long as you take care to heed the reminders when you do forget yourself."

"Of course, Majesty." Mariel makes a shallow curtsy and returns to the side of Drusilla. You and Gwynnis make eye contact, after which your sire follows Mariel, keeping her within arm's reach. You then turn to Wynn as if Mariel's outburst had never happened.

"I would counsel mercy, Your Majesty," Wynn says after taking a moment to size up Anne. "Her temporal power will only diminish, as she will be forced to rely on her ministers even more in matters of day-to-day governance than she does now. You command the respect of every Kindred in this Domain, and have many powerful allies. You need not avenge yourself on a childe who had no idea of the situation her sire thrust her into."

"Kindred who transgress and are lightly punished have long centuries available to them to nurse grudges and rally support, Majesty," Councilor Meerlinda offers unprompted. "The childe's destruction is the only way to ensure that you have eliminated this possibility. You must be aware of this from your own mortal family's history."

"Thank you, Councilor, your point is well taken, yet I shall take John's input as the official vote of Clan Tremere." Meerlinda nods without adding anything else.

"Fortune smiles upon you, childe, for the neutral clans have voted two to one in favor of a stay of execution, and We are inclined to accept their advice in this matter. Yet those who have counseled against leniency have all raised valid points. We therefore reject the petition for your acceptance into the larger Kindred community in London.

"Helena Casimir, it falls to you, as Primogen of Clan Ventrue, to act as surrogate sire in the absentee sire's stead. We shall reconsider a petition of Anne's acceptance into the Camarilla at such time as you deem her fit to be so accepted. If We are in any way dissatisfied in the matter of this future petition, We shall declare a Blood Hunt on the persons of both childe and sire."

You pause to let the import of your pronouncement sink in a little before continuing.

"Teach her well, Primogen. If We may be so bold to suggest it, it occurs to Us that a fine first lesson would cover what it means for a childe created without the Prince's permission to be the same generation as the Prince's sire." You smile and extend your fangs for an instant. "We trust that you will be equally passionate as those who have argued for the Traditions to be upheld in the strictest manner possible."

Mariel then smiles and extends her fangs, and for an instant a sliver of blue lightning arcs between her upper canines. Such of her mortal coloring as still remains to Anne drains from her face, and Helena averts her eyes and clenches her jaw before making a deep curtsy to you.

"As you command, Majesty, so shall it be done," the Ventrue Primogen says without raising her eyes, though she does signal for Anne to make similar obeisance. The sovereign ruler of the British Empire complies with haste.

"Thank you, Primogen. It seems your pupil is educable, to some degree. Cleave to the Traditions, serve London and its ruler well, and you shall both reap the rewards." After childe and surrogate sire rise, you sweep your arm around the room as a reminder of what one of those rewards might be, then rise in silence to take your leave of the Presence Chamber.

"Court is adjourned," you hear Gwynnis say just before you exit the room.

[Detritus]

When you come to again, everyone else in the room is looking at you with varying degrees of curiosity.

"Where were you just now?" your sire asks softly.

[Detritus]

Before Rosalyn has a chance to answer her sire's question, Dee Dee leads Jake into the room.

"We've gotten some interesting results from our questioning," the Sheriff says without preamble. "There's no doubt in my mind that young Bobby has been compromised through use of Dominate. By Drake."

"How extensive is her control?" Rebekka asks.

"Very," Dee Dee replies. "We got some answers from him concerning Mr. Johnson's network setup that didn't add up, so we had him draw everything out. It was complete garbage, according to Jake, but Bobby believed he had given us what we'd asked for. It's bad, more than I can fix."

"This evening is likely to be very busy," Gwynnis says, rising from the bed. "If he's been that severely compromised, it could take hours to fix, if not several nights."

"I still think that you or another of the elders with lots of experience using Dominate should have a look at him, at least. To see just how bad it is, if nothing else."

"That would have to be you, Justicar," Rebekka says. "The Councilor and I will be busy for much of the evening."

"I may be in the field tonight, depending on what happens during the meeting with the Garou. If not, I will be sure to have a look. You're sure no one else was compromised?" The Justicar directs a sharp-eyed look at Jake for a moment before returning her attention to Dee Dee.

"Jake's clean, sire."

"I'd rather not wait until the childe is rid of Samantha's influence to learn about what he was doing," Rebekka says. "Jake should investigate Bobby's haven."

"I had that same thought myself, Majesty. I wasn't sure what needed to be done for Jake to be able to pass whatever it was the Councilor did to sequester the building, though."

"The procedure would be simple enough, if he would consent to it," Meerlinda says. "It will require a small amount of his vitae." For some reason, the Councilor's eyes remind you of a pair of scales after she turns her gaze upon you.

[Chimaera]

Jake nods acknowledgment to everyone when he enters and then listens to the exchange.

"What else would it entail aside from some of my blood?"

[Detritus]

Jake nods acknowledgment to everyone when he enters and then listens to the exchange.

"What else would it entail aside from some of my blood?"
Rebekka arches an eyebrow at the question, but the Councilor's expression remains unchanged.

"There are no further entailments. I require your vitae to attune the ward to allow you to pass it unharmed. It would be inadvisable to attempt passage otherwise."

[Chimaera]

"Just checking. This stuff is all still pretty new to me, so I hope you'll forgive my curiosity. By all means, tell me what to do and how to do it."

[Detritus]

The Councilor produces a dagger and hands it to you.

"A little of your blood on the blade is all you need provide. I shall do the rest."

[Chimaera]

Jake chuckles to himself, as he envisions a fully emoed-out Jared Leto whining at the top of his voice that life is a black abyss and that nobody understands him. Ah well, Jake, he thought to himself, time to bleed for the cause -- millions of little lost goth chicks can't be wrong, right? With that, he draws the blade across the outside edge of his elbow and then returns the bloody dagger.

[Detritus]

The Councilor takes the blade and moves to a stand mirror in one of the far corners of the room. The Councilor's body partially obscures the mirror, but it's evident that she has somehow called forth an image of the house on St. Ann Street. She releases the dagger, which floats unsupported at waist height, and cuts her left wrist with her right index finger.

Extending her left arm, the Councilor smears some of her own blood on the mirror's surface. She then steps away from the mirror and closes her eyes. A few seconds pass, and her blood begins to seep into the mirror's surface, which begins emitting a faint reddish glow.

The Councilor then opens her eyes, and makes a slow sweeping motion with her right arm. The dagger moves until it is enveloped within the glow coming from the mirror's surface. Perhaps a minute passes, after which the dagger, now clean of any blood, floats towards the Councilor, who plucks it from the air.

"It is done," she says after turning to face everyone else in the room.

[Chimaera]

((So, what's the timeline here -- the weapon and ammo buy first or checking out Bobby's network/crib?))

[Detritus]

((So, what's the timeline here -- the weapon and ammo buy first or checking out Bobby's network/crib?))
"Will you please find the Seneschal, Jake, and have her give you the money for tonight's delivery?" the Prince asks. "I would like to take possession of the weaponry in time to have it available for use during guard duty this evening. The Sheriff will be with you shortly."

[Chimaera]

"Will you please find the Seneschal, Jake, and have her give you the money for tonight's delivery?" the Prince asks. "I would like to take possession of the weaponry in time to have it available for use during guard duty this evening. The Sheriff will be with you shortly."

"Absolutely."

Jake nods a bow and goes to find the Seneschal.

[Detritus]

((Kal, check PMs in connection with the end of this post.))

After Jake departs from the bedroom, Rebekka signals Dru to shut the door behind him. The Prince then moves to the foot of the bed, and Meerlinda comes to the far side of the bed from the door. Gwynnis comes back to the bed and seats herself between the Councilor and you. Magdalene gives you a guarded look, then sits daintily on the other side of the bed. Dee Dee, Dru, and Brooke take up positions on the side of the bed opposite from the Councilor.

"There's another matter we need to deal with as quickly as possible," Rebekka says, "the once and future archon of the esteemed Don Cruez."

"So he claims," Gwynnis says. "He smells like a double-agent to me. And if he isn't, what on earth was Cruez thinking, assigning such a ham-fisted oaf for so delicate a mission?"

"With all due respect, elder, if it becomes commonly known that Sidana is in any way associated with the Sabbat, there will be those who question your own fitness for the job."

"That's different," Gwynnis retorts.

"Is it?" Rebekka asks. Councilor Meerlinda intercedes before Gwynnis can utter her next riposte, laying a hand on the Justicar's shoulder.

"The Prince speaks rightly, Justicar. All of us may understand the differences between the two cases, but it will undoubtedly be misperceived, willfully or no, by a substantial fraction of Kindred."

"I'm afraid I don't understand," Magdalene interjects. "What my eyes tell me is that my sire, whom all thought lost, lies next to me, yet you speak of her as if she were not in this room, and as an ally of our blood enemies." Gwynnis turns to answer.

"When Sidana fell in Detroit, Mag, she did not suffer the Final Death, but was instead captured by the Sabbat. They subjected her to their foul creation rites, and her essential being fractured in the process. That part of her that escaped existed in the astral plane, until we chanced to meet her there on a rescue mission, to retrieve the spirit of one whose silver cord was severed. The mission was not successful, but the portion of Sidana's being that escaped the Sabbat now resides in the body of the one whose spirit we tried to retrieve. She is known as Rosalyn, not Sidana."

The expression on Mag's face is an increasingly gobsmacked one as the Justicar recounts the events leading to the creation of Rosalyn. Her disbelieving look moves from Rosalyn to Rebekka to Gwynnis to Meerlinda, who gives Mag a single, confirming nod of her head.

"We're on a pretty tight schedule, here," Dee Dee says. "You sounded as if you had a specific proposal in mind, Majesty."

"Yes. We need to see how Crusher will react in the wild, so to speak. I propose using everyone available -- Rosalyn, Magdalene, all the Malkavian who arrived last night -- as chaperones for him. You can all double as extended backup for tonight's delivery as well."

"Do we know much about this Crusher fellow?" Dru asks. "Just from the name, he sounds like a real charmer."

"Funny that you should put it that way, Dru," replies Rebekka, and a sly grin appears on her face for a moment. "We don't know that much about him, but he does seem to fancy himself somewhat of a ladies man. And therefore we shall provide him with four lovely escorts as incentive to keep him on his best behavior."

"Hmm," Gwynnis says, "this plan has some promise. You're proposing to keep David and Edward in reserve, then?"

"Correct. And if things get out of hand, the group receiving the arms shipment will be the backup for the chaperones."

"So he's to be terminated with extreme prejudice if he gets out of hand?" the Sheriff asks.

"Not terminated," the Prince answers, "merely incapacitated."

"Understood. Am I needed for anything else?"

"No, you're free to go, Sheriff." Dru lets out a sigh after Dee Dee exits.

"I do wish I had managed to convince Mariel to come to New Orleans. This would be right up her alley."

"There are six of you against him, nine in a pinch," Rebekka says. "I think you will be fine. I'm pretty sure at least one of you will prove captivating enough to him to keep him in line, anyways."

"I suppose you're right, Majesty," Dru replies.

"Will Mariel be coming to New Orleans at all, Dru?" Gwynnis asks.

"I'm not sure," replies Dru. "I would guess not." The Justicar lets out her own sigh.

"Twenty-three Kindred I asked to be archons at the start of my term as Justicar, Dru, twenty-three, and she was the only one who turned me down." Gwynnis shakes her head ruefully. "She must realize the political potential of a Conclave in the wake of the destruction of Arcadian. The Malkavian need a Justicar. She'd make a good choice. What is it that she sees in Boston that keeps her there?"

"I think she saw it as a lateral move, unlike many of the others you asked. Sheriff of Boston, a childe on the Primogen Council, one who's also viceroy of Hartford, it was a pretty cozy setup. You did not command her loyalty the way you do for your own childer, plus I think she harbored... Venetian ambitions of her own."

"But that's just it," the Justicar says, a hint of exasperation in her voice. "She must realize those ambitions could be met here in New Orleans."

"You're intending to convene a quorum of the Inner Circle, then?" asks Rebekka.

"If I can manage it, yes. Assuming we can get Leandro or one of his agents here, I'm fairly certain I can arrange the same for the Toreador and Tremere." Gwynnis looks at Meerlinda, who answers with a slow, stately nod.

"And the fourth?" asks Dru.

"That's a bit more fluid," replies Gwynnis, "but it so happens that one of Stanislava's childer is in the city."

"Wynn is not as close with his sire as you are with yours, Justicar," Rebekka says.

"They aren't unfriendly towards each other, though, and given the importance of the matter, I think that will be good enough."

"You may be right," Rebekka answers, then looks at her watch. "We should get ready for the meeting, Justicar. Councilor, will you please conduct Crusher to his escort for this evening?"

"Of course," Meerlinda replies, and Prince, Councilor, and Justicar begin making their way out of the room.

[Detritus]

"Rosalyn," Mag says softly once it's just you, her, and the two Malkavian left in the master bedroom. "How much of... of Sidana do you remember?" Brooke has an openly curious look on her face, and while Dru's look is more guarded, you see the curiosity in her eyes.

[Kalzazz]

"Not enough . . . . but hopefully also enough"

[Detritus]

"Not enough . . . . but hopefully also enough"
"Whoever you are," Brooke says, "you aren't Sidana, however much you may look it. She would have figured out Mag was really asking about how much you remember of your relationship with her."

"Brooke, please," Mag manages to reply before Dru breaks in.

"But it's true, Mag, isn't it?" Dru then turns to you, a compassionate look on her face. "You didn't really understand the question, did you? Do you remember siring Mag at all? That it was you who gave Mariel permission to Embrace me in London? That you gave me permission to sire both Brooke and David in Boston? That Mariel succeeded your own sire as your Sheriff in both of those cities?"

[Detritus]

You sit in silence for a long moment, as the import of just how much of Sidana's unlife you don't remember hits home. Before you have a chance to reply, however, the Councilor returns with Crusher in tow.

"Here is the final member of your patrol. I have given him strong guidelines as to our expectations of his behavior while he is on the street."

The Councilor's lips actually tighten for a moment after she finishes speaking, but when she looks at Crusher, her eyes suggest she might be intrigued about him somehow. Crusher does his best to put on an innocent look. The Councilor leaves the room without a further word.

"What happened with her?" Dru asks.

"The Councilor is a very well set up woman," replies Crusher, still attempting to maintain an air of innocence.

"You pinched her, didn't you?" Brooke asks, thrusting an accusatory finger at Crusher during each clause. Crusher looks up to the ceiling, then the floor, but doesn't answer. Mag smiles and puts out an arm.

"We'll need to keep close watch on you," she says as Crusher takes the proffered arm. Dru comes up to his other side and offers an arm as well. The three leave the room like that, and Dru looks back at you and makes a sideways nod towards the door.