|Never winds up at his sponsor's house to discuss his future.|
|IC Date||November 6, 2013|
|Players||Never, Aeric, Marion|
|Location||Mission Plaza Tower|
Aeric is in the same place he always is, In a chair in the living room and reading a book. This time the topic is ancient greece scientific principles. When there's a rap on the door he nods and the butler opens it, offering a good evening to whoever is present before letting them in.
Never steps inside, his satchel slung on his hip. The satchel, a recent acquisition, bespeaks his 'scrounger' mentality - a side-effect from living on and off the streets these several days past. With each night he shows the promise of becoming something else; something better than 'just' another Gangrel. With a polite tone to his voice, he greets his sponsor. "Good evening sir," he begins, "...how are you this evening?"
Aeric looks up from the book, "You don't have to be formal. I'm fine Never. Are you finding your way through undeath? IT's a daunting task at first, especially without support. Let me know if you need anything." Then a nod, "Take a seat. I read your notepad. It doesn't exactly help much. So it's all about finding this joey gangrel. I can put out the word and see where he turns up."
Never walks over and removes the satchel from his shoulders as he slides into a nearby chair. "Thank you," he responds though it's not like Aeric was saying anything that would have directly warranted such a thing. "I'm not sure how to behave half the time. For some I'm not formal enough - others, I go too far. It's just...there's a lot to take in." Glancing around for his notebook he asks as he makes himself more comfortable, "I have a feeling that there will be no Joey to find - and should any of his uh...'children' survive, I'm not sure how they would react to me." With an honesty that comes only from being without options or a clue he raises his eyes and asks the man, "What would you do? Go after a sire you barely knew - or just let it go and move on?"
Aeric flips the page, "That's a deep question. The problem being there isn't a real answer. For some vampires, their past defines who they are. Others are defined by their present. Still more are defined by their future. The question you have to answer is which one makes you who you are today? Is it Joey? Maybe his sire Aurelia? Or is it Never, the City Gangrel, who has found a niche for himself in a city that he barely knew until someone came along and offered him a boat to get out of the water." There's a chuckle as he flips the page, "What you make of it at this point is up to you."
Never hrms and considers that for a moment. It is a very deep issue - as it will determine his future within the city on so many levels. "I have heard that my sire did not pick me for any other reason than he needed canon fodder - someone to stand between him and the Sabbat. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and because of that...everything changed." That took a bit for him to say - to acknowledge that there was no great meaning for his embrace, no deep emotional connection - simply convenience. He was, in essence, disposable. "I am Gangrel - I can not change that. But," he stumbles over his words for a moment and then proceeds, "...what that means is entirely up to me." He takes a breath again - mentally taking the next step before his mouth verbalizes his thoughts just to make sure he can do it. "To that end - I need to learn. Learn everything and anything that can be learned about what I am or what we are." Yes - his words start to build in feeling, a stirring that's starting to creep out through his pours as he inches closer to the edge of his seat. "I need..." and his voice fails him. He's sitting there - his only possessions in the satchel at his feet and he can't say what he knows; what he needs.
Aeric laughs, "Please, no one goes through the trouble of embracing someone just because they needed cannon fodder. Childer take a little bit of us each time we make one. It's not an act we do without reasons. So rest assured whatever the reason for embracing you, it was not for cannon fodder. Anyone that says so is an imbecile." There's the sound of the page turning, "To that end, you have a great teacher if I do say so myself. What I don't know you have a wonderful selection of people to tell you. I doubt you'll ask me something I don't know though. And I can teach you about mages and werwolves, a bit about wraiths and fae. I can teach you to survive amidst the supernaturals that exist in our world."
Never seems to have needed to be reassured that his sire didn't just turn him without reason. No one wants to be told they were disposable. "Might I ask you a serious questiton, then, sir?" He seems unable to refer to the Elder as just Aeric; it's rather like talking to a professor or teacher. The term is a matter of respect. "Can you teach me how to survive within the Camarilla? I don't want to just -exist- as a Vampire. I don't want to just -just- be the one who will 'Never' remember who he was, 'Never' be worth anything or 'Never' be someone that the Prince should take seriously. I want to be a vampire that the others respect. And for all of the things that I have heard of your clan - one thing that seems to be repeated, over and over again, is that none...NONE will cross you openly. They respect the power of your clan. I...do not have such support so I will need to do that on my own."
Aeric looks up from his book, "Was that not implied when I put my name on the line for you? Obviously I'll teach you how to survive in the camarilla. We just need to get you formally inducted. You're doing a good job so far, mingling and making friends and allies, but be careful who you trust. You once told me that no one does anything for free, well that's triple sure for the camarilla. I'm an exception. Everyone else is the real deal, even my primogen."
Never nods, seemingly now more reassured that his future is a bit more stable. "So...where would you suggest that I start?" His questions seem a bit too open-ended but he's just starting to grow into his fangs. "As you said - I'm starting to learn of everyone; their quirks and their habits. Someone asked me the other day if I was being groomed as your Harpy but that kind of went over my head." He snickers a bit and leans back in his chair, "...I think I understand the reference now. At first - I was about this close," he holds up squinched fingers to show just how close it was, "...to thinking that you were going to give me wings."
Marion awakens from her place tied to Aeric's arm. She starts to thrash a bit, not one to sleep without nightmares.
Aeric smiles, "Actually, that isn't a Harpy. Elders have Harpys. Harpys attend meetings in our place and wield our power as if it was our own. We're responsible for everything our harpy does as if we did it. The Tremere rarely take harpys however. They were poking fun at you, but the actual position? That's serious. It's very serious and quite an honor." Then his phone rings and he answers.
Marion jumps awake. "AHH! Um. Good morning" she looks to Arec and Never. "You have company Do you want me to head out?"
Never peers at the slender cord that had previously missed his glance. Following it to the 'spooked' woman, he raises an eyebrow in question and, noting that his sponsor is on the phone, lowers his voice to direct it at her. "I'm going to assume that this is some blood magic ritual that I've never heard of yet and that this is somehow -entirely- normal. Right?"
Marion murmurs. "Long story. Maybe he shoudl eplain it?" she tilts her head at the pone conversation.
<Phone> (Aeric) No, she indicated that she didn't see what caused the explosion and that you two were in umbra. Do you know what caused it?
Aeric is having a phone conversation but puts it on silent while waiting on the other person, "It has nothing to do with a blood magic ritual. I'm tricking mage magic. I'll explain in a second." Back to his phone, "I see. Well, that's what I figured. I have an idea of who too. The Technocratic Union."
<Phone> (Aeric) I see. Well, that's what I figured. I have an idea of who too. The Technocratic Union.
Never peers at both Aeric and then to the woman in hopes that one of them will explain - what they can, when they can. Since Aeric is still on the phone he turns his attention to she-who-is-attached to ask, "How about we start with you..."
Marion pauses. "Allright." she says. "Where should we begin?" she asks. "First of all.. who are you?"
"Never," he answers without thinking that he'll need to explain any further.
Marion tilts her head. "Oh fine be that way. Anything you will tell me about you?"
Aeric shakes his head, "No, no. His name is Never. Don't ask." Then a sigh as he closes the phone. "Anyways, This thing with us. It's to trick mage magic. Cross will try to send her away by means of magic. The thing is that mage magic is imperfect. He'll attempt to teleport just her but get us both because we're in contact. The spell can't tell the difference between me and her when we're in contact."
Never folds one leg over the other, crossing it at his knee as he adopts a 'I've been watching too much Doctor Who re-runs' British accent and begins to explain, "Well you see my dear..." and is interrupted, thankfully, by Aeric. Really, it's a terrible accent. "Cross? There's a guy named 'Cross' out there? Why not just call him 'burning symbol of pain and death' for gods sake." He was already to begin another barrage of fake british accented dialog when it hits him. "Mage...magic? So there are -real- witches out there?" And his world is broken yet again. "Ok...with all this magic out there - who the HELL does a guy gotta blow to get some?"
Marion nods "Cross is a Camarilla aligned vampire hunter. A priest. ANd he doesnt like me because I don't do what he says." she says simply.
Aeric nods at Never, "Yes, have I not explained that mages exist? Human mages? Well if I didn't that was my fault. Yes, Human mages do exist. There are two factions. The Technocracy and the Traditions. The technocracy picked up Marion because someone claims she killed some people. Maybe she did. But they don't like us meddling in human affairs. As long as we leave humans alone they more or less ignore us. We're not stopping their grand scientific revitalization. The Traditions don't really care either way. They're just there. Varies by tradition, but for the most part they leave us be."
Then a smile at Marion, "So he claims, yet he was strangely unable to find information on me. I imagine that's more because no one knows me. It's a fun game."
Never pulls out his notebook - a spare one that he started after he gave Aeric the one with his sire's possible end recorded within it - and starts to record the new terms. "Does your...uh...don't tell me now...Thaumaturgy," he tries to think of the right word and then nods to himself that he's remembered correctly, "yes...Thaumaturgy. Does your power prevent him from finding you or...her?" Turning to the woman he asks, "Who was it that you killed? Someone this guy knew or something?"
Marion pauses. "Has Cross contacted you yet? I would guess not if Im still aive." she says. "I didnt killa nyone. I went and joined an organization he didnt like."
Aeric shakes his head, "No. Thaumaturfy doesn't work that way and I'm not getting into details here." Then he turns to Marion and shakes his head, "No, he's probably going to leave you alone. Why don't you try talking to him? He obviously knows you and now mages are blowing up city hall."
Marion tilts her head. "Me? Talk to him? He'd kill me man." she says, shaking her head. "Let it burn. For once its not us doign the burning." she looks to Aeric. "Please, continue talking abotu Thaumaturgy. I'd love to learn."
Never leans back in his seat, leaning forward in antici.....pation of the news of 'real' wizards and witches. He seriously wants a wand...or a staff or...OOOH, a broom. "Would you like anything from me to...help, Sir?" He turns his head slightly to direct his question to Aeric - trying to offer what he might even though the man is not exactly hurting for resources. "I wouldn't mind it if you would let me read any books you have on magic - like 'Real' magic that we could do..." Such a feeble attempt to slide a request in after an offer but the young vampire is positively vibrating at the thought of magic.
Marion smiles. "Me too. I'd love to read books on magic."
Aeric peers at both of you, "No. I am not teaching you thaumaturgy or anything about it. As for mages, I don't know much about them. I know that they have two factions, I know they have different magical influences. I don't pretend to know more than that. I know how some of the tricks work, but, well, no. I don't know any specifics. Don't mess with them, don't mess with humans. They'll leave you alone."
Never hrms, "Hopefully they don't care what happens to the drug dealers..." he mutters slightly and lets the topic of Thaumaturgy drop - for now. "So - where were we? Yes...is there anything that I can do to help you out - since you're offering to teach me."
Marion chuckles. "They haven't left me alone." she says, shaking her head. "It was worth a shot isnt it?" she asks.
Aeric nods at Never, "Yes. In fact, there is. Keep meeting people." Then a chuckle, "Marion, maybe you're just popular. You certainly do have two elders fighting over you."
Never looks over to Marion now - since Aeric finally gave him what he wanted; a price. It's an odd price to be sure but at least it's something. "So who's the other - or do you count this Priest as one?" It's a logical question and if there's a power play he better know what's going on and what's at stake.
Marion pauses. "Is that a good thing or bad thing?" she asks.
Aeric shrugs, "Depends on how you take it. I am counting this priest as an elder mage from what I'm being told." He shrugs and leans back, "Anyways, such is life."
Marion shakes her head. "Im not a priest anymore. Im a.. sabbat. Ex sabbat I guess." she says. "I'd talk to cross if you can guarantee he wont kill me and we stick together."
Never is about ready to ask some interesting and thoughtful question when Marion mentions the 'S' word. Yup. That's the bad word. With a look of shock and confusion he snaps his head towards the woman and turns to head out for the door in a blur of blood-born speed. Fear, it would seem, is still a wonderful motivator.