paramnesia

Are ALL Tremere complicit in this? Are the neonates? Is this the elders and that stupid...council?

It can't be morally acceptable to simply wipe out an entire clan, right?

paramnesiax:

Morgan clenched her fists, unable to make eye contact with him, almost flinching away from the contact.

“Do you know what happens to my kind when we’ve been around too long?” She asked, glancing up at him from under her eyelashes. Her voice was strangled as she forced the words to come.

“We…we start to slip. We fade away – either we start to lose our memories, or we become entirely consumed in them. After awhile, we completely lose touch with reality. Most have five, six hundred years before it starts… It–”

She couldn’t force her lips to make the sounds anymore, a lump rose up in her throat, cutting off any attempt at speech. Morgan hung her head, clenching her fists tightly as tears slid down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry.”

“I had heard rumors but never really took the time to investigate.” Cain whispered. “Is that what has you worried?”

Cain shook his head. He knew that a lot of near immortal races suffered this affliction but there were also others like him that tended to be exceptions.

“Are you starting to lose the past or present? Is this scaring you because of our plans for the future?”

“I don’t know.” Morgan’s voice wavered, fighting back the urge to sob. “I can’t tell the present from the past half the time I just…”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I keep seeing and hearing things. When you knocked on the door, I wasn’t even sure if you were really there or I was imagining it.”

paramnesiax:

Morgan shook her head. “No, her room is on the opposite end of the house…” She turned around, glancing about the space. People were already heading back slowly, with sheepish looks on their faces, clearly embarrassed by the mistake. Morgan tried not to laugh, but failed, chuckling softly. “At least I’m not the only one on edge…”

“Alright. If we can’t trust or use either Maggie or Klaus, who would you lean on if I wasn’t here? We need eyes we can trust inside this place.” Cain watched the sheepishly embarrassed faced, looking for a mask to drop.

“If possible, someone in this hall or wing.”

"In the past, I would have told you that any of the servants are trustworthy -- no one works for me that isn't descended from the children I saved when I took the throne or someone else who was in great need."

paramnesiax:

Morgan clenched her fists, unable to make eye contact with him, almost flinching away from the contact.

“Do you know what happens to my kind when we’ve been around too long?” She asked, glancing up at him from under her eyelashes. Her voice was strangled as she forced the words to come.

“We…we start to slip. We fade away – either we start to lose our memories, or we become entirely consumed in them. After awhile, we completely lose touch with reality. Most have five, six hundred years before it starts… It–”

She couldn’t force her lips to make the sounds anymore, a lump rose up in her throat, cutting off any attempt at speech. Morgan hung her head, clenching her fists tightly as tears slid down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry.”

“I had heard rumors but never really took the time to investigate.” Cain whispered. “Is that what has you worried?”

Cain shook his head. He knew that a lot of near immortal races suffered this affliction but there were also others like him that tended to be exceptions.

“Are you starting to lose the past or present? Is this scaring you because of our plans for the future?”

“I don’t know.” Morgan’s voice wavered, fighting back the urge to sob. “I can’t tell the present from the past half the time I just…”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I keep seeing and hearing things. When you knocked on the door, I wasn’t even sure if you were really there or I was imagining it.”

paramnesiax:

Morgan practically lept up from the bed – her whole body suddenly tensed for battle once again. “What in the hell?!” She snarled, snatching up what was left of her robe from the floor and drawing it around herself. Normally, Morgan would’ve gone to the door herself but given everything that had gone on lately, she looked to Cain for instruction. “What should we do?”

“We dress for fight or flight, I’ll check the hallway first, then, we wash rinse and repeat until safe.” Cain replied as he pulled his jeans back on. “Quickly, get dressed in something you can move in and be ready to follow.”

Morgan nodded, an almost stern expression on her face. She moved quickly, almost silently towards the closet – pulling on undergarments as quickly as she could before slipping into one of her few pairs of pants and a longsleeved black shirt. For good measure, she threw on a pair of low-heeled boots, not wanting to be barefoot should they have to escape to the outdoors.

Opening the door slowly, Cain checked the hall. People milled about, but no one seemed to be moving purposefully in their direction. Motioning for Morgan to follow, Cain lead them towards the source. “They’re expecting panic to herd us to the Northeast, away from the danger. We leave through the Southwest. Away from the bottle neck of death.”

She furrowed her brow. “…Yes, I do. That’s odd…”

paramnesiax:

Morgan clenched her fists, unable to make eye contact with him, almost flinching away from the contact.

“Do you know what happens to my kind when we’ve been around too long?” She asked, glancing up at him from under her eyelashes. Her voice was strangled as she forced the words to come.

“We…we start to slip. We fade away – either we start to lose our memories, or we become entirely consumed in them. After awhile, we completely lose touch with reality. Most have five, six hundred years before it starts… It–”

She couldn’t force her lips to make the sounds anymore, a lump rose up in her throat, cutting off any attempt at speech. Morgan hung her head, clenching her fists tightly as tears slid down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry.”

“I had heard rumors but never really took the time to investigate.” Cain whispered. “Is that what has you worried?”

Cain shook his head. He knew that a lot of near immortal races suffered this affliction but there were also others like him that tended to be exceptions.

“Are you starting to lose the past or present? Is this scaring you because of our plans for the future?”

"I don't know." Morgan's voice wavered, fighting back the urge to sob. "I can't tell the present from the past half the time I just..."

She shook her head. "I don't know. I keep seeing and hearing things. When you knocked on the door, I wasn't even sure if you were really there or I was imagining it."

paramnesiax:

The night was quiet – quieter than it had any right to be in a city so big. Somewhere in the distance, traffic could still be heard, but in the apartment everything seemed hushed. The strange quiet unnerved Morgan. It felt like the tense silence before the storm broke, she could almost feel the clouds gathering on the horizon. She wrapped her arms around herself as if they could protect her from the supernatural chill.

Things were changing more quickly than ever before – she could feel the fabric of reality shifting all around her, day by day. Something was coming through, pressing against the edges of reality, trying to shape itself on this plane. She was more sensitive to these things than most; even as a human she had been intricately tied to the supernatural world, able to see things that others couldn’t, hear the things that went bump in the night.  It was part of the reason she had been so successful as the ruler of the Garnet Court – a position she had since abdicated to her close friend, Abigail. A part of her regreted the decision, that she could no longer decide the direction in which vampire society would move, that she couldn’t continue the work she’d begun herself. That there was some chance that it could all be undone without her watching over it.

But she knew in her heart she couldn’t rule anymore. Every waking moment, memories pressed on her consciousness, invading her perception. Sometimes, she couldn’t even tell what was past and what was present. Morgan shook her head, turning away from the window, turning away from the bright lights of the city and to the darkness of her penthouse apartment. Maybe the change wasn’t coming from the outside, maybe it was internal. Maybe the threat, this thing that pressed on the edges of reality – was her own impending loss of sanity. She knew it had to happen eventually, it happened to every vampire. Few made it to five hundred with their faculties intact, even fewer made it past that. With all the trauma she’d experienced as a human, it wouldn’t really be surprising if she was slipping sooner, would it?

She shuddered, a lump rising in her throat. Morgan didn’t want to slip, she didn’t want lose herself to the past the way so many others had… She could barely admit to herself it was happening, she hadn’t even shared the full reason for her abdication of the throne with Cain, who she barely kept anything from since they’d become Mated. As far as she knew, there was nothing they could do about it – unless she wanted to involve the infernal courts or the fae.. Both of which were options that held more danger than succor. Demons were fickle – their deals often went awry… And with the fae? Even worse. No, those weren’t really options. Those were the hope of fools and she was wiser than that.

Morgan heaved a heavy sigh, sinking down to the floor and pulling her knees up to her chest. Her robe pooled on the floor around her.  The quiet may have offered peace, a rare commodity for the former Queen these days, but it was an uneasy peace. She let her head fall forward, resting it on her knees and closing her eyes. Deep down, she felt the urge to call for her Mate – slowly but surely the peace was fading. Thoughts, memories, wild imaginings pressed at the veil of her consciousness. She furrowed her brow, clenching the silky fabric of her robe in her hands, willing them back but failing.

How long could she hold on? How long before she slipped fully from the present and wandered through nothing but dreams of the past, a misty shell of herself? How long, how long?  

Cain could feel the unease seep out of the room as he walked down the hall toward it. He knew the source, something so obvious that he didn’t need to be Mated to know that he was needed. It practically flooded the abode in a fashion that brought Kubrick to mind.

He could tell that Morgan had been scared, that something was eating away at her from the inside, she had a horrible poker face to begin with but the last few days were painful to watch. Cain tried to be around for when she wanted to open up and get his help but so far she hadn’t said a word. He knew her well enough to know this wasn’t the type of thing to push, and to succeed the long game had to be played, however long it took.

He sighed heavily before rapping his knuckles against the hard wood of the door. A symbolic gesture, the wood flimsy enough that he was afraid to sneeze within 20 feet of lest it shattered into a storm of splinters. “Hey, did you fall in?”

She didn’t answer. Morgan couldn’t tell if the sound was in the present or in her head – if it was in her head, she didn’t want to alert Cain to the fact that anything was wrong by talking to no one…

But if it was him, he would only be more worried about her if she didn’t answer. Steeling herself, forcing the storm of memories back as far as she could, Morgan felt safe enough to get to her feet and go to the door.

If she opened it without speaking, at least she wouldn’t have to worry about Cain hearing her talking to no one and not have to worry about him breaking the door down to get to her if she didn’t answer.

When she opened the door, she couldn’t decide if she was relieved or not to see him standing there, a concerned look on his face.

As they walked, even though she held his arm and the walls were just far enough apart that it was comfortable to walk together without being awkward, yet she felt distant. He couldn’t put his finger on it but it felt like she was a million miles away.

"Do you know what happens to my kind when we've been around too long?" She asked, glancing up at him from under her eyelashes. Her voice was strangled as she forced the words to come.

"We...we start to slip. We fade away -- either we start to lose our memories, or we become entirely consumed in them. After awhile, we completely lose touch with reality. Most have five, six hundred years before it starts... It--"

She couldn't force her lips to make the sounds anymore, a lump rose up in her throat, cutting off any attempt at speech. Morgan hung her head, clenching her fists tightly as tears slid down her cheeks.

paramnesiax:

Morgan practically lept up from the bed – her whole body suddenly tensed for battle once again. “What in the hell?!” She snarled, snatching up what was left of her robe from the floor and drawing it around herself. Normally, Morgan would’ve gone to the door herself but given everything that had gone on lately, she looked to Cain for instruction. “What should we do?”

“We dress for fight or flight, I’ll check the hallway first, then, we wash rinse and repeat until safe.” Cain replied as he pulled his jeans back on. “Quickly, get dressed in something you can move in and be ready to follow.”

Morgan nodded, an almost stern expression on her face. She moved quickly, almost silently towards the closet – pulling on undergarments as quickly as she could before slipping into one of her few pairs of pants and a longsleeved black shirt. For good measure, she threw on a pair of low-heeled boots, not wanting to be barefoot should they have to escape to the outdoors.

Opening the door slowly, Cain checked the hall. People milled about, but no one seemed to be moving purposefully in their direction. Motioning for Morgan to follow, Cain lead them towards the source. “They’re expecting panic to herd us to the Northeast, away from the danger. We leave through the Southwest. Away from the bottle neck of death.”

She furrowed her brow. "...Yes, I do. That's odd..."

paramnesiax:

The night was quiet – quieter than it had any right to be in a city so big. Somewhere in the distance, traffic could still be heard, but in the apartment everything seemed hushed. The strange quiet unnerved Morgan. It felt like the tense silence before the storm broke, she could almost feel the clouds gathering on the horizon. She wrapped her arms around herself as if they could protect her from the supernatural chill.

Things were changing more quickly than ever before – she could feel the fabric of reality shifting all around her, day by day. Something was coming through, pressing against the edges of reality, trying to shape itself on this plane. She was more sensitive to these things than most; even as a human she had been intricately tied to the supernatural world, able to see things that others couldn’t, hear the things that went bump in the night.  It was part of the reason she had been so successful as the ruler of the Garnet Court – a position she had since abdicated to her close friend, Abigail. A part of her regreted the decision, that she could no longer decide the direction in which vampire society would move, that she couldn’t continue the work she’d begun herself. That there was some chance that it could all be undone without her watching over it.

But she knew in her heart she couldn’t rule anymore. Every waking moment, memories pressed on her consciousness, invading her perception. Sometimes, she couldn’t even tell what was past and what was present. Morgan shook her head, turning away from the window, turning away from the bright lights of the city and to the darkness of her penthouse apartment. Maybe the change wasn’t coming from the outside, maybe it was internal. Maybe the threat, this thing that pressed on the edges of reality – was her own impending loss of sanity. She knew it had to happen eventually, it happened to every vampire. Few made it to five hundred with their faculties intact, even fewer made it past that. With all the trauma she’d experienced as a human, it wouldn’t really be surprising if she was slipping sooner, would it?

She shuddered, a lump rising in her throat. Morgan didn’t want to slip, she didn’t want lose herself to the past the way so many others had… She could barely admit to herself it was happening, she hadn’t even shared the full reason for her abdication of the throne with Cain, who she barely kept anything from since they’d become Mated. As far as she knew, there was nothing they could do about it – unless she wanted to involve the infernal courts or the fae.. Both of which were options that held more danger than succor. Demons were fickle – their deals often went awry… And with the fae? Even worse. No, those weren’t really options. Those were the hope of fools and she was wiser than that.

Morgan heaved a heavy sigh, sinking down to the floor and pulling her knees up to her chest. Her robe pooled on the floor around her.  The quiet may have offered peace, a rare commodity for the former Queen these days, but it was an uneasy peace. She let her head fall forward, resting it on her knees and closing her eyes. Deep down, she felt the urge to call for her Mate – slowly but surely the peace was fading. Thoughts, memories, wild imaginings pressed at the veil of her consciousness. She furrowed her brow, clenching the silky fabric of her robe in her hands, willing them back but failing.

How long could she hold on? How long before she slipped fully from the present and wandered through nothing but dreams of the past, a misty shell of herself? How long, how long?  

Cain could feel the unease seep out of the room as he walked down the hall toward it. He knew the source, something so obvious that he didn’t need to be Mated to know that he was needed. It practically flooded the abode in a fashion that brought Kubrick to mind.

He could tell that Morgan had been scared, that something was eating away at her from the inside, she had a horrible poker face to begin with but the last few days were painful to watch. Cain tried to be around for when she wanted to open up and get his help but so far she hadn’t said a word. He knew her well enough to know this wasn’t the type of thing to push, and to succeed the long game had to be played, however long it took.

He sighed heavily before rapping his knuckles against the hard wood of the door. A symbolic gesture, the wood flimsy enough that he was afraid to sneeze within 20 feet of lest it shattered into a storm of splinters. “Hey, did you fall in?”

She didn’t answer. Morgan couldn’t tell if the sound was in the present or in her head – if it was in her head, she didn’t want to alert Cain to the fact that anything was wrong by talking to no one…

But if it was him, he would only be more worried about her if she didn’t answer. Steeling herself, forcing the storm of memories back as far as she could, Morgan felt safe enough to get to her feet and go to the door.

If she opened it without speaking, at least she wouldn’t have to worry about Cain hearing her talking to no one and not have to worry about him breaking the door down to get to her if she didn’t answer.

When she opened the door, she couldn’t decide if she was relieved or not to see him standing there, a concerned look on his face.

paramnesiax:

Morgan practically lept up from the bed – her whole body suddenly tensed for battle once again. “What in the hell?!” She snarled, snatching up what was left of her robe from the floor and drawing it around herself. Normally, Morgan would’ve gone to the door herself but given everything that had gone on lately, she looked to Cain for instruction. “What should we do?”

“We dress for fight or flight, I’ll check the hallway first, then, we wash rinse and repeat until safe.” Cain replied as he pulled his jeans back on. “Quickly, get dressed in something you can move in and be ready to follow.”

Morgan nodded, an almost stern expression on her face. She moved quickly, almost silently towards the closet – pulling on undergarments as quickly as she could before slipping into one of her few pairs of pants and a longsleeved black shirt. For good measure, she threw on a pair of low-heeled boots, not wanting to be barefoot should they have to escape to the outdoors.

paramnesiax:

The night was quiet – quieter than it had any right to be in a city so big. Somewhere in the distance, traffic could still be heard, but in the apartment everything seemed hushed. The strange quiet unnerved Morgan. It felt like the tense silence before the storm broke, she could almost feel the clouds gathering on the horizon. She wrapped her arms around herself as if they could protect her from the supernatural chill.

Things were changing more quickly than ever before – she could feel the fabric of reality shifting all around her, day by day. Something was coming through, pressing against the edges of reality, trying to shape itself on this plane. She was more sensitive to these things than most; even as a human she had been intricately tied to the supernatural world, able to see things that others couldn’t, hear the things that went bump in the night.  It was part of the reason she had been so successful as the ruler of the Garnet Court – a position she had since abdicated to her close friend, Abigail. A part of her regreted the decision, that she could no longer decide the direction in which vampire society would move, that she couldn’t continue the work she’d begun herself. That there was some chance that it could all be undone without her watching over it.

But she knew in her heart she couldn’t rule anymore. Every waking moment, memories pressed on her consciousness, invading her perception. Sometimes, she couldn’t even tell what was past and what was present. Morgan shook her head, turning away from the window, turning away from the bright lights of the city and to the darkness of her penthouse apartment. Maybe the change wasn’t coming from the outside, maybe it was internal. Maybe the threat, this thing that pressed on the edges of reality – was her own impending loss of sanity. She knew it had to happen eventually, it happened to every vampire. Few made it to five hundred with their faculties intact, even fewer made it past that. With all the trauma she’d experienced as a human, it wouldn’t really be surprising if she was slipping sooner, would it?

She shuddered, a lump rising in her throat. Morgan didn’t want to slip, she didn’t want lose herself to the past the way so many others had… She could barely admit to herself it was happening, she hadn’t even shared the full reason for her abdication of the throne with Cain, who she barely kept anything from since they’d become Mated. As far as she knew, there was nothing they could do about it – unless she wanted to involve the infernal courts or the fae.. Both of which were options that held more danger than succor. Demons were fickle – their deals often went awry… And with the fae? Even worse. No, those weren’t really options. Those were the hope of fools and she was wiser than that.

Morgan heaved a heavy sigh, sinking down to the floor and pulling her knees up to her chest. Her robe pooled on the floor around her.  The quiet may have offered peace, a rare commodity for the former Queen these days, but it was an uneasy peace. She let her head fall forward, resting it on her knees and closing her eyes. Deep down, she felt the urge to call for her Mate – slowly but surely the peace was fading. Thoughts, memories, wild imaginings pressed at the veil of her consciousness. She furrowed her brow, clenching the silky fabric of her robe in her hands, willing them back but failing.

How long could she hold on? How long before she slipped fully from the present and wandered through nothing but dreams of the past, a misty shell of herself? How long, how long?  

Cain could feel the unease seep out of the room as he walked down the hall toward it. He knew the source, something so obvious that he didn’t need to be Mated to know that he was needed. It practically flooded the abode in a fashion that brought Kubrick to mind.

He could tell that Morgan had been scared, that something was eating away at her from the inside, she had a horrible poker face to begin with but the last few days were painful to watch. Cain tried to be around for when she wanted to open up and get his help but so far she hadn’t said a word. He knew her well enough to know this wasn’t the type of thing to push, and to succeed the long game had to be played, however long it took.

He sighed heavily before rapping his knuckles against the hard wood of the door. A symbolic gesture, the wood flimsy enough that he was afraid to sneeze within 20 feet of lest it shattered into a storm of splinters. “Hey, did you fall in?”

She didn't answer. Morgan couldn't tell if the sound was in the present or in her head -- if it was in her head, she didn't want to alert Cain to the fact that anything was wrong by talking to no one...

But if it was him, he would only be more worried about her if she didn't answer. Steeling herself, forcing the storm of memories back as far as she could, Morgan felt safe enough to get to her feet and go to the door.

If she opened it without speaking, at least she wouldn't have to worry about Cain hearing her talking to no one and not have to worry about him breaking the door down to get to her if she didn't answer.

When she opened the door, she couldn't decide if she was relieved or not to see him standing there, a concerned look on his face.

paramnesiax:

Morgan practically lept up from the bed – her whole body suddenly tensed for battle once again. “What in the hell?!” She snarled, snatching up what was left of her robe from the floor and drawing it around herself. Normally, Morgan would’ve gone to the door herself but given everything that had gone on lately, she looked to Cain for instruction. “What should we do?”

“We dress for fight or flight, I’ll check the hallway first, then, we wash rinse and repeat until safe.” Cain replied as he pulled his jeans back on. “Quickly, get dressed in something you can move in and be ready to follow.”

Morgan nodded, an almost stern expression on her face. She moved quickly, almost silently towards the closet -- pulling on undergarments as quickly as she could before slipping into one of her few pairs of pants and a longsleeved black shirt. For good measure, she threw on a pair of low-heeled boots, not wanting to be barefoot should they have to escape to the outdoors.

paramnesiax:

cainoftao:

paramnesiax:

Morgan pursed her lips. “Why do you have to act like this is so easy when it’s not?” Her tone was halfway between a whine and a snarl, feeling like Cain was trying to minimize what, for her, was a rather large barrier to overcome.

“Simple, years upon years upon years of experience have taught me that once you start this kind of thing, and keep it up, it isn’t as horrible or difficult as you think. Here, I’ll be fair. I buried my first wife at the age of 45, on the edge of the lake where we were married, not 10 feet from where we performed the ceremony for the tribe. I didn’t remarry until 1267, after my youngest child from my first marriage was buried for about 10 years.” Cain’s smile was one of sad remembrance, but it was a rather nostalgic smile just the same. “That was when I betrothed a female Lycanthrope, we’re together until she passed away in 1435, our litter living another 120 years.”

She wanted to tell him he still sounded like an ass but couldn’t bring herself to say the words. Why couldn’t he just accept that, even if it wouldn’t be forever, it was difficult and scary right now? Morgan didn’t want to be told “It’s not as horrible as you imagine”, she wanted to be told “I know it’s scary right now, but you can get through that and it’ll be better eventually.” But no, he was just going to keep going with the “it’s not so bad”. She crossed her arms over her chest and didn’t speak.

“Morgan, look, maybe I’m coming off the wrong way trying to help you. I’m used to giving pep talks and motivational speeches to the pack or things in a more official setting like Congress or courts. Given how you’re closing off to me, I’m going out on a limb and saying that it’s not helping.” Cain sighed as he saw her turn away and cross her arms. Scratching his head he tried to find a better approach.

“I know that I am asking a lot of you. The cliff notes version of your life that you gave me so far is more than proof of that. Like so many of those things you did, I’m sure that the thought of what you are about to do or need to do is scary. Hell, probably down right terrifying. But you got through it. You did it to get to where you are today, proving not only how strong you are, but how brave you can be. We’ll see this to the end, we’ll get through this, and someday in the future you’ll realize that you used to be scared of what is possibly the best thing to happen in your life.”

She sighed heavily. “Look, I know that there’s wisdom in what you’re saying but I need time. I need time…to process, to adjust.”