unprincipled

(credit)

  “See, that’s precisely what I meant when I said you were progressive.”

Casamir smiled over at Victor like a wolf, one hand toying with the unconscious woman’s hair. He reached out with a foot to nudge Victor’s hips, enjoying the view from where he reclined.

   “There’s only three of us at the moment.     Lord Rufus had to go and get himself beheaded.”

Casamir scoffed, as if irritated by the dead man.

   “Lady Misericorde, Mother, when she can be bothered to     come home, and myself. You’ll fit right in.”

As much as Victor enjoyed being praised for his brain, he had a feeling this was much more shallow. It felt tuned out, or maybe that’s just how he felt about when Casamir spoke most of the time. Shifting his legs in a wider stance, he played the words over in his head and ran his tongue over his top teeth.

She’d managed to keep from rolling her eyes, even if it had been a struggle to do so. Still, Molly didn’t meet Alexandria’s eyes, slumping further in her chair like a petulant child. This was Alexandria’s job, of course…to attempt to urge and keep Molly in a healthier frame of mind. Naturally she wouldn’t understand.

“I don’t try to hold onto people.” She mumbled, shrugging a little as she picked at her nails. “I don’t need to. I just…remind myself that people suck sometimes, that’s all. It’s less a grudge and more a…I don’t know, a memo to myself.” She mimed writing in the air. “People can suck.”

“You know who doesn’t suck? Dogs. Dogs don’t suck because they’re awesome. I’m hungry–got any snacks?”

Alexandria crossed her legs neatly and nodded. Molly did have one thing that she agreed with, but that’s not the reason they were here. They were finally starting to dig down into some of Molly’s inner conflicts.

    “They certainly can. Everyone has that      capability to do wrong, and everyone      does at some point. Some are worse      than others. Some do wrong intentionally.      And some don’t.”

That was, more or less, repeating what Molly had said in more detail. Alexandria liked to think of it as understanding human nature, in this aspect.

    “They rot too quickly. Not well-preserved.     Whoever made them has clearly never     heard of formaldehyde.”

Victor sighed and slouched back from the other side; his body was only wrapped in a thin bedsheet. His legs entangled with Casamir’s poor victim. As much as he enjoyed losing himself in work, he had to take any word from his partner with a grain of salt.

   “I should like to know what the difference is, precisely.      You are asking me to commit an act of genocide. Why      should I view them as anything different from you or Horst?”

Cabal didn’t bat an eyelash, watching the General with  a clinical calm as he bristled. Whether or not his jab had  been intentional was anyone’s guess. But anyone who  knew Cabal would also know that he had a talent for jabs.

      [Sometimes he used needles instead of words]

Pale blue eyes watched the folder slide towards him, and  flicked upwards to meet crimson. Cabal lifted the folder;  gloved fingers flipping it open upon his knee.

     [at least his assigned partners had salt.]

   “How many, and what are our alternatives? Have you tried talking to them?”

    “This is how war goes, sorry to say.      Vampires are the enemy. We kill      the enemy.”

For a second, he had to bite his tongue from commenting any further. Being exhausted from the fighting, it wouldn’t have been such a bad idea if Silas was expired at the end of this. However, it wouldn’t look good to wish for such things in front of his team. Especially one who had a violent history.

As long as he was still here, he could try to keep the world safe for a little longer.

 “And yet you have no reservations about what you are asking of me?   No loyalties to your own kind? Is extermination our only option?”

For a man who regularly dealt with death as his stock and trade, Cabal was hesitant to deal death en masse. He knew that he was potentially pricking a nerve with the General, but it was a risk he was willing to take to ascertain the cause.

He sat down in the chair before Silas’ desk, his expression a mask.

  “Who are you assigning as backup? I’ll want to vet their qualifications.”

    “Private Cabal, I warn you to watch what      you say. I am not the same as the vampires.      Your brother is not the same as them.

     Know the differences.”

As furious as the insult made Silas, he did well not to show any signs of aggression, lest he only prove Cabal’s point. Sitting still for a moment, he let the tension melt away from his posture, and resumed focus on the mission. He slid forward a manila folder.