Determination
The rat scurries up my leg and coat, perches on my shoulder, squeaks its distress into my ear. Again the sewers are invaded. Not dangerous, though, but I'd better know, I don't train the best rats for nothing. You'd think this was a main street or something, as far as neonates go these days. Still, they're smart enough not to stray too far from the surface. That last staked Thinblood must have taught them a lesson.
The rat keeps on squeaking. The Kindred looking for me, that's the one who came calling. Does she really think she can find me?
No, the rat explains. She doesn't want lair, she eats, she doesn't look.
Another dead body in our sewers? Did she at least think to put it somewhere it'd take half a brain to find?
I get up and slip invisibly away.
Dead body, right.
Skirt drawn up in one hand, dirty black hair hanging over dirty glasses, hungry look. A rat in her hand: the tenth one or so. The drained ones float limply.
What, kiddie, eating people too hard for you? Nah. You've killed already: your face - a shade too pale for someone so young - tells me. Then, maintaining the Masquerade takes a bit of a toll? Yeah, that's more like it. Your face ain't pretty enough to seduce someone, and you've been seen once already. Didn't like LaCroix's punishment, did you? So you're here, in my sewers, draining my rats.
I should break your face and make you find some normal prey. Not my problem you're too clumsy to catch it.
But I won't. It's too amusing to watch a girl, some few nights out of human life, chasing after rats. Cultured, weren't you? University student, honors? Like the Tremere would pick anyone else. Even the really stupid ones that broke Camarilla law. You're all for diplomas, not for work experience, ain't ya?
Eh, this is fun. Let me get a look at your face, kiddo: few things are as satisfying as watching a new Kindred being broken in. How's that rat treating your stomach?
Been busy, haven't you? To get by in unlife you've spent a lot of blood on strength and Dominate - though I suppose if you could use either of those properly you wouldn't be eating rats now, would you? Couldn't be bothered to learn to see through the mists, could you? Too bad, ain't it? I could tear you limb from limb, being this close. Let me see your eyes, kid.
Heh.
So you weren't just an accident, after all.
So you're the one for whom Strauss requested the Embrace half a year ago. He wanted the right of Siring for one of his younglings. Denied, that time; what did he expect from being so independent of LaCroix? This city hadn't new blood for years, thanks to that idiot. Strauss thought the Sire'd get by, then; he didn't, and was killed for it. Serves him right for leaving a trail good enough to follow.
But you were no accident, no folly, no idle lover too good to just drain and leave broken.
You'd ask how I know, if you heard this, kid. Right now you'd give anything to know that you weren't a mistake. That someone put some thought into that silly fate of yours. But you wouldn't take my word for it. You're a Tremere. You'd want my reasoning, my "proof", and you'd kill for it, if only you could.
I couldn't answer you, though, if I wanted to. It's a gut feeling I've got there. I've seen a lot of your kind. You people are that rare and unique combination of brilliance and stupidity that shouldn't live longer than a couple of years, and then should die painfully. Some Kindred think you live on your magic. I don't think so. Your kind get by on sheer resilience, on that inner determination to find the ones who screwed you over and do the same thing to them.
And that's the look on your face.
Drain a rat, gain some strength. Drain a rat, get some power. Drain a rat, keep on going. Drain a rat.
I turn to leave. Yeah, that's a rule of thumb for dealing with your Clan, and I ain't gonna break it. If you reduce a Tremere to eating rats and leave it alive, there will be hell to pay.
Maybe you'll live through the Sabbat raid, after all.
