A/N: Just a drabble from the perspective of a character of mine. Yes, WoD is played in WoD.
My friends are laughing.
"How ridiculous!"
"I'd want huge fangs and claws!"
"You'd be harmless!"
"I'd be a Hunter!"
My husband laughs. "I'd be a vampire and kill your ass!"
Yet another discussion about wanting to be something other than human, wanting to exist in such a world of war. If they had to be human, they would want to know and be involved in that world. They always talk about their longing for adventures as a werewolf (Or a vampire of hunter or mage or ghost or fae, ad infinitum, ad nauseum), but what about us humans? Sometimes, once in a while, we are thrown into this world, too. Maybe we are swept off our feet by a charming man one night, only to find him unable to step foot in the sun. Maybe your best friend shifts for the first time and tries to confide their fears in you. Maybe you are a survivor, or an unknown witness. Everyone takes the exciting route in their drive to be different, to be a hero, to change the world.
On that note, being different sucks. So you just found out you're a werewolf, huh? Cool, right? Except the pain of the shift, the drive to hunt, the knowledge that you are something more. You have responsibilities now. And you have to learn control. Have fun. Break the Veil? Sorry. That's a crime. Tell your friends? I wouldn't if I were you. There's a reason that you are not public knowledge.
There are no heroes in the World of Darkness. Those that are truly good are eventually corrupted. Everyone looks out only for their own best interest; damned are those that are in the way.
Which leaves me in a very strange place; strange, but maybe it isn't so bad. I am not a hero, I have no power, I am a human that has seen things, heard things, knows things. I've learned to accept things as they are, though I wish someone would tell me more. I live in a little town, now, where nothing happens. My husband, and his friends, are all human. What few of my own I have are completely unaware of the happenings beyond human perception. But I sit alone in the Between. I know things they don't, and my outlook on life betrays such knowledge. Ironic that I watch them play the games I lived.
I catch myself wishing I could talk to someone about these things, that I could be more than just a bystander in the World of Darkness. But I am nothing in the grand scheme of things. Less than a gnat. The knowledge I have, the information that makes me explode with more questions, no one that can explain more will. They don't care. I am a bug to them, easy to squish underfoot. A sheep that will follow the lies of any shepard. A plague upon the earth in need of curing. A babe that must be coddled and watched and shielded from the horrors of the real world.
I want to know more, feel like I should be more, am willing to deal with the responsibilities and consequences, and the jobs I would have to do. I don't feel human anymore. Haven't for decades.
But it doesn't matter. The price of knowing is no price because the knowledge doesn't exist. No one knows. No one cares. That life is not even a fragment of a memory anymore. I am just a married woman, working at a job she hates, just like any other person. Monsters aren't real. There is no reason to fear the darkness. Ghosts, mages, the fae, abominations, they don't exist. It doesn't matter what I think I know. Anyone that finds out would rather kill me than help me learn, help me understand.
This is why humans do not belong in that world - their world. Days like this, though, when these thoughts run rampant in my mind, I really wish I did.
