Rekindled Humanity Chapter 13
The longer she sat in this filth, the more she wished she truly was dead. All around her, Rosalynn took in the trappings of Anarch life. Unclean. Hostile. A hard unlife, to be sure. But they did it to themselves, so it hardly earned her sympathy.
Resigned to her temporary fate, Rosalynn toured the room in a slow circle, eager for a new distraction from being stuck in this 'dwelling'. At least now she could think. The blitz of emotion now long gone, now she can actually get her head around it all!
"Well... shit" Running a hand through her hair, she flopped down on the bed.
Not much else could be said. In the span of three nights she had gone from power absolute to absolute nothing.
"I am better than this. I am more than this. Goddamn it, Rosalynn!"
Balling her fists in her hair, Rosalynn tried to squeeze the thoughts out. Try as she might, they wouldn't go. The lies, the murder, the grief… all of it was worthless! Her legacy was worthless!
And then there was him. No matter how hard she tried to rationalise it; to let her nature overcome the memories, there was always him. A walking testament to her history. Nines Rodriquez, in all his charming glory. Her mind wandered back to the man who pummelled her to near death tonight. Angry. Volatile. Charismatic. And a natural air of leadership. Apart from the charisma, Rosalynn couldn't remember him possessing those other qualities in life. The Nines Rodriguez she met tonight was a shell of the man she knew, and that was helpful. At least when she is strong enough to take him on, it will be slightly less painful putting him down. Slightly.
Oh God the stupidity of this idea to come here. A small giggle bounced off the walls, arousing Rosalynn out of her stupor. And then another giggle. It took her half a minute to realise the giggle was her own, and in that moment of realisation, descended into hysteria.
"Oh Lord, Lucas, if you could see me now."
"Well that's an odd response to your situation."
Rosalynn screamed and in that same instance spun around. There, leaning against the bedroom door that she hadn't heard open, stood a small redhead kindred wearing a green beret and a loathing expression. She wore a sickly grin that radiated malice rather than kindness. Numb in her shock, Rosalynn waited until she felt a semblance of dignity simmer to her surface before daring to speak.
"Who the hell are you?" She demanded in a tone fit for royalty.
The mystery girl laughed. "Well lookie here… that ain't language fit for a Ventrue princess."
"Answer my question."
Despite looking like shit, Rosalynn stood her ground and levelled the intruder with a glare that could chill boiling water. The girl didn't blanch, which surprised her. Then again, she probably would have been more chilling had she not looked like she did now.
The girl fell quiet and her face sullen.
"I'm Damsel," she said after a long silence. "I run this place and Elysium next door. So, if l were you, unless you want your ass evicted to the sun, I suggest you learn your fucking manners."
"Well you're not me."
Rosalynn approached her slowly and kept a calculated distance. It was then she got her first real look at Damsel. Quite small, but a huge personality. Kind of a 60's rebel vibe. And a redhead. Go figure.
"So to what do I owe the pleasure, Damsel?"
"Came to see the bitch that made Nines lose his goddamn mind."
That made Rosalynn smile. "I see. He lost his mind?"
"I'd put that smile away, Prince Bitch. You mess with Nines and you mess with us."
"Well that wasn't my intention."
Rosalynn already knew how to press her buttons. Hotheads like Damsel don't respond well to Camarilla diplomacy... or diplomacy in general. And she reacted predictably.
Damsel's expression soured. "You really oughta come down off that pedestal if you know what's good for you."
"You still haven't told me the real reason you're here, Darcy."
"It's Damsel!"
"l don't care, truly."
Taking a seat at the desk, Rosalynn watched as Damsel stewed angrily on her spot, unable to do anything. For the first time in nearly a week, she had some measure of control.
"I'll ask you again: why are you here?"
"Oh man. Lady, you got some brass balls, I'll give you that."
"You have a funny way of dodging questions"
"I wanna know what the fuck you're doing in my city!"
Damsel started towards her but checked herself rather quickly when Rosalynn stood. It'd do her no good to disobey Nines' direct orders to not harm a hair on Rosalynn's head. Technically she was already breaking his rule to not even go near the bedroom. Still, Damsel felt they had a right to some answers.
Rosalynn glared hard. "I owe you no explanation."
"Oh, so you failed to keep control of New York so now you're tryin' in LA? No goddamn way!"
"Good lord, do you hear yourself? I have no care nor want for your precious LA!"
"Then why? It just seems a little fucking coincidental that we burn LaCroix and then all of a sudden you show up!"
"Wow you're paranoid. Just calm down. I'm not exactly a threat to you here."
Damsel barely sequestered her anger beneath her skin. She wanted nothing more than to skin this bitch, but there was something else about her. The way she talked. Her battle scars. She sure as hell didn't look like or sound like she come from the boardroom. And, at the end of it, she had a point.
"Ugh! Fine. But just remember you can't leave here except through our good graces. So play nice."
''l will if you will."
Against every inclination she had, Damsel retreated to a safe distance where she could not lose it and break the pretty Ventrue's neck.
"I can't believe you're Nines' wife." She stated.
Rosalynn looked at her strangely. The girl doesn't mince words.
"l was. Past tense. Not anymore."
"Yeah, that's no coincidence at all." Damsel rolled her eyes. "You seriously expect me to believe you just magically appear in the exact same domain as Nines."
"Look, believe whatever you want. I'm the Prince of New York City; I could not care less what you think of me. l didn't even know Nines was like this..."
"Bullshit!"
And around and around they go. Sighing dramatically, Rosalynn aimed at keeping her composure.
"Sweetheart, exactly what has Nines told you about his past?"
For once, Damsel had no fiery comeback.
"Not a lot," she huffed, sullenly. "He doesn't exactly open up. I guess now we know why."
"Well... let me enlighten you, Damsel. Nines and l were married ten years before one day, thanks to that monolithic ego of his, he walked out."
That revelation made Damsel's jaw unhinge. Rosalynn would've gladly basked in her surprise, had she not been as agitated as she was now. Dragging up her fragile history was not she had in mind. Even worse was giving this insignificant kindred an undue explanation.
Rosalyn flicked her a stern look. "Nines left his family to fight the war against the Depression. He disappeared, and never came back. So no, Damsel, I didn't fucking know he was here!"
Shit. That escalated quickly. Her voice had edged on manic, thickened by a steady rise in emotion. Glancing across the room, it seemed Damsel heard it too. Rosalyn cursed softly.
"Goddamn it," she muttered. "Anyway. For seventy years, l thought he was dead. Turns out l was right, in a way."
Damsel didn't buy it, and it bothered her in more ways than one.
"You're a fucking joke," She declared, crossing her arms defiantly. "There's no way Nines would've hooked up with the likes of you Ventrue scum!"
"Think whatever you like, little girl." Rosalynn sneered as she approached her. "But it is what it is. Like it or not, your oh so esteemed leader comes with a lot of baggage. And as much as I love seeing him unravel, honey, I got a lot bigger issues to deal with."
It was a calculated risk when she came within arms' reach of the hot-headed Brujah. But then again, calculated risks were her game. And quite correctly, she supposed this girl was on an invisible leash; roped into a senseless devotion of Nines to the point where his instructions not to harm Rosalynn carried a great deal of consequence for young Damsel.
That is why Rosalynn was able to look at her with clear authority.
"I am nothing if not a pragmatist, Damsel. The only reason I still stand here now is because I haven't fed well in quite some time. But make no mistake... if you, Nines, or any other of your little chest-beating thugs want to start a war with me, be assured I will bring the full weight of Camarilla authority down on you all. Trust me, sweetheart, you don't want that."
For a brief moment she thought she saw hesitation cross Damsel's eyes, but it was quickly usurped by the trademark Brujah stubbornness.
Finally, the fiery Anarch seemed to overcome her momentary loss of words.
"It's only for Nines' sake that I haven't already torn your trachea outta your throat and used it to beat that goddamn, condescending, pathetic Camarilla shit-for-brains of yours." Damsel gritted out, and then turned and stormed out.
The door slammed shut with such anger that it didn't take a well-fed vampire to see the top door hinge break free...