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Post by Prince Amy O'Connor on Feb 23, 2016 22:50:21 GMT
A sleek silver car pulled up alongside Octavian's. It didn't make a noise, outside of the sound of tires screeching. Before it managed to come to a complete stop, Amy O'Connor launched herself from the vehicle. She was dressed for war, and yet, she was still utterly perfect. She was even wearing fierce make-up, emphasized by the look of rage that contorted her lean features.
"Rumor!" She demanded as she seemed to float over to her husband and beloved Malkavian Primogen. Finn was barely conscious but managed to turn emerald eyes upon his Prince. His smile was edged with pain but genuine. He reached out a gloved hand, the white stained with the almost black of his vitae.
"Do not strain yourself, Finn," she whispered, lowering herself to the ground. She silenced his laughter with a single look, brushing her ice cold fingers across his forehead. "Allow me to return you to your childe."
She completely ignored her husband.
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Rumor Black
Neonate
Maybe I'm the Kindest Demon
Posts: 51 
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Post by Rumor Black on Feb 23, 2016 22:54:26 GMT
The tiny Gangrel unfolded herself from the car, staring at the scene before her with horror. Her blue eyes, already rimmed with the gold of the Golconda, were wide and doe-like. Unlike her Prince, she was unarmed and wearing her usual outfit. She made her way over towards the crowd slowly.
Her gaze searched for Octavian's, checking to see his condition. How was he fairing through all of this? Her lips pulled down in a concerned frown. She knew dawdling too long would upset Amy, but she was completely focused on Finn at the moment. It was just as well: the smell of hell-fire, brimstone, and blood was nearly overwhelming. She hadn't ever known a Fallen and certainly hadn't seen (or smelled) one fight. She was terrified.
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Post by Octavian O'Connor on Feb 23, 2016 23:25:51 GMT
Octavian watched the silver sedan roll up, and his wife and little Rumor come out of the vehicle. The frigid cold radiating off his wife was a sure sign of things to come. He let Amy and Rumor start their treatment of the Malkavian Primogen. "It's alright Rumor, relax." He tried to comfort her, his brown eyes hard as dark marble. He had no idea how Amy had known where they'd be, and even less of idea of how she'd gotten there so quickly, and why did everything smell like brimstone? Far to many variables in play, he'd have to think on that and deal with it later. For now, getting Finn stable and safe somewhere was the number one priority.
"Sword strike, across the chest. Nichiya, Rini's husband was the one who attacked him." He moved his hand in the same motion that he'd assumed Nichiya had had to use in order to inflict that kind of wound. Octavian wasn't a person anymore, he was a soldier, and every instinct screamed at him to get Finn out of there. "He requested a night of his father's sleep." He mentioned, every detail mattered, and the more information he could feed the little Gangrel and his wife, the better odds Finn had of surviving. "Etonis is out chasing down Nichiya, I don't know how well that's going to go but I'll make sure he gets home safe." The warmth that always just existed in Octavian's voice was still there, but it held something different, something more passionate than simple care, it held respect and admiration.
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Post by Prince Amy O'Connor on Feb 23, 2016 23:46:16 GMT
Amy did not bother to respond to Octavian. Her focus was entirely captured by the man she tried so hard to calm down, despite him looking perfectly, serenely calm. He turned his gaze towards the sky and chuckled, a dark sound, a far cry from his usual maniacal laughter. "My childe," he said softly, contemplating Dantye in her entirety. He knew that no matter what he decided, she would respect his wishes. He had trained her to be perfect, in that regard. His hand rose and caressed the air, as if imagining her face beneath his fingers, before falling heavily upon his chest.
"Quiet, now," Amy commanded. Respectfully, he fell silent, turning his unfocused gaze to her once more. "Sleep, my brother." He looked as if it might argue for a moment, having seen the tiny little child that still existed somewhere within the ice of her eyes. "I will get you back to your childe, and when the moon rises again, you will awaken. Until then, rest."
It took him a moment before he finally conceded to her demands. The war was beginning, they both knew, and a war was no time for a nap. He was a powerful Kindred, an asset to the Beasts of the West against their monstrous cousins. He would be needed in the battles sure to come. The logical part of his mind told him that he would need to rest, to heal, before he could join the fray once more. Yet, his loyalty demanded his attention, despite the words his Prince had spoken. He wanted to rise, to join them in the battle that was sure to come.
Eventually, he drifted off, his body stilling as if dead. However, it did not melt, nor did it turn to ash. He was dead, long since dead, but he was not yet gone.
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Rumor Black
Neonate
Maybe I'm the Kindest Demon
Posts: 51
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Post by Rumor Black on Feb 23, 2016 23:49:05 GMT
Fear pulsed in her heart as she stood to one side, watching the conversation as it passed between her Prince and the Primogen of the Malkavian Clan. He was a large, terrifying man, and seeing him so helpless broke her heart. She knew better than to speak about his condition. She simply waited until she was needed, her little undead heart giving a squeeze. Whenever he faded away, she held her breath, staring at his face as memories of her mother and Sire flashed through her mind. She waited to be told he was gone: gone like Inuko, gone like Rini, gone like all of those that came before and after him.
However, Amy eventually called her over. Creeping forward, biting her lower lip, she eventually managed to take the woman's spot. Her attention focused, then. She placed her hands upon the wound on Finn's chest, feeling the curse as it ate away at his flesh. His age worked in his favor: a younger Kindred would have long since passed on to the afterlife. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, and the Golconda-to-be got to work.
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Post by Octavian O'Connor on Feb 24, 2016 0:06:20 GMT
Octavian watched and listened as Amy spoke to Finn. He knew his heart should ache, that he should feel shame, anger, rage and so many other things that all seemed so distant to the young Ventrue. Normally he'd be there helping, but Finn had made his choice, he'd come along. Octavian used no manipulation or leverage on the old Methusala, not that he could have if he'd wanted too. He owed Finn, a lot. His life now, but that would be dealt with later. Now he had to deal with the consequences of the evening. Amy was sure to be pissed, the Methusal, he had no idea how Finn would respond.
Turning Octavian watched the young Gangrel get to work, his hard brown eyes taking in ever detail of the Golconda-to-be's actions. There was little more he could do, so he waited. Sure that the evening was just getting started.
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Post by Prince Amy O'Connor on Feb 24, 2016 1:11:26 GMT
"Octavian."
Amy had moved aside to allow Rumor space to work. She was standing a few feet away from the prone form of her Primogen, the blue in her eyes so light they looked almost colorless. Her shoulders, usually relaxed around her husband, had tensed; in fact, her entire body was tense, as if preparing for battle. She trusted Abbadon and her companion to handle the Kuei-Jin as they saw fit, but there was another fight she had to handle before it escalated beyond a point of reparation.
She raised a thin hand and motioned for him to join her before turning around and stalking away, every step placed exactly where she wanted it. Subconsciously, her fingers found the hilt of one of Inuko Locke's kunai, a poisoned blade she had far too much experience with. It was in her grip before she recognized what she was doing. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself down.
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Post by Octavian O'Connor on Feb 24, 2016 6:02:55 GMT
It was the first thing she'd said to him all evening, Octavian's eyes turned toward her, his fiery brown eyes clashing with her pale blues. She gestured for him to follow her, and he followed. He stepped with military precision as she'd step with a decisiveness that only the centuries long dead possessed. His eyes caught sight of her fingers, grasping and fiddling with the kunai Nuko had carried. Her nervous unsure reaction. Octavian carried himself confidently, prepared for whatever repercussions and consequences his actions would merit, however he would not accept them laying down.
Octavian stopped after a few moments walking when they were, by his judgement, out of earshot. He watched his wife move, watched the love of his life move with the preparedness of a warrior. His brown eyes took in every detail of her form, every separate movement of her muscles. Memorizing them, making sure every detail was clear in his mind before they began what could be one of the worst arguments of his existence.
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Post by Prince Amy O'Connor on Feb 24, 2016 6:09:00 GMT
Amy heard the cease of his footsteps behind her and a ripple passed across her muscles. Anger was dead to her, long since having fled her frigid form, and the air around her chilled noticeably. She kept her back turned to her husband, her posture relaxing only as much as her preparation would allow. The kunai caught in her fingertips showed the first bits of frost along the grip, a sure sign that the Ice Queen had returned.
She took a single breath, speaking without looking at him. "Octavian O'Connor. Explain your actions." A cool, Ventrue demand. He held no technical power in her city, even as the famed protégé of the Queen. He was simply in training to be Justicar; his power was not yet his own. While she rarely exploited this fact, she felt he needed to be reminded.
Wife or not, Amy O'Connor was Prince of Nagasaki.
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Post by Octavian O'Connor on Feb 24, 2016 6:51:57 GMT
The neonate stared at his wife for a few moments silently. Taking in her stance and the way she carried himself, he was more than ready for that specific questioned. His voice was warm, that same voice he always used when talking to his beloved. Lifting his hand he very deliberately pointed to her weapon. "Are you speaking to me as Amy O'Connor, the woman I fell in love with, or are you speaking to as the Prince I feared, the daughter of Christian Sorel?" There was no malice in his voice when he spoke, even when he spoke of Christian, only a bit of sadness.
He'd made his play, he'd used his queens gambit same as he'd done in his chess match with Amy's father. Whether he won or lost really didn't matter anymore. There was only one person in the world who made his heart beat, who chased away the guilt and pain of a lifetime past. He'd done as he did to save her and the city they both held so dearly. If it dawned him, so be it, Octavian O'Connor would never be accused of inaction.
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Post by Prince Amy O'Connor on Feb 25, 2016 1:02:10 GMT
The change in the air was immediate and undeniable. The cold that had set in right around the frame of the Prince dramatically worsened until frost layered across the tips of her hair, her eyelashes, and the bladed weapon she handled. Whatever color she may have had to her skin was lost and her lips tinged blue. Christian Sorel... She tried so hard not to even think of that name, but to have her heritage thrown in her face by her husband... It was almost too much for her to bare. While her arms were hidden by thick black gloves, she could feel the burning pain of her scars as they reached their gnarled fingers further across her skin.
For a moment, she didn't speak. She could feel the curse of the Fae she had murdered beginning its slow control of her body once more. The pain that echoed, hollowing her chest, ever since that night returned. Her cheek burned with the memory of her father's public disowning and shame flashed across her face. It was as if, for a moment, she was there again, standing at her best friend's grave site as they prepared to bury her ashes.
Both fists clenched, the handle making a soft noise against her glove as ice chipped away. Far too many years of training in the Ventrue arts attempted to force her hand: she wanted to punish him. How dare he disrespect her, his Prince, in such an outright manner. Even as a woman, she had commanded armies, burned cities, and led her people to the spoils of victory. She had shed the sexism from her past by her own hand, not the hand of her father, her former lovers, the Queen, or even her precious protege. She had succeeded in doing what no woman from her time would have the gall to do of her own accord.
"What makes you think you have the right to speak that name in my presence?" she demanded, her words spoken with the same cold that afflicted her body. She remained inhumanely still as she stared at him, obviously waiting for an answer before she would bother. It was her prerogative to demand an answer before offering one.
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Post by Octavian O'Connor on Feb 25, 2016 6:37:11 GMT
Octavian stood there just as regally as he'd been taught and stared at Amy silently. The moments seemed to stretch by into the night, eternity could have passed for the young Ventrue, and he didn't care. Who was he staring at? What had happened to his wife, the girl who loved romance novels, tiny turtles, flowers and the sanctity of her Masquerade? He had no answers, but he knew for certain that this creature before him wasn't Amy O'Connor. She was Amy Sorel, the frost queen. "To the woman I love, I choose to act, choose to act in such a way that I might be able to stop the war from coming, to protect everything both you and I care about. I did it because I had too, you've seen slaughter, I've seen those memories, memories you forced me to live. Watching Lunaria burn, watching by your hand what you did to those you loved and cherished."
His stance changed, his hands slipping into his pockets as he leaned on one leg. Somehow even with the odd posture, he maintained that regal image Amy held so dear. "I had to try and stop what had happened to Nuko, and to everyone we loved with the Setite happen to not only you but Nagasaki. I had to keep the people I love, you, Rumor, David, Jude, Trix, Mazuki even Alec and the other retainers safe. I did what I believed was right, and I didn't use subterfuge or leverage against either the Assamite or my friend Finn, I asked for their help and they agreed." His brown eyes had taken on an almost iridescent quality, hardening.
"And to my Prince, the woman I feared, the woman who offered me training in exchange for my eternal forced Loyalty. The woman who watched everything she ever worked for burn. I tried to save it, I tried to protect it. I know war, from everything I've seen and everything you've told me, you've never had a hand in the war. You've led armies, you've bolstered soldiers, but you've never once held them as dearly as you do the people of Nagasaki." Octavian paused for a moment, still meeting the frost queen's gaze. "I worked to stop a war we gain nothing from. I acted in only your interest, and the interest of the citizens of the city whom I am sworn to defend."
He pulled his hands out of his pockets and started to walk toward her, every step loud, filled with determination. He stopped, less than an arms length away. "And I have to right to answer however I please, you can choose to silence me, or punish me as you like. But I can answer as I wish, because unless you stop me, I'm willing to accept the consequences of my actions and my words Amy." Octavian stood there, the summer to her winter, the sun to her moon. Together, they had overcome Christian Sorel, had avoided Queen Anne's vengeful wrath, weathered the many pains that their short eternity together had thrown their way. Octavian held faith that it wasn't Christian's Daughter that watched him behind those pale frost rimmed eyes, but Amy O'Connor, his wife and the only woman he would ever love.
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Post by Prince Amy O'Connor on Feb 25, 2016 7:10:40 GMT
As Octavian spoke, every breath he took turned to ice in the air between him and the woman that could still, maybe, be his wife. Her skin had taken on a blue tone at the mention of her dear Scourge, the woman who had given her life for those she held most dear. She could clearly see the golden eyes peering up at her, silently asking what it was she should do. The growling voice whispered across her mind, accompanied only by Killian Locke's all too familiar laughter. And you thought love was easy, she said. There was amusement, a dark humor known well to the animals of her Clan. If the situation had been even slightly different, perhaps Amy would have laughed. In this moment, there was no laughter. Only cold.
Her chin tilted up ever so slightly, her gaze completely white as she looked upon her summer sun, the only warmth she had felt in the centuries since Vindelo's betrayal. As her lips parted, they quivered ever so slightly: the only show of emotion she could afford. She had to be the Prince, the Ice Queen that had torn their city from the hands of the Eastern Monsters. Her people needed her.
Yet, it was the wife that spoke; the woman whose heart belonged solely in the hands of her husband needed desperately to be heard. She raised a hand, almost as if to stroke his cheek, but she found she could not touch him. He was so close to her, yet as she continued to gaze upon him, she realized the distance that Etonis Vadia had spoken of. She was destroying him... And, in his own way, she knew he, too, had begun her destruction. He was to be her downfall, her Dark Fate.
"Why don't you trust me?" she whispered, and her voice portrayed the pain and anguish her training prevented from her frame. It was a moment, and only a single moment, of weakness.
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Post by Octavian O'Connor on Feb 25, 2016 7:33:37 GMT
Octavian shook his head, slightly. "If I didn't trust you, I would have never married you." He responded with pain written clearly in his eyes and in his voice. His hand came up to touch her's. It was that same motion that was almost practiced between the pair of them. Always filled with love, always filled with every ounce of warmth he possessed. "I trust you Amy, I trust that you will do what is best for this city." His fingertips moved from her hand toward her face, stopping just a hairs breath from her face.
His heart was filled with dread, his next words chosen very carefully and spoken with the same tone he'd used when they had spent the night exploring the aquarium. "But I know you'll do what's best for your city, and you'll damn yourself. You will damn yourself, because it will be worse, this war will be worse than anything you have ever faced. You will bear the sins, the weight of this war, the blame for everything that could go wrong." He paused quietly. "Nagasaki will become to you what that little graveyard in Boston is to me. You drew that weight from my shoulders. You freed me from a guilt that you have seen every night that we've been together." His voice was soft, agonized.
Octavian sighed softly, his brown eyes closing very slowly as his head bowed a bit. "I thought about it, I considered every angle I could come up with." Brown eyes coming up blazing to stare into her once brilliant blues. "I took the choice away from you. I took the responsibility away from you. I took every drop of blood from this war off your hands." He moved his hand away from her cheek, and held it between them. "The blood will be on me. The blame will fall on me. The punishment will fall on me. Their blood, the blood of the Eastern Monsters and every friend, loved one and resident of Nagasaki will be on my hands. Not Yours. Not only do I trust you, but I love you." His hand fell then, dropping to his side like a puppet who's strings had been severed.
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Post by Prince Amy O'Connor on Feb 25, 2016 9:24:11 GMT
She understood his reasoning, perhaps too intimately, but her frost never receded. Her cold felt, once more, as if it were permanently clinging to her. For years, she had a modicum of hope, but it felt as if she may never be warm again. Even his touch did nothing against the strength of the winter curse laid upon her. Nonetheless, her eyes gave a flutter, a whispered hint to the agony she felt, as his hand fell away from hers. The feeling of rejection ripped open the wounds she had thought were scarred over, long since gone from her heart. Her breath came out broken as she gathered herself, once more, to speak.
"You have started a war I hoped to avoid entirely. You have gone against my directions and my training in an effort to protect those you love. You admit to this in the same breath as you accept their blood upon your hands." Her words were unnervingly calm. She had far too many years of practice to express anything in her tone; whatever she might be feeling was completely hidden from even Octavian, the man she had pledged herself to for eternity. "You defend your betrayal with admission of love."
She knew, far too well, what her father would do. It rankled that her first instinct was to follow in his footsteps: it was easy to recall the times he had abandoned women for the sake of his title as Prince of Lunaria, and eventually the next Justicar. She had sworn to herself never to be Christian Sorel... Her words, the punishment she knew well as a Ventrue and as a Prince, died upon her lips. She stared at Octavian for a long moment, uncounted by heart beats.
"Your mission has failed, Octavian. Not only have you begun the very thing that you hoped to prevent, but your wish to embrace the blood of the victims will go unanswered. As protege to Queen Anne and my former thrall, I expected you to understand that the decisions are mine, and therefore, I accept the consequences. You have not been given that opportunity, and will not unless you are Prince of this City. As my husband, a neonate within my City, and my responsibility, your decisions are of my regard. Your choice reflects solely on me, not on you. And their blood... will still stain my skin."
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