A Confession

[Thinas]

(Author's note: I, too, really liked Yui's piece from the RP we did. ("The Embrace"). Let it be known that the story I told as a storyteller in Vampire the Masquerade is nowhere near as vivid as what she wrote. She's giving me more credit than I'm due. In an attempt to make amends and to return the favour as far as dedicating her writing to me goes, I wrote up another piece that's basically the same story plus a little background, but from quite a different point of view. Hope you'll like it!

 

Important: Not being all too familiar with the American movierating system, I think this is to be considered PG...Let's just say that it's got explicit contents, but that these are used in character.)

 

A Confession

 

(Set in the world of Vampire: The Masquerade, from the viewpoint of the Ravnos ancilla ‘Denor’)

 

It’s always a sweet deal when offered, but bitter as hell when suffered. I once heard Metallica sing “You feed it once and now it stays” and “I run but it stays right by my side.” I wonder if it’s deliberate that their lyrics were so…so frighteningly close, or if somebody’s mouth slipped and caused a breach. It’s just too descriptive to be coincidental, yet too good to be made by us.

Bah. “Offered” is a wrong word anyway. It’s not like I was given a choice. They didn’t ask, and now I don’t either, exactly because of that. They robbed me of that sense of courtesy.

 

Among other things.

 

When the night was foreign and day domestic, I remember walking home from one of my nightshifts in that shitty ass job, the hardship of which my dad thought would “mature” and “harden” me. That was back when I had my Brooklyn apartment. The job was on Manhattan, and I’d take the subway, but I always had to walk through a corner of Central Park to get there quickest from the station. I never did. Fearful of what the darkness of the park hid in the night, I walked along the wall, all the way around the park, occasionally glancing into the myriad of dark trees and bushes behind the wall. On benches and under streetlamps inside I could see shady people doing shady things, and I wondered what they might do to me if they saw me. And I felt, and I was so fearful.

 

Then I turned cool.

 

When the day turned foreign and night domestic, it was so sweet. I kept my job for a little while before I realized that I didn’t really have to give a shit about it anymore, and I took the route through the park, for the same reason why the dog licks its own ass; because I could. I rejoiced in my newfound fearlessness. I was so cool. I’d turned from fearing what was in the park’s shadows to being what was in the park’s shadows. And the pushers and the smokers and the gangstaz all crossed the street to the other sidewalk, thinking that simply passing me by was closer than they felt like getting. I saw their eyes, and they revealed their thoughts; their gut feelings screamed “Get the hell away” but they couldn’t explain why the “pussy” that approached them instilled that feeling. And I loved the intimidation I caused, and I was so cool.

 

Then I turned too cool.

 

It took me 3 years to realize that I never really did become more courageous. It was my fear that had gone down the same drain as my Mortality. It was a loss. Not a gain. And I was so stupid. I walked the park on my way to work, and every pedestrian choosing a different path, every bum, every pusher, every smoker, every gangsta avoiding me was another cut. I wanted to run up to them and get close to them, for no matter how low a fucking loser they were socially, they were warm and emotional. A wealth no longer accessible to me. Thinking I could return to what I once was, I simulated my former life and started walking the outside of the park again. But the spark was gone, the mysteries revealed. And the shadowy stones of the wall reflected the shadows that had stolen fear’s place in my heart. And I was cooler than I bargained for, and so very very stupid.

 

And so I walk the nights of this desolate place, a pathetic excuse for an existence, an angstridden corpse with more existential issues than I’d have worms by now had they buried me. That’s where I entered the strip club. It was neatly arranged, not a cheap place at all. Looked like a decent place for a night time snack. The place was filled to the brim with lowlife dogs and I was pleasantly surprised to not have to wade through knee-deep saliva. That’s how sad they were. There were some Asian-looking girls swinging their legs around 3 metal poles on the stage. I could smell the oil they’d smeared over their bodies for the skin to glisten more. Ending their show, all 3 of them cocked their heads and looked back, and their arteries shot straight into my eyeballs like the neon signs in Las Vegas used to tempt my gambler self. I came to understand, though, that they were not the evening’s main attraction. So I patiently waited, absentmindedly shuffling a deck of cards on my left hand.

A mildly annoying man with a disco-ball for clothes and dollar-signs for eyes came on stage and announced the evening’s main dancer. That’s when time slowed down. He probably didn’t take that long, but it felt like I made it to shuffle my deck 50 times before he got his ass off stage. There was something in the air. I wondered if it was my nose catching the scent of a particularly enticing blood type somewhere in the room, but it didn’t make any sense; whatever I felt didn’t come from any of the 5 senses. Too late did I realize that it was exactly that. I felt. Something I hadn’t done for years. And I was warm and comfortable.

 

When she came on stage, I could have sworn that my heart beat a single time, one last hurrah for mortality, like a worn-out Chevy you feed a bucket of fuel and 12V DC. It momentarily shattered the Mount Everest of self-control I usually take pride in, and I jerked slightly before recovering, making an attempt to swallow spit my mouth no longer secretes.

Looking around, she spotted me and in an instant her face grew as pale as mine despite her make-up. It was weird. At the time, I didn’t know what she felt or what she knew, but her eyes had scanned over me and then swiftly returned as if she…recognized my face, and was less than thrilled to see it. Oh, the courage, the heart, I could hear it beat through the crowds but not a wrinkle in her brow, not a shaking of a hand. The frailty added to her beauty, and the courage it took to suppress her fear to my admiration. She overcame it like I never did mine. And she danced, and the way she moved took me back to stories of the gypsies my grandfather told me.

 

And I fell in love, and I knew I had to have her.

 

She left the stage and I the strip club. I leaned against the wall next to the door outside, fighting an inner struggle between selfishness and what remains of my code of ethics. One part of me desperately wanted to escape the solitude I suffered, but in doing so, I knew I would take and break her. Shatter the very thing that jumpstarted my heart.

One short battle later, my code of ethics lay bleeding at the bottom of my soul and my triumphant selfishness was conversing with a couple of simpleminded fools that had just exited the club.

 

And it was so easy, and I added another notch to my cane of sin.

 

I had a short talk with the two dogs about the gorgeousness of “that last dancer”, and naturally, they were none too shy about how they wanted to introduce her to a little “nocturnal activity”. I smirked at the comment, because they had no fucking idea what nocturnal activities really are. I basically told them that if they so wanted to prove their manhood, why not take the talk to the backdoor of the club where she was about to exit, and do it right then and there. To add scorn to misery as I openly challenged their words, I put in 200 dollars against them.

A valuable lesson unlife has taught me is how easily the pride of man is manipulated. Another valuable lesson is how much easier a woman’s trust is ‘earned’ if you’re a knight in shining armour.

 

And I saved her from my own trap, and the notch threatened to snap the cane in half.

 

I got up early the following night, and I sat in front of her for a couple of hours as she slept. It was then the impact of my actions struck me. Perhaps sleeping had caused the rush of egoism to fade, healing my sense of ethics in the process. There in front of me lay the most masterfully concocted act of destruction my deceitful mind was guilty of to date. I’d taken perhaps exactly what I fell in love with and in the attempt to preserve it, keep it for myself, deprived her of it. I fear her vengeance, for if she suppressed her fear of me when she was alive, what can she do now?

 

And I cried blood in disgust, but I swore to care for, and earn her, so I put next to her a book with answers she sought, and carefully compiled the tears into a pitcher, that at least she wouldn’t hate me when she woke up thirsty.

 

The cane beats against my face every time I see her, but she’s mine now, and I will not let go.

 

Because I can’t.

 

~ D

 

(PS: I tried to change my style of writing in this particular piece. Usually I write prose and drama in a fantasysetting in pretty much the same style. The above is an attempt to add a poetic touch to something I was beginning to think too dry, but I have no idea how it worked, so criticism is naturally appreciated. Thank you in advance. )

[Peredhil]

Worked for me...

 

Very gritty, dark, and seductively real...

 

write *more*

[Yui-chan]

Ah, how I've missed having some of your writing to enjoy, darkelf. This is just excellent in all the ways Peredhil mentioned plus a few. You certainly succeeded at taking the story and making it poetic, hightening each emotion and using imagery to support it all. I really love the allusions to the 'cane' as an indicator of what he's doing to his soul/humanity/self-image by succumbing to his selfishness. I can just picture the wood weakening!

 

I think I could go on and on ad infinitum (to infinity), but maybe I should just stop here and say:

 

1) I absolutely loved it. In fact, it gave me goosebumps.

2) I agree with Peredhil that your writing is definitely a pleasure that I've missed and would like to see much more of.

3) Beyond the technicalities, I'm really glad to have some perspective on the character of Anitalya's Sire. You've made this a really teasing revelation into the man, and I'll bet that was just what you were after.

 

Thanks much, Pointear. I'll look forward to the next anything with your name on it.

 

Yours,

~Yui

[Gyrfalcon]

*applauds loudly* Very nice, Thinas! You keet the story on topic and did not digress into the specific incident that led to his becoming a vampire. This kept the focus on what you planned to do rather then 'Here's how I became a blood-sucking terror of the night, by the way, look at me doing something eeeevil.' story.

 

Excellent work, as always. More, more!

[Beautiful Nightmare]

*claps and hugs* well done i loves it i havent read a good story in ages and i loves this so much! Wow i really have to stop saying i loved it hehehe!!! *hugs* I want to see more from you i mean if you can write this you can write alot of others! Also i liked your style of writting in this even if it was experamental i think it worked very well!