The Malkavian is not amused...or...a muse?

[stranger_to_the_rain]

I know what it means when you pretty up a character's journal like you have.

No.





No.

I won't have it. Just because you're bored, fishie, that doesn't mean that I am too. I'm a much bigger fish than you.

The answer is...

...

...

...no.

Comments

[gisella]

You seem to have gotten science confused with Malkavia, Ms.--?

Science... holds the way out. [ It has to. ]

(( I'm sorry her virtue is literally Faith [in Science] what do you want her to do here >_> ))

[stranger_to_the_rain]

There is no way out.

[gisella]

[ She grits her teeth: something stirring in her — fury or fear, but she has put up with centuries of this and she is better than that. ]

Maybe you just haven't looked hard enough.

[stranger_to_the_rain]

I haven't looked at all. But then, I am the product of thirteen generations of madness.

Don't think, for one second, that it hasn't been tried.

[gisella]

[ She...thinks she needs to sit down. Normaly this sort of revelation would elicit scientific curiosity in her — and it does, yes, but this is a little too intensely personal for her to react to with the neutrality she'd prefer. ]

[ a moment of steadying herself ]

What do you mean by...thirteen generations? And you still have not introduced yourself.

[stranger_to_the_rain]

Neither have you.

[gisella]

Fine, then.

Gisella Trovatelli. There are various titles, but I have come to the extremely irksome conclusion that it is not currently safe to employ them.

I am [ with a certain insistence ] a scientist.

[stranger_to_the_rain]

[Don't mind her as she auspexes you a little bit. She seems satisfied with what she's seeing, after a moment. And she nods.]

Artemis Seth. Primogen of Los Angeles, Founder of the Order of the Silver Crescent. Thorn in your side.

[gisella]

[ That last earns the slightest quirk of her lip. ]

At least you are honest about it.

I will admit myself unfamiliar with this Order of the Silver Crescent of yours, Ms. Seth, but for now I will leave that aside.

[ She retrieves a notebook and pen, but doesn't yet open it to start writing: holding it as much on priciple as anything else. ] Thirteen generations of madness, you said? Passed down like...some sort of bloodline?

[stranger_to_the_rain]

Ah. You're one of those Kindred.

[gisella]

And what is meant by that?

[stranger_to_the_rain]

A different sort of fish.

Orphaned. Without Caine.

[gisella]

[ Her voice is slow, clipped, enunciated: clearly she is speaking with someone who is — after all, by her own admission! — mentally not all there. And this is important. ]

You are going to have to explain more clearly what you mean. By "Cain" do you refer to the biblical figure? Or to some other concept?

[stranger_to_the_rain]

Caine. The first. Progenitor.

Yes, that Caine.