Eyeing a City of Sin

[deathbeforedishonour]

Dear Mun,

You flatter me, and yes, do go on, for though I am sure that my countenance is never far from your thoughts, it is so lovely to see you thinking of sending me somewhere interesting! I imagine that those streets are darker than any here, crawling with villains and victims, rich in the misery that fuels both sonnets and duels. And think of the people I might meet; I hardly get any socialization in your head space, you know.

A suitor, a sword fight, something, dear mun, something that strikes the heart and makes the blood stir. It always tastes so much better that way.

Eternally yours,
Jennifer Greene

Comments

[diana_abel]

Omigod, we totes need more people from what they call my "canon" in Bete Noire.

[deathbeforedishonour]

Oh my, but it is nice to feel wanted! I've heard that it can be damned hard to find a game that will even have us, and doesn't that just pinch!

So tell me all about it, and we'll see if we can't convince my dear mun to put in the effort. She's only human, after all. And tell me about yourself while we're talking; I've been simply starved of socialization.

[diana_abel]

Name's Diana Abel. A-B-E-L. As in, "Caine and dot, dot, dot." Clan Malkavian. Independent. And radio hostess with the mostest over in Bete Noire.

Totes an interesting place, btw. I mean, talk about multiversal clustefucks. It's so weird. Mostly the good kind of weird, though.

Although, I have the most bizarre collection of room mates ever!

[deathbeforedishonour]

I am Jennifer Greene, at your service Diana, of Clan Daeva and currently quite pleasantly unaligned, or, as one might say, independent, though my mun insists that we are not quite from the same world of darkness. I've never met a Malkavian, not that I recall, that is, but I do have my suspicions about a certain Ventrue I know. I find madness ever so attractive.

A collection you say? How very daring. I do try to keep my lovers in separate housing arrangements. Keeps the dueling to a minimum; I want them crossing blades with me, not each other! They must keep you quite busy I imagine. Just how bizarre are they?

[diana_abel]

Oh! No, not sleeping with any of my room mates. Just a little too awkward turtle for me. But they're some good friends.

Let's see. There's Max, the uber strong mutant spy chick. Jack, who smells wooooonderful. He's kinda like the house dad. This kid from Ohio named Blaine with a gorgeous singing voice. Oh, and there's a new guy. Calls himself "the Doctor."

I think he was in an 80s rock band or something.

[deathbeforedishonour]

Well enough, good friends are hard to come by, or perhaps just hard to keep.

Would you be willing to die for them? That's the measurement I prefer to use, for eternity is tedious indeed, without the loves that make life worth living.

[diana_abel]

I'd die a thousand times over for Jack. He saved my life, twice. Once when a building collapsed on me and once when a couple of hunter zealots tied me up and shot me on live television.

[deathbeforedishonour]

Oh, now, that is dark. And what is love by any other name? There must be a story there; how ever did you get into such a dangerous tangle?

[diana_abel]

People don't like vampires. They wanted to make an example of me, show the citizens of the city how to execute a vampire.

Idiots didn't realize that staking really doesn't work.

Jack and a couple others--including my boyfriend--traced the signal and managed to rescue me and the other hostages. It was ugly.

[deathbeforedishonour]

It is an excellent way to ruin an evening. Is our kind known there, then? How exciting.

[diana_abel]

There are about five different races of vampire running around Bete Noire. Everyone knows. And near as I can tell, the only one of us still passing for human is the Italian Stallion. His name is Damon. He's an ass.

[deathbeforedishonour]

Most males of our condition are, or so it seems. Perhaps it is the difficulty of balancing their blood between too many places, and the heart not being the favoured organ.

...Five, you say? And more different from each other than clans, I take it? Tell me more about them, for I colour myself quite intrigued.

[diana_abel]

Oh, none of them are nearly as organized as anything you'd find in the world of darkness we call home. I don't even have names for them. I just call them the Spike-kind, the Damon-kind, the Conrad-kind, and so on.

[deathbeforedishonour]

Then let us start with the first, and move through the second and so forth, and see how the differences fall? Surely a good learning experience.

I can make a fair guess about yourself, for my dear mun is quite fond of your dark world's oracles, and I being the only one of her assortment caught in a requiem instead of the masquerade.

[diana_abel]

Forgive me for detouring a little bit, but I've kinda noticed something I should probably ask about.

You talk funny. What's up with that?

[deathbeforedishonour]

Oh, yes, I quite enjoy playing with my words.

I had a rather long involuntary nap, you see, and missed a century or so, and never did pick up a preference for the current vernacular. Having proclaimed myself a poet, I find that I can spin my words which ever direction I choose, and most consider themselves lucky to escape my cadences. When a lady has acquired enough majesty, she is properly counted eccentric instead of strange.

[diana_abel]

Oh, reading you loud and clear there, chica. Sorry to hear about that dirt nap, though. From what I hear, those royally suck.

[deathbeforedishonour]

I must say, the worst is the memory loss. The most appalling gaps. I will be haunted forever by the things I don't remember having forgotten. But such is life, or unlife as the case may be. I shall simply have to be more selective in my dueling.

And of yourself? I would think that being a radio hostess must be simply fascinating!

[diana_abel]

I totes love it. Pays my bills and lets me spread a little peace and love and John Lennon to the masses. With the added benefit of pretty much ensuring that no one takes me seriously, ever. Plus I get to meet all kinds of groovy people!

[deathbeforedishonour]

Oh yes, I do know that trick; so few seem to take me seriously as anything other than an odd socialite. Except the few who are utterly convinced that I must be hiding something.

[diana_abel]

Can't please anyone, I guess.

Word of advice. If you end up in Enoch, don't try to hide the vampire thing. It just gets ugly when everyone finds out. And believe me, I paid dearly for that.

[deathbeforedishonour]

I shall urge my dear mun to consider the question, though I haven't the foggiest how the outcome will be. Freed from the petty politics of a Prince's court, anything might be possible.

[diana_abel]

Yeah. I still have mixed feelings about that. Last city I was in before Bete Noire didn't have a Prince. It ended with military airstrikes and fire bombing. Unfortunately, nobody's really qualified to serve as Prince of Bete Noire. I mean, the Italian Stallion is old enough, but he's not interested. After him comes me and that's soooo not happening.

[deathbeforedishonour]

A Prince ought to be strong enough to protect a city from the worst of us, brave enough to protect us from the worst of the city, and crazy enough to strive to protect us from ourselves. Never a responsibility I would desire, and yet, I am ever so picky as to who I am willing to recognize as a legitimate authority.

[diana_abel]

Well, fortunately, it's a non-issue. There really isn't much in the way of authority.

You do outline a pretty ideal Prince though, I'll say that much. I had a Ventrue pal back home who's a Prince. That's pretty much him down to a T.