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Sunday, December 13th, 2009
pcharacter
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8:44p
Young Lovers
Augusta’s laugh rang merrily in the garden, and her secret suitor hushed her, glancing around nervously.
“Shush, Augusta…if your uncle finds out, we’re both dead,” he cautioned her.
“Oh Luke! Don’t be so dramatic. I know my Uncle Isaac is severe, but you know he’s only trying to do right by my father’s ghost, and take the best possible care of me. It's no matter: He’s not here. Luciano brought me, so you’ve nothing to worry about.”
“He’ll never accept my suit, Augusta,” he frowned, taking her hand. “I’m too common.” His
words were laced with bitterness.
“You’re too Protestant,” Augusta corrected, thinking that her family, for all their pride, never claimed noble descent. Indeed, they were fiercely proud that their wealth and power was built on merit, and was thus far more resilient than the fragile fortunes of aristocrats. “And who says that I shall accept your suit?” she said, a lightness in her tone concealing her concern. She was beginning to suspect Luke might actually be in love with her.
“Will you, Augusta?” Luke pressed.
“Will I what?” she feigned ignorance.
“Accept my suit? Right now, tonight…we can go to Gretna Green and be married and sail to America and...”
“Luke!” Augusta hissed with a mix of shock and horror, cutting him off. “Are you mad? My Uncle’s men will be on us before we’ve even left London, not to mention you’re insulting me twice over with that horrible proposal. I could never be married outside the Church, and most certainly not by eloping to Scotland. That…that is the most vulgar and immoral thing anyone has ever dared say in my presence, and you should be ashamed.”
“Augusta, please, you don’t understand…” Luke pleaded, reaching for her hand and pulling her back as she began to walk away. “I’m trying to save you Augusta,” he begged her.
“Nonsense,” she snapped. “I’m not some poor orphan in need of your pity or charity,” she spat out the distasteful words. “I am Augusta Ginevra Giovanni, and you, sir, will unhand me now.”
They stood there for a long minute, their gazes locked, Luke pleading and desperate, Augusta incensed and inflamed. He dropped her hand.
“I love you, Augusta. Whatever else happens, remember that.”
His only answer was the rustling of her skirts as she strode away.
***
“Luciano, I am feeling quite unwell. Please take me home.”
Augusta abhorred pleading weakness in front of her brother or Uncle, but could not deny its
efficacy. Luciano – who nearly choked on his drink as Augusta came up abruptly behind him – promptly set down his glass and offered his arm.
“Of course,” he conceded, glancing around nervously. “You do look quite flushed,” he said, stalling.
“It’s nothing to be worried about,” she soothed. “Just a touch too much champagne, I think.”
Luciano was relieved Augusta mistook his nerves for concern, though this prompted him to worry genuinely, for she was usually more astute than that. He cleared his throat, and then stood there in a moment of indecision before smiling gallantly, and patting her hand where it rested on his arm.
“Yes, well, I shall call for the carriage immediately, but I shan’t have you waiting in that drafty foyer. Let me leave you in the ladies withdrawing room with a glass of lemonade, and I’ll send someone to fetch you in a minute?” he suggested, flagging down a passing servant, who inclined his head at the instructions.
Augusta smiled affectionately at Luciano, and gave him a sisterly kiss on the cheek.
“Thank you,” she murmured, and allowed herself to be led off.
***
If Augusta had been lying at the beginning of the evening, she certainly wasn’t by the end. It had taken an eternity for the carriage to come round, and then it had broken a wheel on the trip home. While their coachman had been quick in his repairs, the spare was not as well set as the wheel proper, and the carriage had rattled uncomfortably the whole way home. Except, of course, when they had been sitting at an absolute stand still in traffic. By the time they were finally in their own foyer, shedding wraps and gloves, Augusta was tired and irritable and eager to retreat to her own rooms.
It was only for that reason she failed to notice the house was emptied of its usual ghostly occupants. If she had, perhaps she would not have screamed quite so loudly upon entering her bed chamber.
The body of Luke Cayhill was laid out in restful repose on her bed, a white lily clutched between his lifeless hands. Augusta whirled around to flee the room, bumping into her uncle who was standing directly behind her, and promptly broke into hysterics.
“Shh…..” he soothed her, holding her firmly by her shoulders until she at last stood silent, her face as drained of blood as the corpse on the bed. Isaac placed a finger on her lips for her silence, releasing her only when she nodded in mute agreement.
He held up a pen, which she took with a trembling hand, and he guided her to the writing desk, on which was laid out a stack of paper and a large inkwell.
“You will write,” he pronounced in angry, clipped tones, “one thousand times, in Italian, I will not disobey my family. One thousand times, in Italian, I will not bring shame or dishonor upon my family. One thousand times, in Italian, Actions speak louder than words. You will not eat, you will not sleep, you will not move, until you have finished. Do you understand?”
Augusta glanced up at her Uncle fearfully, and shrank back underneath the hot, primal fury in his features.
“Yes,” she choked out, dipping an unsteady hand in the ink well and beginning to write. He glanced down at the first completed sentence.
“Neatly.” He snarled at her, turning on his heel and slamming the door so hard behind him the reverberations rattled her teeth. Augusta sat for a few more minutes in shock before she slowly pulled a fresh page of the stack, and began again.
***
Augusta wrote the first night until her hand cramped from the effort, and she was nearly reduced to tears by the pain. Luciano slipped in to whisper that all would be well and to convey Isaac’s permission for her to take a necessary break whenever she needed. On the second night, exhaustion and hunger threatened to overcome her, Isaac himself silently slipped her a cup of tea and a plate of toast, his silent nod of approval at the growing stack of completed pages doing more to revive her than the tea. On the third night, she set the pen down, gathered the evidence of her completed punishment, and with one last glance at her deceased suitor, walked slowly to her Uncle’s study.
“Uncle Isaac?” she asked, her voice wavering with uncertainty. “Permesso?”
“Si, avanti cara mio,” he said warmly, and Augusta was flooded with relief at the endearment. She entered the study. Isaac sat behind his desk, imposing and autocratic, and Luciano mirrored him at a smaller desk off to the side.
She approached Isaac and offered him the stack of papers. He took them silently, and after briefly examining them for neatness and correctness, tossed the whole stack on the fire.
“Come here,” he commanded gently, pushing back from the desk and holding out his hands.
Augusta approached him, eager to return to his grace but still wary of his recent rage.
Isaac took her hands and lifted them to his lips, placing a kiss on her knuckles.
“What did I say about Mr. Cayhill, Augusta?” he prodded gently. Augusta swallowed, her mouth dry.
“That I was to avoid his company when possible, and be politely discouraging of his suit when not.”
“So I was not unclear in any way?”
“No,” she said, blushing with shame.
“I was very disappointed in you, Augusta. Not only did your disobedience disgrace yourself, but it disgraced your brother as well. I trusted him to see to your care…do you think I would not punish him for allowing such indiscretion while under his charge? And I trusted you to be sensible of his responsibility, and to assist him by behaving with proper decorum. And suppose you should have been caught – we are outsiders in this society, Augusta, and the scandal would have seen the drawing rooms closed to all of us. It was not Mr. Cayhill who did this, Augusta. His infatuation I could have dealt with far more gently, but you…ah, cara mio, you have such spirit! And if you cannot control it, then it is my duty to control it for you, until you learn that your actions have consequences not just for yourself, but for your entire family,” he lectured gently. “Do you understand?”
“Y…Yes,” Augusta said, and then she could not help herself. She burst into tears of shame, throwing her arms around her Uncle and sobbing apologies.
“Shh, shh, cara mio, it’s all right. All is forgiven,” he soothed her, kissing away her tears like a lover. Augusta pulled herself together, blowing her nose ungracefully into her uncle’s proferred handkerchief. He gave her a final kiss on the forehead and a gentle squeeze.
“Go…apologize to your brother, and then you will find a bath and a meal waiting for you in your dressing room.”
Augusta smiled bravely at her uncle, and then turned her watery gaze on her brother, who grinned warmly at her. He held out his arms and they embraced, and she made fresh and sincere apologies to him as well, which he graciously accepted. She withdrew from the study with one last relieved smile, and closed the door gently behind her.
Isaac chuckled after the door had closed, and raised a glass in a silent toast to the departed girl.
“You’re going to have to watch her, Luciano,” he chuckled darkly. “She’s not even a woman full grown yet, and already she has the power to drive us both to distraction. You’re going to have to work to keep her in her place.”
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(2 comments | comment on this) Sunday, December 6th, 2009
lexi_mckeane
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8:36a
One on one debate with Senex, part 5 (early August)
Instead of voicing her thought, she smiled a little. "All right then. So if society needs the Ordo Dracul ... why does the Ordo Dracul need the rest of society? If our role is the 'what if?', does it not only hamper us to be surrounded by 'what is'?" She cocked her head at him.
He smiled back; he didn't seem able to keep the expression off his face, "There are three reasons that readily come to mind:
"First, if you do not know 'what is' you have no context for what if. Quite frankly, the Ordo needs observational subjects and if they are the only Covenant to not pursue an actual society, then they will not be part of the society that comes about...not beholden but also not protected.
"Which brings us to the second...stand together or hang seperately. The Ordo Dracul has made many enemies, and just because they choose to go their own way does not mean those enemies won't pursue hostilities. The Brood, VII, the Nemeses...these won't ignore you because the Covenant stands alone...I believe the phrase is 'chum in the water'.
"And finally, without the context of a society and its struggles, the Ordo Dracul will turn inward even more. The natural issues surrounding our state will be reserved only for each other. Boredom in the more...violent aspects of the Ordo will have fewer acceptible avenues of release. The political branch will only have the politics of the Covenant to focus on...not distractions from outside. In short...you will become of microcosm that will tear itself apart."
She chuckled, her confidence in her argument creeping out. His perceptions of the Dragons were tainted by the expectations of his political societies. Not that he could really know, could he? "First point - we would need to look at ourselves to see 'what is' -- that is how we progress to the next 'what if'. If we have been good and proper Dragons, a society of others that we were not beholden to would be better classified as 'what was'.
"The violent members from your third point would be pleased to face the enemies of your second point. And I have never yet seen an apolitical vampire group; I'm sure politically-minded members of the Ordo Dracul would have plenty to deal within the covenant. If everyone is busy thinking 'what if', I assure you some people think of troublesome possibilities. If some night we were fortunate enough to find ourselves all in political agreement, then perhaps we could all stand around and ask 'what if?' together."
Her smile broadened as she watched him absorb her words. "How long do your debates usually last, by the way? I expect you could carry on for nights." She could carry on day and night; she wondered if he could do the same.
current mood: confident
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(comment on this) Friday, December 4th, 2009
lexi_mckeane
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5:41a
One on one debate with Senex, part 4 (early August)
Still smiling a little, she shook her head. "You've just described covenants -- societies -- as something that dictates not only what is and is not acceptable, but what is and is notpossible. You have just stated that the Beast is never truly overcome. Where did that idea come from? An expectation from those around you? As a side note, it is not my intent to overcome the Beast but to meet it and pass through, but that's not immediately relevant.
"I've spoken to Invictus who accept their role as part of a greater whole, accepting that they are a cog in a wheel because that is what society expects of them to function. Carthians who rebel in all directions because they are expected to do so. The Sanctified expect great things to come because of a faith on a higher entity, and do not appreciate when I tell them I have accomplished everything I have because of my own will. You yourself have established expected roles by covenant in your envisioning of a balanced society, because you rely on your understanding of their expected structure.
"The only group I've spoken to who are somewhat likeminded to my own efforts have been the Keepers of the Outlands, and even they are content to stop at 'balance the halves, become apex predators'. They have no desire to go further.
"Unless the goal of the society is to explore the possible, they will create walls and restrictions and chains and tell you a thing can't be done and enforce it -- by peer pressure or by the supernatural pressure that makes a capital-T Tradition." She was gesticulating with her hands. She always did that when she was captivated by a conversation.
"So yes, I acknowledge that marvelous things can be done by a society. But unless I am part of a society composed of like-minded creatures, I have no desire to bow to the expectations of the many who happen to exist in my geographical area just because they aren't open-minded enough to wonder 'what if?'."
She sat back a little bit, indicating through her posture that she awaited his response, then sat forward. "I would like to read 'Hero of a 1000 Faces', yes please." Another brief pause. "And not every tree in the forest Kindred has the strength of will to outgrow the others."
He chuckled, "And now you understand the role of the Ordo Dracul in any society...what if. What if a society could be made for the betterment of Kindred? What if parts of the curse, or all of it, could be overcome? What if it was possible to become something more then a vampire? What if it were possible to change one's Clan or found a new one? "Perhaps it is a reflection of the difference in the age, but the time was that one who wondered "what if" was a heretic, a witch, at worst and a tyrant at best...all depending on the Will they had. Now, what if is more accepted...ingenuity and exploration is prized. Having seen societies rise and fall, I can tell you that 'what if' is the single most important question that can be asked, as long as it comes with reason and intellect and the will to truly explore the question. If no one asks what if, the society degrades as does the individual. "The very reason we need social mores norms and taboos is to be able to truly ask 'what if that is not the best way' and then explore that question and those thoughts through reason and method. Which is the gift of the Ordo Dracul."
In Senex' ideal world, yes. But members of the Ordo Dracul had spent years or decades or centuries existing within their own structure and competing via their own accomplishments. Not everyone could be Onyx; not everyone had a larger view of the greater society. The Dragons as a whole ... they were generally caught up in personal accomplishments -- the structure of rank and title and the authority they granted to the individual were too ingrained. The mentor-student relationship was targeted to the single Dragon.
current mood: wistful
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(1 comment | comment on this)
lexi_mckeane
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5:28a
One on one debate with Senex, part 3 (early August)
He was quite animated in the discussion, although she couldn't tell if it was the process of the debate or the subject. She suspected the process. He opened his hands wide, "Who knows? While tests have been conducted there have been only a few appreciable results. Surely you have seen what collective faith in the concept of Elysium can do in re-inforcing that small t tradition to a supernaturally enforced one? How it surpresses the baser urges of the Beast?
"If such measures were adopted on a wider scale...if more people took that stock in things...perhaps it would occur in any Elysium and then Elysium truly would be what it was meant to be. Certainly, I can tell you that for the duration of the Camarilla we never experienced that sort of effect. Which means it is new...it is evolution...whether it becomes a capital T tradition, whether it becomes engrained in Kindred metaphysics remains to be seen. But it tells us that such things are possible.
"Your Covenant is predicated on the concept of change in the individual...but the same principles show that more widespread change is possible. If a Nosferatu becomes one of the Raksasha, an even formerly beautiful Nosferatu becomes demonic of appearance...physical permanent change. And it happens to every avused Raksasha. Replication of change. Wide spread change.
"How many of your own Covenant can affect...say...their need to feed? Widespread replicatable change in a fundamental aspect of the curse. The method to reach that change may differ slightly, but the effect is the same in each of them. Is not a Covenant a society? Hasn't a society been able to cause these changes?"
A year ago a comment like that would have put her instantly on edge. She had been trained to keep the Covenant a secret, but something had happened while she was in torpor, and now she was commonly told accurate things about what her own Covenant did by outsiders. Still, she gave the library a brief scan in case she had somehow missed a spine-out copy of 'The Rites of the Dragon' on her previous visit.
"Let's not be carried away, sir -- what happens in the Ordo Dracul is not simply because the Covenant is of a mind to change. That's like saying that a tree grows because the forest wills it, when the fact is that a tree only needs a seed from one other tree of a kind and that new tree will grow just the same. It grows at its own pace, and by its own efforts, not because of some communal expectation.
"A certain definition of change must be made otherwise we could find ourselves talking about boiling water as a metaphor for societally-expected reaction. What the definition should be I'm not sure, perhaps defined by the observations from the tests you mentioned previously, with and without their appreciable results."
He smiled, "A tree grows by instinct, drive of its nature. A Kindred is, by its nature, stagnant. So something must act upon that Kindred to remind them that there are degrees of stagnation and that it can overcome some of these degrees. So in our case, the knowledge of the Covenant can create an expectation that what is considered 'impossible' is actually quite possible. Without the communal expectation, the Dragon wouldn't even know where to begin...if just any tree in the Kindred forest could do it, then why haven't they?"
"Because most of them have some limited understanding of their current state and no thought of their possible states nor will to make that change their focus." She was aware that her tone was tinged with contempt and changed the subject, not wanting to offend her host. Whether or not he was the Aulus Julius Senex of Rome, he was still significantly older than she and surrounded by many more resources. "So a question for you -- just because it could be possible to repress the Beast because society wills it, I would have you argue for why we should.
"I have long been working from a theory, with a certain amount of personal success, that the nature of the Beast is defined by the expectations of the society in which the Man was shaped. I expect that whatever manifestations of the Beast you have experienced are different than my own, for example. This goes back to the shadow archetype posited by Carl Jung wherein men have a sort of darker half -- a shadow -- that is defined by the light shone on them in society. When Embraced, we carry that shadow over and it certainly seems to become a darker, more solid entity, but it still urges the Man to do things against his polite nature, politeness being defined by societal expectations.
"My own personal growth has been predicated on actually facing the Beast and dealing with its urges, rather than repressing them. Treating it as a sort of Threshold Guardian, to be passed through."
He nodded and his brow creased slightly as he considered her words. "But you deal with the Beast to control it...hurm. Perhaps my English is not as good as I had hoped. I would not see the Beast cowed into submission or removed from the equation. Quite the opposite actually since the Beast is necessary to prevent the stagnation of Kindred...there must be a measure of unpredictable behavior, a bit of predatory instinct, if we are to survive. But, you yourself point out that the Beast should be a threshold guardian...I have an original of "Hero of a 1000 Faces" if you'd like to read it...which is passive resistance to the protagonist, instead of the active resistance of the antagonist." He gestured toward the book on the shelves.
"But, unlike the threshold guardian, the Beast is never truly overcome and can, in fact, become a primary motivator and primary antagonist which has the capability of completely subsuming the protagonist. Common parlance would call it a draghyr or wight. A Kindred who has lost themselves to the Beast.
"I agree with the idea that it should be a Threshold Guardian, and think that society can help with that. Since a Beast has no societal framework, it has no limitations. Social mores norms and taboos increase one's ability to develop the cognitive abilities one needs to hold on to one's humanitas. So if that societal structure increases, the ability to balance humanitas and the Beast can also be increased. Because, we should be clear, humanitas is not the same as mortal morality. Human beings quite often act in ways contrary to humanitas without having the distinct loss of control that a Kindred would experience."
Christine smiled; she would have been content to stay there forever.
current mood: interested
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