Who shall wear the starry crown

[Christine Daye]

Christine giggles and gives a flamboyant curtsey.

"...why, thank you, my dear colleague! But that's not all... I offered Beauclair the chance to name as many people as he wanted in the Court... and I would tell him a rumour about the person named... alas he was boring and wanted quality instead of quantity... lacking vision if you ask me!"

She laughs again, high pitched and fae.

[annabelle]

Helen smirks but then the smirk fades “Francis…You realise he gave his life for Violet don’t you? I don’t know what kind of politics he will use to survive but there is no easy way to get away now…I never expected that of him…he is more than I thought.”

[Christine Daye]

Christine nods, serious now.

"...yes... and I respect him for that... but I have no doubt that he has resources at his disposal that we do not know about... he is a canny political manipulator... he beat Elder Viktor to the Princeship after all, even if he only held it for a little while... not bad for an Ancilla... give him a few more centuries and he will be a force to be reckoned with... and besides... he is much better suited as Master Harpy..."

She tilts her head, considering.

"...our little Violet... still... she has friends too... hmmm... did you see Knox get dragged off into a corner by Lady Antigone... from Bristol? I wonder what's going on there... she announced him Favoured at the Ball... but is it him she is keen on, or his shiny, shiny boots?"

She giggles.

[annabelle]

“Right, I didn’t knew that…I had the impression he got the position by luck…but apparently not…” she murmurs thoughtfully and shakes her head with a stoical expression.

“Is strange you know…I was so arrogant to believe I am a good judge of character but apparently I am not. I underestimated Francis and thought he is less than what he is. On the other hand I got manipulated by another or better I manipulated myself to believe in something. I completely misunderstood everything and made a fool of myself trying to get to the bottom of something that was never there to begin with. Ventrue to the bone, Dorian said, and our flaw is our never-ending arrogance. Or perhaps the way we love is another flaw, you saw…Anax…I recognise this, unfortunately I do. I am sorry about that too. I hardly understand how you can handle this or how you are still alive...” and she places her head on Christine’s shoulder while they are walking. A sisterly gesture of comfort and understanding.

The she releases a small barely heard sigh drenched in concealed anger “They were going to kill Violet for mistakes she didn’t commit. A sacrificial lamb to their political games and dominance. I will never forget that. Never. She is alive, yes. But…”

Remember the boxes, relax, take a deep breath, you are in control of this, let it flow and make it disappear again.

“I hardly care about Mr Knox, his boots and this Antigone. Hopefully, she can calm him down a little bit regarding how a Ventrue should behave. She also has a great sense of humour I’ve heard.”

[Christine Daye]

"Have you been told the history of praxis in Bath? It's an interesting tale... the stuff of those overblown melodramas that are so in fashion nowadays... or possibly a farce... Arcadius Augustus..." she pulls a face "...grandchilde of Mithras... and he really didn't want to be here...then Lady Leverson... she got deposed by the Primogen and replaced by Malota de Aquitaine... our Lord Black's sire... she didn't even last a month... then it was Beauclair versus Viktor... and now Maestra... I'm sure that the other cities are sniggering up their sleeves at us for our changing of Princes more often than some Kindred change socks... though I hope and pray every moment that Maestra has a sure hold on the throne... we need stability..."

A gentle, reassuring smile.

"...it is the neonate's lot in life to be manipulated... and it is our gift to be able to learn from that and grow... if you wish to speak further in private about this.. I am happy to listen... and truly... is arrogance such a bad thing... especially when it is backed up by skill and competence? Lord knows that there are enough Kindred with excessive amounts of arrogance and without any other redeeming features... and love is never a flaw..."

A soft sigh.

"...Anax... yes... I am surprised that I am still alive too... if I am brutally honest... though it helps that we both knew about each other... and that we would both be there... I am no challenge to him... but then neither is he to me... or so I thought... and there were moments that I thought that we found common ground... the shared understanding of the need for discipline... in music as in the physical arts... the understanding that nothing worthwhile comes easy... and that pain is a harsh, but necessary teacher... he understands and respects my expertise... I think... and that gives me hope that we might come to an accord... if we ever meet again... if..."

Her voice trails off, an expression of worry on her face. Her next words are whispered to herself.

"...keep faith, Christine... the grave is more stubborn than the bull... sunlight... hope... always..."

She shakes herself, refocuses with a start.

"...fear not... our little flower has friends... and there was posturing that had to be made... but it is always thus... the youngest are the pawns of the eldest... and... um... remember... yes... but be careful... if you go Anarch... make it by deliberate choice... not accident..."

"...yes... Lady Antigone is lovely... and I can't help that feel that Mr Knox is one who will go far... given enough time and luck..."

[annabelle]

Helen listens to Christine's info of the Prince affairs and snorts silently. Like Princedom was that important. Greedy greedy Cainites.

"If you ask me, there so much potential of real power out there that I find the fight for the throne pathetic. Don't get me wrong, I am sincerely happy with Maestra being a Prince because I believe she never hungered for it. She has sincere intentions and that makes her worthy enough to fight for. And yes, we need internal stability my dear, there are enough external threats."

Her eyes on Christine with sorrow and worry "Please be careful and learn Latin. I trust he cares about the fae Lord enough to not hurt you. But then..." and she groans with bloody anxiety. Such an unfortunate complicated situation.

 "Mr Knox is one who will go far... given enough time and luck..."

"Won't disagree." she admits.

Upon her comments on arrogance and love "Well I would say that love is more of a flaw than arrogance. Arrogance can get you far whereas Agape can only drag a Cainite or mortal down. Is a weakness by default. If my love for my sister was not real Agape then I would have propably survived the fall. I was far away and with the means to escape. I would have obtained another identity, get married had kids. Boring but less painful, way less. But this flaw guided my steps and went back to do whatever I had to do to keep her safe. No regrets of course. She deserved everything and loving your family is natural and welcoming. But it truly becomes a real flaw when this ultimate undonditional feeling is mistreated. Unfortunate, but is the way of our world, all we can do is accept the facts." her voice low and distant almost contemplating. Stripped from the emotion, a state of acceptance.

" ... if you wish to speak further in private about this."


There is a small smile forming in he lips. A strange smile, one third devious, one third bitter and one third victorious.

She quickly unbuttons her plain black dress. Is simple one that you wouldn't expect for a princess to wear but the ones who know her well they've seen that outside the Elysiums and Parties she dresses like a commoner. When her dress is out she stands in the cold with her a thick white plain undress under the moonlight. Hair wild and black with the lack of light.

"I'll be right back" she whisper joyfully and steps towards the cold river. Without a hesitation she dives in the dark waters with a splash. Her cold skin welcoming the shock of the frozen water and she dives deeper with excitement reaching the shallow bottom of the river. She can't see anything, all she sees is black and all she hears is the sound of the flow. Calming soothing, she was familiar with the bottom of this river. Her palms touching the stony bottom, searching for something.

After few minutes she emerges from the river, all wet and wild, holding something tight in her fist. There is fire in her eyes, like the frozen wetness of the river was awakening and ironically warming her with deadly determination. It always was, it was her medicine afterall.

Her fingers holding a smooth round stone to be illuminated by the moonlight. Her voice deep and oddly serene.
"This is a stone, one of many. It is beautiful isn't? So round and smooth and perfect. You know what made it so smooth? Beating, plenty of it. Beaten by the other stones, beaten by the wind, beaten by time, beaten by the water. Eternal and round, a stone will never die and the beatings will only make it smoother until it fades into dust. Does the stone ever complain? Not really it is just a stone. Does it ever scream that this beating is unfair because it had enough? Of course not! It is just a stone silly! And you will ask me why I am making such a fuss about a stone. Well...because we can learn from it. Simple as that. Pain shapes us in unpredictable and wonderful ways. So the moment you stop thinking of occasions and think like a stone. It's just another beating of the many to come, no need to make a fuss about it. And it's fine, because at least you will say you didn't stay static, you let the flow of time take you to places unknown. And as you said, we will fall and rise and fall again. And is fine, we will be alright, both of us." and with that she throws the stone with unnatural strength and it dissapears into the darkness. She then lays on the dark grass all wet and serene, staring at the stars with glowing eyes, waiting for her undergarments to dry before she put on her dress again.

"Now the stone is in the forest somewhere, it thought it will follow the river until it reaches the sea. But then, stones are silly and they make too many assumptions." and she pats the grass encouraging Christine to join her.

"Don't worry if mortals pass by that late in the night and see us they will surprisingly loose that memory ." and she winks.

[Christine Daye]

"... we all play to our stereotypes... some out of laziness, some out of malice, some because they simply cannot see how they can be otherwise... and some, because it is useful..."

Christine smiles.

"...but you are right, there is more to power than titles and thrones... but they are the most visible... so are the most contested..."

She hums for a moment.

"...one of the benefits of an upbringing in the theatre is learning the... usefulness... of misdirection... I had a friend once... Fred... a magician's apprentice... she told me a few things... though I could never figure out how she made that coin dissappear and reappear at will... oh, I know how she did it... practice... but how she did it..."

Christine is lost in reverie for a moment, childhood memories. Then, a nod to Helen, acknowledging her friend's worry.

"...I will... and I know a little Latin already, from the Mass... I have sent him fair copies of the music I promised... I hope that it will please him..."

At Helen's words on love, she looks stricken, waves of sorrow and sympathy for the young Ventrue crashing through her. Christine tightens her grip on Helen's hand, not enough to hurt (not that she has the strength to do that) but to reassure.

"...and yet... familia supra omnia... " she murmurs. "...and even yet, you still love..."

She looks into Helen's eyes, deep and deadly serious.

"...fear, and caution, and distance, and solitude, and all those many things may keep me alive... may keep us alive... but I swear to you, my sweet, sweet sister... always and forever... it is love that I live for."

Christine looks baffled as Helen strips off her dress, then shrieks in shock as Helen dives into the river.

"Helen! No!"

As Helen is under the water, Christine paces the bank in high agitation, singing frantically to herself:

"...away she sank and away she swam... sing I dum and sing I day... away she sank and away she swam... the boys are born for me... away she sank and away she swam... until she came to the miller's dam... I'll be true unto my love if he'll be true to me..."

She cries out in relief as Helen surfaces "Oh, thank God!"

She listens intently to Helen talking about the stone, sits on the grass as bid. Well, more of a collapse, as she's still humming to herself, trying to regain control.

"...I understand... I think... "

She looks at Helen, eyes dark and worried.

"...please... don't do that sort of thing again without warning me... I... I thought I had lost you... I could not bear to lose you..."

Her voice breaks on the last words... and she looks away, humming again, her fingers twisting around each other so tightly the joints pop.

[annabelle]

"I could not bear to lose you..."

Her heart makes a painful beat. Observing Christine's reaction with suprise and disbelief. When was the last time someone genuinely deeply cared if she lived or died like that? Long time ago, ironically her hated Sire who for sure now doesn't hold the same care. She couldn't enjoy this, or feel honoured or humbled, she didn't had any right to, not after...after.... Guilt emerging like an insidious snake. She takes Christine's hands and seperate them from each other with a whisper "Stop.".

Her tone changes from serene to frozen cold.

"I am not one to care for. You shouldn't care that much. Please don't. I am trouble magnet and trouble seeker and might not survive for too long. This is a fact and I cannot avoid it. I cannot assure anybody of my survival."

With mechanical movements she gets up and silenty puts on her dress despite the wetness of her undegarments and sighs while sitting back to the grass.

"Promise me that if I ever die you will sing a happy song for me? A song of salvation and relief. You will bear it like you beared others like I beared the loss too. Promise me." her voice demanding and commanding.

[Christine Daye]

Christine lets Helen unknot her fingers, hold her hands. But as Helen's voice goes cold, she quails.

"...you don't get to tell me who I can and cannot care for..." she whispers, petulant. Then, a thought strikes her, and she laughs, hysterical, mad.

"Mithras himself cannot command me not to love who I will! So... I'm sorry, my dear Helen... but I do care and you will just have to get used to it..."

As Helen gets her dress back on, Christine hums, taking the time to push her madness back under control. Then, when Helen sits down again, she shuffles to be close to the other woman. Her voice is soft, sincere.

"...I promise... that if you die... I shall sing such a song of such beauty for you that people will sing it for millennia... so long as men can breathe and eyes can see/so long lived this, and this gives life to thee..."

[annabelle]

Helen's coldness melt and her eyes widen with Christine's offer for that final song. "That's wonderful Christine, that makes me so happy! Then I promise you that I will stick around after my death to hear it before moving to whatever hell is waiting for us. I believe Dorian will be able to confirm it since he seems to speak to ghosts."

Her mood seems oddly and dramatically improved.

"I want you to care enough to bear my death and sing about it. And no, I won't tell you not to care, is actually refreshing... Ah and as for the Dairy God." a small giggle escapes involuntarily.

"Yes that, I don't have any advice there, I just wanted to call him that." and she closes her eyes with a peaceful smile. Enjoying the feeling of the wet grass and the vibrations of the river.