Of Returns and Leavings

[Caiaphas Redfern]

George’s latest visit to the BRSLI turned out to be a rather more involved affair than the previous one.

First indignity: having announcing himself through a stubbornly closed door, he had been made to wait outside for about an eon and a half, and then a wordless older gentleman with an eerily familiar squint had let him in and lead him to the beetle display room where he had spoken with Caiaphas the last time. The paraffin oil lamp that was suspended from the ceiling lit it more dimly than he remembered - someone had apparently neglected to refill it of late.

There the old fellow broke his silence and in a creaking voice asked the disguised Nosferatu a few probing questions, giving the distinct impression that he was somewhat more interested in the way and manner in which George responded to them than the content of the answers.

Finally, George was left alone to admire the hoard of countless impaled insects - this necropolis of a kindred's obsession - and it was not until another ten minutes had passed that the familiar figure of his Ventrue host entered the room, casting scrutinising glances left and right before shutting the door behind him and settling his satisfied gaze on the visitor. There was an icy pallor on his skin, and a darkness in his eyes that was only partly due to the chamber's gloom.

“I say, Williamson…Awfully good in you to come at such short notice. Awfully good indeed,” he began with an appreciative nod, “but you’d save yourself a deal of trouble if you were preceded by a note heralding your arrival. It shames me to be a poor host, but I still have enemies, you know…the wriggling nematodes who writhed before the half-prince may still be about, fomenting Heaven knows what mischief.”

He pointed to a comfortable pair of armchairs that had been set by one of the wood-panelled wall under a new case of various species of scarab. “Would you care to seat yourself or no? And may I prevail on you to doff the disguise? I’d far rather speak with you than with a mask.”

[George Williamson]

George doesn't mind being left alone in a necropolis. Insects to examine, plaques to read, and a whole new world to understand. There hadn't been much in the way of study material, in a language he could understand, within the domain of the Nosferatu. Though behind stone walls much knowledge may have been hidden away from younglings eyes. It was like a breath of fresh air to ben able to explore to one's heart's content.

With the excitment, and strain, of Elysium departed, George's eyes held less warmth. Nor did he bother to interact with the doorman any more than you would a door bell. The intrigue which came from the corpses had little care for the once living specimens. A dark day indeed.

George bowed, removing his obfusction before sitting down. He was wrapped from neck to toe. Only his face and scraggly hair not bound by clothing or cloth. "Good evenin', Redfern. I'll remember that when I come 'ere again. Though if I were to be put in a different exhibit each time it would be appreciated. What is it ya wish to speak on?"

[Caiaphas Redfern]

Caiaphas looked about in mild surprise. "It scarce occurs to me that anyone might grow bored of this, yet I'll try to humour your neophilia the next time." he said in a most courteous tone before seating himself opposite George.

"If you haven't guessed at it, what I wished to speak of was this young person in green who was left to wander about Elysium last Saturday night. The one who has so much in common with your Evelyn." He absently began counting on his fingers. One. "A pretty and youthful lady," Two. "also embraced into Toreador blood," Three. "also abandoned and left to fend for herself," Four. "also burdened, or perhaps blessed, with the forgetting of how she came to be," Five. "and found by the very charming fellow I see before me."

A blank stare met George's gaze as Caiaphas did a mental tally to ensure he hadn't overlooked any further commonalities. "Tell me...Is there a factory somewhere? Or perhaps a mold into which you pour sugar, spice and everything nice? How long does it take to set? Or do you bake them?", he asked with a rare hint of amusement.

[George Williamson]

George smiled. Not of happiness, but of interest and curiosity as Redfern though him bored. Replaced with a blank expression on the mention of her. George locked in his seat, eyes softly closed. His hands resting peacefully on his knees. A slow breath in, slower than any mortal could manage, as Redfern made his case.

George breaths out just as slow. Redfern waiting, if he will. Other than the rise and fall of his chest the Neonate is extremely still. Not a trace on the small twitching movements that normally acompany him.

[Caiaphas Redfern]

Caiaphas waited a span, and one eyebrow crept upward. Perhaps the hard life of a southern neonate had beaten the humour out of the poor chap...or...oh dear...

"Are you well? Has something happened?" he asked in a mildly concerned tone.

[George Williamson]

A slow nod. It matched the breathing

Goerge reminded still. His voice came out without his usually intonation or ceaseless nattering. "Her name is Rebeka now. The new one is called Kira. What do you wish to know? Depending on the answer required there may be a cost." George paused for a moment before remembering. "It was not that I was bored in the room I was left in, but that I want to see more of this place when I come back."

[Caiaphas Redfern]

He raised his chin and peered through squinted eyes at the enigmatic figure opposite him.

"Rebekah, eh? Well, you'll have to forgive me if I've touched on a sore wound I believed healed. Can't answer for what I don't know.

"What I'm asking is whether you believe that Miroslav is up to his old tricks - creating childer and ill-treating them to the point that their only recourse is the mercy of amnesia. I assume you found this...'Kira' because you were following that Hungarian creature about and watching him, what with the information on him that I gave you when I was hunted."

[George Williamson]

Goerge managed to open his eyes, but relax he did not. Ciaphus Redfern, Ventrue Ancilla without knoweldge of the methods of the Ivory Tower. Once the frame of sight shifted from viewing him of an Elder to engraciate to an Ancilla who did not understand... it did not bode well.

"This became a Nosferatu matter very quickly. I can't just tell ya everything, specially not from within the clan. If ya want to know everythin' I can tell ya, but there's a price. Can't have us Nos known for givin' stuff away for free, ya'know."

[Caiaphas Redfern]

Caiaphas' mouth opened, closed, and he leaned forward in his chair.

"What's going on here? "

[George Williamson]

George tilts his head before reverting it. Why didn't he understand? Something was amiss.

"I dunno." He was confused by this as any. "Ya want to know about the Childe, Kira, right?"