Just outside the inn

[alanwrotethis]

"Ancilla Granville is not present, meanwhile her unreleased child was caught pulverising the childe of the Prince of Taunton. Jean Jacques has a history of piss-poor control and I am keeping him restrained until I am convinced he is not a liability. You being his... clanmate... "

Dukes almost snarls that last word.

"No, not tonight, save your fiction for someone else. I am an elder, this childe is a liability, and I care not a templar's fig for your guilt at failing him last night. That is is your fuckup. He will remain here until he is no longer a threat, and if you do not want the ire of Princes Uriah or Fortescue, or the ire of your own Sheriff, you will show some patience so I can mitigate Jean Jacques's latest outburst before it gets him killed. If you want to see him weather this you will step down. Do not escalate a matter on the verge of being settled. You know as well as I do that if would be cruel to have Ancilla Grace pay reparations again. Show patience, leave me to investigate and she may not have to. "

[Laurence]

In an instant Laurence’s aura goes from irritated but broadly tired and melancholy to a wave of hot white rage. On the outside, he is still. Hands clasped and jaw locked together. His eyes are very much focussed on Dukes as everything around him seems to fade out of view until it’s just the Sheriff and Childe that he can see.

“Failing him. Fuck up.”

His words are harsh, clipped. Laurence blinks....and the red mist is gone. Not entirely but dispersed enough that he’s no longer on the verge of tearing out anyone’s throat. This night had pushed Laurence far beyond what he had ever thought his tolerance for insult and occult bullshit was.

“Very well Sheriff. I trust you will remember Neonate Anton’s habits of behaviour.”

With that, Laurence blinks again, breathing once in and out. Then giving Dukes a bow and backing back towards the door, not turning his back on Dukes.

[alanwrotethis]

His eyes narrow, darker than they should be in the torchlight. To a keen observer his eyes are coal and his skin is pale and cracked.

"Thank you. Rest assured that we shall both return inside once it is safe to do so. Cooler heads prevail, we know this. And your primogen will be updated, fully."

He looks down at the glyph scratched into the dirt. He makes a soothing sound, a deep whisper. Underneath, something slumbers, stirs, not quite awake. Niketas hums a lullaby in latin.

[Jean-Jacques]

Jean-Jacques, whilst still, has been focussed on the exchanges between Dukes, Stoker and Keane.

Hearing Laurence move inside, alongside sensing the coat become inert, he slowly starts to regain his feet, still holding the coat, he is completely soaked, a mixture of dirt and some blood across his clothing.

Having seen Laurence return inside, he holds out the coat, draped over an arm, to Dukes.

"Elder Dukes, what would you wish of me?"

[alanwrotethis]

Niketas stares at the coat, pauses and snaps his fingers. The garment drifts over his shoulders like a cape, and the assorted chains drop inert to the floor

"Hmmmm.... Gnome, return to dreams... "

His foot scuffs the sigma sigil in the ground. His eyes return to pale blue.

"You wear your vulnerabilities on your sleeve. To be a neonate is to live a life of anticipated failure. To be unreleased is to live a life of anticipated shame. To be... what you are now, is to live in a world where everyone expects you to be mad... weak in the soul."

His features lose their sharp angles, his veins lose their green hue. His expression is stony, but only in a metaphorical sense.

"The world expects you to fail, knows exactly what your failure will look like. An elder of a different clan could act as you do and get away with it, sometimes. But to be young and Other means working ten times as hard for a fraction of the respect. If you do not learn to cohabitate and he useful in kindred society, you will die, and the kindred who shelter and vouch for you will suffer grave consequences. You are protected, but your allies are secret or weak. You must protect yourself, gird yourself. Kindred of your line, known for their erratic humors, have learned this lesson. If you do not you may have no choice but to hide in a House where your actions will not endanger you. Do you understand? Do you understand?"

He sighs.

"Tell me what happened out here before I arrived. Don't sugarcoat, don't spin truths. If you were victim, own your weakness. If you were villain, own your almost-victory. But do not lie to me, and do not tell me you don't understand, Know Your Will."

[Jean-Jacques]

Jean-Jacques watches as the coat floats from his arm and listens to Dukes.

He nods,

“I came out to witness the storm, I felt a little....enclosed inside”

Anton, whom followed, I believe quite by chance and we argued, the argument has been had before, it is my own failing that I assailed him, though I would add it was not as when I was in my haven Sheriff.”

“Then I retained no memory. Save what was given to me by those that took care of my form in torpor”

He spreads his arms

“Here now, I recall what transpired, and I know his heritage, it shames me that I fell into the fray, I have much respect for Prince Fortescue, and indeed meant nothing by insult there, indeed I reacted poorly and shall await your judgement as befits the sect”

“I believe we were both moved to this point, though it is i that threw the fist, and likely knowing he was weak, I opened myself to such as we are talking now and to the enmity of those that witnessed his poor form in the aftermath.”

“I feel no pleasure or relief from such action, we threw insults, I cracked, though perhaps yesterday I might have cracked...sooner”

He face is impassive, his aura calm

[alanwrotethis]

"You need to marshall yourself, and soon. It may already be too late. If Strassbourg hears of what happened to you, and it will if you continue like this, you will die, and your death will bait others into war. If Fortescue years of what you did to Anton, she will not be kind. Your site intrigues me, I would like to be their friend, but if Fortescue and your sire, or their childer, cross blades over this, few would be bold enough to take a side. "

He smiles, with rare menace.

"I Would take a side, I would hop down from my comfy fence and lay waste. And I'm good at it, better than the bumbling old man guise I wear would suggest. To be Other means denying it, because the cosmos rejects Other. If you do not learn, and make a mask to soften and hide your true self... it is your life to wager, and Grace's stake to lose. You Must Learn. "

He nods towards the door.

"We return inside, you take a seat. You go nowhere else tonight alone. When you get the chance you alert Grace. I would recommend prestation to Keane and Anton. To myself as well if you want my continued sympathy. And I do sympathise, change feels like dying because it is. But my well runs dry. "

Niketas gestures at the door, indicating for Jean Jacques to enter before him.