The Longest Night
Karl Remembered the first time he had encountered Lacey. It was as the Sabat had been routed from the Abandoned Hotel. After fighting the monstrosity, and watching Thomas Richards and Abseroke hold it IN the fire till it burned, he and the others were making their escape from the burning ruins.
That�s when it attacked. All assumptions were that it was an assamite, but any with mastery of Celerity and Obfuscate could have done it. The only clue was the blade, left jutting out of Karl�s chest. He had originally picked her up because he was to weak to feed himself. Needing someone neutral to bring him blood, na�ve Lacey seemed perfect. She even let Karl feed from her, but not wanting to be duped into her love slave .. he convinced her to drink from him. And one thing led to another.. it was hard to separate reality from fantasy.
Was it real love or the Blood? They did thing or one another, shared their vitae, and they did honestly feel things for one another � but was it the blood?
Blood. How it flowed, coalescing in pools around his knees, flowing from his hands, pouring from wounds around his knuckles. Again and again he slammed his fists into the Brick wall .. pounding bone and gristle into plasma, the pain too real, the only thing keeping him centered.
Maybe she had been right. She had said never trust the Ventrue. Now he was a paltry neonate again. Fully outcast from the Nosferatu.. his Status as a member of the Caitiff was now confirmed. No Nosferatu would offer shelter. None would share their wealth with him. He was alone, though maybe he was all along .. only now it hurt.
Slam. Blood. Pain.
So why had she left? Where had she gone? Could it have been the three witches? They were cunning, and knew all about the Kindred.. or so they said. Wilhelm had already fallen victim to them. Could Lacey have gone that way �?
Crying into the night sky, Tears of Crimson streaking down his face, the bond shattered. Ties of blood that bound Karl and Lacey from that eventful nights had faded, or were severed. Karl never knew which it was. Only one thing remained amid the pools of crimson and gore, amid the pain and sorrow.
Love.
Wherever Lacey had gone, or what had done this, Karl would know. He had to. After all, there was nothing else, princedom, Clan, Family. All were gone. Ash on the wind.
And through it all, he knew his humanity was falling. Ever since Richards, his hold on his beast was less and less. Before he would soothe others beasts to make them more agreeable.. now it was Dominance. How much further could he go?
I should have died on the Streets of London so many years ago�.
No.
I have always risen above what was done to me. I have been stripped of Praxis, clan, and now.. apparently of Family as well. Standing, hands healing from the pummeling, blood even now drying upon his face, he uttered few words under his breath as he set his resolve.
No more.
And on that day, he let the War memorial in Dartmouth.. after paying respects to his cousins who had died to stop the Nazi�s. Their names were not engraved in the monument. None were. But the symbol stood, as did one thing left in Karl.
Faith.
That was November 11th. The time is now. Karl has not been seen since that night. The letters have been delivered. Halifax has a new Prince. And Karl has a mission. He has looked deep within himself, and found he must start anew, with fresh goals, and a fresh mindset. He has steered himself to the course ahead. Have you?