VTM Lore

Prologue



“Until this incredible story becomes forcasted for due reports”
“It’s difficult to imagine that something’s actually happening”
“But these are reports we have been receiving and passing on to you”



“Reports which have been verified as completely as is possible in this confused situation”
“It is happening”



“Medical authorities in San Myshuno have concluded that in all cases”



“The killers are eating the flesh of the people they murder”



“Well, this can’t be good.”



Understatement of the year.
Then again, Cara has always been rather relaxed about life and death situations.
I suppose I should be grateful for that. Otherwise, she might not have accepted me, when I was Embraced.



But just like this apparent outbreak of whatever-that-is, Cara took my transformation into a damn vampire with complete nonchalance.

Thank god.
I would have lost my mind if she hadn’t.



Cara is my best friend, my right hand, my only trusted confidante in a world full of sharks.



We’re twins, even if she’ll insist that she’s the older one, as if a few minutes make that much of a difference.
I wasn’t supposed to tell her. But I did, got myself in hot water, and in response to me wanting to run for my life, Cara helped me kill San Myshuno’s Prince, along with my Sire.

So i took his place. And now I rule this city, five years after becoming one of them myself.



Did she fall asleep?

I’ll envy that ability forever.

Not that I could easily find rest, even if I did still sleep outside of daysleep.
A city that knows I’m a Masquerade breacher, Elders at my throat, and now… walking corpses in the streets.
I can’t rely on human authorities to handle this, can I?


NEW CHARACTERS:


Amias Yoon, Prince of San Myshuno
Clan: Lasombra
Age: 27 (Embraced at 22)
Identity: cis bisexual (He/him)


Cara Yoon, Amias’ sister
Human (for now)
Age: 27
Identity: nonbinary lesbian (she/they)

TBC

“We really should call a crisis meeting.”

Husam is my Sheriff. My left hand. Since Cara insists on claiming the title right hand.
He’s the only one who knows about her, and is almost more protective of the secret than I am.

Some Clan philosophy thing. I don’t claim to understand it.

“I know,” I tell him. “But really, how high are our chances that they take the threat seriously?”

“You are their Prince.”

“And they are Elders.”



But I relent. I call my Primogen. And i start praying.



“I take you seriously, my Prince, I do.”
Iofel has always been gentle to me. Like I’m a child. I know he likes me, but he doesn’t take me seriously either.
“But I think this little epidemic is little cause for concern. We are likely immune. Our bodies are dead.”
And there it is.

“Mhm, maybe, but you’ve seen out kind carry diseases from one human to the next, haven’t you? You’ve written a whole essay on it.”
Interesting interjection. Especially from Elo.

Elo is my grandsire. They were strangely nonplussed when Cara and I killed their Childe. But that might just be a Lasombra thing. If they’re backing me… it’s not because they like me.

“I have.” Iofel seems a little taken aback. “But we don’t know if that disease is bloodborne at all yet.”

“That’s my point.” I have to raise my voice a little, to assert myself in a conversation they seem to be having around me, not with me. “We don’t know much about this issue yet, and that makes it dangerous. If we had information, we could act against it, and protect ourselves.”



I spy Clans Toreador and Ventrue talking on the side, but I’m too focused on Iofel.
If I have a Salubri on the case…
God, what are they *on* about? Chase has been my biggest critic yet, and he hasn’t even acknowledged me all evening.



Medea, as always, sits alone and listens. But I can read her quite well by now.
While Elo and Iofel chat casually about how we should at least prepare for a blood shortage, due to population drops, I catch her looking around. Not in panic, but clearly concern. Even fear, maybe.

I need to meet with her in private later.



Husam is cordial, as usual. But I know him better than that.
There’s disgust when he looks at Elo. Disregard of human life as a resource is an easy way to get on his bad side.

Then again… He doesn’t like many people at all.



I watch as Amaranda withdraws, and Elo takes her place, effectively ending the only constructive conversation I’ve managed to have.

Speaking opf constructive things… where even is my Malkavian Primogen?



“This isn’t good.”

Rosa looks upon the carnage in her Elysium.
A good dozen people, slain in what looks like a random act of violence.

She stayed behind, flunking out on the council meeting on purpose, following an inkling, somewhere between an anxiety attack and a premonition.





“This was either a party, or a massacre.”
Her fingertips dance over her phone screen, and she discreetly asks the other Primogen to come find her at her haven - coincidentally, most Kindred’s favorite hangout spot.



She’s calm now, even as the sickly sweet stench of decay mixes with that of blood. Are these bodies rotting faster than they should? Just two hours ago, the lounge was spotless.



"Rosa?"



Medea lags behind, already half aware of the problem they’re about to face.



“Disgusting.”
Chase’s disapproval seems more targeted at the waste of blood, or the lack of decorum than the actual loss of life.
“Prince Amias isn’t going to like this at all.”

“Neither is his cute little Sheriff.” Elo adds, their mood not dampened in the slightest.



“Who would make such a mess at Elysium, so fast?” Chase continues. “I knew several of these blood dolls. They were with us for years.”

Medea stares at Iofel, who maintains her gaze. While Chase is preoccupied with who could have done this, the two of them notice what Rosa noted too.

The bodies are falling apart before their eyes.



“Hah, look who made it to work, and immediately hides in the employee bathroom.”

I tease, but really, I’m happy to see her. Shelley is my best friend, and one of the few people I can talk to without all the vampire bullshit bothering me.

“You know I hate opening shift.”

She’s right. It’s still dark out. Got to tuck my undead brother in before I went to work.



One might wonder why I work in a café at all, considering that Amias gets, I don’t know, fucking vampire feudalism tax, way more than enough to support us both, and that nice penthouse we live in.
Plus, half a grocery bill. Man doesn’t need food, or like, toilet paper.

No, I like working here. Occasional change of scenery, and I get to keep a somewhat healthy sleep schedule.
That, and a social life. I act as Amias’ ghoul, so I do get to talk to vampires, but hell, doesn’t it soothe the soul to talk to a normal person once in a while.

Especially Shelley.



“Would it kill you to get off the computer and help out?”

Shelley looks up to me with indignation.
“Excuse me, I’m doing last closing shift’s finances.” she defends herself, and I laugh at her.
“Sure, Office princess. That’s why you’re smiling wistfully at it, because you love math so much.”




The café slowly starts to fill. A fun crowd, though a little too hipster for my taste.



Still, as the sun begins to rise on the city, I can’t help but feel uneasy.
I don’t show it, because hell knows Amias needs me to keep a cool head, but I’m terrified.



I want to go home.



“Cara! The doors, seal the doors!”

I jolt up from my work.
Shelley was out, wiping down tables, and I was serving a customer, who’s face goes pale when he hears Shelley yell for me.
He flings a few coins at me, and turns to run.

I react, and help Shelley lock up the store.

“That won’t hold, Cara, we gotta-…”

I look outside, through the glass.



Shelley slipped in just in time. My customer, who fled just a few moments before lies convulsing on the ground.

I see people, foaming at the mouth, shambling, smeared in blood and guts…

“Furniture.” I say, and Shelley understands immediately.
Together, we block off the doors with anything we can find, and them begin ripping up newspapers to stick to the large glass windows.

Visibility. Our glassfronts won’t hold if they decide they want to get in.





“Fuck, man.”

Of course Amias wouldn’t pick up. He’s in torpor right now, with the sun high in the sky, but I called him anyway. Just to keep up appearances. Explaining to Shelley that I can’t call my brother because he’s asleep while living corpses shamble around the café would’ve blown his cover.



It’ll be several hours before he wakes up.

And I’m on the other ass of the city.



“We have enough food to last a few days. Not many nonperishables here. Water is no issue until the facilities die. I’m mainly worried about the barricade-…”

“Cara!”

Shelley frowns at me, cutting me off as i plot and plan.

“Can you. Can you just shut up? We’re trapped here and under siege, i don’t need it laid out for me.”

I sit with her and look down. She’s laid down a little while ago. Like she’s already giving up.

“Sorry. I don’t wanna freak you out. We just have to outlast them until they get distracted, then we can make a break for it.”



“And go where?”

Valid question. Shelley is a student, and her dorm is probably a death trap, if this is a city wide thing.
Then again… Vampires might be immune.
Elysium is secured. The Penthouse is secured, too.

“My brother.” i blurt out. “I told you he’s got some secret society shit going on, right? If we make it to him, we have a chance. Let’s wait for nightfall, and go stealthy.”

Stealth. That’s absolutely the reason why we’re going after dark. Trust me, bro.



I can’t help myself. I probably shouldn’t freak him out and just tell him to stand ready or something…

My hands shake when I type.





Waking up as a Vampire really does feel like rising from the dead every single night.
i take a rattling breath and feel my silent lungs fill with air again. A few flexes, and the stiffness falls from my limbs.



Unread messages, missed calls from Cara… my heart sinks.



Panic.

She’s at work, and the worst possible scenario has hit.
i pace in my room, wringing my head, while my lungs begin to constrict.
I get dressed. Try to force myself into a state of calm calculation, but I can’t, I can’t.



My Sheriff finds me mid-panic attack.

Husam catches me as my knees give in, and the black spots appear in my vision. I barely feel his hands on my shoulders.



“My Prince,” I hear him plead with me, then more insistently, “Amias!”

I look up at him, tears in my panic-widened eyes and he shakes his head.



“Blood.” he says, shoving his arm into my face. “Drink. You’ll calm down.
My hands shake when I grab onto him.



It takes several seconds before my fangs even present. I chew on his wrist, until i finally taste blood, and sob raggedly, as the taste grounds me.

Husam is older than me, and much stronger. His blood has fed me out of frenzy many times before.
Slowly, I become aware of my surroundings again. The sensation of suffocation lessens, as I feed from him.



"I, I’m sorry.”
My speech slurs, when i finally let go of him.

“Amias. Tell me what happened.”
Husam’s voice is gentle, warm, and soft like velvet. I shiver in his arms.

“My sister.” i blurt out. “There’s an outbreak near the café. They’re trapped. She texted me around… around noon. Now, she’s offline, I…”



I stop talking.

The reality that Cara might have died hits me with premature grief much harder than the panic did before.

Husam holds me as I cry, bitterly, pathetically, on my damn kitchen floor.


NEW CHARACTERS - MAIN



Husam, Sheriff of San Myshuno
Age: Ancilla, somewhere in his early hundreds. You don’t ask a gentleman his age
Clan: Banu Haqim
identity: Cis gay (he/him)



Shelley Jillian, Cara’s colleague
Human
Age: 25
Identity: cis lesbian (she/her)


NEW CHARACTERS - SIDE



Amaranda, Primogen
Age: Elder. Estimated around 300
Clan: Toreador
Identity: bisexual trans woman (she/her)



Chase Harrington, Primogen
Age: Young Elder, Probably 200? Amias doesn’t know.
Clan: Ventrue
Identity: No one dared to ask yet



Elo, Primogen and Scourge
Age: Old. Very old.
Clan: Lasombra
Identity: Nonbinary (they/them). Probably bisexual. At least they flirt with everybody, regardless of gender.



Iofel, Primogen
Age: Somewhere beyond 400.
Clan: Salubri (but is in charge of all Caitiff, too. Funnily enough, also the Tremere)
Identity: Cis gay (he/him)



Medea, Primogen and Harpy
Age: Young Elder, in Chase’s age bracket
Clan: Nosferatu
Identity: Lesbian. Something’s up with her gender, too. (she/her)



Rosa, Primogen and Keeper of Elysium
Age: Old Ancilla, closing in on 200
Clan: Malkavian
Identity: trans woman, lesbian (she/her)

“This is why I always change at work.”
“In case of zombie apocalypse?”

I snort at Shelley.
The darkness that had fallen soothes me. It’s quieter now, and… well, I always come prepared.

Incendiary rounds. Amias made me carry a weapon ever since that first attempt at my life, in his first year of unlife.
Never had to use it.
I don’t have a lot of ammo, since a Vampire usually goes down in one hit from those bad boys, but who knows?

I peel pack the newpaper we used to cover the windows and peek out.



Okay. Big mistake.

I feel Shelley shiver behind me, when the groaning starts again. It had gnawed at our sanity all day.

“Don’t freak out.” I preface, and draw my weapon. “But I’m strapped.”
She chuckles nervously.
“Uh-huh. Gayass.” she tries to diffuse the situation, but I can see how pants-shittingly terrified she is.
“It’s just these few. I’ll take them out, and then we make a run for it, out of the inner city. I have an idea.”

I rip another piece of newpaper away, and hurriedly write a message.



Then… time to open up our barricades.



One by one, I eliminate the opposition.
It’s a miracle I can manage a steady hand to aim with. My guts are all twisted up, and by heart is racing.

Gunshots draw attention. I’ve seen enough zombie flicks to know that. But I won’t risk getting myself, or Shelley into close quarters with them, until I know how infectious they are.



As soon as the coast is somewhat clear, I motion to Shelley, and we fucking haul ass out of there.



Tensest nighttime run either of us had ever been on, and that’s saying something, with Shelley being a woman, and me looking like one.

I can hear groaning in the distance. Maybe a larger horde, coming closer, drawn by my gunshots.
The two bullets I still have aren’t gonna do anything.



Like I’d predicted, Myshuno Meadows, as far out as it is, is empty.

I take Shelley’s hand, clammy with cold sweat, and lead her inside.



“I’ve had enough adrenaline for the rest of my life.”

I snort, like Shelley is being the dramatic one, but I silently agree with her. My heart is just now slowing down to a respectable pace again, as my body catches up to the news that we made it.



Shelley grabs me by the hips, and yanks me in closer.

“You never told me that you had… fucking, I don’t know, fire bullets.” she accuses and I grin at her.

“What? Can’t a bitch have secrets?” I deflect, but I feel my heart sink
I’m gonna have to drag her into this, don’t I?

“Like, what. You’re a mobster? CIA agent? Superhero vigilante?”
She’s joking around, but I hear worry in her tone.

“Yeah, that’s why I work in a café. CIA pays minimum wage, don’t you know?”

She laughs.

“Fine, keep your exciting secrets. Anyway. You really think your brother is gonna find his way to us?”

I think about Husam and his five million knives, about my brother and his terrifying shadow powers, and I nod.
Not even a damn question.



They must have heard us.

As soon as Husam and I set foot on the lot, I’m hit with a Cara-shaped missile, and barely maintain my balance they fling themself at me.



“You scared the shit out of me.” he scold her gently, once I’ve gotten her back on solid ground.
“Shot a motherfucker. Several motherfuckers.” she mumbles but I can hear that she’s choked up.
As much as Cara likes to play older sibling, I know that they get just as scared as I do. especially when we’re apart.



“I told you, you’ll need the gun eventually.”
Cara huffs at me as we part.
“Shelley is with me.” they say. “She has no idea. She was already suspicious when I pulled my gun out of my bag.”

I glance over my shoulder. Husam is already talking to the girl, in his friendly, soft spoken demeanor.
“You wanna tell her?” I assume.



“I have to, don’t I? We’re taking her along, and if she lives in the penthouse until this blows over…”

She has a point.
Even if I find her confidence that this will blow over at all remarkable.
“You know her, I don’t.” i finally relent to my sister’s lethal puppy eyes. “You think she can handle the truth?”

“I mean… I can’t give you a hundred percent, but…”
Cara looks out over the city.
“She’s my best friend, Amias.”

I put my hand on her shoulder.
“Let’s get home first. You stink like corpse.”
Back behind my Sheriff’s impossibly fast blades. Yeah. no way Shelley is going to get out of this with her mind unblown.



“So… What the fuck?”

I’ve bathed. Lent Shelley some jammies, and gotten comfy.
Kind of a vibe. Like teenagers having a sleepover.

Even is Shelley is a little too close to me for just a fun little sleepover.
not that I mind.
What i do mind i sthe conversation I’m about to have with her.



“Okay. I’m gonna cut to the chase.”
Bandaid off, or whatever.’
“Vampires are a thing, and my brother is one. His friend, too.”

Silence.
After the day we’ve had, I doubt Shelley is very skeptical about that anymore.

“…and you?” she finally asks, and i show her my very importantly fangless teeth.

“Nope. He’s not a thousand years old or anything. He’s twenty-seven. Like me. Got turned five years ago.”



She settles on my shoulder… oh, fuck off, butterflies.

“Does he… you know.”
“Feed from me? No. Never. He’s not gonna hurt you, either.” I assure her. “You know, you’re taking this a lot better than I thought.”

“I’m scared of what’s out there. These two saved us, ran me a bath, and brewed me tea.”
Solid argument. I shrug.
“Amias can’t cook for shit.” I warn.



“But… we’ll have better chances, won’t we? if this is like, a… you know. Global thing.”

I go quiet for a moment.
Yeah, what if this is a global thing? Humans dying, turning, and killing more humans? The feeding pool shrinking, and more and more hungry vampires bearing down on their Prince…

“Yeah. Husam is, like, super fast. And my brother can do shadow magic. It’s so cool. You’ll see.” i joke.

Where is my fucking Oscar?



Husam lets himself sink against me.
I can hear him breathing heaviy. give him a brief glance.

it’s been a rough night for my poor Sheriff. First, he feeds me out of a panic attack, then cuts through a horde of walking corpses to reach the café, and then another trek, to Myshuno Meadows, and back home.

He’s exhausted. Hungry. I can feel it.

Ask, I think, silently pleading with him. Please just ask.



He moves, and his arm snakes around me, settling along my collar.

“My Prince,” he purrs.
We both know that it’s as risk. He’s a son of Haqim. Kindred blood aggravates his Beast, threatens frenzy.
But I trust him. I always have trusted him.

Even though he has a good century on me, and could snap me like a twig if he really wanted to.
Still. I’ve never felt anything but safe with him.

I crane my neck.



Fangs sink into my neck, but like always, there’s no pain.
My body jolts involuntarily, as foreign pleasure floods my nerves.

We call it the Kiss for a reason.

Husam holds me still, and I give in, let that slight tingle of hunger grow, as he takes my blood.
I feel a little tug in my gums, behind my canines, well aware that they’re forming into fangs.

Maybe I shouldn’t let him do this next to my sister’s bedroom door, but my mind swims with a pleasant haze. I don’t want to stop him.



My body grows weak, and Husam wraps his arms around me.
I feel him trembling, the struggle to maintain control, but even so, even with this evidence that he struggles, i trust him fully.

Maybe there has always been this tension between him and me. Only given center stage when we feed from each other.



When it’s over, I feel fine. I’d hunt tomorrow.

But Husam still ends up carrying me, like some damsel.
I don’t mind it at all.

“Too much?” he asks, in that soft, apologetic tone of his, and I shake my head.
“Carry me to bed, my Sheriff.” I demand, slightly theatrical, and I see the mild amusement curl his lips into a smile.

“Of course, my liege.” he mocks me.

But when we reach my room, I hold him back by his wrist.
“Stay.” I whisper.








I know there isn’t much difference in the quality of torpor, but I like to think i slept more soundly this day.



Meanwhile…

“Uuugh. Shelley.”

She is a nightmare to share a bed with.



At some point, I just squeeze against the wall, while my bestie takes up eighty percent of the bed.
Making a mental note not to share my sleeping space with her anymore.

Then again, things went will with her. The fact that she sleeps this soundly at all, after learning that she shares the penthouse with two actual vampires.

I have no doubts that she believes me.



I catch her making herself at home in the morning, frying up some eggs for us.
She doesn’t say anything, but she smiles at me.

What is this weird domesticity, while the dread of potential doom lingers in both out heads?



We eat our breakfast in silence.
Shelley looks out the windows occasionally.



It’s a nice day. The sun is bright, and spring starts to turn to summer.
Not enough to give me much hope, not after that night we spent running from the dead.
Maybe the dark helped with stealth, but I doubt that they become less active at night.

Still…



The horrors are worse in the light.




I wake up before Husam does.
Normal. He’s been undead much longer than I have.
Still stiff with sleep, I roll over, and lean against him.

Just what possessed me last night? Maybe tzhe adrenaline rush?

He smells nice. And once again, I feel completely safe next to him.



I hear him groan a little, the first signs of life in an awakening vampire.

“…Amias?” he mumbles, and I smile.
My name. Not my title. Though i do like it when he calls me his Prince. It feels less formal than when my Primogen say it. Like it actually means something.

He stirs next to me, and suddenly, I am afraid. Not of him. But of the conversation we will no doubt have to have.

I back away, like I burned myself on him, and sit up.



Clearly still groggy, he scrambles to sit next to me. I feel embarrassment burn on my face.
I haven’t been this close with someone since my Embrace. Somehow, it feels alien, even with him.
My thoughts spiral. Does he think less of me? What now? Should I not have done this?
I clearly instigated. Did I take advantage of him, when he just wanted to feed?



I cast my eyes downward.
“What’s wrong?”
He sounds concerned, but still very calm. Like he always does.
“I’m sorry, I…” God, don’t make him feel bad for this. “…I’m just, I suppose, afraid?”

“Of me?” he asks, and he quickly shake my head.
“Of… Of what you must think of me now.” I confess, struggling to put my thoughts into coherent sentences.
“Because I slept with you?” he helps, and I nod. “Why would I think badly of you for that?”

His tone is so soft. My shoulders drop and I sigh, shaking my head again.



“Amias,” he says again, and pulls me toward him. “I notice the way you look at me. I know.”

I feel my body relax. He smells nice.
“I’m a fledgling that you’ve been digging out of the trash for five years, every time I get myself in trouble.” I point out, and I hear him huff an short bark of laughter.
“And you think I’d do that if I didn’t have feelings for you?” he counters.



I lean fully into him.

“Do you, um.. So, do you want to do this again?”

“What, right now?”
His delivery is completely deadpan, but I still hear the smirk in his voice.
I feel a little lighter.
“Yes. I would want that.” he gives me a proper answer and I find myself smiling too.

Elo likes to tell me that Kindred don’t love, that we lose that ability when we lose our humanity.
But really, I never believed that there’s a connection between that and humanity.
There’s room for love. And honesty, and genuine things.

And that has nothing to do with Humanity.

CONTENT WARNING
Pretty heavy body horror in this one



“I still can’t believe you chose this as your home.”

Iofel looks up from his book.
“Ah, because I’m a fragile little Salubri who should fear anything related to the Usurpers?”
He turns to face her.
“What do you want, Medea?”

“Do you… have a moment?”
“Fine. Come along.”



“The Prince’s worry isn’t unfounded. I figured out who messed up Elysium so bad.”

Iofel raises a brow, and his third eye focuses in on Medea too, causing her to cringe away a little.

“Chase’s fledglings.” she continues.

“What? Ventrue? the epitome of decorum?”

“Exactly. I found them in the basement, draining each other dry, covered in the ashes of at least five other Kindred. They were in Wassail, Iofel.”

“Medea they… how in the world did that happen? How can two fledglings overpower the entirety of these people including kindred? How can someone this young even enter Wassail at all?”

True. Fledglings losing themselves to the Beast, now that’s unusual.

“That’s where I need you. I think they caught the zombie flu. And I think it fucks with Kindred differently than humans. But I have a doctorate IT, not medicine.”

Iofel is quiet and folds his arms.
“Call the Prince. He needs to know about this.”



“You sounded serious on the phone.”
And my stomach is dropped because of it. These two collaborating, and calling me to a private meeting doesn’t bode well at all.

Then again, they’re the only ones that at least kind of like me.



“Well. You see.”

If my Nosferatu Primogen is dancing around something like this,… doesn’t exactly make me feel any better.

“There was an incident at Elysium. Good dozen blood dolls dead, and a handful of Kindred too. Committed by, um, Chase’s youngest. You remember, the double Embrace you signed off on.” she word-vomits at me.
Medea always had a habit of talking way too fast when she’s nervous.
“They were wights. Completely lost to the Beast. I had to out them down myself. Which, um, leads us to the next point.”

More bad news, got it. I make myself numb, and nod, signalling them to continue.



“Medea thinks that it might be the virus the city is dealing with.” Iofel picks up where Medea stops. “She asked me to look into it, and I want to - I’ll need the Sheriff to capture me a live infected. Maybe i can help them, but primarily, I need to know how it affects our kind. Because it likely does.”



I look up to Medea.
“You break the news to Chase.” I order, swallowing the dread that builds. “I’ll have Husam catch one for Iofel.”
I take a breath.
“And I need my Primogen to work together. Medea - I want you to keep an eye on the media. Any Masquerade breaches, anything suggesting other out of control Vampires, I want to know as soon as you do.”



“No more new Embraces, too? I know, Elo wanted to-…”

“Absolutely not.” I cut her off.

“My Prince, your personal gripes…” she tries to warn me, but I shake my head again.
“That has nothing to do with me. Elo is old enough that Embracing again is generally a bad idea. We aren’t the damn Sabbat, Medea.”



“And what do you two want?”
Iofel had just walked his Prince out of the Chantry, when two of his proteges approach him.



Yvonne and Jordan. A Tremere and a Salubri, having befriended each other.

“We, um. We…”
Yvonne is understandably terrified of Perimogen Iofel. He makes it no secret that he has a strong distaste for her Clan. Jordan on the other hand, stands confidently.

“There was an unexpected Kine in the public part of the library. Seemed feral and spat blood everywhere. Yvonne tried to usher them out, but they bit her, and now she’s feeling queasy.”



“Hmhm. Is that so.”
Iofel looks up to the two women.
“Jordan, why don’t you go home? The sun is coming up soon. I’ll look into this. Please do have a seat, Yvonne.”



“Uhuh… Well, I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear that he doesn’t need to go zombie-catching. Surprised that you managed, didn’t have you figured for such a hands-on kind of guy. …Oh, I’m not complaining, Iofel, not at all.”

Interesting. I wouldn’t have expected Iofel to go out and whack a zombie over the head himself.
But, it’s good that he’s dedicated, i suppose.



The buzz of Medea’s various electronics is all the background noise she’d need to concentrate on her work.

Every news outlet, most bigger social media accounts, all neatly filtering onto her screen.
Politics, lifestyle, celebrity bullshit… Violence, poverty, depression epidemic.

She blanks it all out. Her eyes scan the text that floods in, searching only for specific keywords.

Corpse. Attack. Cannibalism.



It’s almost meditative. Medea barely notices one of the few people who has the access codes to her Haven pass her security doors.



“Oh. Iofel.”

He grins at down at her.
“Anything yet?” he asks, and glances her her screens. The text scrolls by too fast for him.



“Well. The news is mainly focusing on the smaller pockets of outbreaks all over the city, and beyond it. It’s difficult to differentiate, what might be infected Kindred and what’s just regular infection cases.”

Iofel nods.
“Are you saving them?”

“Course. I’m compiling all of it. Might give it to one of my Childer to sift through and compare to eyewitness reports… Iofel, I’m tired.”



“You should have… an hour or so-…?”

“I wrote a program to filter out all postings containg certain words, it’ll file them into my dossier. Good night.”



“…Never change, Medea.”



Metal, rot, disinfectant…

Yvonne comes to on the floor. Her head rings, the bites on her arms ache…
She can feel the virus in her blood.



Corpses.
She gags. Just where is she?

“Primo…Primogen…?”
Her voice is thin, and she whips around, when she hears Iofel clear his throat behind her.



“I would tell you this isn’t personal.” he says. “But it is.”

She backs away, fear weakening her knees, but her back just connects to a chainlink wall.

“This is going to be a lot easier if you cooperate.”
The bite of the needle feels almost worse than the rest of her ailments.



She collapses, hacking up blood, as a searing pain runs through her core.

“This should speed up the infection process.”
Iofel’s voice is accompanied by the sound of a door locking.





Hour four

Subject is unresponsive, and seemingly in torpor. My monitor of her vitals suggests that her body should be fully operational.
The wound caused by the growths is not impacting her much at all.




Hour six
Subject is stirring, evidently still aware and sentient, vocalizing occasionally. Upon being asked simple questions, she slurs her speech, and struggles forming proper words. The growth from her stomach moves as she emotes, like an additional limb.



Hour ten
Subject entirely feral, and fully in Wassail. Usage of Obeah finds her body fully infected now. I will have to run tests on her samples to find out if she is a carrier, too.
Subject displays heightened strength and, from what i gather, occasionally manifests random bursts of her Disciplines, mainly Thaumturgy. I will have to look into her background and determine if it was her strongest.

I will likely use CCTV to survey her from now on. My pod might not hold her for very long, in which case, I will have to terminate her.
Until then, I have much to learn.



“Oh-… Oh my god.”



Iofel sighs.
“Jordan, I did what I could. Not even high-powered Obeah affects the virus.” he explains to the horrified Neonate. “I’m sorry about your friend. She’s being kept alive, and maybe I’ll find a way to help her. But for now, it’s too dangerous to let her out.”



Jordan shivers.
“What’s that… stuff coming out of her?”

“Her own flesh mutating, from what I can gather. It doesn’t damage her, at least not anymore, now that they formed.” Iofel continues, clinical and cold.



"Now don’t give me that look. Being a Healer isn’t always glamorous, not is being Kindred. I will do what i can for your friend, but you need to come to gripes with the idea that she might not make it.”



“Yvonne?”

The woman seems to have tired herself out, banging on the glass. She twitches, breathing raggedly, barely reacting to Jordan’s presence.



Jordan sinks down to the ground and hugs her knees.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t protect you. I didn’t know this would happen, I…”
She pauses, a little choked up, and fights back the tears.
“The Primogen is going to help you. Everything will be okay.”





“I’ve just surveyed the scene. Spotless. Rosa must have cleaned up everything as soon as she found it.”

Husam is speaking in a louder, sharper tone than normal. He’s upset. Not at me, but still. I let him talk.

“Harrington is devastated. I had to restrain him to stop him from attacking Medea. So many innocent kine, and two fledglings, younger than you. This is a problem, Amias. A massive problem.”



“Take a deep breath, my Sheriff.” I interject, and see him deflate.
He rounds my desk, and leans against it.

“Sorry. I got… this is upsetting.” he apologizes, and I just look down at my nails.
“I know. I’m upset, too. What about the victims? Their families?”

“They don’t have any next of kin to notify. That’s why they were chosen as blood dolls. Nobody to miss them when they inevitably die to some half-baked Kindred’s frenzy.”
Again, I hear the disgust in his voice.



“Then we have to focus on stopping something like that from happening again.” I steer him into a productive lane again. “Has Medea sent in her report yet?”

He sighs.
“No. She says, she’s still filtering everything, and hasn’t found another incident of infected Kindred yet.”
The poor man sounds so defeated.
“Neither has Iofel. He says, he’s still running tests on the infected woman he captured.”

“So for now, it’s a waiting game on that front. Husam, I want sharper security on our fledglings and Neonates, and everyone who can’t reasonably defend themselves, or flee from an outbreak. Those who can, I want taking in those vulnerable people. Contact with bodily fluids of the sick is to be avoided at all costs, and anyone who has been contaminated is to be staked and monitored until we can be sure they won’t turn.”

Husam nods.
“I’ll inform the Harpy, and make sure everyone follows that decree.”
A sigh, and a slouch in his shoulders suggests he’s dropping professionalism.

“Amias, do you mind if I spend some time with your sister and her friend?”
A humanity-palate cleanser? I smile at him.
“Don’t ask me, ask them.”



“Should you be going out?”

Husam’s voice has us both flinching. I hate it when he appears out of nowhere. Yes, we get it, you can turn invisible or whatever.

“We’re just coming back, actually. Needed groceries.” I note. “The streets were calm. Don’t worry. This district isn’t as bad as what we’ve seen.”
Only a question of time, really. There’s a reason Shelley is borrowing my clothes, and not going to get her own stuff.



“Are you some sort of guard dog? Are you going to eat my shoes, so I can’t go out?” Shelley jabs at him, and I see the man smile.

“No.”
He sounded like he wanted to add something else, but couldn’t think of anything. I grin.
“Well, let’s go home then. No more walkies.”



We sit down in the living room, and I see Husam pipe up, his mood lifting instantly.
Dorky ass Vampire. He just wanted us inside, safe.

“Your brother should probably be telling you this, but I know he won’t. He’s too insecure about something to really admit things like that.”



Uh-huh. I nod, slightly skeptical.



Husam raises his chin.
“Him and I are an item.” he declares. “Recently. Two nights ago, actually.”
I snort.
“What, just two nights ago? I could’ve sworn you were already married. Attached by the hip as you are.” I tease, and Husam shakes his head.

“You know your brother even better than I do. He’s… shy, I suppose. Or just ashamed of everything that he does.” he states. “Though, me being close to him before wasn’t an indication of anything. I am his Sheriff. That doesn’t just mean Right Hand, Executive Force. It also means Bodyguard.”

“I think they made a movie about dating your bodyguard once.” I joke.



Shelley follows our exchange like a tennis match.

“So, you’re like, gay?” she eventually interjects, the directness of that question lures a chuckle from Husam.
“I… am dating a man.” he responds, raising a brow at her, and she nods sagely.

“I knew it. You’re super masc, but let’s be real, no straight guy wears earrings like that.”
Husam’s hand jolts up to his left earlobe, which is almost enough to make me laugh out loud.

“Is this a microaggression?” he asks, glancing at me. Probably my fault for teaching him that word. Century-old Ancilla as he is.

“No, no. I mean, slash pos.” Shelley backpedals and I grimace. She’s a few years younger than me, but sometimes I feel like I’m talking to a teenager with her.
Husam looks at me helplessly.

“That means ‘Oh you’re gay, I encourage that’.” I translate for him and he glances at Shelley.
Not an ounce of intimidation when she’s suddenly in his focus.

“Thank you. I think.”

I grin again. I love my brother in law. I guess.
Was about time, really. He’s right. I know Amias very well. And I saw him pine for this guy for the past five years.


____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Jordan was made by the wonderful SimspirationalDesigns , go ahead and give them some love.

Also, comments, criticism, death threats and praise are always welcome between chapters <3

A week has passed since my meeting with Iofel and Medea.

Reports of outbreaks are almost an hourly occurence at this point. Medea was so kind and patched her filtered feed to me.

The city isn’t safe anymore. I give it a few days until we have a full on outbreak on our hands.

Time to make arrangements.



“Okay. Everyone converge there once we have secure havens outside San Myshuno. Don’t draw attention.”

The court is going to abandon the city. For now. I’ve sent my people into the rural provinces, and set up a meeting spot to regroup.

Pff. My people. Never thought I’d say that. Guess it takes a crisis to make me feel like I’m Prince.



“So, we’re running?”

Shelley’s voice sounds accusing, but before I can defend myself, Husam does.



“We aren’t runninhg, we’re evacuating, which is the best option we have right now.” he explains. “Once the outbreak really hits, the streets are going to be clogged, and the city becomes a death trap.”



Cara pushes their hands into their pockets.

“We should find a place that can reasonably sustain us for a while. We don’t know when, if at all, we can come back. I’ve scouted.”

“Scouted?” Shelley sounds impressed.

“Yeah. There’s an old farmhouse, the owners of which recently died. we can squat there, and it probably has a lot of food stored up.”#



Nobody mentions the elephant in the room - what are we eating?

“That’s good. Should have enough space, too. Rural areas are going to have less infected, so we can move easier.”



“I know where it is, and I’m driving. Pack your shit. We should leave now, then we can make it before sunrise, and have enough time to sunproof a room for you guys.”

Cara, falling into her proactive headspace again. She always does, when she’s afraid.



“Looks good. Bit too well taken care of. How long ago did the owner die, Cara?” Husam asks.
“Oh, two months ago. Elderly couple-…”

Cara is cut off immediately by the front door slamming open.



“This… this is private property!”

An absolute country bumpkin of a man, with a bat he somehow decides to shield with his body.
I raise a brow.



“Hi. Um. Sorry, City’s getting a little spicy in the zombie department, uh… we thought this place was… empty?”

He shoulders his bat.
“I’m the rightful heir to the estate. Even if the courts disagree.”
What a silly, defiant look.



“Hey, please put that down. We don’t wanna take your home away, we just… need some safety.”
The man takes a step back when I approach him.
“I’m Amias. We can work, help you out on the farm, fend off infected…”



“…just don’t leave us out here to be torn apart. Please.”

I’m begging, but not for that reason.
If the sun rises on us, Husam and I are dead.



The man introduces himself as Martin, and thankfully, invites us in.
Turns out, the former owners of this place inofficially adopted him, and the state is now trying to seize the property, since there is no blood relation between him and them.
Even though he is in their will.

The ongoing legal battle and the impending outbreak has probably made him a little antsy.

The smell of food wafts through the house.



“It’s a family recipe.” Martin explains, and immediately digs into his own portion. “You look a little pasty, so you’ll like something warm and hearty.”



I smile, thinking about how I’ll have to throw this up later, and look from one of my companions to the next.
I can practically read off their faces what they’re thinking.



Cara is probably thinking something along the lines of “I fucking hate beans.”



Shelley… well, from her expression, probably “Hell yeah, dinner.” At least one of us is enjoying this.



Husam is smiling politely, but clearly looking to me for help.
I give him a subtle nod.
Do it for the Masquerade.





Yum. Franks and Beans that tastes like absolutely nothing.
Too bad, really, judging from the smell, it probably tastes great. To a human.
At least I don’t suffer alone.

We take our polite portion, and oh boy are we full fast.



“I have some sleeping bags for you.” Martin offers, lighting the fireplace for us.
Yeah, sleeping bags Husam and I won’t be using, with windows this large and curtains this thin.



“This is the only room in this entire house without windows.”
I sigh, resigning to my fate.

“Risky. But Martin said he would be working most of the day. Let’s hope he doesn’t use the upstairs bathroom.” Husam agrees.
I look at him.
“Where do we even… lay down?”
“Once torpor hits, you won’t care.” he responds. “You take the tub. I’ll sleep by the door.”



I sit down.
“This is… temporary.” i assure him and he snorts.
“Not the worst place I’ve ever slept.” he notes.

“But is it in the top ten?”

More laughter. God, I could listen to him laugh for hours.



The poor guy looks so uncomfortable.
But, he’s out like a light shortly after.

Which means, I have about twenty minutes before I zap out, too.



Oh, how the mighty have fallen. The great Prince of San Myshuno and his deadly Sheriff. Sleeping in a bathtub and on the floor.



I suppose anyone who tries to come in would stumble over Husam, is anything.



“Are the boys really going to be okay up there?”

We’re shattered, but Shelley won’t settle down.



“Babygirl. Settle down.” I demand, and she obediently slides into her sleeping bag. “We’ll still be there, and if anything happens, I’ll knock that country boy out with his own bat.”

“Hey, don’t be so mean.” she scolds me. “He’s really nice.”
I sigh.
“He is. It’s gonna be fine, is what I mean. Who knows. Maybe we’ll become best friends and tell him everything, like I told you.”

She snorts.



“I’m just worried.” she admits, and I shake my head, then point to the ceiling.

“They’re fine. They’re right above us, and I’m a light sleeper. If anything happens, I’ll intervene.”
I grin, and look at her.
“They’re growing on you, huh?”



“Amias is a nerd. And Husam is too. They aren’t scary. And be honest. If they didn’t have you, they’d both be dead.”



There’s less activity here. But we still feel their presence.

Shelley and I wake up around noon.



Martin is outside, working on his farm, and actually seems to be having fun doing it. We step out, and watch him for a moment. He doesn’t seem to mind.



I feel strangely calm. Maybe because we’re out of San Myshuno. It feels safer here, even if it probably isn’t, at least not for the long haul.

Shelley reaches for my hand, and I feel that annoying elation again. Despite my reservation, i link hands with her.

“I felt better in a highrise, I’m not even gonna lie.” she admits, and I have to agree. It has its pros and cons.
High off the ground and away from dangers in the streets, yes, but it also happens to be full of infectable people, in a much higher concentration that here.

“We’re gonna have to fortify this place before things get really bad.” i respond.

“How bad do you think it’ll get?”
She leans into me, and I just, on autopilot, put my arm around her.



“I don’t know. Out here, we’re definitely better off than in a metropolitan city. We might not even see the big outbreaks.”

I talk casually, but my heart races.
Is she just seeking comfort? Is this just gals being pals? Shelley has always been pretty physical with me. She’s a cuddler.

She has to know that I like girls, right? I never made much of a secret of it. Or did she think i was just complimenting people?



She sighs, and closes her eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face.

As much as I try to keep myself aloof and untouchable, I know in my heart of hearts that I’ve been into her for a while.
Maybe an impending apocalypse makes me feel a sense of urgency here, like I’m pretty sure Amias had that little push to finally stop pining for his Sheriff.

But am I willing to take the risk to potentially ruin my relationship to my best friend, if I’m misinterpreting her?

She looks cute in my shirt. If I squint, I can delude myself into a scenario where my girlfriend steals my sweaters or whatever.

Man, i hate this.



He really slept on the floor all day, huh?

I mean, not that he had much of an option to move during torpor, but still.



The dedication is kind of cute.

I lean over him, waiting for him to wake up. My body aches from the weird position I slept in, and the less than ideal bedding. He must be off even worse.

Slowly, i watch the life return to his undead body. It’s subtle and slow. A furrow his his brows, then a breath, fluttering eyelids, before he finally raises his head and opens his eyes.

“My Prince.”
Not a formal greeting. It’s more like a little tease.
I smile and help him up.



But I don’t let him talk.
Husam makes a surprised noise, giggles, but returns my kiss immediately.



“What did I do to deserve this warm greeting?”

I smile at him wistfully.
“Slept on the floor for me.” I answer. “Guarded the door.”
“With my thick head? I was also asleep, Amias.” he jokes.
“You said that.” i counter and he steps back, to roll his shoulders.

“Tense?” I ask.
He nods.
“That tub looks very tempting right now.” he muses. “Hot water and stiff muscles.”



His suggestion comes so naturally.
Still, I’m shy as usual, but he doesn’t really let me, hugs me close, and gently bites my shoulder.

“Relax. We might not get very many opportunities to be carefree going forward.”
And he’s damn right about it.
I let myself melt against his form, and sigh deeply.

“I didn’t bring it up before. But now we have an unaware human, and… well, what are we going to sustain ourselves on?” I muse and he hums in agreement.
“It’s something we’re going to have to find a solution for. And probably fast. Every evening, we’re going to get hungrier, and that is if we don’t have to use disciplines, or heal.”

A glance over my shoulder.
“How are you feeling?”



He shrugs.
“I could eat.” he says, and I scoff. that usually means ‘I’m so hungry it’s causing me active physical distress’.
As much as I’m difficult, this man is allergic to admitting weakness.

“Tell me if it gets too bad to handle, okay? I’ll give you mine.”

I feel him tense.
“I… don’t think that’s a good idea. Especially when I’m hungrier.”
He leaves things unsaid, but I know what he means. His Clan’s curse would fling him into frenzy if he isn’t careful, and while I trust him implictly, if he tells me he can’t handle it… I trust him on that, too.

“I thought we were going to relax.” he then complains, and I decide to do a 180 on him.



“Look. Martin has a rubber ducky.” I inform him, picking the toy up. “I think it fits. Picture him playing with it in the bath, with a little foam-hat.”

Husam snorts.
“You’re silly.”



I squeak the rubber ducky, and shove it in his direction, so he’s dramatically face to face with it.

“Quack, my Sheriff.”



Getting Yvonne out of the sealed tank was easy.

What Jordan would have to do next, that’s the hard part.
She has been watching Iofel gather data from her gradually fading friend for a week.
At first, Yvonne still looked at her, reached for her through the glass, like she was reaching out for help.
But now, she just groans, and claws ar the growth from her stomach.



There is nothing left of her.
She shambles aimlessly, sedated by the various chemicals in her body, only vaguely registering Jordan’s presence at all.

She grips her knife tighter.

The hurt is already there, in the back of her mind, but she fights it back.
She has to do this for her friend. Put her out of her misery, let her rest.
What Iofel thinks… she doesn’t even consider that right now.



Yvonne stumbles and falls on her back, when Jordan delivers a sharp kick to her chest.
She has to do this fast and effectively, end her as quick and painless as she can.

For a second, she catches herself looking at Yvonne’s face, like she’s searching for a trace of the woman she know.



But there’s nothing left.

The creature, the empty shell gurgles grotesquely, when Jordan shoves the blade into her mouth, up into her brain.

Iofel was right. Sometimes, being a Healer isn’t pleasant.
Sometimes, it means doing something messy, painful, but necessary.



“I’m sorry,” she whispers, as the creature expires. “You’re my best friend. I love you. I’ll remember you forever.”

She hopes that some part of Yvonne is still conscious enough to understand her.



Jordan can’t even find it in herself to cry. Instead, she lies in bed, numb, staring straight ahead, while the undead outside groan.

They won’t get in. Iofel’s haven is warded against everything and anything. But she partially wishes they would.
Ever since Prince Amias gave the order to evacuate, her and Iofel had been trapped together, safe, but confined.

This is actually his bedroom. No wonder he finds her so fast.



From his steps alone, she can tell he’s angry.
But, seeing her lying there takes the wind out of him.
“Childe,” he says, and sits down at her side.



“Yeah. I did.” she answers his question before he even asks it.

“I… know that.” he answers, and sighs. “I’m not mad. She was your friend.”
Jordan sniffles a little, but still can’t cry.

“i didn’t want her to suffer anymore.” she confesses, choked up, the pressure in her chest to heavy, she can barely breathe.



“You are a Healer. I told you what that means before, haven’t I?”
Her usually so strict Primogen sounds gentle now. “It’s out duty to learn how this disease works, and combat it. And, it’s also out duty to end a life that’s lost.”

Jordan is quiet. But she nods.

“I might not have been able to save Yvonne, but her infection gave us valuable data about how the disease works. She didn’t die in vain. We can save hundred, thousands with this information.” he continues.

“i wish she could have been here to see the progress.” Jordan whispers.



“She was.”
Iofel puts his hand on her cheek.
“I think, she saw and understood what I was doing. She knew that all this would save lives. And I think, she died knowing that you were there to save her in the end.”

That breaks the seal.
Jordan leans into Iofel’s hand and cries like a little girl.



The noises from outside are gnawing at Medea’s patience.
She and Rosa fled to one of Medea’s various safehouses outside the city, a tiny, rundown former arcade, now defunct and kind of nasty… but very safe.



“I know it isn’t comfy. But it’s secure.” Medea defends herself from her guest, but Rosa shakes her head.
“I know you don’t use these places unless you have to.” she says, and immediately switches topics. “You haven’t heard from Iofel either, have you?”

Medea sighs. No, indeed she hasn’t, aside from the nessage that he wouldn’t be leaving the city.



“Stupid, stubborn Salubri.” she complains. “As if his work is going to be any use to us if he gets infected.”
“I have a bad feeling about him.” And that means a lot. The clairvoyant Malkavian Primogen has feelings that aren’t just opinions. Her gut instinct usually proves correct.



“Hm?”
Medea pipes up.
“Headache or Premonition?”

Rosa groans, and shakes her head.
“Ugh. Both.” she complains. “It’s been getting worse in the past few nights. My blood’s going to drain fast.”

Medea’s twisted features soften.
“I’ve got you. I always do.”



Tap, tap.
The hardware isn’t great, but Medea makes it work.
She lets out a stressed sigh, wishing she was underground, where she belongs. Misses her Warrens, misses her high security haven.

The trickle of news starts to slow down, so she focuses on people’s social media instead.

The center of San Myshuno is already overrun, and people are fleeing to the outer corners of the city.



“Looks like Prince Amias was right to give the evacuation order-… Rosa?”

Blood drips from Rosa’s nose, and she clutches her head, face scrunching up in pain.

“I’m fine, I-…”



“…This is very. Very inconvenient.”
Her voice shakes a little. It’s clear that she’s fighting her Bane. In their fifty years of being together, Medea has only seen her like this once.



“Are there infected outside? I hear them but I’m not sure…”

“They’re real. I hear them too.” Medea helps.
“And inside?” Rosa’s voice is strained from the effort of keeping it somehwta steady.
“Just us.” Medea helps.

“Okay.”
Rosa takes a deep breath.
“I, I’m going to pace a bit. Is that okay?”

Medea nods.
“Tell me if you need me, okay?”



“Rosa, it’s okay.”

Hours have passed, and she catches Rosa mid-pace, steadying her. Her eyes had gone glassy, which is usually a sign to snap her out of it.

“I-…”
She trails off, and Medea grabs her hand.



Rosa’s hand shakes a little, unsteady in Medea’s grip.
She breathes.

“I’m sorry.” she finally articulates. “i know this isn’t… helping.”

“Love, right now, we’re just trying to stay alive until we hear from the others. You can just relax and stop trying to help. Whatever that even means.”



“You’re working, and i’m just here, trying to filter one nonsensical nightmare from the other in my head, I-…”

“Rosie, I’m literally just scrolling twitter.” Medea jokes. “The sun is coming up soon. We’re gonna rest, and tomorrow, your brain might have calmed down. We had a stressful trip here. Breathe.”

Medea can see the hunger in Rosa’s eyes. Every one of her rapid-fire premonition burns blood, and soon enough, she’ll need more.



When the next sunset wakes the two women, Rosa is trembling with hunger, her rouse from the dead drying up her veins further.

“I, you, you’ll need your blood, Medea, I…” Rosa tries to fight, but Medea cuts her off.



“It’s okay. I’ll be okay.”’
Her claws wrap around her hand again, and she watches Rosa calm down. Like she always does, when Medea holds her hand.

“I can spare the blood. I want you to eat well, Rosie.”



Rosa lifts her arm to, and leans in.
Her bite is so careful, like she’s worried it might actually hurt, but as soon as her fangs pierce Medea’s skin, she loses all inhibitions.



She feeds, then pins the Nosferatu to the wall.

Medea gasps in surprise, the impact knocking the wind out of her, but she quickly adapts, and returns the hungry kiss Rosa pulls her into.
She feels her fangs catch at her lip, and suddenly, Rosa’s kiss tastes a lot more like blood.



Her breath hitches, when Rosa lets go of her hands, and uses them to lift her up a little - which is quite easy, considering how scrawny Medea is.

Feeding tends to make Rosa hectically affectionate like that, but Medea won’t complain. What’s a little tenderness while the world outside goes to hell?



She gives in, and leans into her lover’s arms.
A bit of respite, and forgetting. just for this moment.



Elo didn’t exactly expect to re-use their old connections to the church like that, but stranger times have occured in their long life.



And that sweet boy…



They found him on the run, keeping a cool head in the chaos, even leading a small group safely out of the city.

A leader, and a smart, confident man.
They just had to have him.



Blood is always sweetest when they drink it for the purpose of Embracing.
Especially if it happens without the Prince’s consent.



They were softly petting him, as he laid recovering on their lap.
His name is Amir. He happily followed them, and told them everything they wanted to know, with just a little bit of Dominate.



“Sire…”

The poor boy hasn’t been given enough blood during his Embrace. After all, Elo needs to conserve theirs.



“Suck it up.” they calmly tell him. “You’ll learn to handle hunger soon, so you might as well get used to the feeling.”
Who knows if he’ll even make it?
Elo supposes they can diablerize him, if he annoys them too much.
And if he gets infected...

Well. Elo knows where Iofel hides out. And a Salubri owing them a favor is always a nice asset to have.



Not that they aren’t possessive. Amir is their Childe. Their property.
Just like all their Childer are, even if Elo abandoned them in San Myshuno.
If they don’t make it, they weren’t worth the blood at all.



And while they hide out in this church and wait for the signal to converge, they might as well entertain themself with a little fledgling.



Amir had been dreading this moment.
Elo did tell him that he would lose his reflection as a part of the vampiric curse, but that doesn’t mean he’s quite ready for reality yet.



He peeks around the corner.
Like that mirror is a preador lurking for him.



Nothing.

Like he doesn’t even exist at all.
He feels an icy dread twist his guts up, when he touches the cool surface of the mirror.
Maybe it’s existential dread.



Or maybe it’s the realization of what actually happened to him, here in this quiet moment, by himself, while his Sire hunt.

Sick to his stomach, he stumbles into the church tower, where he knows Elo sleeps, and curls up in their coffin.

He should hate them. Maybe part of him does, for taking his life, and forcing their curse onto him.
But an even bigger part of him, a foreign, intruding power in his mind forces him to love them.



They find him quickly and he sheepishly sits up.
He cried, and hugged the pillow inside the coffin tight to his chest. It smelled like them. A little like their blood.

“Aww, baby vamp.” Elo coos, splattered in the blood of some unfortunate victim. “Did you cry? Are you a crybaby, Amir?”

He nods.
“I was scared.” he responds. not elaborating on why, but Elo smiles anyways.



“Hush. Sire’s here now.” they soothe, and climbinto the coffin next to him. Drape their spindly arm around him, their body cold like a corpse.
But despite that, it calms Amir.
His Sire. Their blood in his veins now.

They lie back, and tug him along with them.



“You wanna feed on me? Hungry little fledgling you are.”
Yes. Yes he does. The hunger is torture, so he obediently leans in, and bites them.
Elo sighs happily.
They feel so fragile under him, probably weighing half as much as him. But still, he feels completely at their mercy.



Out of all the evacuating Kindred, Amaranda and Chase probably have the most comfortable retreat.
A bungalow in the outskirts, clean and luxurious, as is expected from its Ventrue owner.



Still, their mood is dampened. Not only because of the outbreak sweeping over San Myshuno.
Chase Harrington did lose his two youngest fledglings to the virus already.



He keeps a brave face. Unmoving, untouched, but Amaranda has known hom long enough to see through the mask.



“I’m sorry it ended like that, Chase.”
The first words spoken after hours of silence.
Chase looks up to her.
“No need. I blame no one but myself.” He sounds casual, but his words cut deep.
“Why would you blame yourself? We didn’t know. We had no imagination of how bad things would get. And that it could affect Kindred.”



“We did, did we not?” Chase counters. “The Prince warned us, and we decided not to take him as seriously as we should have. Any why? Because he is a fledgling, and his Sheriff’s puppet.”

Amaranda is quiet.
“Maybe. But. That doesn’t mean their blood is on your hands.”



“It is on my hands. Amaranda.”
He sighs.
“Leave me to my grief. You can’t help me with this.”



Amaranda sits in silence for a moment. Watches her friend, wondering about the people she sent off into the countryside.
Her Childer are all Ancillae, so she isn’t worried. But she wonders how she would feel. If this had happened to one of them.



The world feels darker, even as sunrise draws closer.
Amaranda sits in the bath, enjoying the amenities, but her mind won’t calm.



She worries for Chase.
He was very timid when he apologized to Medea, just before they left the city, and went their own ways.
How broken her friend must be.

She also thinks about her fledgling Prince, and his fate. He’d sounded confident in the phone conference he’d led, but Amaranda is very socially intelligent.
She read the anxiety out of his voice, even when he did his best to hide it.

A sigh moves her whole upper body.
Is this the end of San Myshuno’s Camarilla? Of San Myshuno’s entire civilization?

Is it the end of all civilization?

Her thoughs spiral, and she gets out of the tub, before she passes out in it.



She lies in Chase’s bed, when torpor hits her.
Alone.



Chase sits in an armchair in the corner, insisting on sleeping there.
Some old world chivalry.