A Meeting with Rainer

((Feel free to reply!))

The harsh scratching of quill caused deep impressions through the parchment Rainer bent over with a furrowed brow and frustrated look. He hated to write these letters, but such a thing must be done. Messages to the far corners of old keeps and rustic kingdoms, to seek insight in the plight of this city, and the madness that gnawed upon its bones.

"How many times have I witnessed these travesties. How many more will fall?" His quill paused then, the black hawk feather rising to withhold them from flowing into the missive. "There's no use in this. Especially if the rose has arrived. The players are assembled, like before."

A pair of drunkards swayed down the bar from the aged ranger. One smacked the arm of the other, nodding to the side and this man's ramblings. They shared their thoughts in Turkish, giving solid glares of fear and hatred to Rainer, who spoke in a tongue they never heard before. Lips forming a grim line, he reprimanded himself from musing in germanic.

The pair soon rose and fumbled backwards to leave, making small signs in their heathen's way against evil as a shadow fell across the Malkavian.

"You choose a strange locale for meetings like this. Most of your kind prefer their dens, do they not?" The calif settled with ease into the seat across from him, bejeweled fingers curling into a long goatee as twisted as a snake and marked in the fine silver of age and wisdom. Kohl and the ancient stippling of his people's tattooing marked him as one never to be approached by simple men.

Rainer knew this would cost him, like so many other meetings. "Surimar. What took you."

The man split into a grin, teeth white as ivory with a single diamond set in a incisor. This was a gift from their last meeting, which had nearly lost Rainer an arm in the heist. "My friend of friends, you know I arrive when I will. Not when I must. You have your papers for messaging?"

Rainer gave a nod, never once letting his eyes slide from the man before him. Any slight and the entire situation would fold as a finely made house of cards. The contact held love only for his sire Farkas, yet aided if key items and favors were traded.

"And my payment?"

"The tablet is part of a larger piece. It tells of the story of Lilith and a prophecy of the future. I am closer to learning what truths lay within it, but I need more pieces." The avarice in those eyes burned all the brighter, his heart thrummed with unspeakable life that stirred the beast in Rainer.

"Then I shall take these letters."

Despite his best efforts, when Rainer turned to take up the parcel of letters, he found it gone along with the Calif as if he never was. Turning back to his parchment, he continued his writings as curses churned in his head.

The night was young, her sire not even come to call yet, and Maeve was already knee deep in an arguement.

"Falhalah, I appreciate your concern for my... well being, but I have a meeting with my sire that you will need to elsewhere for."

She really didn't want to use Falhalah to test what combination of wine, blood or drugs would need to be applied to a ghoul to incapacitate them - just to get him to shut up and settle down. She'd likely as not end up killing him. Random fools were plentiful, people she could have read were not....

Damnation, I still need to seek some place I can use for discreet work. I -have- become sloppy.

Not only was this not a discussion she wanted to have with him present for, but she also did not want him to be caught in the more literal line of fire depending on what happened.

"For tonight you can either stay in the sleeping room, possibly tied up by my Sire, while we chat. Or excuse yourself for a while this evening. Be glad I am offering you the options!"

Falhalah heard the clarion call of the king of kings, hearkening him to claim the defiled in the name of the lord. Every evening, his rants became more pronounced. The words spoken now seemed far more a pulpit. A gleam of light burned in his fevered eyes, as if the passions of his desires threatened to consume his sanity.

"I have seen the fires, they call from the heavens and bathe this land. The city walls shall crumble, exposing the demons that thrive." He rose to slam his hands upon the table until it shook. "And I fear you are one of those to be driven through!" His breath was a ragged thing, heart thundering so fast to tempt the beast in Maeve body.

Never had he risen his voice or temper this way. Never.

As moments passed staring at Maeve, the heat and anger faded slowly. The lines of his face smoothed then downturned. Intelligence returned to his eyes and a gasp of contrition. "Maeve..."

The front door opened silently as Rainer slipped within, never once did a soft knock or shifting of lock alert Maeve of his arrival. He moved as a wolf, bearing down upon a rabbit, waiting for it to bolt away at any moment. Within three steps, Rainer wrapped around Fahlalah. Arm around the neck, hand cradling his head, leg bracing his weight hard into the table's edge to restrain any movement backward.

His voice whispered soft at the priest's ear, as if urging a scared horse to relax. Latin murmured in soft prayers, as a mantra, seeking the rituals the man held to for his entire cloistered life. "Trust in the Lord. Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the Lord; trust in him, and he will do this. Be still before the Lord, and wait patiently for him."

Fahlalah fought at first then began whispering brokenly in reply as the pressure of that arm on his neck disrupted his consciousness. The weight of his body crumbled into Rainer's arms, easily hoisting him into his arms to move through into another smaller chamber to lay him down.

"Do you have herbs to aid in sleep but block dreaming? He is caught. Like so many in this city."

Maeve nearly jumped when Rainer had appeared - her ghouls sudden diatribe had concerned her, but not so much as Rainer's sudden appearance. She visibly relaxed once she was certain Fahlalah was merely unconscious.

The young cainite nodded once to sire before stepping over to her jars beside the desk. She began mixing mugwart and valerian together, choosing her next words carefully.

"Your timing is auspicious sire. But adds other questions besides the ones I already had. 'Caught' I have seen happening here with others, but by whom and why? What is causing the cities dreams to go mad?"

Rainer watched the ghoul with a keen eye, knees pressing on the man's shoulders into the cot he laid upon with fingers holding his head as still as possible. Every muscle relaxed ready to react in a moment's flickering of life or waking. He seemed to have ignored the questions and words, until finally he collected himself to reply.

"My timing is what it is. I have little doubt you could have attended this, but you might have killed him." His chin turned slightly to help his words reach her. "As to caught, may of the city during the day are bought by some strange dream. There are theories. What I would ask is your thoughts. You've a keen mind, if you focus."

For once, he seemed talkative and invited conversation.

Maeve's eyes flickered up briefly at the rare compliment - however jibing others might take it. She considered his words as she worked the replacement mortar and pestle on the herbs.

The dreams of late since arriving in the city. Fire and ash from both Fahlalah'd visions and her own. Plague, rats from the sea, and now many caravaners sudden departure - fleeing ahead of a storm.

Where were Tereza and Tamas?

"It is some how tied back to Michael. His presence is the commonality when Tereza and I both dreamed and saw each other there. Horus claims he even saw and spoke to Michael while there - though I have no means of confirming this and might simply be the Settite attempting to braggart."

Gentle hands poured the herbs into a cup with wine. She closed her eyes in reflection, resting her hand on a small blade. Considering if the addition of blood to the dose to ensure it's efficiency.

How long did it take a bound one to become resiliant? How much blood? Was it by bloodline, time?

"The fire and ash though, in my other visions and from his as well... I can taste warnings and signs of disaster on the wind Rainer, and not only from the visions. Other things as well. Like bits of a puzzle. Every ache in my bones shrieks of something terrible approaching."

His eyes closed, still facing away from her, to hide the frustration in that reply. If she, so young still, could sense and see what would come, then the end of the city was paramount. "Something terrible indeed. When I traveled the highlands, a old man believed to be mad yet wise for his years, spoke of histories. He said within all those marked by Brighid see through her eyes to burn as brightly as the fire of her hair. Why your tongue must be as gifted..." The last became a growl which he ground down between his teeth.

Little muscles shifted and moved as the monk below him began to moan, one hand feebly trying to pull at the weight on him. "Your aid in this moment would be welcome, Maeve."

As she neared to work on the man, attentive and careful, Rainer dropped his face further to conceal his eyes from meeting her own. Perhaps she could foretell and speak from peering at his soul through them. Or simply he hated to be in this predicament. Both felt true in his heart.

"Michael is losing sight of the world around him. Yet for all of his age and depth of generation, could we not believe the same would happen to us? He sees and hears so far, delves into a world I cannot muster the strength of will to consider. And now, he is beset upon by leeching politicians." Although alone, he knew better than to speak the word of Ventrue even here.

"There are humans found to have burned their eyes out after seeing the archangel appear to them. Court is rife with reports of miracles in the day, and nightmares in the night. Maeve, what if we are still in the dream...now? How can we determine the truth of it? Even the strongest of bloodlines in this city is bound by his fate."

Her insight - as cursed and blessed as her blood was now. It had drove her wild as a child to know so much. The kindness of the elders who still kept the old ways and eased her suffering. Her line's madness had only set it all alight in the embrace. A blaze in the web of her thoughts.

The mention of Brighid dragged her from the reverie and she concentrated on giving her ghoul his dose. Her sire turning his face from her made her flinch. She had learned to ignore the sting of judgement - but from the damned and particularly from him, it was much harder.

She cast her eyes down toward Fahalalh, administering the draught. Her voice was very soft between them "If the dream has truly spread farther, swollowed the whole city into it, sleeping and awake, who is to say what is truly real?"

"But, the dreams with Michael are... broken. Like light reflected through quartz crystal. Distorted as though something is twisting his thoughts and sight. If we were asleep and in the dream, we would see the shattered sight of sun above us. In all my dreams it has been present."

"We do not know what fate is bound up in this, but we still have will and wits of our own. How long has it been since Michael has begun to lose sight of the world?"

"The dream has consumed far too many, Maeve. Cainites to mortals, from beggars to kings. As to how long..." He slipped from the cot to stand near, watching the ministrations of potion and the fluttering eyes of Falhalah. Slowly the twitches ended, face smoothed, soft moans ceased. "From what others speak of, the last half century, the world has become a very strange place for those within the city walls."

Turning hard on the balls of his feet, Rainer sought the satchel he left on the door stoop, a heavy thing of worn leather and loops for holding the various scroll cases, weapons, and tools he often kept. Digging through the depths of the limitless bag, he laid out two small books hard bound in leather, a folded scarf, a few small sacks, deeper until he finally located what he sought.

A squat bottle of dark glass wrapped in thin leather and thin scarf of old linen with a monogram upon it laid heavily. If the man breathed still, he certainly would sigh. Returning the clothing and items, he left the two books and the bottle, taking up the thin scarf to rub it between his fingers slowly. "I thought...we would have a drink as we speak. I believe you have much on your mind, as do I. Normally I spend this night alone. But not this time..."

Teeth clenching tightly again, he sought two small cups to fill them halfway with a thick old drink. "Fate. I often thought you may have a clearer idea of it than I. I have never held easily to the ideals of a Christian faith, nor any other. Perhaps that makes me a simple man. Maeve, join me."

Maeve rose gracefully to her feet from Falhalah, setting the goblet down on the desk. The odd behavior of her sire drew her attention, and she watched him with sharp eyes as he pulled items from his bag.

"So the dream has lasted longer then even I thought. I had heard mention of his long departure from the public eye some twenty years ago, due to unfortunate events. I thought perhaps it was the tilting point. Now I wonder what changed half a century ago..."

She trailed off seeing the books and bottle emerge from the satchel. The surge of hunger at the sight of real books that it nearly caught her off guard, but she quickly supressed it. So rarely was it taunted in private that it smouldered like a low heat in her gut - promising to make a night even longer.

Tilting her head at Rainer curiously, she flicked her braid over her shoulder before nodding in agreement "A great deal on my mind, that is one way to put it."

Why do you normally spend this night alone? was on the edge of her lips, but she pushed it aside for another time.

"Fate is a different thing for my people, so if my vision is clearer, I don't know."

"Only those Morrígu will claim in battle have a fate before them, as I have read the greeks and scholars of Christ describe it. We only have those who are under geis - one given a great task, or a gift they must use to some end. It is considered bad luck to break ones geis, but we can still chose to do so."

Her mouth twitched up in a small smile, as she gently took a seat next to Rainer.

Unlike most men, he did not raise a brow or scoff, not a sound or motion. He did as always, stared hard, judged endlessly, and gave one nod of his head. "I fear we may not have been marked by your Morrígu or destined in the ways of Muslims or Taoists, but by coming to this place."

Pulling a chair back and settling into it, he offered across the small cup to his childer while raising his own. He murmured something so low, one word, before taking a small sip. The drink itself seemed thick as molasses, yet the moment it hit the tongue a thrill of flavor filled their mouths. Spices thick and strong, a touch of something like tea, a bitterness cut with the sweetness of honey, and deep within it blood so old and refined. The drink brought memories to him, a slight flicker of emotion that made him clench the monogrammed cloth tighter.

"I read once that a man's character is his fate. Seems my need to seek the answer to questions has damned us both. But it was needed, as you can see." The cup moved back and forth in his fingers. "There are many shadows in this city, pulling upon the other. And with so many dead and ashed, learning truths has become all the harder. From what I know of this city's past is a series of poisonings with deaths occurred, only cainites. Whether one or more, they hunted Ventrue and Lasombra, and others in the Latin quarter. A death born in blood..."

His eyes watched the cup he moved back and forth, his words ending quietly. His eyes then pulled up to meet her own, holding that gaze another full minute before continuing.

"Are you bound by a geis, Maeve? Or do you believe Michael binds us, even now? What do you see?"

The slender woman smiled a little behind the cup as she sipped the rich drink, leaning back thoughtfully in her chair "I am little better in our need for answers. Even before you came to the moors."

It reminded her of the honey-mead back home. It eased the brooding heat that had tormented her these last few days spent putting mortals down.

"The elders believed so.... that my insight was a geis from one of our goddess to protect our people."

Maeve stared broodingly into the cup, watching the motion of the dark liquid. Closing her eyes and letting everything collect in a pool in in her thought - every shouted word and hushed comment that had passed through her sight since coming to this city. Her voice was nearly a whisper, as though every word was nearly dragged from her.

"I see a web, vast as the land itself. It's spindling anchors go back far, far across the span of the world. Within this place it is so tangled that the shape of the weavers or the trapped can't be seen. There are so many pulling at the threads, tighter and tighter, that it traps all those caught within. A noose made of many hands."

Rainer studied Maeve as her eyes closed and voice whispered the soft insights. A web closing in, as a trap, a net, a noose. The images passed through his mind, an awful sound of a low whistle through bone, the shadow of a body swaying, how the dead hung. The drink raised again, swallowed hard to blot out those memories with ones that burned all the brighter this same night every year, despite the centuries passed.

"A wise man would leave this place. Consider the trap and seek their own survival. And yet, would not that sort of wisdom just make us murderers through inaction? Perhaps hands are indeed behind the dreams of Michael. He was never so fragile. In the height of his rule, he was as bloodthirsty as the Dracon. I was told such tales of their days of war. The Three. Michael, the Dracon, and Marc Anthony."

His head tilted to the side, fingers moving the small cup back and forth again and again. Small circles on the wood. "His rule has become so charitable. Why would someone wish him dead? How would you twist the dream into this strange reality--"

The words clipped in his mouth as his eyes burned bright enough to glow. "Dreams and madness. Maeve...would he?"

"But who has gained benefit from his rule? And whom has he trampled to make it a reality? Pride is a terrible thing, and there must be many bruised prides created to bring it about."

Maeve's eyes snapped open, her reverie broken by Rainer's sharp words. She shook her head for a moment to clear the rambling thoughts and focus on what he had just said.

"If you mean whom I suspect as well, whom else could so completely twist a dream about without notice? But is he alone in this? Who all stands against Michael?"

"For once, I wish Farkas was closer. We would need to think on this from many trails. Who would gain from Michael's fall, or rather that of the city? He has held this city since its creation, and turned it upon this...this vision of his. Took two warlords to his side. Conquered all within the nation, built a people and then simply turned the other cheek. As if marked by scripture. The man goes from vengeful to compassionate."

His eyes squinted upon the lines and curves of her face, as if waiting for some change to it with his words and thoughts. "Now he offers peace. A font of knowledge. A freedom of...class..." His brows furrowed then, fingers tapping along the cup. If her arm laid any closer, certainly she would feel the keen pain of bones snapped and moved. Shoulders hunching into tight lines, Rainer could not quite make a final decision on who.

"So who would stand against him...are those that would not agree with his twisting of class? Of freedoms he provides. Or perhaps the slight is so different-- WHY! Would a clan or people truly engage in warfare simply because they do not agree with the ethics of his choices?!" Voice raised to a painful, sharp degree, Rainer tried to reign in his explosive anger, leaving long gouges in the table top.

"Tell me this is wrong thinking, Maeve."

Maeve chewed on her lip in thought, her sire's anger and frustration were familiar territory - for once not due to actions of her own.

But she could offer no words of comfort, and at last she shook her head sadly "I could say the words, but we would both know it was falsehood. Even more so when I show you what I've found and one reason I asked you here."

She stood up carefully, and walked over to her desk. Pulling it back from the wall - gently so as not scrape the floor - she reached between the wall and desk to open the small compartment she had built behind her desk to hide small things.

Inside was the small purse she had taken from the mortal spy - the ring, and the two Mithras coins. She pulled all of them out, pushing the desk back against the wall - and walked over to set them on the table.

"I found a mortal spy hiding amoungst the sick at the church - for what purpose, I do not know. But I found these on his person. Have you spoken yet to Horus about the one in his possession?"

Rainer stood then, taking the coins into the cloth in his hand, not allowing the metal to touch his skin. A familiar curse in slavinc hissed between his lips, eyes following the marks of bulls and gaelic. He turned them over and over, hunching over and nearly growling in his anger. The urge to pace burned yet the small quarters kept him in a tight circle round and round the table.

When in these moods, he pulled away from Maeve to seek his own path. What happened then remained a mystery, only his return a few days later with immediate action and plans. Something kept him by her side, by choice or necessity, who could quite say. Bending over the coins, then studying the ring, he kept his gaze tightly upon those pieces of evidence, speaking out loud his inner thoughts.

"A mortal among the lepers...no among the fallen ill of plague. If mortal, even ghoul, he could carry the illness back. So his mission would end in death. What would drive a man to accept...faith? Family? Security...what would secure-- his soul. No, his family's lifetime. So he arrived to watch, to spy, not dead though showing some signs of illness. To carry the illness further perhaps. Deeper into this area. Were there other spies then? In the northern district, the iron works, perhaps."

His steps continued, sure and steady, round and round. The coins clinked against the other, as repetitive as his steps. "What would he spy upon? The reaction of the kindred, and those capable to aid. They would show no illness in return. What would be expected...Nosferatu. They seek the life of a Nosferatu, or those keen on protecting the city. Why sicken that district...centralized, pollute the blood, pollute..." His eyes then turned to Maeve. "What would happen if this illness was introduced into the water supply?"

Maeve's face furrowed in concern, sitting down at the table to allow more room for Rainer to pace. The only sign of her own tension was her hand twisting the end of her braid around. Anger smouldered against those who had caused this and set her sire into such a state. She bit her lip - the edge of pain to force it back down.

The implications of what he had said still hung heavily.

"This plague started in the Nosferatu's district Rainer, where they live and feed. I do not think there are any in this city with knowledge of the plague, let alone that our kind can contract it through blood. If not for my untimely presence here, so nearby, it would very likely have claimed much of the district before anyone was aware of it... and many of the inhabitants who feed there."

"If I had not been there and discovered what the sick had contracted, most or all of the Nosferatu would be dead now."

Her eyes became unfocused in thought, as though searching through books in her mind. Trying to remember the information Rainer requested.

"Herodotus wrote that it can be spread by vermin, particularly if they access food. By blood, I knew of from writings while we visited Rome. Some of our kind fell prey to it before and it was so recorded in one of the archives."

"I cannot say for certain. If it can spread via water has never been mentioned. Small amounts would be too difuse to be contagious. It would depend on how much and where - with large enough amounts, nearly anything could be spread through the water."

He focused on her words, listening with that intensity he could have in times of crisis. How many times had this role been reversed? Farkas pacing and speaking with Rainer pointing out the flaws. With a wave of hand, he dismissed the option. "With enough of a plague to spread it through the waters, no. No that seems not to be the way then. I wonder if they expected this to stay entirely within the northern district. And to the Nosferatu. Which means...Malakyte."

As he passed her, a hand gripped her shoulder as he continued past in his circles again. "Then they expected this to begin as an infection into the Nosferatu themselves. Due to their deformity, court would never recognize the illness. Can this live in the body without notice by the cainites long enough to feed upon them and become sick? What a...terrible path for assassinating an entire clan in a city."

"A hidden illness burning in the blood of the hellishly deformed, never appearing until it is too late. I cannot help but think of the last poisonings. The same...sophistication." He paused, mouth opening as if to say something more on this, before continuing. "If Malakyte fell, or was taken hostage, the Baron would be driven mad. The Dracon would act. Natalya would be overwhelmed. The city would fall into chaos. And this dream..."

"Could the two be linked? If so, Gregarious would have to work with others, many others. So the question then comes...how to question him. He who has slaughtered so many of our clan."

"Not only that, but the Nosferatu here would have been.... ill-prepared for the difficult decision to slay those who had the illness. Even knowing there is no cure, that it would make the suffering less for those sick, and prevent the spread. It has been a terrible burden for Malakyte, even with what aid as I can provide."

She hesitated briefly, deciding how best to phrase what was on her mind - without causing Rainer to immediately tie her up and throw her across a horse far away from here.

"We have already seen one new poisoning emerge, why not a second? The first attempt does seem out of place compared to the insidiousness of the others - but what if they had no time?"

"Our presence here was unplanned for, more so when I took domain so close to Malakyte's. Perhaps they wanted to eliminate me before they unleashed the plague? The attack took place a scarce week before this began."

"I don't know if they're linked Rainer, but there are more enemies then just Gregarious in this city. How we can catch him, I don't know."

The soft sound of snapping began with her words, as he pulled upon his own fingers. Too many concerns, too many avenues. "We are cornered in a warren of mazes with even the sky pinning us in. There is a dread far worse than anything you have considered or spoken of. But to think it at all, is the most terrible of all."

Rainer knew he could not voice his thoughts, and only thinking in languages and riddles he hoped Gregarious did not know kept him moderately safe. So then how to converse with his child? A finger snapped too far, bringing a flash of pain. It snapped back and healed a second later.

Brokenly, he spoke with her in the language of her homeland. The gaelic had a rough germanic flair to it, consonants crossing and far too guttural, but he hoped the message was clear enough.

"If the rabbit could see the thoughts of the wolf, would it wish to change. To be the wolf. Or would it teach the wolf not to hunt?"