Vampire The Masquerade RPG
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The Times
The Kindred Chronicle
Key Figures
THE MONSTER OF EALING
Last night, several people reported the sighting of a "screaming red monster" in a quiet neighbourhood of Ealing. After a power shortage in the area, a building caught fire. It was then when, what was described as a "man shaped, footless creature" emerged from the flames, leaping, running, and screaming. One woman has told our reporters that the man had "teeth like a wolf, and the face of the devil". Police officers are still trying to get to the bottom of this; neither the power shortage nor the fire have still been explained. A spokesperson from Scotland Yard has stated that the "so called monster" might be a wounded person, escaping the fire.

TRAGEDY IN TOOLEY STREET
The police has found the bodies of three TFL workers in the construction site at Tooley Street. One of their colleagues raised the alarms last week, when the three workers didn't attend their shifts. The bodies of the men have been found in a deep hole, uncovered by the refurbishment works that are taking place in the area. According to the Police, the bodies were horribly mutilated, which has led to the wildest speculations. The names of the three workers are being kept anonymous, following the wishes of their families.

HOROSCOPE
MARCH 8 - PISCES
You are used to making sacrifices, to prioritising the happiness of others before yours. Even though that is a noble attitude, there are times in life where the only healthy alternative is to embrace your own selfishness and allow yourself some enjoyment. Reserve one hour per day to do something you really like. Treat yourself! Your colour for this month is blue.
Echoes from the past ring back into London. Their intensity increases until they are deafening. What once was a faded memory of a glorious time, now becomes a shocking reality. The consequences of actions taken decades ago ripple into the present, altering the lives of everybody in the City. Unguided and blind, Kindred wander around, trying to make profit out of the reigning chaos.


The appearance of four mysterious figures turned the city upside down. Mistrust and jealousy became the official currency of London. Serpents and fiends rise to power, misdirecting the blaming eyes of the Camarilla towards imaginary enemies. Only those with clear vision and the ability to trust each other strive, while the rest run towards a shallow grave.



Across The Board
Current Chronicle: Dragons and Lions; Pride and Fire
Current Season: Spring
Controlling Sect: Camarilla



Index
Getting Started
General Information
Central London
North London
East London
West London
South London
Miscellaneous
Out of Character


Population: 31

Camarilla
Anarchs
Other
Ventrue: 1
Toreador: 5 (6)
Brujah: 2 (3)
Malkavian: 7
Tremere: 2
Nosferatu: 3
Gangrel: 1
Ventrue: 1
Toreador: 0
Brujah: 2 (3)
Malkavian: 0
Nosferatu: 1
Gangrel: 1
Setites: 5
Sabbat: ???


THE CAMARILLA

Prince

Nobody

Sheriff
Meredith Furlong
Hounds
Robyne Sheridan
Rosella Marie Allain


Keeper of Elysium
Davvad Bisset

Grand Harpy
Catherine Wilke

Primogen
Ventrue: Marcus Antonio Russo
Brujah: Thomas Krusen
Gangrel: Alexa Mallik
Malkavian: Ellora Reese
Tremere: Hannah Sundling
Toreador: Arsenio Pozzi
Nosferatu: Dogan Khojak



ANARCHS

Baron

Khoza

Baronets
Enfield: Leslie
Haringey & Barnet: Clarice Harris
Harrow: Jelena Korolenko

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Welcome To The Night

You find yourself in London on a dreary, foggy night like any other. But what lurks in the shadows is the stuff of fantasies and nightmares, far from mortal reality.

This game uses the cursed and immortal vampiric condition as a backdrop to explore themes of morality, depravity, the human condition, salvation, and personal horror. We are a writing and roleplaying community dedicated to telling complex and engaging stories.

Your fate is your own. Mingle among the ivory-tower elite in the Camarilla, join the fight of the discontented and chaotic Anarch rabble, or set out independently and attempt to survive in London's nighttime underworld. Anything is possible in our World of Darkness.

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Alone - No More; Michel reflects on things that happen.
Topic Started: Monday, 21. September 2015, 13:16 (1,015 Views)
Michel Dauphin
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On the night Michel had arrived in his apartment somewhere in London he really wasn't able to do much looking around. He had been too busy feeling abandoned. As the door shut behind him it became final. He was alone. His lord had wanted him to leave. He had used the lonely hours of night cutting his palms and wrists. The prayer and pain did not really soothe him and there were no tears. He didn't feel too able to care of that fact as he lied down on his narrow bed and let the sleep come over him.

As Michel woke up the next dusk, he prepared for his before breakfast exercise. He needed to keep his shape, he wasn't born that way. Then he remembered he didn't need to. His body care had taken much of his time and even that it had been tough and sometimes boring, he had done it with motivation and now felt empty. There wouldn't be breakfast either. With some thought he found positive side to it though. He didn't need to drink all that spearmint tea. Not that he would physically be able to, anyways...

On this night Michel was more able to process his surroundings. He had to become familiar with his cell, this was just a place to contain him and his inner void, his longing for his lord and something he hadn't found the right words for. He had felt it powerfully in the Embrace, but nothing Lukas had done afterwards was able to bring him more than mere shadow of it and they had known it was only in his mind. So understandably he felt gloomy as he evaluated his situation.

Michel had already paid attention to fact that it was basement. There was no particular smell in there, so it obviously was a good one. He had a big room that had his narrow simple bed, wardrobe, shelves, desk and a chair. Last night he had been confused enough to turn the lights on, but to his surprise it hadn't felt like intense migraine. The illumination was very soft. Michel put the lights on again to have better look at details. There wasn't really that much. There was set of sheets in the wardrobe in case he wanted to switch them.

There was a door and Michel tried it. It opened so it was clearly part of his apartment. He sure had been busy last night to miss this detail. Now he covered his eyes just in case as he tried the lights. There was no reason to panic though, the light was as soft, if not even softer in here than the other room. This one was bathroom with simple bathtub and smaller sink. Michel saw that there was bottle of soap and some bath salt in the room already. They smelled like rose. Who ever had set this place up had been considerate towards him. He really liked the scent. He actually decided he'd take a bath later, it might even cheer him up. Now he would have to work on his own settling in. So he started to put his clothes from his suitcases to the wardrobe. He forgot himself hugging his dancing outfit against his chest and then hid it to the furthest corner of the wardrobe. Two pairs of high heel sandals followed as there were still light marks of his bleeding. Maybe they'd let him to dance to Set, but he couldn't bear to look at these things right now. It would never be the same.

From his dancing he remembered his lord and then the conditions he had left. Things had changed so much, so soon. But that reminded him of Lukas, who had promised to stay in touch at least. Michel dug Lukas' old laptop from his bag. It was only a few years old, but Lukas wanted to be on the top of his game when it came to computers. Now it was lucky as Michel needed his own Internet and it was better this way than with only his phone. Michel plugged on the web cable of the computer.

Lukas had written to Michel like he had promised. First mail was about technical matters like proxies and tor-network. He better use them to avoid being tracked. There was much technical language that totally escaped Michel, but he understood the core of it.

The second message made Michel to imagine feeling cold in his stomach. He couldn't right then care if that was possible or not.

Inedj her-ek Sedjemet
The London Setites aren't going to part from their secrets so easily. Maybe you can dance to Set, but you need to deserve it. I know you were given some instructions that never were specified to me. You should follow them. Things seem to go normally in here. I wish you blessing on your way.
-L


Michel remembered that he had received written note from the person who had taken him to his apartment and handed him the keys. He read the note for couple of times to make sure he understood what it said. He realized that there was a way to feel lonelier than he already was. Thepihu. Secret Database. No temple, no dancing. Not for him at least.

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Michel Dauphin
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A few nights floated by. Michel distantly understood that he ought to go outside one of these nights. He'd have to buy more colours for his paints. He had found a store that was open very late at night that possibly had what he needed. The idea of going shopping made him to shudder though. Those places usually had very bright lights.

Michel acknowledged that one of these nights he also should go hunting. This was something Lukas had been very firm about. Michel would not like it if he ran out of blood. He was rather confident that he would be able to hunt like he had already done for his lord, but he kept pushing it to the future. It might seem irresponsible of him, but he had been counting the days. When he had left he had been well fed, Lukas had wanted to take care of his well-being that way. He had only used the blood for waking up for another night. So he could just retain with his floating existence for a while longer. It still took him some effort to understand his new state as it was.

He was sketching and painting almost constantly. He did not know why he had to leave, but he missed his lord more than anything. He had thought it to be special... and to him it still was so he kept on trying to create as true image of his target of adoration as he possibly could. Hyper realism had never had the same appeal to him than it now did.

Michel remembered the instructions he had been given even that he had ripped the note to impossibly small shreds as a precaution. He connected to the Setite database twice a night. There hadn't been many nights of barely existing with sketchbook before he was connected. "Waset" wanted to meet him in three nights from now. They had called him Childe of Greywood and in a way it succeeded to remind Michel again about what had happened.
'Em heset net Set. Senebty', his Sire had said.
Instead of getting more depressed Michel forced himself to action. He found out where his meeting location was. He checked when the sun would set that night. Then he looked at the timetables of public transports. After that he moved to thinking what to wear. It was knowing decision to use much time on that. It was a stretch, but he succeeded to stay at it for couple of days, pondering different implications his looks would give out.

Because otherwise he might have to understand what else the message meant than his loss. It was not only about Childe of Greywood, but someone independent. He would have to stop only existing, but do something and do that as vampire, not blood doll. He would need to make himself useful and he wasn't quite sure how.
Edited by Michel Dauphin, Wednesday, 23. September 2015, 10:49.
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Michel woke up after his restless dreams and his mind was racing. He felt like he should be tired, but his body didn't seem to agree. Things were all stable, maybe better than that as he had recently fed and it made feeling peaceful easier than feeling as restless as he maybe should. Even with the strangeness he had to start to do something sensible. He opened his laptop (though in his mind it still was Lukas') and found that "Waset" indeed had sent him the Camarilla traditions through the Setite Database. He also found out that the Elysium was Muse and also the precise location of it. He had thought he wanted to visit it one day, but now he had a reason and couldn't indefinitely put it off to the future.

As Michel used his Egyptologist Egyptian to form polite response to Waset, he remembered what Chun Hyang had said last night. She had called him Tawaretan for one thing. Then there was some Kidnapper too. She would not answer his questions, but no one said he couldn't use his contacts for it. He copypasted the Traditions on the laptop's notepad and logged out the Database. He restarted the browser and the proxy and then he logged to the e-mail system that Lukas ran. He wasn't sure how the things worked, so he used the precaution. It felt safer to him that way.

There were no mails from his lord. There probably never would be. There was nothing new of Lukas either. Michel re-read the last mail. Maybe because he had just written Egyptian earlier, he noticed something that hadn't caught his eye the last time. He was Sedjemet, but in the greeting Lukas had not addressed him in feminine form. He felt a bit amused at his reaction. Who would have thought that it would become normal to him to expect to be referred in feminine forms? Why would he find it such an issue? He sighed. Because his lord was all his world and invariably right. Even now that... Michel drowned his incoming despair in typing.

Mery Lukas
What was that ek instead of etj?
I saw someone last night. They said I was a Tawaretan. Am I a Tawaretan? Why no one told that I am a Tawaretan? They also said that Kidnapper did not
yet ruin me. What can that mean? People here really seem secretive. I was told that I get to know things when someone decides to tell me. But it probably didn't go so bad. I just have many things now that I should bother my pretty little head with.
I hope it continues to be well in there.
SedjemET


Michel used his capslock to highlight the form that was used of him. He'd not give up his position even if Lukas tried to.

After sending the mail Michel turned his attention to the Camarilla traditions. It reminded him of studying, so he took paper and pen and started to write them again and again. It started to feel almost like punishment that way. (Not to be confused with funishment at all.) It momentarily led him wondering what he had done to deserve it. What had he done to be sent to infiltrate the Camarilla and learn this all? He got up from his chair and walked around the apartment once, but it didn't remove the weight of the despair. Cutting his left palm slightly helped with that. Looking at it, pushing his finger on it to increase feeling it, he hoped he was now able to continue his work.

As Michel had removed the clutter from his mind he went on, with less other things to think. With each repetition he remembered better and noticed that his mind worked towards his goal now. He thought about his character, childe of Toreador, Madeleine Trottier, and how these traditions made him fan of them. Safety. That was his chain. He wouldn't be much past 20. He was ghoul for rather small amount of time and had been vampire for seven months. That was much longer than Michel had been, but in all the Toreador had spent less time in this hidden world. It was all new to him (like it was to Michel, but for partially different reasons). If he really was his sire's eye-candy, then traditions would give his mind some order. Illusion of order was preferred to freedom by many.

As Michel continued to write, he felt growing in understanding of how blessed and fortunate he was. There was whole system that believed this all. They were chained by these words and hung on to them with reverence and or fear. Michel had tasted the freedom. He was of the sacred blood and he pitied the ones who had to really live the way he was trying to learn to pretend. He himself could only see it as collection of some stuff that might be useful in some situations, but being fully bound and liking the bind was proof of blindness to him. Maybe even his insane desires were healthy in comparison to this form of submission. Lukas had said that a Toreador could be able to feel pain as Michel does (or at least did, but he wasn't going to think of it now), but it might be that one could never be their true self because of the mental prison the rules created. Michel deeply thanked Set in his mind. Maybe one day they could all be free.

He went through the traditions a few more times. He turned away from his notes and brushed his hair, reciting the words aloud. No fault. Soon he would have to contact the Primogen of his "own" clan.

Right now though, Michel had to feel the freedom, so he danced. This was the bellydancing he was good in. This had been his performance. It was still enjoyable to forget the time and place for a moment and only move. Ballet could come later.
Edited by Michel Dauphin, Wednesday, 30. September 2015, 13:06.
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Michel used a bit more time to make sure he got the Traditions right and for building his new character, Michel the Toreador. Sometimes his thinking reminded him of the way multiple personality disorder was portrayed in movies, but how it wasn't in real life. After all he knew who he was and perfectly knew that it was his character he was developing and thinking about in third person.

Lies needed to be kept simple. He had heard it from his lord when they had been working. The simpler the lie is, the less there is to remember... Instead of bitterly considering how complicated lie love has to be to go on for a decade Michel made himself to think about the features he shared with his Camarilla character.

They both were dancers. He would keep the oriental dancing. Maybe his maîtresse (that was French for mistress and she might well prefer that) saw him do it and that sparked the interest. This forced him to think about the reluctance he was feeling towards showing his dancing to the Camarilla. He had learned his dance for his lord and done it on his request. He had thought that the Camarilla were not worth it, but when he thought of it further, his feeling was perhaps a chain. What did it matter if he danced or not? It was not only for his lord now. Sedjemet has his prides, had Lukas said. Chain. In reality Michel could maybe allow a moment of beauty even to the poor people in their cages. That would be real kindness... He wouldn't be too excited to offer though. Michel the Toreador was shy. Maybe not on stage of course, but it would explain why he was so quiet and submissive. Michel would not have to guard his personality so much that way.

Yes, the maîtresse had seen him dancing and liked the way he looked. Maybe Embracing him had been way to preserve the art that was him, but he did not need to know. He would have never asked as she was most magnificent being alive... in very wide terms of speaking of course. He was very lucky to have caught her attention. He remembered how Chun Hyang had said that childe wouldn't need to understand their sire's decision and hoped such wisdom would sometimes reach even his dumb little head. He needed conscious effort to stop thinking about why he, Michel the Follower of Set, had been made to what he was now.

Michel sighed and went on. Michel the Toreador had also been studying arts. Unlike Michel himself, the Toreador one disappeared for a while because of heartbreak. After all he had been dumped in end of his first year in art school and had not met lord Greywood unlike Michel himself. His alter ego had to pick up the pieces in some other way. Perhaps with the dancing. Then he had gone on with his studies. They had both learned about renovation and history. Michel for the sake of forgeries for his lord, the Toreador one because of his admiration towards the art. (Michel too felt the admiration, but not with that passion.) Michel the Toreador wasn't artist with pens and paints, his art was the dance. The art school helped him to understand what he admired, and help to renovate it. Perhaps his maîtresse had encouraged him to sketch and paint, they could have a common hobby there.

After studying Michel the Toreador had been performing his dance in small bars. He was good, but not very organized, so only in small places, which was why there is no documentation on it available.

Right now both Michels were nervous, but for different reasons. Michel the Toreador was sent in new city and he had to make himself useful to bring honour to his maîtresse and make her happy. His bloodbind for her probably felt as overwhelming as Michel's love to his lord when things still were like they should. Michel did not want to think how distanced he felt now, but figured that the Toreador one clearly didn't have that. Michel had been in similar situation, that had gone very different from this one. Still his actions even now might affect the appreciation his Sire had. Right now the biggest cause of nervous was if he was able to pretend to be this other Michel convincingly enough. It was similar, but then all different.

There wasn't really more to it. He had what he had and he could be polishing details for months. He didn't have those months. Instead he should start to act. So he packed his (Lukas') laptop with him and went out to the night. He had earlier located an internet cafe that was open 24/7 and half an hour bus ride away from his little nest. He looked for it for a while in his destination, but didn't in end have much trouble finding it. He bought a mug of coffee and set himself back against wall. That should give him the required privacy as Lukas had always been sneaky and the laptop screen pretty much looked black seen from the side.

Michel used the information provided to him through Setite Database and logged in the Camarilla Network. He used a moment to make himself familiar with the interface and was soon ready to type. He imagined how the Toreador version of himself was in the same situation. Maybe he was in his own little apartment though as he wasn't hiding anything. Apart from maybe how nervous he was, but that was easy enough in text. They were both alone and needed to do this well. He closed his eyes for moment concentrating on his character. The text happened.

Dear Lady Mancini
I have arrived to London recently and as is appropriate, contact You now. My sire Madeleine Trottier from Marseille released me from her tutelage and wanted me to see if I could make myself useful in here and it will give me more opportunities for my dancing too. She said it's time I try to fly with my own wings. I hope I will make her pleased, and of course You too, because You are my Primogen and I only wish to please. Just tell me what You want to do and how You wish to proceed.

With greatest respect
Michel Dauphin


He was a bit uncertain about his capital letters, but allowed them to stay. It might have been part of his own personal typing style, but maybe the Toreador Michel also wanted to please that much.

He packed away his laptop and looked at the coffee. He knew he wouldn't be able to drink. But maybe he could taste it. It smelled nice. It kind of reminded him of his breakfast moments with Lukas before the man took him to the art school.

Michel took a sip and held it in his mouth. It was a trial on his willpower as it tasted absolutely horrible. How could something smell so good and taste so bad? As he quietly spat the liquid back to the cup he figured that it was not really that big loss to be unable to swallow.

Back home, before he switched to pajamas he looked at his usual e-mails, but Lukas had not yet responded.
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After he had written his message, he could only wait and see what would follow. He was able to take time to better understand his character and even that he checked his mails regularly in different internet cafes, he needed something more to do to not get overly nervous. That was when he made himself familiar with ballet. In passing he came to think that to dancing ballet was the same than Camarilla was to being a vampire. Rules, carefully formed positions. It looked graceful, but making it to seem so was an effort. The hobby would perfectly fit his Toreador character who allowed his fear to form his life. Michel himself couldn't avoid liking it himself on some level, apart from the metaphor. It was its own kind of dark dance. People who did it much (humans, he corrected the thought), had to retire quite young as bodies could not take such treatment. He himself was very flexible and learned dancer, not to mention undead, but the thought still got to him a bit.

Other thing Michel had time to do, was his painting pictures of his sire, though in his longing that man was still his beloved lord. No painting ever was perfect. While doing that he figured he ought to check from Chun Hyang at some point if he could do thing like this about Madeleine Trottier. His action clearly rose from love. Or desperate obsession... what ever the difference between Michels was in here, as the feelings could be all about blood.

It always was.... everything had been about blood in his life when he thought about it. He had depended on blood donors often enough in situations of his earlier years. When he had been with his lord, he had learned to find anemia surprisingly wondrous state especially with his medication for iron deficiency. And now... blood donors again, this time it was just quite different. And anemia should be avoided at all costs.

A bit later Lukas sent him an e-mail.
Inedj her-etj Sedjemet
I didn't mean to insult you, meryt. I just thought that switching of pronoun would reflect on your changed position and my respect for it. You are no servant, you have your own work to do. But if you feel better, I can of course keep this up.

As answer to your question, yes we are Tawaretan. Tawaret was Set's childe and her way is slightly different from most of Setites, even that we share same God and want him to return to this world. Many Setites treat passion as something to be free from and be pure. We see that we are free, so we can have our passions. Passion being free takes away the chain that thinking of it as sin would create. Our kind works much on seduction and in smaller groups. Apparently the favoured number is three, because only way to trust people is to share feeling with them. Seeing how our sire has dealt with technicalities and paperwork, it can also be an inner philosophy, at least in his thinking. I can't confirm all of my thoughts of it now though. He has been busy.

No one told you, because you knew what you were doing. You have been Tawaretan since you seduced me and needed no explaining.

I took longer time to write, because I tried to find out about the Kidnapper you mentioned. I couldn't with the contacts I have or our sire could offer. It must be something that only happens in London, or possibly in Europe. I hope you are careful and if you find out more, I would like to know.

Nakht-etj!
-L


Michel red the message and then he red it again to make sure. His thoughts started to race rather uncontrollably. At first he spent a moment pondering if rest of Set's people were chained too. But he came to think that there was something to their point of view too. Desperate obsession could become a chain if you didn't know how to stop. That could well proceed to bitter sadness, which was not fun, especially if you kept unable to let go and even calling the not fun kind of pain the price was probably creating a chain. He was damn bad Setite and just lacked the ability to be responsible enough towards himself about it all and perhaps that was exactly the kind of lesson Michel had to learn... But was it a chain if you did it voluntarily? He knew it had not been chain on his collar for that reason.

Normally love and passion were gifts to enjoy at least. What freedom would it be to never feel them? Avoiding them still sounded like a chain, no matter how heartbreaking it might be in end. Pain was part of life. Or unlife. Maybe in the big picture it wasn't so meaningful. Set was and they had to all be together, because everyone else was against them. Most of the chains they were wishing to break were the same anyways. They were clearly on the same side as Chun Hyang had not really paid more attention to the fact than naming it.

It was interesting finding. He had not needed to know any of this before. Now it somewhat interested him. Maybe because he as Michel had to know more than as Sedjemet. Sedjemet had someone wiser than him to think about religion and way of life. He had been happy tool in working towards it. Then again he seemed to have understood just well what it had been about by learning it from his lord rather in actions and words of practise than in theory.

How could he bring his learning to real life? He had a feeling that the way he had been using it before would be rather difficult to bring over to the Camarilla. He was a Tawaretan. He'd find out.

He brushed his teeth and put on some clothes. It was time to take his computer elsewhere to have a look at the Camarilla Network again.

It almost came as a shock that the Toreador Primogen had responded. But he had sent a message and there was high likeness of reaction. It had just came so suddenly and maybe tonight there had been too much information already. Things were going to get serious soon.

He returned home and started to carefully think about his clothing. That always calmed him down.

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Michel had been thinking about the invitation for Hallow's Eve's Meet and Drink of Davvad Bissett and it intrigued him. It seemed to not be horribly official and that was promising. A setting like that would possibly avoid him to do mingling and Waset had wanted him to make acquintances. It worried him that he was not yet officially around, but he was known about. He had made sure of that.

As he was thinking, he finally typed his e-mail to Lukas. The whole Tawaret thing was still not full on clear to him, so that too took him some thinking. Because of the thinking he looked at the computer screen more and noticed to his dismay that there was some devious auto-correcting happening. He normally wrote ”i” instead of ”I” and with this computer he had lost his habit fully. He should proof-read his personal texts more! It was all fine to pretend to type like he wasn't a born servant, but there were still times when he could be his true self and the computer had robbed him of them. He had to fiddle with the controls for some time before he could write like Sedjemet did.

Mery Lukas
I shouldn't have taken offence on the forms and pronouns. Not after i started to use capital letter. My apologies, i didn't notice the auto-correct. Let's just forget about it.

Honestly i am not yet sure what to think about it all. I think it matters the most that we all agree on our master a most of the chains. The one who called me Tawaretan seemed mainly curious, not like it was herecy. In a way i feel my Sedjemet-kind of pride that i can be Tawaretan without even being told about it.

There is nothing new about the Kidnapper and that probably is lucky. I appreciate your effort in trying to dig up information. It must have taken time, thank you so much.


Michel wasn't sure how to word everything that went through his mind and then came to think that maybe Lukas didn't even expect him to think that much anything. So he went on simply:

I've been meeting people and going to places. For now it goes well. Things really are more private in here and i can't claim i know anyone in here really. It is sometimes lonely. I wish our Sire did not sent me away.
Sedjemet


After sending the mail Michel again felt awfully lonely, but some things just can't be helped and he decided to go shopping instead. The event had no need for costumes and that was good. He hadn't ever been to a Halloween celebration before and it might have been fun to go do it just like in the movies, but he would have needed to buy something bigger and he didn't have extra money. It still was interesting and new so he wanted something for the occasion.

The mall was pretty much as horrible with the bright lights than he had thought it would. The place would be open for one more hour, so he had to hurry. He wasn't sure what exactly he was looking for, but when he saw a little shop with accessories, he figured out they'd have what he wanted. It was supposed to be something small after all.

Not feeling like knifes in his eyes would have helped the looking, but his state now happened to have thatkind of downside. He wasn't sure if even normal people would need that much light. Pain was a teacher, an old friend and a lover, but the Setite migraine just failed to satisfy those needs. So Michel just had to try being fast in finding what he looked for and then get back to the soothing darkness of his basement. So it would have to fit the Halloween, but not be too showy. Michel the Toreador would be feeling disturbingly shy in addition to all Michel himself felt. And like always, both of them had a Sire to please and not embarrass.

Because Michel liked his hair, it was natural to go look at the hair decorations. Especially since he wasn't going to wear earrings, not this time at least. It was surprisingly hard to think with the headache on. Pumpkins? No, they would drown in the red of his hair. Bats? Maybe? It would be fun. But maybe... just maybe lacked imagination. Spiders? That could do. Michel saw two different kinds of spider pins. The other ones looked like real spiders, being on larger side and fluffy. The other ones were smaller with silvery colour, being made of metal. Michel tried to think, but as nothing better reached his thoughts, he just quickly bought the smaller pins to be on his way. The event wasn't a costume event after all. Later he also thought that he had succeeded to avoid good amounts of tackiness.

It was much nicer outside compared to the mall at least. As there was still plenty of time, he went home through some less lighted streets, resting his eyes for a bit. He moved on, planning what to wear and minding his own business, but then someone shouted at him.
”Good arse!”
That didn't sound like a man... Michel was involuntarily curious as he turned to have a look. The woman was heavy with muscles and was possibly taller than Michel. Which of course wasn't a feat, but made her seem even larger in comparison. As it was such a surprise, Michel responded politely:
”Thank you, ma'am.”
He had worked to get that shape after all. He turned to continue his walking, but she had some other plans for him. He suddenly felt her hand on his such a good arse.
”Where are you going, pretty?”
”Home.”
”Mine or yours?”
She winked her eye. As they were now close, Michel could smell cigarettes on her breath. Only that though, no alcohol.
”My own home. No, I didn't plan to take you along.”
He tried to leave again and she grabbed his arm.
”Am I not beautiful enough?”
Michel's instincts were taking over. Her eyes seemed to focus normally...
”It's not that...” Michel still tried to say.
”Faggot! Aren't you? I can fix that for you!”
In the normal people world it would have been scary to be dragged away by that disgusting amazon, but Michel lived in World of Darkness and the woman soon noticed that dragging away a little slender fag was oddly frightening experience.

Later on Michel felt somewhat philosophical. Maybe that was, because he had been surprised so badly. With his experiences he had not come to realize that man could be raped. By a woman. It had been empowering to realize that it would be difficult to make it happen to him, but it was still nasty. And then he had fed on her, which probably turned the tables with more negative emotion. She would most likely live, but probably not remember...

This used to be one of Michel's greatest pleasures with his lord. This had been what gave his lord the feelings that he could give to Michel in so many other ways. Michel had given his lord other pleasant feelings too, but nothing had been as deep as the feeding, the Kiss. It had been source of so much good for Michel and he missed it the most. It was the most beautiful thing in the world... and this had happened. It felt so good and because of that, maybe even worse. Being in the service of his lord had made him used to the idea of vampires drinking blood. He too had learned to drink blood long time ago, though it was not anything like this. Living that life made the act of staying alive now rather simple, but no one had told about the great emotional package of the Kiss. Becoming a vampire had twisted even that around.
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When Michel woke up at night of 24th December, he had mail from Lukas. There wasn't much anything to it, apparently he had sent physical mail to Michel in his post locker he had. The locker was the only way for anything bigger after all. He couldn't just go and open the door for mailmen. Michel stretched and then put on other clothes than his pajamas. This time he chose his woolen coat and furry brown boots. He combed his hair to avoid tangles, but didn't feel like interfering with it otherwise. Sometimes there really was no feel to look like a work of art. Just who was there to enjoy it anyways?

He put on his sunglasses and hoped that it would not snow. Snow might just make the lights and reflections even worse. Luckily that wasn't the case, though the puddles of water weren't that fun either. It was perhaps chilly outside, but at this point the clothes were only a fashion statement. Back at home the others would have t-shirts or something now. Or not now. Not outside at least, because it was daytime there. Thinking about it once again reminded Michel just how far away he was. He felt like stopping in his steps as the weight of it hit him, but shook off the feeling. Lukas had sent him something and he would fetch it. There was still nothing of his lord, but if that had been his will, then may it be so.

Mentioning lord... Michel was looking down to spare his eyes at least a bit and now his eyes caught something. It was a little leaflet and for some reason he picked it up. ”Praise the Lord”, was the text on it. Under that there were lyrics for some Christmas songs of spiritual kind. The words took him back... His family used to go to church on Christmas day and they had a little nativity scene as decoration in the living room, but they also had awesome barbecue and suddenly Michel could almost taste the Bûche de Noël cake his mother used to make for dessert. Only almost. As it approached him, unaffected by his undead state, he heard the clanging sound he had heard when Jasper had ripped off his cross necklace in the room they had been on the night they had first met. There was something final about that sound, even that he hadn't been a believer in long time. Only now he came to think, that he had never even looked for that cross...

”Is everything alright?” A young woman asked him. She was wearing the green shirt of a deacon. Michel dropped the leaflet. There was no clanging sound from that action.
”Yes, everything is alright.”
She nodded. ”We have a place open all night, just around the corner, if you need it.”
”I'll keep that in mind. Thank you.”
She smiled. ”Merry Christmas.”
That whole thing felt like an insult. But Michel's art of his presence and body were better than that, so he smiled and returned the greeting. It was the season to be jolly and all, but he was in deep contrast with it. Maybe that's why the deacon had came to talk to him. He wondered how deep his reverie with the leaflet had been to attract that attention. If only she had known...

It was quick to get his package from the mail locker. It was still early and the box didn't seem heavy, so he could move through some less lighted areas. His head hurt slightly, so resting his eyes did seem like an idea. Of course he had to be more alert, but he didn't think he'd face anything too challenging. Or maybe he didn't care. It was sometimes a bit hard to say with everything he had been thinking of and he soon returned to the thoughts from earlier. The sound of his meaningless cross dropping. The fact that it didn't feel anyhow different in the London winter than it did in New Zealand at the same time of the year. Last year Lukas had given Sedjemet as present to their lord so that he could open the gift wraps. Sedjemet had worn his pretty green ribbon and it had been part of the fun that he was wrapped again and paraded in the garden. Michel hadn't usually felt that heavily about bondage, but it had been so much more...

Clang clang clang...

Bells of the church? It was time for the Christmas night mass already? Or then it had just been his memory of the necklace falling.
”Hey girl, what's in that box?”
The man might have seemed frightening. Perhaps frightening enough. So Michel looked at him carefully and sniffed the air in front of him.
”And what a nice package you have”, he said to Michel.

Later, holding down the man in his chosen darker bit of the alley and drinking his blood, Michel's thoughts took another odd turn.
The blood of our Lord Jesus Christ spilled for you.
It was the communion. Here. On this alley. With lifegiving blood and all.
Panis angelicus...
Michel couldn't shake the song out. He was annoyed and drank until his involuntarily personal Messiah went limb. He let go quickly, refusing to take the metaphor to its conclusion. Still his wandering mind had ruined the occasion. Only when he had resumed his walking he came to think that man with severe bloodloss might still just die out there in the alley. Not for Michel's sins since sin did not exist, but anyways. That only ruined his mood even further.

He went back home and with a moment of silence for his nerves he opened the box and found shoes. The card was plain and Michel recognized Lukas' handwriting before reading it.

Sedjemet,
our sire ordered these shoes from factory to fit your size last winter already. They are yours. Of course there is no Christmas or anything, but we don't have to care about that either. I hope you enjoy them. Be safe, I miss you.
-L


Michel could read the lack of missing from his Sire. Lukas was nice and Michel liked him much, but he simply wasn't the man who still owned Michel. Even then he did feel like he could as well try enjoying his shoes. The high heeled gladiator sandals of light brown leather were a perfect fit. They would have made a perfect match with his white dress, but there was no dress like that now. But no one was watching either, so he just took off his other clothes and figured that the shoes fit perfectly well just like that too. The straps were like bondage on his legs and just like it had been with the gift wrap, this fitted him well too. It was about how it looked. Definitely. The art of that was actually inspiring and he wanted to dance. Why not? With bittersweet thoughts he found his bracelets from his sock drawer. He hadn't looked at them since he had unpacked them from his suitcase. That was just a few of them and they did not feel as heavy as they used to. There were no weights like his lord had used. He hadn't meant to dance this way, but now he felt like it. This was how he would have enjoyed his shoes in the past too.

He hooked his biggest earrings on his nipple piercings and that felt somewhat right. How else could he weight himself down? Music was easy with youtube, but he could only attach mundane things like his laptop's recharger on his legs. Not very stylish, but no one was looking. He turned on the music and started to sway his hips. Soon the music had him going. The weights did feel right even that they wouldn't have looked so and when he closed his eyes he could, at least for a moment, imagine everything was going like it used to go. He could imagine how well it pleased his lord. But it was not enough. He danced, but there was no loss of breath. His insane heartbeats did not become the music itself. There were not even any sane heartbeats. Then even the song from youtube ended. No music. Not anything. In his desperation he cut himself, at first carefully, as knifes still freaked him out, but then with force. No, nothing. But when he felt his disgustingly glorious flow of blood he took a little fright. If he allowed this to go on, he'd soon get to results that no one would like. He stopped the bleeding and because he had not been able to exhaust himself, he had to collapse on his own. That all, everything of the night all together, still had him staining the floor with the vampiric bad imitation of tears. Everything went black though. It was the time for the sun to rise. Somewhere outside it was the Christmas morning.
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Michel was alone. He didn't feel too hopeful about ever being anything else. He woke up another night and he'd just paint more imperfect recollections of his Sire or try to learn new dances. If he'd bother to go outside he would have to do it as Michel the Toreador. Even that time had passed since he was taken to this little cell away from the men he loved, the feelings had hardly changed.

Things turned different when Michel understood the many uses of Internet though. Using proxies and other protections Lukas had taught him made him so anonymous that he was able to imagine being someone else than the roles that were pushed at him. He knew what his interests were and it didn't take him long time to find like-minded people. When mingling in fetish sites, forums and boards he pretty much wondered why this all hadn't happened before. Maybe he had been too stuck feeling miserable.

He enjoyed the company and attention and some very interesting roleplaying experiences. Writing down submission wasn't the real thing, but not having anything else to go with, it was good enough. It was surprisingly good really. In his fun he soon saw possibilities for his work, maybe even a calling. Sometimes people wrote that they couldn't be themselves because of their work or other people or because it's a sin. Michel told to them that they knew what was right for them if they didn't hurt anyone who didn't want that. It really was a calling. Maybe these people could reach the happiness that was no longer possible for him. These people would have pleasures to enjoy and chains to break. Michel couldn't tell them directly that it would be Set's freedom, but that he wished them to have.

Everything formed itself to an idea a bit later. A blog. He wasn't sure if he could bring anything new to the scene, but his purpose would be more unique. He might be able to cause people to listen more closely if they ever heard preaching about Set. They would have already gained knowledge about freedom. It was all a gift Set would grant. At least when looking from the point of view of Tawaret. This would need to be Michel's private attempt. He didn't want to be told how silly this specific calling was.

It took a bit more time to be able to type more than ”there is no sin” on the page, but when he got past describing the little he could of his human character, it got easy. He hoped it was good enough and published it.

It wasn't his lonely secret though. He could use a bit of approving.

Mery Lukas
I started a blog. I hope i can use it to preach a bit of freedom and it doesn't look too bad. If you aren't busy, would you like to have a look and help linking it around a bit?
I hope you are well and things are going well
Sedjemet


**

Later when Michel opened his computer again, he could only stare at all the comments having piled on his blog. First was Lukas just like Michel had been hoping, but then there were other people. All comments were good comments as long as no one knew who he was. People were talking to each other too. This could go to places! Finally he was doing something real!
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Lukas had finally had time to comment Michel's blog personally. Michel saw his mail right after turning on his computer early in the night.

Meryt Sedjemet-i

Lukas was a bit possessive there, but Michel could easily understand him as he continued:

It was quite something to open that blog link to your beautiful words. There is no sin. It's all about that in end, isn't it? You were there for me and now part of you does it to everyone who can have these thoughts. Sometimes I miss you very much. Who would have guessed... but that's enough of that. I'm happy that you found your way.

Be careful. Your painting is very nice, but are you sure it's vague enough? I gave you a way out in case you should use it.

Also there is this Voice in Chains. By Set be careful about him.

Things are well in here, don't worry about us.
Nefer sedjmetj
L


Michel had planned to work on his comments before posting his blog again this time. As there had been so many and now Lukas had succeeded to make him curious too. He went to his newest post and scrolled down.

Some marjoram was giving him writing advice and even that it wasn't the kind of reaction he was after, it was still positive. After that there was the get away that Lukas offered. Maybe Michel would have to take it from him. At least partially. His hair might be all it takes for questions.

He laughed at the Twilight hater. Oh yes, there really were things vampires did not do, but they were essential in the text for Michel's safety. There was this whole Masquerade and stuff.

And then... the thing that was so obvious that Michel should have thought of it himself. The young people. Originally he had been linking his blog on fetish sites only, but with Twitter he had brought it out in the open, even that it had been only for a moment. He'd have to add some kind of a disclaimer. Not that he minded and the proxy protected him, but it would still look bad.

The nice LGBT advocate person had already tried to make clear of the confusion of Vivian's clothes preferences and Michel could gladly reward him or her with a bit of something nice... he didn't need to do all his work himself. He smiled at the person asking about it because of a friend. But they were free to, of course.

Then there was the post Lukas had warned him about. Voice in Chains.... It was easy to see and to feel why Lukas felt his way. Lukas knew his Sedjemet well... It started with something that Michel's Sire would have said, but the writer wasn't that elegant. It was the same teaching Michel wanted to teach right here, by writing, but not so directly.

The unknown writer was passionate of Michel's loss. The words of concern were beautiful and Michel was starving for attention... and the person would have wanted to help him in his submission.

Yes, Lukas knew that Michel was played like a delicate instrument to create a symphony so perfect and exciting... Even without the warning this wouldn't be safe. Michel had way too much to lose and people online could be just anyone. Still he couldn't avoid thinking of a meeting with the dark dominant stranger. The man might be young with the way he wrote, there was this fresh rebellion here and there, but the age wouldn't matter when he had that power. He'd keep Michel on his knees and would keep on playing him, making him to beg. Michel would live his fantasies and wouldn't need to think about anything else than the thick throbbing beauty of male anatomy....

Suddenly Michel realized that he ought to go hunting. He couldn't understand why he suddenly felt such lust to feed, but knew better than to resist it. He put on some of his more slutty clothes and walked out.

He'd work on his blog later, when hopefully his dinner would have been served to him. As he went to look for volunteers, he wondered if a PM or two would or wouldn't hurt when it came to the mysterious Voice in Chains...

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When Michel noticed there was a real private message for his blog (instead of just some anonymous hoping he dies in fire), he felt nervous excitement. The feeling increased as he saw it was from Voice in Chains. This was the one who Lukas had warned him about. But he(?) was also the one who Michel had told to make an account and approach him if he'd like. Reading what he had to say wouldn't hurt for sure. It wasn't like he could do anything to make Michel to meet him.

There, for the first and last time I have followed one of your instructions and registered account for our private conversation to commence. I can read quite clearly in your entries how your heart, your soul is screaming, it is yearning for someone to control you, for you to find someone with the strength needed for you to submit.

He started in bold way and that was intriguing. He was straight to the point too. Yes, Michel longed for his master... but as time went by, any master. He knew he wasn't doing anything wrong, even that the thought made him to touch the ribbon he had tied on his neck. He was abandoned, even that the ribbon was not going anywhere.

You yearn and you seek for the sweetening agony of surrender and the bliss that comes from the truth, to stare into the eyes of chaos and feel at peace, knowing that you have a captain who will commandeer you through the maddening maelstrom, safely and soundly but infinite experiences of countless emotions, most of them not yet properly named richer.

Yes. Submission was gentle path when someone is there to be the support, to make sense to everything that happens. Maybe in all of the sweetness one forgets how to walk their own walk, but that doesn't matter in the warm embrace of giving oneself.... Michel closed his eyes for a moment in thought, but he had to know how the message goes on.

I can help you, I can be the one who grip your soul, your mind and steer you towards the storms that your very self yearns for but your mind, shackled by the demands of society tell you to refrain from. I can be the one to help you weep, to laugh, to scream, to howl, to smile and to kneel. All you need to do is to take those first trembling steps, to fall down and lose yourself in the great and often scary unknown. To accept what I have to offer and our conversation with the golden written word commence on a deeper and more profound plane that moves and affects you on a plane you previously never knew you ever knew.

Yes, Michel thought, his mind was again saying yes. In words there was some kind of dream come true. Someone had wanted to write it to him and didn't even seem to be only roleplaying with him. Why wasn't he feeling tight on his.... oh. He was undead. Maybe it was good he didn't waste blood for something like that now. It had to be said that privately Voice in Chains was more eloquent than in the blog comments.

I think you know what I speak of thou, the only meaning in a life void of reason, of sense and a higher purpose. That connection of meaningfulness lost and believed to never be found again. While I cannot aspire to properly replace it I do offer for you to even if no longer dining on the great feast of its sweet nectar, I can offer you droplets of its sweet liquid, containing an infinity more of the fruitful sweetness of meaning that the world itself lacks.

Yes? That was polite way to write of the one who had abandoned Michel. Or, Vivian really. But did life have to have a meaning for real? Wasn't the thought of there really being a meaning just one chain in itself? You could never know what would happen and the meaning could be robbed so easily... But he had let it happen to himself, so it was appropriate to address the matter.

All you need to do is to submit, to say that magic 3 lettered word that brings you once more kneeling into the world that you desire.

Just once? Michel had said it in his mind since he started to read. It would have been funny if it wasn't so serious thing he was contemplating.
”Yes?” He tried to say aloud, but his voice sounded strange in his lone basement. Not that he could do this as it was. There were many good reasons why he shouldn't have much anything else to do with Voice in Chains. He couldn't start risking things.

My ground rule that I will never bulge on are that we keep that connection of meaning bound to the written medium that this blog enables. You will not see my face and you will not feel by hand, merely by the profound words that I possess will I bring you down to your knees, the fed with the weight of my message. And released to bliss and wonders by the commands written, driven into your very soul and very being shall you be brought to the natural state you crave more than anything else than you know in life.

But he didn't want to meet! It actually could be! Michel was oddly happy about it.

Once more shall you feel something worthy to die for, once more shall you know something worthy to fight for.

That is my promise to you.


He was ready to reply with his ”Yes sir”, as he thought about it sensibly. In parts Voice in Chains seemed to have rather deep understanding about how world works. It even seemed doubtful if Michel could teach him anything of value in this way. Though, if he already understood, then maybe he would later want to understand something more and Michel could respect their rules by sending him over to meet with someone else. But maybe that wasn't needed.

Maybe it was about Michel. Why shouldn't he do something just for how it feels like instead of how useful it is? He would keep careful and see where it took him. And who knew... maybe it would be he who was truly educated by this person. One should always reach to go further in the path.

He thought carefully as he started to type.
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Michel looked at the mess the area around his desk had accumulated. Again last night he had fallen back to his art hobby and there were pictures of his Lord everywhere. Then there were writings, plans for new blog posts in case he would get busy later and wouldn't have time to think about them. It was great temptation to just post them, but he knew good things were worth waiting for. As his laptop was hidden somewhere under the papers, Michel had to admit that it was the time for him to clean up. It took him some time as he forgot himself looking at the pictures. Each new one seemed more accurate. He had been learning. He piled the pictures neatly on the desk to keep them close to him, not wanting to be separated from what little he had left.

As the papers were cleared, he went on sweeping the floors. He collected his laundry and even made his bed. In reality he didn't really care, but now that he was working, he remembered the time when he still could care. Lukas had ran the house in the beginning, but later on with Michel's help there was more free time that could be used for something more interesting. Michel also enjoyed to help, because it was a way to serve his Lord, who was asleep. The same sense of fullfilment or ghost of it loomed over him as he worked. After an hour had passed, his prison looked like a home for change.

Satisfied with his work Michel opened his laptop and noticed that he had mail from Lukas. He opened it and then almost closed it again, as it seemed empty with no headline. Maybe it was some error? But there was a sidebar so he scrolled down and saw the message.

Hi Sedjemet (?)
Are you the one they mention? I'm Josh, but Jasper has started to call me Nedjemet. I'm sorry to write like this. I don't do it just because I feel curious. That would be mean. But judging from how they sometimes talk and hearing Jasper say your name in bed makes me want to ask how you did it. I want to be better for him and I thought that maybe... I have understood you still want good for him. Help me be that good for him, please!

I don't want to be this weak. I don't want to feel scared when I bleed. Maybe you can help me Sedjemet, like you have helped other people before. I wrote to you now, because Lukas left his computer open before going to bed and I got the possibility. If it is in you to respond, my address is nedjemet[at]greywood.net.

I'm sorry to hurt you this way
Josh


Michel wasn't sure how he struggled to the end of the mail. It felt like his dance was now finally and utterly broken and his longing left him bare and exposed. His members were made of lead as he pushed his chair back and made himself to fall on the floor. It was lucky he had fed on the night before, because he was now crying blood.

He lied there in his inner darkness, He felt worse than on the time over ten years ago, lying on wet ground, abandoned, bleeding. He was surely going to die this time. His Lord would not come and make it good like after he had been stabbed back then. This time he was truly alone and would welcome the death that would come for him. There was no choice in the matter. He was doomed. He had nothing. Only the void and it would have to claim him.

The floor was hard and soon the blood drops made wet spots on it. The world was nothing, but ragged sobbing until he was drained. He lied there, empty. Then he remembered Set. He wasn't a no one and he would never be alone in the darkness. He was not alone now. And he was free. He knew he'd resist it, but Greywood had released him from one of the chains that ruled him and Nedjemet had been his unknowing prophet. Now Michel was Set's slave alone and he'd be more free to submit in every way he could imagine. No memory would get on his way. Right now his first act of his newly endarkened service awaited him.

His brother, the unknowing messenger of the divine needed his help. So he wiped his eyes and forced himself back on his chair.

Inedj her-etj Nedjemet

Why did it have to sound so much like Sedjemet? Because of the egyptologists, Michel responded to himself, they often replaced a wowel with e if they didn't know better. Really nedjem and sedjem as words could have been rather different.

Em dyt haty-etj em sa-i. Worry about yourself instead. Lukas is not going to be happy if he finds out what you did. I don't know if these mails are safe from his eyes. So when you respond to me, do it as private message to my blog: thereisnosin[at]journal.com

Michel pondered a bit about how to encourage his ignorant liberator. He already knew he'd have to instruct Nedjemet about bleeding, because people didn't know about those things. Then there was...

Michel tensed. It felt to him like part of him was laughing at him as he was trying to make sense in educating his Sire's new passtime. But how all of a sudden he would be wise and experienced to do it? He could just smile and nod and let grown ups to do the thinking. What did he think he was doing anyways as it was? He was irritated, no, angry even, at this Josh for taking what had been his to worship! And he thought he could help him when he should find him and fuck him raw! Or someone like him, take him as his own and make him to want to stop trying to be what he was alone! The thought make Michel to feel like he could get aroused and he could almost feel the lithe body pressed against his....

The body that was raw from attention should be his. This made no sense.
”No”, he said, ”I am the servant. I am the giver. And I serve Set now.”
He wasn't able to shake the image of helpless boy in his arms though, so he needed to remind himself of his place in no uncertain terms. He went for his knife and exposed his left arm. With echo of disgust and anticipation he drew his name on his arm. He looked at the wounds he didn't allow to bleed, but to decorate him and then he returned to his mail he had never hoped to write, but felt right about writing. He was the obedient one like the hieroglyphs said, and this was his submission.

So don't get in trouble.

If you are serious, you will be Nedjemet. Only that. Your Jasper will become everything you ever need. Let him do that and don't be afraid (unless it turns you on). Be open to possibilities there are for you. Sometimes things can move fast, but be brave then.

Much of what you think as right and proper aren't that in reality. The rules are made by powers that would not want you to find your true self. Submission is a gentle path, let him guide you through. Much of pain is good pain, but be open about your needs and fears. He is not a cruel master. He will push you just enough. Don't let anything to stop you in your devotion.

If you want something more specific answered, you have to ask. As for the bleeding... there are boundaries you need to understand as human being. Your body can do only so much, even if your will was stronger. I am making a blog post just for you, though no one knows it and we'll just pretend you and Jasper are human. In your case you don't need to worry about catching diseases though, only the things considering your bleeding. The best solution to the problem is to let him only taste you most of the time. Feeding him would be a special and wonderful occasion. But a taste of you will make his waking up better.

Em heset net Set
Sedjemet


He sent the mail. Then he wrote to Vivian's blog about anemia, busying himself remembering the things he had learned during his time with his past sickness. His cheerful style almost made him sick, but some things didn't function the way they would have, if his body had been still alive. It made his work easier.

After the blog post the nothingness returned. It was again difficult to care. What would he do now?

What if he just went outside naked and checked what would come? No, it would not be a gangrape like in stories he sometimes red and what use would it be anyways?

What if he cut himself so much that there'd be nothing left? No. He'd bleed too much and that wouldn't be only his problem after he became a monster.

What if he'd just let the sun to rise? No! Ra would not win!

Michel's servitude was not over.

There was one thing Michel had to do though. The art was more dead to him than ever as one by one he ripped all the pictures of his Sire to smallest of pieces. As they were destroyed, he pulled on the ribbon on his neck and dropped it in the shreds of paper.

He lied down on top of the newly created mess and finally as the morning broke, he greeted the forgiving darkness as the old friend it was, but his only answer was nothingness.

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Waking up Michel was sore all over. Something was dreadfully wrong, but at first he couldn't understand what. Something was soft under his head. He opened his eyes and for shortest of moments everything was very right. He met the eye of his Lord, looking at him in so fascinating way, enhanced by the sacred arts of Set. But then Michel could recognize his handiwork. It was a picture...

Michel was lying face down in his destroyed drawings. There was only the eye left. World broke for second time.

But there were no regrets. He had done what he should do. So he got up and stretched carefully. He picked up the shreds of paper and put them in the dustbin. He wiped the floor carefully, but could not get it totally clean. Blood could be like that. It would remain his memorial. This was where he had died. No one knew it, because he'd have to keep playing his role.

There was a possibility that he overreacted. Not to his loss, but thinking it would have killed him. It was not over. It didn't seem likely that he'd abandon his true self only because no one wanted him.

And he picked up his ribbon. Seeing it discarded on the floor made him feel strangely naked. It was the memory of the collar he'd never wear again. Never ever, it seemed. He held the ribbon and felt himself resisting the freedom like he knew he would. Even that it made no sense and his understanding screamed against it, he moved his hands to tie the ribbon in its rightful place. It just felt proper. He didn't feel ready to admit the way he was not needed.

The loneliness was mixed with knowledge of betrayal. Lukas had not told anything! Michel felt a it like writing piece of his mind to him, but he knew he would not. He could not expose Josh to him. Not to mention that Lukas could well have things figured out by now. He'd take the needed actions, Michel would have to trust him even on that. Even that Lukas hadn't bother to tell how he had been replaced.

The way Michel didn't demand anything from Lukas proved that Sedjemet was not dead at all. Michel's best way to serve his Sire at this point was to help Nedjemet to be the best servant he could ever be. That meant he had to deal with his feeling in a different way.

He needed something, anything. His clothes were bloodstained and wrinkled, so he switched them. He had to go out and for unlife of him he was unable to think why Michel the Toreador was out looking like he did right now and wandering aimlessly.

He needed something, he had to move. He walked like he could escape his prison or the revelation of his so called freedom.
Set of nights, he thought, why am I so alone?
He walked.
What did I do? I always served, I always followed, always obeyed.
He walked on.
What does Nedjemet have that I lack?
He had to wipe his eyes. He didn't want to catch too much attention.
And why does he say my name in bed?
It was Michel's small victory. Yet if his Sire so missed him, why to send him away in the first place? This wasn't going anywhere. And neither was he, just walking...

”Hey pretty one...”
Michel turned to face the man. There was nothing threatening in the way the man moved, but now it was obvious what Michel needed. So he pushed the man against the wall and, after taking a good look around, fed from him. He could taste the drunkenness right away, but his need was too strong for him to care and he drank. After a moment his senses made a comeback and he understood to stop while the man still had possibility to survive. As Michel was now drunk, it felt natural to him to kiss the man and thank him for his help. Then he made his best impression of woman's scream and ran away to his best effort, hoping that the sound would alert someone to help the poor bugger who had enabled Michel's existence to go on.

So, Michel was somewhat drunk. And miserable. He had probably drank from a normal person who had drank himself brave and wanted to try his luck hitting on a pretty girl. That was a sobering thought, mentally at least. The taste had been much better than in Michel's usual catches, but there was no way he should keep on doing this. Not in this condition at least. In the past decade he had only been drunk for his Sire. Being drunk for himself was strange and he had to concentrate to keep his mind clear and movements stable. He felt like a teen on his first tries on booze. So he should go home and be safe.

He chose different route and walked carefully. He was purified from his aching needing of something and the light-headedness was actually a nice thing. A song started to play in his mind. For a while it only made him to feel good. It brought back memories and they weren't tainted by their loss. He was beautiful dancer and he'd bring his dance to Set's temple once he deserved it! He could imagine swirling wildly and swaying his hips. The others would admire his moves and charms.

Back home he naturally wanted to dance. He put on the song and -

It was like his body was weighted down heavily. It was like going through tar. Oh yes. The dance was dead and he wouldn't wake up from it to anything better.

He almost fell on the floor, but decided against it. He'd not wake up like this tomorrow night. So with concentration he took off his clothes and went to bed instead. There would have been night left, but this was all he could take.

And one of these nights he'd really have to deal with his ribbon too.
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* * * *
Receiving the invitation and seeing his name on the list of performers solidified his promise to the Keeper. He'd have to dance and in these surroundings he'd have to do it really well. It was true now.

How silly it had been to think that he would not dance to the Camarilla. He had thought the dance would belong to his lord and only to him and who ever he chose to view it. But the dance was broken and out of spite Michel would give the remains to the people who'd never understand its true meaning. In a way he... whored out the dance. It had a purpose, but when it was stripped to the core of graceful movements, it was bare and it was means to an end. The skill he had was needed to make his Toreador character more believable. What there had been of the dance was discarded and sold. It hurt surprisingly little.

But there was something meaningful about it though. He'd need to be careful and maybe these people wouldn't comprehend even that little.. but maybe he could somehow bring a bit of soothing darkness in the golden cage of light. That was his noble purpose.

Inaugural party... Before concentrating on dance, Michel would finally need to browse for some new clothes. Luckily the dancing outfit he had taken along from New Zealand was his least effeminate one. It was part of his show to break the borderlines, but he had a feeling that the cup-less bra wouldn't have been so appreciated. He was able to be classier than that with slight changes to what he had and those could come later.

As Michel started his Internet browser, he thanked Set for Chinese tailors, regardless of what age they were. The prices were at least close to affordable. He also had higher chance of finding something special by browsing Taobao, than some other way. He was going for special, because he would have needed serious funds to take part in the more traditional suit competition. As a Toreador he could go his own way if he just looked refined enough for the big occasion.

He had thought to go with something that has lace on the sleeves for poetic look. Something official, while still cute. When he realized he didn't want anything too flashy, he understood he was thinking in paradoxes. He didn't have to think about it for too long though, but found the jacket he ended up considering. It had no lace at all, but it did have style. It wasn't what he had looked for, but it convinced him more and more as he kept thinking. It was simple, but still special and the price was also agreeable. He checked the previews for the shop and found them to be reliable.

Now for the funding... He'd need to beg from Lukas. It seemed to Michel that he needed money for many plans he had these days. At least this wasn't going to be so much of it.

Michel signed in his @greywood e-mail account. He only used it when he was dealing with Lukas and hadn't dared to open it after Josh had used it. He hadn't wanted to know what Lukas thought about everything. There was no need for the facts to be rubbed on. At first glance it seemed like Lukas hadn't done so either. There was one e-mail though. At first Michel mistook it for spam, but then he remembered where he had seen things like it. Lukas had wanted to make him a bitcoin purse before he had to leave. There was no money or coins or what ever it was called anyways on the account, but... now there were. The mail told him so.

Michel had to think for a while how the whole bitcoin stuff worked again, but he was able to log in to his purse to make sure. There were two coins. Back when Lukas had told about the worth of those things, they would have been... approximately 150 pounds. Give or take. Maybe give rather than take. Lukas had donated the coins on two different occasions. There was message visible: tutoring. It had been on two different occasions. What was this?

Michel didn't need to think about it for long. Lukas has very subtly rubbed his loss on him. He had found out about Josh's message and this had been his reaction. Tutoring. Yes, it could be looked at in that way too. Michel had seen it as his servitude, but Lukas had decided to call him a teacher. Michel wasn't sure what to think now. It was kind of overwhelming.

He made himself to calm down. Now he had to find himself a Taobao shopping service that accepted bitcoins. He knew that some Chinese companies did. It was for taxing reasons maybe. He wan't sure, but it was working on his behalf this time. After checking reviews again, the rest was easy. Not being alive meant that his body didn't change. So neither did his measurements. Ordering clothes could be so easy like that. He resisted the temptation of ordering himself ballet boots too. He couldn't ever get to show them to anyone as it was and he needed his money. Shopping cost of shoes could get astronomical as it was.

Having placed his order, he ran out of things to do

The world tried to end. Having experienced the end before, this attempt of apocalypse was not so impressive to Michel. Yes, he was alone. Lukas knew. So what? He blinked the blood from his eyes and felt a bit hungry.

Not now. He knew he was sufficiently fed. So now he'd have to dance. He took off his other clothes than briefs and turned on music that fitted what he was trying to do in general. He went in front of his mirror and made himself to move. It was difficult with how broken the dance was. It felt like weights were tied on him, but not in a good way. It was like dancing through tar with how little he felt like dancing. But this was the dance he had. It might have to be darker than any of the dark dances, but he'd have to push it through. This was the dance and he needed to get himself together, because he couldn't go on looking like an actual hippo on heels or something.

So now that he got himself moving, he had to start to pay attention to how he moved. This was not going to be the kind of situation where he could dance the moves that came in his mind, this time there had to be a plan. He needed to do the moves in certain order to make the whole look as good as possible and could not afford any sloppiness.

The arch of his hands lacked finesse...
Again!
Higher! Again!

Don't forget the pelvis...
Again!

The dance was broken and the shards were glued together with steel discipline.

Move those feet!
Again!

Michel could be cruel master to himself. He had no space in here to feel as clumsy as he did. Arms, hips, feet. Everything needed to work perfectly at the same time. He shouldn't do this on blank face either. But there was a fine line between giving bedroom eyes to room full of Camarilla and more subtle eroticism that the dance could take. He practiced shaking his hair with his hands. It worked, but he remembered that he'd have to pay attention to the veil he considered having along. Veil would give him something to think about, but he wasn't now sure if he should or could play with his hair. It was kind of shame as his hair was the least likely part of him to fail.

He got the veil from the closet and it helped with the control of his moves, but to him it felt like something kept missing. He couldn't help it. Not tonight. The morning was coming. In order to avoid picking himself up from the floor the next night, he went to bed.
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The severe exercise went on the following nights. He felt momentarily proud of himself and his ability to concentrate, but the results did not satisfy him. He had chosen the music already, but ended up pausing and replaying it all the time as something was always wrong. In end the part that was most often wrong was his face. He kept slipping from the flirtatious stances to calmness and then to melancholia. It would be too easy to spot how wrong he was doing it. Only the moves were there. As he went on, they reached new heights of perfection. His broken heart was just heavier to bear the lighter his limbs became.

Again! Again! Again!

The amount of repetition could make just about anyone feel sad in end. So eventually Michel decided to just dance and see how bad it was. He set his laptop's camera to record and performed the best he could manage in the situation. No agains this time. No cruelty, only acceptance.

The results weren't as bad as he had been thinking. He looked... serene. He saw his own sorrow, but he wasn't sure that everyone else could spot it. If so, then perhaps it could be called a bittersweet dance and made to work like that. The dance was not meant to be tranquil, but with right pace and slower music he could do something artistic and mysterious with it... His face stopped being a problem. It would add a new layer to the performance instead.

To celebrate his new found understanding he went to check his blog and noticed he had been sent a private message by Josh. Like usually, Josh in his kind and adorable way picked open all of Michel's old wounds and the one of Set's sacred bloodline had to get up from his chair, walk around in his basement and promise to cut himself really well when done with this. Then he went back and made himself to read the message again.

Like Michel always did, he felt conflicted this time too. Josh was promising and he was learning to take care of his survival too, but on other hand he wasn't trusting his own master and what good was that doing him? What had lord Greywood been thinking? The conflict that Michel experienced was strengthened by his guessing that Lukas could possibly send him another bitcoin. How did he know? It was impossible to say.

Michel forced himself to type a nice response to Josh who was totally innocent to all of the turmoil that Michel was prone to blame him off. It hurt to write about becoming a vampire. He had not been ready and he was lying to convince that Josh would be ready if it happened. But what else could he say? It was not like it was safe for Josh to run away if he wanted to. Michel needed to protect him.

Then Michel took his knife. His moves were calm, even that his mind wasn't. Josh had been talking about becoming a vampire and something was in Michel's mind about it. What was he missing? He hadn't wanted this, even that with time he had came to accept it. He knew it was supposed to be a gift, but during his time he had seen it take away things he had held in value. The feeding was intimate and he had been forced to be that way with all kinds of people. He dealt with it, even that it had felt more strange than pleasuring his lord's guests in the start. This vampire thing in a way was like he could again feel vulnerable in the nude. More of the vulnerability came from people not understanding the truths he had been taught. He had to hide them all. He was used to hunger and addiction, but it had became something way deeper. He was supposedly more powerful than before, but the loneliness made him feel raw and open to the core. Secrets weren't good garments, even if they might be the ceremonial outfit for Set's blood.

How long had it been? It couldn't be a year yet... It was! It had been a year. That was the fact that he had missed. It had already been a year when he had found out about Josh. He had not even noticed. The knife shook in his hand.
”A year...” He whispered.
He pushed the knife against his thigh. It still was odd kind of rush to feel it. The knife never stopped being special to him. He had almost died, but for that reason it had always felt the strongest.
He drew the map of his veins on his thigh.
”I have to teach you how to not get killed”, his lord had said. Michel closed his eyes, imagining the hand holding the knife to not be his.
”We are going to make sure you know how your body works”
The voice of the memory was of velvet. Happy belated ”birthday” to me, Michel thought, following his mind for a ride to a place where he was not alone yet.
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[This particular post is NSFW.]

Michel, wearing only miniskirt and tank top had crawled under the skirt of other beautiful boy and was pleasuring him with all his skill while the boy held his head roughly. Michel was wearing high heel shoes, locked on his feet only to come out if someone found prettier ones for him to use. He could feel his hole stretching as he wore a plug consistently and would for the continued time of the sissy life show. He had always been obedient, but the film crew had done something with his mind and ”no” was no longer part of his vocabulary. He was becoming a perfect doll...

Michel opened his eyes. If he went on being excited about the choose your own adventure post he had made in the blog, he would have to go hunting this night too. But he had been hunting last night. Why was he developing an urge to go again? He would have thought his entertainment would conjure up quite a different feeling...

Where was it? He again thought. One might think he'd be fapping continuously with his hobbies of reading erotica and roleplaying. But he hadn't. He had thought he'd feel like it after the heartbreak let down, but it just hadn't came in his mind. Partially it was explained with him not having done it so many times during his years with his Sire. He hadn't owned his own pleasure. His lord did, allowing Lukas to share. They had been polite lovers and didn't leave Michel lacking. Until they did and it had taken Michel a considerably long time to wonder why he hadn't taken the matters to his own hand, so to say.

There was absolutely no need to go out hunting. So Michel could as well help himself now. There were those intrigued feelings about his imaginations. He adjusted his position on bed and started to gently stroke his member. There were no changes even that in his mind he returned to sucking the dominant boy. But of course there were not. He had seen that much during his first meeting with his lord. The vampire had only chosen to get it up after he had drank from Michel. So Michel had to knowingly locate blood on his nether regions just like he had done with Stavros to seem living. It was not very intuitive and not connected to the arousing thoughts, but he grew hard.

As he kept thinking about his helpless servitude, he felt some pressure accumulating, but it was quite subdued compared to feelings he remembered. Something red glistened on the end of his hardness and it would have been very troubling if he hadn't seen it happen to his lord before. He felt the moisture with his fingers. It looked like blood and smelled like it too, but was more slippery. He lubricated his fingers with it and carefully pushed two of them inside his... hole. There weren't really any erotic descriptions to it. There was no aching with need, there was simply existing. A hole.
Stop thinking of it like that! You'll never feel good if you do.
He scissored with his fingers a bit. Yes, like that, he tried to think, even that it didn't feel like much. There was one thing that should work though. He bent his fingers towards his front and found his prostate. He had been a curious young man once, so he knew how to do it to himself. Even now it sure felt different. There was physical reaction, his shaft produced more of the slippery blood... This made him to think interesting thoughts. He was practically milking his vitae out. It could be used...

Cum for me ”master”, his ghoul would say, milking his helpless owner for more of the sweet nectar, his tone making it quite clear who was really in control.
Michel felt like his hardness should have twiched at the thought that should have even otherwise made him feel hot and bothered. But it didn't. He moved his hand on his neck and pushed down. The imaginary dominant holder was erotic to add to the feeling, or shade of it at least, but his breathing did not matter. Regardless of what he did, the darkness would not come. So Michel finished the act by manipulating his g-spot and manhood and after a while with some further pressure he ejaculated more the bloody liquid.

He was kind of spent, but only kind of. The mental images had been better than the physical feeling Michel had been able to give to himself. It wasn't probably better with a real man. Stavros had been with him and the blood sucking had been the best part of the coupling, seconded by the man holding him tight at one point. The stimulation inside him had not been that meaningful. It was puzzling and sad realization to make. Michel had been quite a slut, because it had given him all those wonderful feelings in his body. They were nearly gone and even that the thoughts of service and humiliation intrigued him, the reactions were not what he expected at all. They were more prompting him to feed.

What had happened to him? Undeath had happened to him. Nothing would ever compare to the feelings of his death and awakening. He was... numb. Masturbation had only been exercise in futility. Even that he had felt in power of giving himself pleasure, he wasn't able to do it the way he wanted. What little he had simply didn't feel right. It was kind of emasculating experience. Nullifying. This time he was not sure if he approved.

The realization wiped away even the hunger. He covered his face and tried to weep, but even that didn't feel right.
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* * * *
All of the social activities with Camarilla and the budding friendship... or almost friendship with Davvad had made Michel's loneliness even more aching. He saw the others belonging and having companionship and Davvad seemed to reach for him that way too. Tried to. Among people Michel's solitude was different. There was part of him that had to always hold back. Only he knew better than the rest and it was lonely with only the truth as his true friend. The truth did not lend him an ear or comforting warmth. He was maybe elevated by it, but he was alone and sometimes it was difficult to not feel envious to people who had normal social relationships. Or as normal as their altered nature allowed them.

And he was just as solitary among the sacred blood. He had expected friendship and talks about the truth and freedom, learning together further on the path... Only silence. He didn't even know how many others there were. He hoped there were, but he didn't know. Closest to a discussion he longed for he had been with some random online person who had chosen to call himself Lector. Would Michel have to Embrace someone to finally be able to be honest and understood? He didn't consider it for real, but the thought crossed his mind, thinking how he had no one. He knew of Chun Hyang, but he couldn't really imagine telling her how Camarilla had made him to feel. He couldn't come up with any good way of how she could view his envy of Davvad's warmth and art. He was so open. And the art was... living. It was maybe empty, but looking at him it was not that easy to remember. Michel surely needed help. Definitely.

Lukas. Michel trusted him to want to help. Michel had helped him to understand one of the basic principles in the beginning and later Lukas had done with him what their Sire should have done and taken responsibility. Lukas was a... big brother. There was no need to pretend that London was fun even that Michel had tried to be brave for him. It had not been Lukas' decision to get rid of him and he couldn't have helped it. But maybe he could be of help now.

Mery Lukas
I need help. There is no one else to ask or i would dare to talk to. You know how it is in London. I don't know other people of our blood. And even if i knew, i could not be so honest as i am to you, sen-i. Though if i was surrounded by true friends, i wouldn't probably have these issues. I wouldn't be so alone, always.

Instead i am surrounded by people of Camarilla. Their lies don't convince me and i know they are lost if they don't change. But i can't help them. I should keep very quiet. I don't even want to start imagining what would happen if they found out. In Ra's blindness they would strike me down and i am sure it would be highly unpleasant way to go. So i walk among them as shadow of what i could be.

But i am so envious of them to be able to have real friends and real talks and not hide something all the time. Maybe some things remain unspoken, but i feel that i alone have such a big secret. I always remember it when someone is friendly with me.

I have an almost friend (always the almost), a Toreador and he's almost made me feel bad for my sacred nature. He seems so open and trusting. At the same time i wish we could know the truth together and find the ignorance in him a blessing. Yes, i wrote that. You see, i need help. And why you are the only one i can trust. I know my thoughts aren't true, but they are there and disturb me. How lost can one be on the path?

One thing the Toreador have, but i don't is the art. I know it is empty, but it is so open and inviting. And i've lost so much. The ignorance is easy...

Why must our Sire create me and throw away? I barely know what i am doing in here. The truth is over me like a blanket, constantly, never letting go. It is a mark that makes me forever alone, even with people who could otherwise be friends.

I'm so alone.
Sedjemet
PS It feels like forever since someone called me that.


The sin was out. There was sin. In the solitary nights of London much of it had rubbed on Michel's frail form. Hidden thoughts and feelings he hadn't thought of, but in passing, They nagged at him when he wasn't making himself busy. Davvad's friendship had shown how little Michel could give or even had available to give. That too was wrong thing to think about. In his cell Michel did not count his blessings, though he also tried hard to not curse them.

**

Michel had felt his need clear the night before. He was so alone and his thoughts were wrapping on themselves and getting all messy. After a good night's sleep his written outburst felt stupid and childish. But it did ache him how he always needed to be apart and the sinful reasons for the pain were there.

Lukas had hurried to write him a reply:

Sedjemet,
you are blessed and beautiful and stronger than many others would be. We simply need to get you back on track. Your thoughts grow alone and you should have written to me before. I wish I could make a skype call there, but you are already asleep.

First of all, your way is not lost, at least yet. You are not mistaken on your worth or worth of the truth. They do set you apart, but that is only a positive thing, even that responsibility is difficult to bear. You are of sacred blood and secretly grace the Camarilla filth you are hiding among. You are right, they are so misled that they would not see the blessing. So you must be careful as you have been. I'm sure London temple has plans for you in the end. Be patient and don't do anything reckless. Sometimes helping and being helped can hurt in the beginning, but you have never been afraid of pain.

How can you know the Camarilla are friendly? Of course they even have rules for the basics, but doesn't that only show they need them? They smile in their parties, but I know that you can do that too. You know how easy the emotions are to control. Anyone can smile, but devotion is something else. Secrets can be hidden. Who knows what golden cage hides in addition to the chains and bars they show off proudly?

You already said you are almost friend with a Toreador. You are right about that. Without freedom there can be no real friendship. Without truth there is no real freedom. I understand it makes you to feel yourself lonely, senet-i. I want to be there for you. I wish I could be closer.

And as you probably understand for real, ignorance is not a bliss. Truth always has more worth, even that it often is painful in the beginning and does make a mark in spirit. It seems to be very heavy on you, but we aren't children anymore. You have made yourself worthy and it's sad to see you questioning it. Don't allow the aeons to grab you again.

The part with Toreador didn't even make me sad, but frustrated me. They try to be so much about passion, but they don't quite understand while they claim to. They might see art in the pain and submission, like I told you before, but they would not understand it. Their art is empty, like you said. It lacks the truth and real beauty with it. They don't know what they are looking for and claim they found it.

Because the art is empty, they can freely flaunt it. The truth is like precious jewel and because of that it is only shown to those who deserve it. That's why you hold on, Sedjemet-i. That's why you hide too. You are precious jewel. You are so much better than those people, even put together. It does push you apart, but then you need to write to me and not think about it all alone.

Think about Set in his glory and think about the path. There must be a greater plan for you. Nothing happens randomly.

Nakht-etj!
-L


Most of the things Lukas wrote made Michel feel better. He had a place. He was blessed and he knew the others were not. But Lukas tried to claim there was a greater plan for him and he felt irritated. He rebelled at the thought of little silly Sedjemet doing anything of value. But even then he was blessed and the truth was his secret sacred treasure.

OOC

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OOC


Welcome and forgiven...
But Josh was. It wasn't his fault that Michel's lord had chosen a new boy. Still the thought had Michel on edge. He continued typing.

You are going to be hurt in ways you couldn't imagine, Josh. You will be drained dry and it will be glorious. When you come back, it is best you can ever imagine. Then he will cast you out in the darkness alone, hollow and empty. I hope that once you find your feet again his new toy will contact you and you find that there is even worse pain than loneliness as you struggle to serve him as I serve you. After all it is the only way to serve the master you will never see again, but still feel the need to serve. He will condemn you to undeath and leave you forever alone with only thoughts as company. You will be empty like me. Get the hell away from there. I'm sure that's preferable option. And then you'd end my servitude.

Josh, I absolutely hate you for taking what is mine. You are fucking lucky to be so far away or I would have removed you. I would have shown you what it takes and how you don't have it. No, you are not forgiven. Not ever.


Michel again had the disturbing thought, almost a feeling of holding a lithe struggling body against his. Josh was lucky indeed, because beyond thoughts that Michel could word he was only prey. A tasty morsel. Not only that even, but target of revenge. This was beyond hunger, no prey deserved what Josh would....

Michel shook his head and deleted the text he had created. In thoughts that had words for them it was not Josh's fault and Michel could easily relate to need to be with his lord. For now Josh took what he could have, like he should. It was not his fault it was what Michel couldn't have.

Even then Michel's mind felt somehow more tense and alert and he decided to cut himself a bit instead of going outside. He wasn't sure how that would have gone.
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It had been in the air and around the streets for longest of times. Because of that, Michel couldn't really be surprised with the song playing in his mind right after he woke up to another night.
Walking in the winter wonderland...

There was no Christmas for the true blood of Set. Michel ad Lukas had been allowed some holiday cheer out of their habit when their Sire had been sure they didn't associate it with something as oppressive as Christianity. After all, if you were free, you should not deny yourself the festive mood that was building around you in the outside world and Lord Greywood had always been favourable recipient to his ghouls' surprises, even that there were better times of year for it.

Now it was different. Michel tried to go hunting to keep himself busy and once again distance himself of the time when he'd be desperate for blood. Christmas to him was always associated with scents and tastes. It reminded him of Davvad's way of still having them in his unlife. At least almost. So Michel had prepared for his possible meal by buying a gingerbread cookie. It had been kind of an ordeal with all the people around and their happiness around and the familiar Christmas songs that just didn't feel the same. He was irreversibly different. On this night he was a shadow. On the bright side (or dark?) there were no church people offering him help like the last year. He could carry his solitude alone.

As he started to make it seem like he was lost, he looked around for cameras. They were a constant problem and there likely was no way to make his actions look right. Only good thing about his way of feeding (when possible) was that his meals also wanted to be unseen so it was not good to resist when someone was taking you somewhere. Michel had been thinking about it and by now it seemed to be his best solution to make the prey not want their own behaviour to be seen by someone else. It was not like Michel would have caused much damage, especially when the whole thing was not easy to think about afterwards.

Walking in the winter wonderland...
There wasn't even any snow. Instead, if he dared to look up, it seemed more like it might rain. Not that he had seen snow around Christmas time even before. So why this song? That's what Michel pondered as he wandered around a bit more. The aimlessness and touching on a bit shadier areas weren't yet doing it, based on the lack of interest. Perhaps he ought to think of different way soon. This might have exhausted its usefulness.

Michel continued by pretending mild panic, as he hadn't been able to get a reaction before. This resulted in an interested look, so he subtly observed the potential meal. The man could have been nice looking if he didn't seem so... pretended. He was a Man and he was proud of it, but there was no substance to it. His gender was the only thing he had. He gave Michel a hungry look, but something that also pushed him down... or rather attempted to. There was no real dominance behind it. But on a good side, there also was no sign of substance abuse. Just a... dumb oaf. Michel could work with it. Right now he had to walk past, though.

He walked to a familiar dead end and then turned from there with pretended frustration and walked past his designated prey. He would not do it again, after all, he had to give the man the benefit of doubt. Maybe there was no need, though.
”Hello girl, are you lost?”
Michel nodded, keeping his gaze down.
”Maybe I can help you?”
Michel could hear the insincerity in the man's tone. There was no need to look up in his face.
”I heard there was a new bar around here”, Michel told to the man in his soft tone.
”I was planning to go there myself”, the man lied, ”I'll make sure you get there safely.”
Michel followed his saviour like a dog, displaying so much ignorant trust that he was surprised the man didn't get suspicious. Michel also knew that the bar was located elsewhere.
”It's a bit strange location”, the man explained when they reached a more secluded area. Michel nodded in his pretended trust. Tension grew. The man looked around, ready to make his attack. Even then Michel was momentarily surprised to find himself falling on the ground. It should have hurt. He enjoyed being overpowered, but this would hardly be right...

”Be a good girl and I won't hurt you”, the man said. Michel didn't react at first because the man had moved his hand on his throat. For moment Michel tried to use him, tried to get his kicks out of the danger. He tried to make himself to believe there was dominance behind it, he tried to believe this would bring the darkness... No. It would not. So he nodded weakly to show how good girl he was. The man's eyes filled with animal lust and as he was taken by his feeling, Michel reversed the positions. With a precise move, he knocked out the predator and let himself to become one instead.

He opened his paper bag with the gingerbread cookie in it and took a careful sniff. It really smelled like Christmas. He kept the scent in his mind as he went for feeding, but the man just had to smell like cheap cologne. The whole thing got awkward as he drank, sniffed the cookie quickly, drank, sniffed the cookie... There was something desperate in the way he moved, he thought and was grateful for no one seeing him. It was like... like substance abuse, the bad kind, but at least all he abused was the gingerbread cookie. And the man. He felt mightily stupid and continued his meal. The action, combined with his troubled thoughts almost took him over, but he didn't allow it. He couldn't afford to make people disappear. This one wasn't worth the trouble.

Walking in the winter wonderland...
Michel only saw water. It wasn't raining like last night, but the man's clothes were getting wet from the ground under him. Michel once again wondered why they were never pleasant. Why couldn't any of these men ever hold him with the right power? Why did he have to share the thing that was the greatest pleasure left to him with these people?

Suddenly the whole thing disgusted him way more than it should. He hadn't felt that about his actions too often. Now he really had to leave, but he couldn't rush away. He had dealt with people who had more open ideas about legal matters on enough times to pick up something. If he ran, he'd look guilty. So he made it his task to get back home at a leisurely pace. He threw the gingerbread cookie in the trash. Luckily it was even later at night now and there weren't that many people to see. Michel still felt different, though. Different and somewhat sick. The season made itself known by bright and obnoxious lights that also reflected from puddles of last night's rain. Michel's headache was a good reminder of what he really was. The try for anything else with the gingerbread cookie had been silly.

He was alone. In the past it had only been like that once, he thought, as he turned the key on the door that led to the stairs down. He had been dumped by Bill, his first boyfriend, earlier on that year before and even that Michel had already met his lord, they didn't live together yet. The vampire had not seen him during Christmas and Michel had no one. This time, like last year, there was no one to look forward to either. Even back in the past, he had needed his brave face, because the loss of parents wasn't as easy as he kept telling himself and Christmas out of all times made the loss apparent. There were many things to miss in time like this, he pondered, as he took off his coat and boots. It was hard to help himself when he was thinking of those memories. Even when he reminded himself that his sexual preferences weren't the only thing that would take him to conflict with his parents. There wouldn't have been a truly meaningful relationship with them even if they had not abandoned him. Even if he would have been welcome to spend the season with them and they would have been fine with him sleeping all day, he would have been alone. They were willing servants of the Aeons and that was all to it, really. It explained why things had gone the way they did.

Bill had his purpose. The separation from parents was easier to have happened because of him. And of course, Michel had other things to learn from him. Maybe he had been rude, but still, Michel hoped that where ever he was, he was happy. On the Christmas after that lonely one in his memories, he had already been a ghoul...

Walking in the winter wonderland...
Again the same song? It wasn't something Michel had ever felt special about. It wasn't a childhood memory.... But of course. It had been his first Christmas as a ghoul and he had been bored. His lord had not seen Christmas as anything to pay that much attention to and had started to go through some records, not wishing to be disturbed. Lukas had found Michel and given him a paper, thinking it could be interesting. It had been the instructions on how to dance Winter Wonderland in belly dancing moves. The idea of that made Michel smile even now. The whole thing had mainly elementary moves, but that had been exactly what Michel knew at that point. Only the big circle move was something he hadn't practised. Now he did in a greater amount. He bent over and described the circle with his behind. He thought it was like a slow version of a dog wagging its tail, though only once from right side to the left. He has practised all of the dance and then shown Lukas and finally his lord too when he finished with his work. It was a nice Christmas memory.

As Michel switched on more comfortable clothes, he pondered about the power of the memory. Would he ruin it by doing it alone? Would his loneliness overwrite the warmth he felt when he thought about it? No, he wouldn't ruin it.

As the music played, a past Christmas filled Michel's loneliness.
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Michel Dauphin
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Sometimes in the loneliness, the nights blended and fused together. Last year the New Year's Eve had passed unnoticed in Michel's artistic angst, feverishly copying his Sire's image repeatedly. This year there was no reason to fall for that. This year he would try to enjoy the party like other young people likely did. The festive mood might help him to meet someone, to not be alone for at least one night. Maybe it was possible to share his pleasure with someone nicer. There could be the warmth of life to experience that was not only a shadow.

Those thoughts and others like them were driving Michel towards change. He had for longest of times thought that he had to find in himself the will to go out, but he just hadn't been able to make himself to do that. Now was the night. The change of the year could be a powerful symbol to guide him towards all the good things bravery could allow him.

He had been styling himself for some hours, trying out different clothes and hairstyles. He had needed to surrender to demands of his role and the cool weather. He carried his high heel shoes in his bag so he'd put them on when he arrived at a nice looking club and was reasonably sure no one he knew was there. Now he had his fur lined winter boots on. He had once again picked his woollen coat and wore a huge tube scarf with it. Under the coat, he had more suitable partying clothing. Shades were once again compulsory part of his clothing. It was too bad with eye make-up, or rather the lack of it. At least he didn't need to make any explanations.

Michel opened the door on top of the stairs and stepped out. Just as he had closed the door, the sky before him was shattered with sparks of green light, spreading all over it. Spreading on Michel's urgently shut eyelids, like cutting his eyeballs with a cold knife. The following explosion was an audible representation of how it all felt in Michel's head. After effect shook his body with nausea. He might have needed a moment to gather himself and get steady on his feet, but then he saw more streaks of light moving up in the sky. This would hurt!

Michel turned around quickly and opened the door. He stepped inside and practically slammed the door shut. Without thinking much anything he took off his clothes and went to bed, drawing the covers over himself. It took him a while to stop seeing the ugly red lights dancing on his eyelids. The darkness truly was blessed.
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Michel Dauphin
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It was kind of shocking that Michel had only found out a week later the fact that his favourite band was disbanding. HIM had been something stable in his life. Ville Valo, the singer had his minor influence over Michel much before he had even met anyone called Jasper or learned the major truth behind everything. Michel had been listening to love metal last night without even knowing about the change that had taken place sometimes last week.

Now Michel felt all kinds of nostalgic. The dark beauty and bad boy charisma of Ville had caused feelings that Michel had only understood later after all kinds of troubles and pain. He was so cool and now Michel knew the feeling had been infatuation. It made him a bit amused, but his silly teen boy feelings didn't affect the goodness of the music. Neither had the opinions of his parents even that he had started to wear all black. There had been enough shouting about ”welcome your sweet six six six in my heart” and no wonder why, really. It had still been a safe rebellion like Michel learned later.

Michel had bought his first heartagram items when he lived in his own flat back when he had started the art school. The likeness with pentagram would have upset his parents too much. He still had his hoodie, but couldn't think of wearing it, because the Camarilla was like having restrictive parents all over again. They couldn't prevent this tribute from happening, though. Michel found the good old ”And Love Said No”-collection from his Spotify and started one of his favourite songs. He took his hairbrush and using it as a pretend microphone, made his stage show of singing and dancing. His singing wasn't totally bad and he could somewhat carry a tune. Even then it was better that no one was listening. The words he knew by heart:
”Come on, and show them your love, rip out the wings of a butterfly”, he went on, dancing. His long-lasting love with oriental dancing shaped his show and all in all he had a great time. That's what mattered, right? He had done this as a teen too, imagining he was Ville and people admired him, his beauty and darkness. That was silly of course, but all in good fun now when he remembered it. It was a clear symptom of his upbringing. He had something better now.

The song ended and ”Gone With Sin” started. Michel stopped moving and tried to follow the low tone of the singer, but like always, he failed. He laughed at himself and returned to his computer. Ville Valo looked so old in the picture of the article that told about the band. Michel had been too occupied with other things lately to be a passionate fan of the band and he hadn't paid attention to the change.

Gone with the sin...
Michel knew that Christianity thought ageing and death to be caused by sin. It was an almost amusing idea. Everything was supposed to depend on some apple (a clever story to cause obedience and no questions) and ever since no matter what you did you would wither and die. Michel was sure that vampires, in general, would be seen as more sinners than a singer of a band, no matter the flirting with darkness. After all, vampires didn't only flirt with it and the blood of Set was bound to it in a sacred way. And sin... There was no sin of course, but if there was... Michel had been a most faithful follower of it. This fact, if anything proved to Michel that sin really did not exist. No one had preserved Ville like Michel had been. Even now Michel felt something profound when the dark notes sent something like shivers down his spine. It was too late now. If Michel was to keep paying attention, he would end up watching from the distance as the past target of his adoration grew old and died while he himself was stuck in time. Not that he would, probably. His favourite band would be no more.

This one time, though... He would make sure he'd see them live, even once. He owed it to the man whose fate was so different from his. He owed it to the memory.
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