Creation Rite - DVL in the details

I feel the boot crunch against my ribcage. On the inside bones crack and something bursts. Through my unruined eye I see him wind back for another kick. I am a million miles away. I’m in Tampa. The sun is warm and sea smell is sharp. I have passed the point of pain. My body lifts and arches like a bridge as he kicks me again. I try to tell him to stop but words slur out of me in an incomprehensible mumble as the flap of skin that was my cheek rolls against my jaw. I am a million miles away.
He grabs my hair and I feel myself being pulled along the ground. The gravel grates at the small of my back as my bloodied shirt tears open. Eventually I feel the ground give way underneath me and for the briefest moment I’m in free fall. I feel free, like I’m flying. I imagine that I have died, that my body has finally released me from this cruelty. But I hit the bottom of the pit with a jarring crunch.
I look around me. Slumped on the far side is the guy from the tour bus that sat next to me. Ben? I think that’s what his name was. He looks in complete shock, hugging his knees to his chest. Not far from him is the girl that was arguing loudly with her boyfriend. I didn’t get her name. She looks as if she caught it every bit as bad as me and Ben.
My good eye turns up to see the man from the woods pull something over the pit. Judging from the scraping it’s most likely a large square of sheet metal. He says something as the pit closes. It surprises me to hear no malice or pleasure in his voice as he states that by tomorrow night, only one of us must be alive or we will all be killed. He carries on about the survivor being educated and inducted.
The grate closes. It is dark.
I don’t want to die. Ben is crying. The girl is making a low moaning sound. I touch my face where my cheek used to be. I don’t want to die. My finger pricks against something sharp in my mouth. The point of a protracting tooth. I don’t want to die. I leap from where I landed onto Ben. I drive newly grown fangs into the side of his neck. I don’t want to die. I am mildly surprised as the girl puts up more of a fight. I am a million miles away as I murder two people I don’t even know, buried in a ditch, somewhere in the wilds.

In Perspective

Ysabel,
About the other night. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that things got a little... unusual. Certain things were said and I think a little context is needed. So here are the facts.
Since our first Vaulderie my blood connection to you has been particularly strong. As in, ton-o-bricks strong. To the point where if you say, “jump”, I’ll say, “off what?” Now, I’m sure you can appreciate a life of not answering to anyone and how something like this can fuck with a vampire’s head. So, having said that, there are two things you need to know about this situation.
First off. I got your back, no matter what. If you jump in the fire, I’ll be right behind you. Nobody’s gonna fuck with you and our troupe on my watch. You need something done, somebody put down, whatever it is, I’m your vampire.
But.
If you dick me on this, abuse this shit, so help me fucking god, there will be hell to pay. Because I will find a way to break this thing. I will come after you. And I will kick your gorgeous ass.

Seven tiny cities...

The dolls houses seems completely redundant now. For a moment Elizabeth felt free. The bars of her fifty year prison were becoming brittle. She could feel them giving away. What power did these doll houses hold over her, when she could hold a whole city in her hands. Perfect little cities, encapsulated in bubbles of glass, trapped in an endless winter. A never ending season; cold and immortal.

She could barley contain her excitement. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for something to hold one of the snow-globes. A leather satchel. Perfect! She grabbed one and separated the remaining six into two groups of three, each group moved an opposite wall. Just the way her sister would have liked.

Elizabeth grabbed one of her parasols, put one her smoked glasses and slung the satchel around her shoulder. For the first time in fifty years she would step out of her room.

Letter

Augustin,

It has been difficult adjusting to pack life again after so long alone. The  Blood is such a potent force and we have been careless with it. I will take care to be more cautious from now on, especially for the sake of the younger ones who seem not to have experienced the bond of a pack before. I will try to offer them guidance, like you so expertly did in the past, and I pity that they never experienced the joys of a devoted sire. I must admit that solitude has come to suit me, and the new voices around the haven are sometimes alarming. Not to mention new and uncertain attachments.

It has also been difficult to be under the command of a Bishop again - especially a loyalist like Frederico. But I will rein in my displeasure (the pack Priest has already told me off about it, though I am not sure that he or the others are fully aware of the politics of our kind). Have no doubt that I remain loyal to you and the Hand in equal measure.

The Inquisitor who has recently appeared in the city isn't making things easier, but he hasn't bothered us unduly (yet). I am curious to see how he local Hand will deal with his appearance, since his presence is a clear insult to us. Perhaps I should visit Cesar and speak with him.

I have been in an uncharacteristically rageful mood recently and I am afraid that I will end up angering the wrong people. I will focus my violent attentions on the mortals who are disrupting our operations. Mexico City will soon see the rise of la Reina Sangrienta. I have also been encouraged by the Brujah's interest in the mortals - so many of our kind dismiss their usefulness too quickly. Maybe this will also give him the means do dispose of his unwieldy morals.

Maybe it is all this rich new Blood disagreeing with me. I was never as measured and precise as you are. In my infinite weakness, I miss you.

Ysabel

Frozen

You only see what your eyes want to see
How can life be what you want it to be?
You're frozen
When your heart's not open

You're so consumed with how much you get
You waste your time with hate and regret
You're broken
When your heart's not open

If I could melt your heart
We'd never be apart
Give yourself to me
You hold the key

Now there's no point in placing the blame
And you should know I suffer the same
If I lose you
My heart will be broken

Love is a bird, she needs to fly
Let all the hurt inside of you die
You're frozen
When your heart's not open

Report

Augustin,

Operations are going well. There is much to report.

My pack is bonded – a surprising but fortunate coincidence. They will be useful to us in the coming nights. Two of them don’t know much about our ways (you know how well that suits me). The third is very shrewd. For now, they will follow me and I will look after them.

The kine are easy to bend to our will. Our base will be operational soon. I have obtained property and a likely human leader and I foresee that we will begin to profit soon. I will put the fear of your devil in them.

As you predicted, the Kindred leadership is a shambles. Frederico is weak and ineffective, and his sympathies run counter to ours. A show of force may be warranted, but I will leave it to your esteemed judgement to make a decision on this. I need more time to grow my reputation, though some of it has gone before me. I have seen many of us here, and have had an audience with the Godmother – a true honour.

On a personal note, I am saddened by the disregard I have seen for the beliefs of my ancestors. I must find a way to preserve the old ways. I know that you do not approve, but you understand that this is the only concession that I ask. I am devoted to you and to our cause; I just call my gods by a different name.

Your loving childe,
Ysabel