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"Thanks... " Bryon says tentatively. Cynthia looks around a little nervously. Bryon steps inside and gestures for her to do the same.
Elizabeth leads them to her luxurious parlor and offers them a seat, standing and indicating comfortable sofa seating. "I'm so glad you could make it tonight."
Cynthia looks at Bryon not so graciously and walks up to Elizabeth. "Good evening... thank you for receiving us. I know you told him to bring me here, but I am still pleased to meet you." She walks to the couch and sits down. Bryon follows her perturbedly.
Elizabeth laughs softly. "Wonderful, you are very direct. Bryon, won't you make the introductions, dear?" She sits down opposite Cynthia and Bryon, turning slightly sideways so her body forms a Z shape
Cynthia looks straight at Elizabeth. "My name is Cynthia August... what's yours?"
Bryon looks between the two a little. "Cynthia, this is Elizabeth.... As you know, Elizabeth Feildric. My... sire." Cynthia nods a little.
Elizabeth smiles at Bryon. "Yes, thank you dear."
Responding to Cynthia, unable to approve of her directness, but wishing to make her feel as comfortable as possible, Elizabeth weighs many possible responses before choosing, "You may call me Elizabeth."
Cynthia doesn't smile, but nods in recognition. "Very well. You can call me Cynthia."
Elizabeth smiles with a bit of amusement. "It's so good to meet you tonight, Cynthia. Bryon has told me so... little... about you."
Bryon looks at Elizabeth a little uncomfortably. "Yes well..."
"I can imagine," Cynthia says. In response to Elizabeth asking how they met, she continues, "I believe we met in an empty building down in the industrial quarter... I remember the dirt and smell of rust." She looks at Bryon again, slightly accusingly. "Bryon here was very nice... managed to keep me in a safe state of shock." Cynthia glances to Elizabeth.
Regarding Cynthia steadily, Elizabeth listens. To avoid staring impolitely, her eyes shift to Bryon as she starts watching his aura to gauge his mood. Fear... she notes that on the surface, Bryon seems well composed, and approves of this, though his fear gives her great pause. "You had been injured, I take it?" she asks Cynthia.
"Yes. I had been... kidnapped."
"By the anarchs?"
"Yeah," Bryon interjects, nodding.
"Yes, I suppose," Cynthia answers.
"Was Bryon involved in the kidnapping?" Elizabeth asks.
"I didn't see him," Cynthia says, with another accusing glance.
Bryon twitches. "No, no I wasn't." As Elizabeth looks at him sharply, she nods. He asks her, "What do you think of me?" and looks away.
Elizabeth's voice is very soft as she speaks.... "What is the difference between doing it and approving of it, Bryon?"
"We know things have happened that I don't approve of," Bryon says, still calm on the surface.
"Was Cynthia's kidnapping one of them?"
"Yes," says Bryon. Cynthia leans back and looks at him.
Elizabeth smiles softly and sympathetically at Cynthia. "You are lucky that they did not kill you. I suppose they thought you might join their cause. Did you?"
"I'm not entirely sure what their cause is I must confess. Nor what we are." Cynthia pauses.
Bryon addresses them both, saying, "I've... tried a little to explain..."
"I... see." Elizabeth's voice sounds a bit colder than before. She hesitates, thoughts spinning in her mind. Bryon frowns.
"But Elizabeth...." Cynthia turns to her, slightly agitated.
Elizabeth looks at Cynthia attentively. "Yes?"
"What do you do?" Cynthia asks.
Elizabeth is not quite sure what to answer. She understands that Cynthia is too naive to understand how offensive she finds this question to be. "I am fortunate enough not to have to work for a living. I do keep myself occupied socially."
"You seem quite able at that task I must say. Does that provide... what you need?"
Bryon gulps, and looks to Cynthia. "Please..."
Elizabeth's first thought is that Cynthia means, does it provide what she needs emotionally... then she reconsiders, and decides, it may also mean does it provide for her physical needs. "It does for me. I was reared in a time when that was what was expected of ladies of my class. As for sustenance, my protege's are quite pleased to provide me as I wish. I have nightly appointments."
Cynthia nods. "Interesting. How do you feel about that?"
Bryon looks away. "Come on, Cynthia...."
"What is the matter, Bryon?" Elizabeth asks him.
"Nothing, just..." Bryon trails off. Cynthia looks curious, then smiles.
"Just what?" Elizabeth presses.
Bryon looks Elizabeth in the eyes. "I just wish the proper respect be paid, I suppose. Ironically enough."
Elizabeth clears her throat politely, tempted to laugh. "Very commendable then. As for your question, Cynthia, it feels comfortable enough, except when it is threatened by such as the ones who kidnapped you."
Cynthia nods. Bryon feels that the moment has come to make his escape. "Well... you wished to meet," he begins.
"Yes. What city are you from, Cynthia?" Elizabeth politely, impeccably, stops his escape cold. She also means to find out... this neonate, where is she from? Is it possible she was kidnapped from her sire in another city? Or is what Elizabeth suspects, but hopes is not the case - is she one of the anarchs' illegitimate progeny?
"I live here if that is what you mean," Cynthia says.
"Hm." Elizabeth pauses, thinking. So, she is of anarchs' get. Tragic, really. And she has no idea what her fate will be. She feels a twinge of anger at her childe. "Bryon... have you explained the Traditions to her?"
"As such," Bryon answers shortly.
Elizabeth thinks this means, he tried, but couldn't bring himself to be blunt enough for them to penetrate. She would correct that immediately. "One of them, is the introduction to the Prince... and another is the obtaining of permission for the Embrace... did you happen to explain those?"
"I would like to hear about them in detail actually," Cynthia tells Elizabeth. Bryon frowns.
"Certainly. It would be my pleasure to explain," says the Harpy. "Each city has a Prince, a single Kindred whose power over that city, while not absolute, is acknowledged by all who dwell there legitimately." Cynthia nods, already understanding this much.
"As part of this, and in order that our numbers do not become too many, permission from the Prince must be obtained before making a childe. Before I embraced Bryon, for example, I went to the Prince here in Dallas, Hanson Blake, and asked the boon of him." Bryon looks away as Elizabeth speaks.
"What should happen if it... slipped..." Cynthia asks, then looks at Bryon.
Bryon looks pained. "You don't..."
Elizabeth cuts him off. "Most usually, the one who slipped, is responsible for cleaning up his mess. It would be very bad to make such a mistake. Quite recently, the Prince executed an anarch, Hyacinth Lang, for breaking that tradition. She had embraced several teenagers at a home for dying children."
Cynthia reveals a little distress in her eyes, looking at Elizabeth. "So..."
"Occasionally, such slips are pardoned. It would very much depend on circumstances... and who the sire was." Elizabeth watches the two of them, her surface unruffled.
"What can... we..." Cynthia looks at Elizabeth, "do? Please?" Bryon squeezes his fingers over his eyes.
Elizabeth looks at him pointedly, noting his gesture, her suspicions growing. "Do you have any suggestions, Bryon?" Her voice is silky smooth and there is anger burning in her eyes.
"I... think it has beeing going all right so far." Bryon looks calm, feeling defiant.
"Do you now."
"I mean, it's a big city. Why should she be killed because of... some ancient rule." Bryon shakes his head.
"So your suggestion is that.... a hypothetical person in the situation of having a sire who failed to regard our kind's ancient traditions should simply hide and cower? Hope not to be discovered?" Elizabeth could not keep all her displeasure out of her voice. This disregard of the traditions seemed such a betrayal of everything she had tried to teach Bryon.
"Why not? I'm not going to rat on her. Are you?"
Elizabeth shakes her head sadly. "You already have, my dear. Bryon. Do you know who her sire even is?"
"No. Neither does she I think." He glances at Cynthia, who looks more composed now, colder.
Elizabeth nods, looking at him searchingly. "The Tremere can discover it through their blood magics. So, if either of you knows, you might as well tell me now. And save us from the Tremere being the ones to learn it first."
"You insist on going to the Prince and getting her killed?" Bryon demands. "What are you?"
"I am what you are, Bryon. I made you. Shut up before you make me angry, childe." Elizabeth stops, reining in her anger. "If we can learn her lineage - and if we can make a case before the Prince - perhaps she can be saved. I do not know. I do have some pull in this city. And you seem to think her worth saving... and despite it all, Bryon, I do care about you."
Cynthia touches her hand to her forehead. Bryon sighs. "All right. I made her." He shoots Elizabeth a desperate, loving look.
Elizabeth looks away, her mouth a narrow line at hearing what she had been fighting herself from thinking all along. "I had really, really hoped not. Well. I hope you can be saved too, Bryon. I will do my best." Cynthia stares at Bryon with cold contempt, while Elizabeth struggles to contain her burning fury. "Why?"
"It was... better than the alternative. I wanted to help." His voice sounds weak. "I don't know what else to say."
"Attempt to say something the Prince will find an extenuating circumstance." Her voice is cold. "What was the alternative?"
"That Chad did it. He is... disfigured - because of his blood."
"Disfigured? Of clan Nosferatu?"
Bryon continues, unhearing. "I... didn't want that for her. Should she... survive..." He breathes heavily, a quiver in his voice.
"Yes. I understand now - you were wrong, but I understand." Elizabeth shakes her head, as if to clear it. "Now. Bryon. Out. Get out of my sight before I hurt you."
Elizabeth continues, "Cynthia will stay here. Do not speak of this to anyone." Cynthia looks stunned by too many things to say anything.
Bryon breathes in and composes himself. "All right." Elizabeth stares at him, her fury changing from hot to cold as he stands and walks to the door. "But you didn't have to do this," he says as he goes out.
"Yes, I do."
"Cynthia... I'm sorry." Bryon leaves.
As he goes, Elizabeth murmurs, half to herself, half to him, "Remember - we agreed it was hard." Then she locks the door behind him, and turns to Cynthia. Cynthia looks up in silent confusion. "This will be easier if you are docile and cooperative, you understand," Elizabeth tells her. "Saving your life. As it were."
"You... feel betrayed," Cynthia observes. Elizabeth nods, pauses, then looks at Cynthia's aura as the neonate speaks. "Let me know what I can do."
Elizabeth tells her what she can do. "You can agree to my being your mentor. You have no sire who is competent. You will need someone to take responsibility for your education in our ways. I will do that, if you are obedient." Cynthia's aura ripples, mostly with unease that she isn't in control but powerless and ignorant. Elizabeth's mouth quirks up at the corner
"All right... That sounds acceptable. I thank you." Cynthia swallows. "I... " Cynthia looks at the wall. "Yes. Please tell me what I can do."
Elizabeth watches, pausing, not wanting to overwhelm her. "Firstly. From now until we meet with the Prince, you will take sustenance only from me. You have not the right to hunt here legitimately. It would be safest for you to stay here, but, I will allow short trips out. If you feel you need them. Perhaps you have lingering connections from your mortal life."
"I do..." Cynthia thinks, ~mortal...~
"Secondly. Ask me any questions you have, and I will attempt to fill in the gaps left by my wayward childe." Elizabeth sighs softly. "This situation is wholly regrettable." Cynthia looks at her, remaining silent, just watching. "I will rejoin you shortly, Cynthia, I must contact the Prince. Please excuse me."
She walks off, thinking. She could simply destroy the neonate and cover up Bryon's indiscretion. That would save her reputation most. But it would not fix the problem - Bryon had no respect for the Traditions, he had made that quite clear. She decides what she must do, no matter the cost to herself, or to others - it is for the city. For the Camarilla. And Elizabeth makes a fateful phone call.
The meeting was held at the Prince's office. Arriving five minutes late, as was most polite for social calls, where one would not wish to interrupt one's host's preparations for one's arrival, Elixabeth swept past the doorkeepers in a swirl of silk. She was shown to Hanson Blake's presence and left, the ghoul removing himself politely and unobtrusively.
"I am glad to see you well as ever, Hanson," Elizabeth said softly, with an admiring look. The Prince smiled at her, returning similar pleasantries. Social normality established, Elizabeth's expression darkened with sorrow, as she had very disturbing news to relate.
"It is no social visit that brings me to your offices tonight," she told him regretfully. "I have uncovered the gravest of news, that though it sheds unflattering light on myself as well as my entire clan, for the good of the city I was obligated, and determined, to bring it to the Prince's attention. My progeny, Bryon, was persuaded by the anarchs to sire a new Kindred without your permission." Elizabeth frowned, her displeasure and sorrow clear.
The Prince nodded. He could sense that Elizabeth was indeed deeply hurt by what she'd learned; that her care for the city was also deeply felt. She was using these feelings to gain his sympathy, of course, but she did feel them. He felt a moment's combined pity and admiration for her, as well as some level of distaste for what they both were - the pressures of combining the calculating attitude needed to keep an elder's position, and the priority of clinging to one's true emotions to maintain one's connection with one's humane nature, walking that tightrope defined what they were and made them both tragic and monstrous figures.
Yes, Elizabeth was wounded, betrayed, by her childe's breaking of the Traditions, by his courting of his own destruction thereby, by his lack of fealty to the values she held dearest. Yes, she was afraid her city was being taken over by anarchs whose disregard for these same values would lead to a milieu in which she would have no place. However, she felt little sympathy for her progeny, or for his illegitimate childe, for themselves; and none at all for the anarchs and their beliefs, or democracy in general. She was who she was, and that, Hanson sensed, was not so much as he, though more than some he had encountered.
Though, Elizabeth's humanity, or lack thereof, was not the subject of tonight's conference. The fate of Bryon and Cynthia was to be decided in this time and place. "One of the anarchs has already been executed for this same act," Hanson said.
Elizabeth nodded, she already knew of that precedent. "There are differences in the circumstances surrounding the unauthorized embraces. Bryon was told that if he did not provide his blood to change the girl, Cynthia, then it would be done by the anarch Chad, of clan Nosferatu. He wished to save her from that fate... since the act of her illegitimate embrace was a fait accompli, all he did was change what clan she would become. At sacrifice to himself, for he did realize he was doing wrong." Elizabeth gazed into Hanson's eyes, an expression of deep sorrow crossing her face, and she glanced at the office door - as if to summon up the echo of Hanson's own ghoul receptionist who had been embraced by an anarch Nosferatu.
"Chad, yes. He has been blood hunted already for his membership in the Steel Fangs. I have only just appointed two new Scourges. Perhaps one of them will repay him his deserts for this action, and the other atrocities he has committed." Hanson felt a surge of anger. He felt sure this same Chad had been the one to embrace his ghoul, a crime he would never forgive. Carefully calming himself, though not before Elizabeth had glimpsed and been satisfied by his reaction, he nodded his head thoughtfully. "I understand, but since Cynthia was not to be permitted to live anyway, it did not truly matter."
"I would like to ask for Cynthia's life to be spared," Elizabeth said, keeping a note in her voice of altruistic bravery. "She has no love for the anarchs, who did this thing to her against her will; she seems of the best material for a new Toreador, reminding me at times of myself at her age, as much as a woman of these modern times can. I think I can make something of her that Toreador can be proud of. My clan has lost two of its most valuable and beloved members in recent weeks. We have regrettable need for new blood."
Hanson told Elizabeth, "Your point is well taken. However, others will not find it so - your progeny cannot be seen to have preference over other clans' losses in this battle; Brujah certainly lost many, yet their rebels were marked for doom. And your circumstances of extenuation might make sense to Toreador or Ventrue, but Nosferatu will find them distasteful to say the least."
Elizabeth, understanding that truth, nodded. "Not only that, but it will do little good to let Cynthia live if she is socially tainted by common knowledge of her true origins. I know I would owe you a great deal, Hanson, if you were to see fit, in your generosity..." She paused, considering how to word the rest of her request.
Hanson watched her think, realizing this offer of indebtedness and a returned favor, was as close as Elizabeth would come to pleading for her childe and grand-childe's lives. To her, perhaps, it was the same thing; to make the request, to Elizabeth, was to offer the boon. To acknowledge the boon verbally, was to plead.... Almost he approved the sentiment - if he were not so angry at the anarchs' collective crimes, he might have felt more enthusiasm for her maternal care.
Soon she came up with, "To let it be known, that in a tragic set of circumstances, you had permitted Spencer to embrace the childe of his choice. And that Cynthia was that childe, taken by the anarchs along with her sire only hours after her death and rebirth... then, escaping from the anarchs with Bryon's help. Only you, I, and the Primogen of my clan need know the true story."
Hanson considered; an acknowledged boon to the Harpy would suit his plans admirably. He assented, with one caveat. "We must also inform the Tremere primogen. Joseph Tudor has ways of learning such information, and I do not wish to be surprised by what he does when he learns of this deception. We will take him into our confidence, and it shall be so."
Elizabeth felt a slight chill, but all was going as she had hoped, and she nodded. Hanson was about to voice one more reservation, but it was one she had anticipated, so she broached it for him, easing his social obligation. "I shall see to it that Bryon is properly punished for his misdeed, though it must be done discreetly. I can do it most efficiently with your assistance."
"What is your intent?" Hanson asked.
"I shall need you to lay a geas on him," Elizabeth told him, then went on to further explain the command she would like the Prince to place upon Bryon with his powers of Dominate. She outlined the rest of Bryon's intended punishment, and the Prince assented.
"It is not so harsh as final death, but it will certainly give him pause before he undertakes such rashness again," the Prince agreed. They exchanged further parting remarks, offering sympathy to one another upon the losses each had incurred in the activities of the anarchs. Elizabeth managed to drop subtle hints as well that if the anarch activity were stopped, in time, that she might lend her support to Dallas being the site of a Conclave in the near future. The Prince felt a bit of frustration - ~what are you doing to stop them?~ he thought - but his expression remained calm, and he assured her that the anarch activity would be brought to an end.