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For months now because I fail at posting, Jaenelle had been wrangling with the Dark Council about respecting the Territories of non-human Blood. She'd searched through editions of Blood Protocol, unearthed dusty tomes of Blood history, even begged Draca and Lorn for guidance. But no matter what she found, what evidence she presented, the Dark Council remained firm in its stance that without a recognized human representative, the 'unclaimed lands' were free for the Blood to take.
And so the kindred died. Not many of them. There was never a slaughter like in Sceval. But enough. Many, many humans died. Mauled, half-eaten bodies would be transported to various cities in Little Terreille and left there as a message. But it didn't matter how many bodies were sent back, there were always more people willing to take their place. The coven did what they could, making their Offerings and refusing to give aid to anyone trespassing on the so-called unclaimed lands, but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough so long as Jorval and the Terreillian bitches who pulled his strings, saw the possibility for opportunity and gain.
Four days ago, Jaenelle had tried again. And this time, when they'd been turned down, Saetan had ventured that it was possible that there wasn't a legitimate way to stop the Dark Council. Both Karla and Lucivar had turned on him, overwrought and furious, demanding explanations, pointing out that he'd fought them before, snidely insinuating that maybe he thought the kindred weren't worth fighting over now. But it was Jaenelle who stopped them.
"Yes, there is," she said softly, leaning on Saetan as they walked. "There is a way."
"Witch-child?" Saetan asked, concerned.
Jaenelle shuddered. "I never wanted this. But it's the only want to help them."
"What's the only way, darling?" Karla asked, worried at how pale Jaenelle seemed. How fragile.
Trembling, Jaenelle stepped away from them. The haunted look in her eyes, etched there by long hours of research and tallying kindred deaths, would stay with them forever. "I'm going to make the Offering to the Darkness and set up my court."
( Three days ago, Jaenelle had retreated to the Keep to do just that. )
Tersa shook her head. "She will be too tired to sense the difference. Choose High Lord, and live with what you choose." She looked at the closed door. "She is coming."
For the rest of her life, Karla was convinced the Darkness had something to do with the timing. Perhaps it understood that they were only human and they had feared for Jaenelle too much in the past to let it go so easily. Because at that moment, Jono opened his tiny mouth for a little snakey yawn--
--and promptly turned back into his human form, all naked limbs and psionic fire tangled up with Karla on the floor. There was a moment of silence as everyone took in the scene in front of them. And at that moment, the door opened and Jaenelle stood on the threshold. "What did I miss?" she asked, fighting back a yawn.
[Open to anyone in Glacia who wanted to tag along. NFB. Text adapted from Heir to the Shadows.]
And so the kindred died. Not many of them. There was never a slaughter like in Sceval. But enough. Many, many humans died. Mauled, half-eaten bodies would be transported to various cities in Little Terreille and left there as a message. But it didn't matter how many bodies were sent back, there were always more people willing to take their place. The coven did what they could, making their Offerings and refusing to give aid to anyone trespassing on the so-called unclaimed lands, but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough so long as Jorval and the Terreillian bitches who pulled his strings, saw the possibility for opportunity and gain.
Four days ago, Jaenelle had tried again. And this time, when they'd been turned down, Saetan had ventured that it was possible that there wasn't a legitimate way to stop the Dark Council. Both Karla and Lucivar had turned on him, overwrought and furious, demanding explanations, pointing out that he'd fought them before, snidely insinuating that maybe he thought the kindred weren't worth fighting over now. But it was Jaenelle who stopped them.
"Yes, there is," she said softly, leaning on Saetan as they walked. "There is a way."
"Witch-child?" Saetan asked, concerned.
Jaenelle shuddered. "I never wanted this. But it's the only want to help them."
"What's the only way, darling?" Karla asked, worried at how pale Jaenelle seemed. How fragile.
Trembling, Jaenelle stepped away from them. The haunted look in her eyes, etched there by long hours of research and tallying kindred deaths, would stay with them forever. "I'm going to make the Offering to the Darkness and set up my court."
( Three days ago, Jaenelle had retreated to the Keep to do just that. )
Tersa shook her head. "She will be too tired to sense the difference. Choose High Lord, and live with what you choose." She looked at the closed door. "She is coming."
For the rest of her life, Karla was convinced the Darkness had something to do with the timing. Perhaps it understood that they were only human and they had feared for Jaenelle too much in the past to let it go so easily. Because at that moment, Jono opened his tiny mouth for a little snakey yawn--
--and promptly turned back into his human form, all naked limbs and psionic fire tangled up with Karla on the floor. There was a moment of silence as everyone took in the scene in front of them. And at that moment, the door opened and Jaenelle stood on the threshold. "What did I miss?" she asked, fighting back a yawn.
[Open to anyone in Glacia who wanted to tag along. NFB. Text adapted from Heir to the Shadows.]
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