Vita brevis, Ars goetia

1:03am: FURY 1/7
I remember many a fight in which I ripped tendons from bone, severed skulls from spines, and made blood rain down on earth. All those fights, fought over ideals I cared more for than my own or any other’s existence, were fought in cold fury, callously but meticulously calculated to maximize damage and minimize loss of life. There’s only one time wrath rode me to such extend that it controlled my every action.

To maintain perpetual wrath
Is akin to the practice and
temper of devils

( Read more... )

11:15am: Mail on Apollo's doorstep
Not too long ago, Apollo and Sharon moved. Far away from Luse, at what she considers a safe distance. Safe enough to build a family.

Then one day a letter arrives. It's addressed only to APOLLO, and the address matches his current one complete with postal code. The sender is Stibbe, a bureau of civil law notaries. The letter is sent from their New York office. When opened, there's a pile of papers, both written (copies) and typed, and one photograph of an older man in a nice dark suit. The first page reads:

"Dear Mr. Apollo,

Unbeknowst to you, you are the benefactor in the testament of a well-regarded Stibbe Notary Bureau's client. We write to inform you and invite you to our New York office, where the details of his will can be made clear to you. Please contact me at 0024-66552991 - I am handling your case personally.

My condoleances,
Peter Zappa"

The papers show a copy of a handwritten will, in elegant fountain pen strokes, leaving Apollo all the man's estates and funds (for as far as easily legible). This is strange, for the warrior is certain he and the man have never met.

There is only one condition. That he continues the man's organization based in New York, the details of which are not in the letter. There are documents, agreements, pieces of information about the Notary and how to proceed, but not much about the man. One document gives a detailed description of the search for a certain "Apollo", the sole beneficiary, which finally led the bureau here. The other thing of note is the old man's name, which sounds rather second-generation Italian: Gregor Luciano.

11:05am: Shadows
Recently, shadows creep around the house. Small spirits drawn to the presence no longer concealed, spies not well enough hidden for me not to notice. The latter ones die.

I walk a lonely road
The only one that I have ever known
Don't know where it goes
But it's home to me and I walk alone

The finish draws near. What I've fought for so long, it soon will be decided. I am complete again, no longer an unaware amnesiac. I see everything in perspective. Realizing the responsibility I've taken upon me, I owe it to the world to see it through as close as possible to the way it once was planned. I hope many may make it out with their souls intact.

Apollo, you too should ascend if possible. Fighting is never the goal, for the goal rises over any desire to fight. Sharon will help you see it. Take care of her.

3:58pm: Preparations
War is coming and has been for some centuries. It's started though, with ancients waking and spirits coming back to earth. Allies offer their alliance, enemies ally themselves as well. These will be interesting times.

There are no secrets
Only voices you haven’t heard
There is no justice
Only living what you’ve learned

Though I've gained a useful new tool, most of my old ones are stuck in limbo. I'll need to go beyond the barrier soon to reclaim some. No time to play around; I'll need to rely on the risk of magic over the current risk of dimensional travelling.

Magic development will need to go on hold. The secrets of creation keep eluding me, and I cannot invest more towards that goal right now. I have some development teams on the task however, so I hope they will uncover what I want for me.

We all need to shape up, work our powers in correspondence and at higher levels; I need commitment in the form of names from those whose alliance is weak; I need to find out which of my debtors are still alive, and of those which are not what their current location is. There are many factors to push around, to find the perfect calibration. But for now our basic needs are met.

10:57pm: I suffer dreams of a world gone mad
If you ever find yourself not liking the
person you've become, change.
Bitterness scattered to the wind,
cast off shields to regain brilliance,
I will burn as ever before.

12:48pm: Ravening
Though the association is rarely made, politics are very much an angel's invention. Task-specific orders, government, upholding relationships between houses. But the fallen formed their coalitions too, and these are less suited to cooperating.

Assuredly we bring not innocence into the world,
we bring impurity much rather;
that which purifies us is trial

I know that terms and names vary according to each source, but for as far as I can decipher there are five different fractions.
The Luciferians are vainly looking for their former leader, hoping to get him to get on board to storm the gates of heaven and take back what was lost. Although I agree that the War is not yet over, I do not plan to take the fight there but fend off any that think to bring battle to this soil again. It is not for heaven that we fight, but for the world.
The Faustians wish to gather their forces and build a paradise on earth. I am not opposed to the concept if you phrase it that way, but these devils wish to make a paradise for themselves where mankind serves no bigger purpose than obey their every command. I want humanity's trust, not their destiny, for each man's destiny should be his own.
The Reconcilers wish all the best for humanity, but more importantly the best for themselves. By taking little action besides praying and contemplating they hope to get back into the grace of heaven. Show remorse and even we may be forgiven, they say. But I feel no remorse for preaching freedom. If treating with the Host is one of our options I will not hesitate to explore that venue, but never will I submit my ideals so that I may be saved where the world is not.
The Cryptics I can agree with more. They try to find out what happened to cause the War, to the fall, and where the heavenly Host has gone that is now nowhere to be found. As a scholar I can only applaud the search of knowledge, but as a general I scoff at the cowardice of taking no action until you have all the facts. Not all knowledge is available for sharing in this universe, as our Lord once made clear back when the War could still have been avoided.
The Raveners however are the most dangerous. Having lost all hope - for themselves, for repentance, for conquest- they just mean to destroy what they cannot have, or even what some think should never have been. Kill the humans that failed them in the last battle, scour the earth that does not welcome them back, usurp any power that would strike against them. Though I understand the rage at the injustice of it all, eradicating what hope is left for others to feel better about yourself is what for lack of a better word I would call insanity. If one can't bear his own fate and turns to ravening, we should take him down before he destroys more than he has ever built.

You may be able to understand my concern then, when a self-styled Ravener contacted me in all his fierceness telling me he wants to join the troops of a onetime comrade.

5:39pm:

12:33pm: Hope
I'm lying in my bed at night. It's warm so the windows are open and a soft breeze stirs the curtains, caressing my skin. I look past the windowsill at cold distant stars peering down. Did all my former brethren die or freeze up? Night's thoughts seep into my mind and I wonder when I really lost hope of everything eventually getting completely right in the end.

"God bless me, I'm a free man
With nowhere free to go"

I look up at an old sky, before the war. My mind's connected to everything, I am connected to everything. I see the future, the past, the present, all possibilities; I behold the stars, the firmament, the interconnectedness of forces, the brilliance of each particle of life-giving light. I am part of all of that. At the same time I address a small host of elohim, holding a speech that would later be called rebellious.

I remember stretching wings / blending locations / moving myself in time, all the things one does when poised in action, reaching for the stars that are my home. My voice carries through the skies, a poignant question at the top of my head, wishing to be asked to the First. "Why should we serve these creatures who are little more than unintelligent plants? They need no such special attention, or if they do they'd be better aided by our guidance than our blind servitude." ...

In my mind I call that the moment where I grew up, faced reality and made my own sense of it. Yet like every child becoming it's own agent, that step did not make existence easier.

*****

Reality broke. There could no longer be a world in which one could be multiple things at the same time, free and bound, loyal and individual, conversing and fighting. With the first judgement meted out, rules had to exist so suddenly they had forever. The past was still mallable, but the future no longer would be. Not in the old ways at least; now every change became a struggle, a Battle. Yet still I believed what we were doing was right, and that He would agree so in the end.

*****

I've been bound to this earth for so long. I remember many times and ages, of existing right next to humanity. I've kept on this battle of thoughts and ideas for so long. It was only when in a time now called some time B.C. a religious man touched upon me and banished me... I don't remember the details; only surprise, a sense of betrayal, but still no resignation in any way.

Then, HELL. I sometimes doubt Decan's words, saying we were incarcerated before together. I simply don't remember. Not in this shape. I remember always being on the outside, hovering around an earth bound in rigid rules, where freedom was far from reality, far from mind. Sometimes I'd become part of it for an ever so short lifetime, gathering information I thought I needed. But it was spending that turn of the century encarcerated that changed something in me.

*****

I broke free. My name was called from earth and I responded with all the sorrow, injustice, and anger that I knew. The dark ages were also my dark ages. I spent most of it in Europe, where this new church painted us as demons (and the horrible truth was I started to believe them). If there was no fairness in this world, then I would help enforce this worldview the "Creator" wanted to see. It took me some time to snap out of that. Time I now wished I'd spent otherwise.

Rumours of a second Gehenna had become fiercer. They hadn't really changed, the contents were quite the same as eons before, but the problem was that now I started to believe them. This world was bent on destruction, a failed experiment that He had turned his back on - for really, where was He to be found? Not in mankind's little chruches or even smaller hearts. Events that had been set in motion before I had been able to acknowledge their existence as the truth, these events are and have always been designed to end this world of humans. This world of deceit, of injustice, of hostility.. yet also of companionship, of curiousity, and of fragile hope.

I don't have any hope left for myself. Either the world will be destroyed despite all our best efforts, or we'll save it and earn humanity that second chance; it won't remake the world the way it once was. No limitless freedom, all-envelopping thought, many-layered reality.. no homecoming.

As long as humanity has hope for a better future, as long as I care for a single individual on this plane, I will continue this battle. If we win this struggle for change I'll make it my best effort to make this world fair. I will exalt humanity, give them the reins to their fate. So I've grown up. Do you like what you see?

*****

Thinking back is hard. There are so many holes in my memory. Letting go of this shape, this body, is not the solution. Only going back to the primordial landscape where now the avator storm rages gives me access to my full self. Only there thought, matter, and spirit can still exist on multiple levels at the same time. And "there" is now one more place I cannot go.

11:24am:
My Personality

Neuroticism	60
Extraversion	10
Openness To Experience	21
Agreeableness	1
Conscientiousness	86

Test Yourself Compare Yourself View Full Report Ugg Boots, MySpace Layouts and hi5 by Pulseware Survey Software

12:00pm: Friends
He won't judge me, he said, and I laughed. It was more mirth and less bitterness than usual. He wants to know. All the good things and all the bad things and he doesn't care what I may or may not have done in the past.

I have this theory that if we're told we're bad
Then that's the only idea we'll ever have

Apollo, your barging in and demanding answers may have been what caused the exact opposit of what you set out to ascertain. I hear kind words and smiles are all you found? Now do try to be what you promised. Consider what effort he's making for the best known vampire killer of New Orleans current history.

3:32pm: Sense of self
Is who a man is now a different person from the kid who he was growing up? From the teenager creating hell for his parents before he found that -look- now he's a parent too?

There's no time for us,
There's no place for us,
What is this thing that builds our dreams, yet slips away from us

Apollo is looking into Gaftan's past and present. He thinks to shock me with the dirt he must find. What dirt is there that does not cling to my hands also, that he himself did not wade through on his path to find himself?

9:59am: The tower
Reaching to the skies
Silhouette against sunset
Keep up our vain hopes

9:44am: Falling stars
Brilliant rays of light
Strike down to the earth like hail
Ashes touch on soil

9:35am: To win the War
"Redemption is all about sacrifice, Luse. Yet you don't care about anything passionately. Your own self-sown pride would hardly be something appropriate to offer up." He snickers in that annoying manner I know so well, undoubtedly to provoke me.

"There is no alternative for me," I hear myself say. "I will not step aside. I will not condone genocide, no matter who wishes it!"

He laughs. "I read your thoughts all too well, but I like what I see. You don't love humanity, do you? You just love the thought of loving something." The fire of the stars sparks in my eyes, and almost I manifest right there and then. He feigns to not notice, even turning his back on me as he talks.

"I know what you're willing to do. I know that this time there will be no surrender." He turns back to face me, walking towards me with a sway in his step. Laying one hand on my shoulder, he says, "It's good to have you back, Sam." He smiles.

Before I understand his intent, the demon drops to his knees, letting his hand slide from my shoulder to grasp my hand. Pressing his lips to my fingers in some medieval gesture, he whispers, "Know what I'm willing to do. And as such accept the alliance of one who loves you passionately. Accept me, Luse, Lucius, Samael, Sameal, Malachi, Melchior, or any of the other names you've worn and discarded..."

I let the silence stretch. I think to know just what he's offering. It feels like so long ago. My blood is stirring as if for battle. I look down upon him and feel the wheels of time whirr and slide. I am free to decide, for better or for worse, as always. "I will win this War," I say to him. Gripping the hand gripping mine, I pull him up for an embrace, "Rise, and be accepted, ..." And there I speak what I know of his true name. The pact is sealed.

9:14pm: Doorway through darkness
I had been planning to visit Clark in Mandeville, on the other side of Pontchartain, but somehow found myself on Decan's doorstep. Instead of cursing my lack of focus for once, I decided to go with the flow and entered the building.

Only in appearance time is a river
It is a vast landscape and
it's merely the eye of the beholder that moves

It was the dead of night. I scouted ahead of me for lifeforms, not wanting to stumble upon any human ritual of sorts. He was alone, meditating it seemed. I pushed open the door to his living quarters.

Decan opened his eyes, a bright blue today, and looked me over with a smile on his lips. I sauntered closer, studying the creature I have known for longer than any other, and frowned at the realisation that he seemed different from before. It was like a veil had been lifted from my eyes and for the first time in centuries (maybe even millennia) I saw him as he truly is. Now my soul sings freely there is no longer any mortal part to me, and I can not be fooled. How big is the influence he has had over me for so long? Why did he seem so happy right now to see me returned to my full celestial state? What was he gambling to win?

Decan looked at me, possibly peering into my thoughts as he offered me a perfectly stirred Martini. He leaned over, one hand resting on the side of the red sofa where I had found my seat, and asked "So... you're going to war then?". At that question I felt events connect as parts of his mystery suddenly made sense.

10:09am:

You Are The Magician

You are powerful and wise - beyond what anyone can see. Deeply complex, you have the resources to connect to the spiritual and material world. You posses the knowledge to manipulate your life and the lives around you. You also have a great healing power, should you choose to use it. Your fortune: You have unhidden powers that you have yet to tap into. Soon, you will better understand how to use your intellect and intuition. Believe it or now, you will discover how you can manipulate yourself and others for good. You are at the beginning of a path of spiritual enlightenment.

4:05pm: Watchtower
Two people stopped by my apartment today, emisaries from the Watchtower they called themselves. What was this, a last attempt to convince me of your propaganda? Are you mocking me? For one moment I read too much into it. They were after all only two mortal simpletons bearing the ill found burden of a rather poorly named organisation.

Cross my borders and kill the calm
Bear your fangs and burn my wings
I hear bullets singing

After calming my flaring thoughts at reading their minds, I sauntered over to the door (holding a bitter cup of coffee) and opened up. It was past 2 pm and I was still dressed in pantaloons and a dress shirt, my hair a bit of a tangle. I had had better things to do than take care of appearances, and honestly could not be bothered for this pair. Let them think me to be an easy target for now, I will dazzle their senses in the end anyway.

They looked at me smilingly, one man and one woman. The man kept his eyes on my face, voicing a warm "Good day to you ..sir, could we please come inside to tell you of our happy message?" The woman looked me over as he spoke, her brow furrowing for a moment. I smiled inwardly at their slight confusion. In this situation it was a good thing. Turning my back on them and leaving the door open, I walked back into the apartment, waving a hand in the general direction of the couch while I walked into the kitchen. They looked at each other for one moment then walked in, the man already reciting his speech in his mind.

I came walking out of the kitchen carrying a tray with two more cups of my especially black and bitter coffee (one needs to make some sacrifices to hold off sleep), and put those on the table. I had not said a word yet, and the woman was shifting in her seat uncomfortably. She had no supernatural abilities whatsoever, so it must have been her instinct sending warning signals across her spine. I motioned for them to take the coffee, which the man did, offering the woman (Suzan, he was Peter, no matter what they would call themselves in their introduction) the second cup.

I hardly listened to their story, no matter how well they performed their talking monkey dance, instead picking at things in their mind I could use against them. 'Paradise... God cares... Armageddon... You can be saved!', I'd heard it all before. I nodded, looked suprised at their claim that this age is surely ruled by satan, and smiled at them calmly. "..we are members of the Watchtower, an organisation that had over 4 billion members worldwide. An organisation we can now offer you membership -" And there I interrupted.

"Oh, but I am already a member, you should realise." That earned me two surprised looks. They had not seen any of the signs (pamphlets, books, or even a cross) around my apartment, and their minds were flitting over what they had missed or what I could mean. I smoothed back my hair and the creases in my clothes with a stab at matter, and continued. "Let me tell you a story. Once there was a land where the skies were multicoloured and the people happy and content. They had earned the total freedom you speak of, that freedom that is beyond God's rule, and looked up to the Watchtower every time they stepped out of their homes to visit the many libraries, laboratoria, and oratios the city held within it's walls. They all spoke the First Tongue and understood the language of the stars, of beasts, and of earth. They were ever so close to starting to understand themselves." For a moment my mind reeled at that memory, and I paused for breath. All my thoughts I translated into light, using the lores that by now had fully been returned to me, showing them the universe as it used to be before disaster struck. "That was the first Watchtower, and that was where I lived with nine others of my race. The task that had been given to us was to exalt you, you mortals, you humans, a task I still have not given up on. Yes, we did love you then. We did." I poured my emotions - where had they been, lost for so long - into their hearts, seeing tears fall from Suzan's eyes while Peter fumbled for words and found he could not speak. "That is what paradise will look like in the future. Freedom, Knowledge, Justice." There I ended my story.

Peter and Suzan looked as if they'd woken from a dream as the last tendrils of light fled and daylight revealed their surroundings to be a simple apartment, and their storyteller a simple man. Peter drank his coffee. He was confused, wondering how much of this could be true, trying to hold onto the warmth I had poured into his heart. For one moment I wondered why I had ever renounced emotions so, for they are the easiest key to human hearts. But I remembered.

Suzan spoke. "What was that we just saw?" She grabbed Peter's arm and his expression told her he was wondering the same thing. "Did you see that.. that vision?", she asked me. I looked at her, seeing the confused child within her. Her thoughts were open and clear. Walking over, I took one of her hands in mine, saying, "Rise, child of Eve. There are many lies in this world and your tower is one of them. If you want I'll make you an emisary of the true Watchtower, as am I." At that Suzan nodded, and the man stumblingly got up falling to the floor beside the couch. "No! No, this is not true," he shouted. "You are a false prophet. Do not listen, do not listen to his lies, Suzanna!" I turned to him, even as Suzan did. Her expression was a work of art: compassionate for his pain, pitying for his misunderstanding. She rushed over to his side, wrapping her arms around him and whispering, "Can't you see? This is a true vision! He's.. he's an angel", she said it and truly believed it. "This is nothing like old man Gerhart and his fake fever dreams." The man kept shaking his head, tears running down his cheeks now. Suzan looked at me. "Show him. I know you can. Show him, please." And that I did.

Without an effort I unfurled my wings in my apartment. Lights and shadows shifted as the gauntlet tore to let me into this world completely. I closed my eyes for a second, savoring the experience of my enhanced senses, as the astral storm came to a halt and Peter looked at me with eyes wide with fear.

He got up. Ran for the door. Dropped a trail of brochures on his way out.

Suzan started to run after him, but I held her arm. "If he is too afraid to be punished for casting off the shackles of his limited freedom, then that is his decision. We cannot make the choice for him, so leave him be." I returned to being myself then, feeling strangely exhausted as I did so. Suzan stayed for another hour to talk, then for another few hours to simply be around as I had decided other matters needed my attention. I gave her my name and the power to create visions. She would talk to Peter, she assured me, for she could not leave one she loved to be lost to darkness. I smiled.

9:24pm: Never is a promise
The last time I went to New York I stumbled upon an oath breaker. I had once saved his life and as such he was indebted to me, paying off the service in small packages of information when I would request it or he thought something would interest me. This was the deal we made because he said to have sworn neutrality amidst the feuding factions of the fallen host and would rather die than bend the knee to me. Never would he swear any allegiance.

But as the scenery grows I see in different lights
The shades and shadows undulate in my perception

New York is quite crowded if we look at demon activity. Most scholars will say the city is doomed because of the sabbat vampires controling the domain, but honestly - it's the sebettu, not the sabbat that influences its mortal society most. Each of the factions is represented in this city, and for as far as I am aware this city has the biggest court after Los Angeles. I know quite a few inhabitants of New York, though not all of those wish to know me. I have one true ally in the city, one I've mentioned by name before, and it was him I had been travelling to visit.

I wrote about my troubles on the Amtrak towards New York. Someone had informed a major power of my coming and that one had sent scouts to stop and possibly kill me. The little team that continued to track me during my visit I did manage to defeat and send their meddling souls back into the abyss. It took me quite some time to figure out who had sent them after me, and why.

The four were a strike team. Only with Versa's backup in the form of a ritual combining our powers was I able to beat them head on. Even back then when I was unable to access my true form or lores, the rituals of old were still within my grasp. The most important service Versa did me however, was a ritual he performed on his own, the one he needed my eye for to complete. With that he was able to name the four as members of the Faustian faction, sent by their faction leader to safeguard their little paradise on earth. "They think you are an angel, you should know." Disregarding the gravity of the situation, that made me laugh out loud.

Yet where had this piece of disinformation come from? Versa showed the old name that the team had used to track me, something that still has enough resonance with my spirit to be of use. To explain: my name, as the name of all angels, changed when I was cast down. You still pronounce it the same way, but this is how you nowadays write it. The older version is in angelic script and the source of the confusion as to my nature. Very few of the angelic names of the celestials here on earth have survived through the ages - it's like with your name: you know its essence but (unless I am mistaken) not its written form.

As it was I only knew one that does know enough about me to spin this web of lies. All the signs Versa glanced at seemed to point in his direction. Amidst the chaos of various hunters dogging my steps, I went to visit Shabriri.

He had taken a female form this time, the face of one who was once his thrall and lover staring at me prettily. I was not amused. Our wills contended and I came out on top. He tried to open the dimensions to let him escape, but I froze his primal form to anchor him to that location. He had betrayed me. And I had been blinded to his petty politics. There and then I gave him the choice: since he had found himself able to chose sides after all, he could chose mine or chose death. The decision was simple and I had him surrender his true name for I would not ever allow him to use his powers on me again. Then I called upon the leader of the local Faustians and had Shabriri set matters straight.

~~~

You see how this old acquaintance of mine would have the motive to try to send me from this world. I gave him a direct order not to plot against me from now on, but considering the letter of that message and not the content he could be able to find a way to circumvent that. I do not trust him, but I do not wish to kill him while we he can still be of use.

2:30pm: Evil does not sleep
So I have concluded neither should I. I will miss the simple calm this short time oblivion can give us, but I do think it's necessary. I am no longer closing my mind to anything happening around me. It's draining, staying tuned in to thoughts, events, and possibilities, but it's a small sacrifice to make.

Just so you know, Apollo, I will be strongest at the dawning of light in the morning. From then on I live on the energy the world grants me, till I'm weakest during the night. I thought I owed you that bit of information. (Don't fret, you and Decan are the only ones able to read any part of this journal)

12:25am: Red light
I - a vampire came for my life tonight. I could not see who would hire anyone to kill me.

9:34pm: Visionary
( A conversation between Apollo and Luse )

9:21pm: Striking at mental apparitions
Like a drunk on a vacant street
Silently beset by the hands of time
Indelicate in its fury
An aberrant crack as skeletons yield
To unrelenting gravity
While viruses prowl for helpless victims
Who succumb rapidly

Tell me; where is the love?
In a careless creation
When there’s no "above"
There’s no justice
Just a cause and a cure
And a bounty of suffering
It seems we all endure
And what I’m frightened of
Is that they call it "God’s love"

Twisted torment, make-believe
There’s a truth and we all submit
"Believe my eyes," my brain complies
To all that they interpret

I know there’s no reason for alarm
But who needs perspective when it comes to pain and harm
We can change our minds; there’s a better prize

But first you’ve got to
Tell me; where is the love?

They call it God’s love
My pain is God’s love

11:20pm: Dreamwalking
I wonder where Malcolm is now. And whether he managent to prevent his dark fate.

~~~

Malcolm looked in the mirror. God, he looked like shit. With a sigh he lit a cigarette that would shortly follow his brothers in the overflowing ashtray that was in the centre of Malcolm's large luxury apartment. The apartment was decorated in a mix of Oriental and American flavours. There weren't many frills and decorations. Several original haiku's were on the walls, but Malcolm didn't see them anymore than he noticed the chairs. With a soft buzz Malcolm got a buzz from Steve, the security agent at the entrance of the apartment building. "Sir O'Hara, sir? There's a m- a.. someone here to see you, sir. Name of Luse Gregori, sir." Malcolm sighed. Telling Steve to call him Malcolm seemed to be a lost cause. The man was terrified of him. "It's alright Steve, send her in.' Malcolm grinned a bit and walked to his well-stocked liquor cabinet. He knew it would take Luse exactly two minutes and thirty-eight seconds to reach his door from the entrance. Malcolm filled one glass with Glenfiddich, and the other with Martini. He walked to heavy oaken wood table in the middle of the room and put the drinks in front of him. With a few steps he walked to the interface on the wall and pressed the button that would open up the door. Then he sat down, took his Sig Sauer from it’s concealed holster and laid it down next to the glasses. Malcolm awaited.

Luse sighs when he enters the expensive-looking building. This man must be really afraid to have this kind of security measures. Luse smiles strait into a camera over the door labelled 'M. O'Hara' and a few seconds later the door is opened by his good friend Malcolm. He looks like shit. Like he slept even less then usual. Well, best get this over with soon so both could sleep untroubled for a while.
Luse walks into the room and notices his drink already waiting for him on a rather fashionably designed table standing on nothing less then the hide of a black bear. Don’t hold it against him that he has no taste at all...
"Well, as agreed I've come to pick you up. Want to talk here or on the way?" Luse asks ignoring the all too obvious gun on the table.

Malcolm raises an eyebrow. "Go where? We can do it right here. So you don't want a drink before we hit the bedroom?" Malcolm looks at Luse, not wanting to trust someone so easily.

"There's another place we could better do this. It's where I'm used to go when I have preparation time for a spell. Greater chance of success.
Plus, I wouldn't like to be disturbed." Luse says and glances in the direction of the door.

"Where? I'm not going anywhere before you tell me where we're going. And in case you didn't know, doors can be closed. And no one will disturb us here." Malcolm growls a bit and takes a large gulp of his drink.

Luse shrugs a bit, "It was a show of trust from my side to take you there. It's a place where the gauntlet is less strong so magick is more natural. Your loss if you want to stay here." Luse stands up and walks in the direction of the bedroom doors...

The tall man looks at Luse, then takes his gun and puts it in its holster again. "Alright. Let's go then. But it'd better be safe. I'll be sleeping." Malcolm stands up and takes his car keys from the table. "Let’s go."


A bit later the unlikely duo are once more past the high security of Malcolm's homestead. They get in the expensive car and disappear from sight.
When the car stops again we are at the far edge of the French quarter approaching the Canal. Malcolm frowns when he sees that the building Luse was taking about is an old deserted church. Once inside you see what you had quite expected from the outside; a memento of faith in ruins. Only when Luse takes Malcolm to the back, to a room behind the altar, he is beginning to fear this might be the right place after all...
It looks like someone did a half-hearted attempt to tidy the place a bit, but that clearly failed. Nevertheless, it is clean. In the centre of the room stands a newly made bed with intricate circles drawn around it. Further on you see books lying in every corner.
"Well, just lie down and I'll tell you what we're gonna do..."

As if only to irritate Luse, Malcolm doesn't lie down. He walks to a random pile of books and picks one up. He opens it and leafs through it with all the delicacy of one who uses a computer for just about everything. "Strange... This is a Caern, you know." Malcolm doesn't look at what's written in the book. His thoughts are on the glory that can be made if he'd cleanse this site. If he could just return it to Gaia. It'd be a small, almost pathetic star in the dark cloud of the weaver. But maybe... The tall man sighed, and for a moment Luse notices that Malcolm's shield of aggressiveness has left him. After a few seconds it's slammed right back up again. He turns around and tosses the book on it's pile. "This your haven, Luse?"

Luse seems a bit vexed by Malcolms behaviour and picks up the book Malcolm just threw down, as only to see whether it's still in one part. Only then he responds to the Garou:
"Haven? What are you talking about – I'm not a vampire. But this is. my. place. So better show some courtesy."

Malcolm looks at Luse and shakes his head a bit. "Right. Courtesy. Sure." He suddenly bursts out laughing and gives Luse a friendly tap on his back. "You’re cocky enough to be a Philodox, sheboy. Now let's start. And you better do it right. If I find out you’ve been poking around bits that you've got no business with, I'll be ripping your fucking lungs out." Malcolm flings himself on the bed and looks at the ceiling. "Jesus Luse, this place is a dump." Slowly he starts to relax. Tries to relax. Tries to force himself to sleep to dream. To enter the nightmares that he knows will come.

Luse sits down on a chair taken from below a pile of books and sits down next to the bed. As Malcolm dozes off, Luse grabs hold of the big man's left hand and starts speaking almost inaudibly. 'somnium suum imperfictum esse, volunta interregnit umbrae calata me duce...'

10:32am: I do not need your beads. Buzz off.

8:31pm: Silence before the storm
That moment between the end of a warm summer's day, and the first strike of lightning. A bitter tingle on your tongue, the promise of violence yet to come. The air is dark and heavy with suspense.

'cause you're the storm that I've been needing
and all this peace has been deceiving
I like the sweet life and the silence
but it's the storm that I believe in

One more day before Apollo meets the methusalah sleeping under the city, and he will find out whether the trinket he puts his faith in does its work. It has happened in other places - ancients rising. Mankind struggles to maintain its equilibrium in a world that slowly tilts. Holding onto sanity gets harder when reality gets stretched thin. There is a darkness rising on the horizon. I am loathe to admit to the significance of the signs, but there are too many for me to ignore. It's time for a final reckoning. Time to call in favours.

For years I've hoped this moment would be ages off, enjoying what time there was. Now that I believe we live in the last few years, I grow ever more restless. I want this fight. Settle what may be settled, win what may be won, or lose what may be lost. This waiting in the oppressive calm sometimes seems more than I can bear.