1. A Spring Decoration. Still Image | Written

[hismasterpiece]

[The journal clicks on at the far end of twilight, and the blurring image gradually resolves into a sharply-focused view of a dead fawn strewn with white and purple crocuses. White tea candles halo the little head, which is thrown back. Its tiny thin legs look as though they are leaping across the red-tinged snow.

Anyone who is paranoid about vampires in general -- or who is looking REALLY closely -- might see two tiny, clean puncture holes in the fawn's neck.

The following text soon appears beneath the image:]


I have made a spring picture. Everything melts and runs, and the ground is thirsty for secrets. And empty of them.

[So writes a vampire who is homesick for tombs and crypts and graveyards. This place is so barren of them. It won't do. Won't do at all. Still, she is pleased to have made this beautiful art out of a much-needed meal. Angelus would be pleased, too.]

Comments

[Written]

[mountain_sage]

But can your techniques reach them from here? Or...

[Or is she planning to apply her techniques during a draft or a mission?]

[Written]

[hismasterpiece]

Reaching the stars takes but a wink of the left eye, you know.

[Written]

[mountain_sage]

...Is that so? How...?

[He's genuinely curious.]

[Written]

[hismasterpiece]

Slide it closed and let them take you.

[He's not going to get a how-to guide from Dru, unfortunately.]

[Written]

[mountain_sage]

That almost sounds like Valega...

[Though he seriously doubts that this is the same thing. Valega was strictly a Caer Pelyn thing, and his culture doesn't involve rituals with dead animals...]

[Written]

[hismasterpiece]

There's a glow about you, stranger. I like it. I'll share my secret; do you want to come closer and find out what it smells like?

[Written]

[mountain_sage]

[There's a long pause as he considers this. He's quite curious, but he can't deny that ominous feeling. Does the secret have a smell to it? Eventually, he agrees. Aside from a few words (which are not always trustworthy), there's nothing else ominous.]

...Very well.

[Written]

[hismasterpiece]

It must be in darkness. It must be before the dawn.

[Written]

[mountain_sage]

At night?

[He actually doesn't get out much to practice Valega under the stars. He makes a mental note to do it more often.]

All right. Do you have a time and a place in mind?

[Written]

[hismasterpiece]

[She won't make this kind of move without her family about. Not one to act alone is Drusilla.]

By the fountain that curves like a swan and sings like her mother, Artemis. By the fountain spring. By the tree whose arms dip to strangle. By the stone with blood and ice in its cracks.

[Written]

[mountain_sage]

[That's quite a cryptic response. However, the only fountain he knows about is the one in the village plaza. At least it's within the village.]

In the village plaza by the fountain then? Which night?

[Written]

[hismasterpiece]

The night when three moons kiss.

[Yeah. No night, Saleh. Not yet. Not til she has strength in numbers.]

[Written]

[mountain_sage]

I...see...

[But not really. He's gotten all he can get out of her, he thinks...]

Thank you.

[Written]

[hismasterpiece]

Before you go -- what is your name, stranger? I want to be able to find you. Later.

[Written]

[mountain_sage]

Oh, pardon me. My name is Saleh.

And yourself?

[Written]

[hismasterpiece]

You may call me Dru, if you like. My late sister called me that sometimes.

[Written]

[mountain_sage]

Very well, Dru. Until next time.

[He's most certain that they'll speak again. That was a most curious conversation.]