Path of the Vampire forum

<Sia> Surprisingly for this time of year, the nights were beautiful. The weather calm and inviting, barely any wind...it was simply pleasant. Sia loved this. It was a welcomed change from hot grueling days of summer and a complete relief of long scorching days and nights of back home in Ethiopia. There was even a mild breeze tonight; perfect for a trip to a poetry jam. And to make it all that much more exciting, she had invited Stuart to accompany her this evening. She was hesitant to think or say, but she perhaps had a slight crush on him. How cute, she thought to herself, but was quickly reminded by that tiny voice in her head that school came first.

“Yes mama, I know,” she sighed and spoke out loud as though her mother could hear her.

She had just removed herself from the shower and had pulled her shoulder length hair to the side, smoothed it tightly to her head and braided a thick bun near her ear. It was unusual for her to wear her hair in anything less than a scarf or some soft of other covering fabric to hide the thick mound that usually bothered her. Tonight she broke the rules. Living on the edge for her. A new place to live, her own place to live for the first time. A date that wasnt actually a date, but from the feeling of butterflies in her stomach, she wasn’t so certain. This life had made things so different, but she reminded herself to never lose who she was and the things she stood for, whether it was opinions or morals.

Sia picked through her clothing. Mostly all blacks and greys, a few blue but mostly dark and unbecoming. Still however she found a red shirt she had tucked away, and a pair of fancier black pants; at least fancier than the common jeans she wore day to day. She even tucked a small fake rose on the side of her head near the bun just to brighten up her face. Makeup was never something she fancied, but tonight she decided on a bit of lip gloss and a nice shade of blush to make her face look not so dead and tired.

I will meet you at the coffee shop shortly Stuart...I am on my way taking the train now. She sent the text to him, grabbed a sweater and headed out the towers and to the train stop, her hands shaky and her lips already chapped from constant nervous biting. Look what he had done to her already, and nothing had even been done. She felt silly.

<Stryge> Stryge saw his phone buzz, and paused momentarily in dressing. He had gotten as far as jeans and his favorite pair of Chucks, and was still picking out a shirt. Usually dressing was a no-brainer exercise for the shadow vampire. B&E or dressed to the nines were the two extremes he tended to go to in his wardrobe. But neither seemed appropriate for a… date? Was that what this was?

He walked over to where his phone rested on a side table in the sparsely furnished basement apartment he had rented from Pi d’Artois, the founder of Sanctuary. The decor was pretty much unfinished concrete, but Stryge appreciated the spartan nature of his living quarters. It helped him to stay focused on his training. And apparently, socializing with other new vampires. Though he knew he was doing exactly what he was supposed to, exactly what he was meant to do his whole life, by becoming a d’Artois vampire, it was still a very odd experience, to inherit a whole new family like this. And Sia especially. He had found himself thinking about her frequently as the appointed time and day of their expedition to her college approached. It had left Stryge very conflicted. Perhaps, after all, there was still a part of him that believed he didn’t deserve to be happy, to enjoy himself. Perhaps it was the reason for the bare bones apartment, for the four hours a night he spent on training, when he wasn’t risking getting shot by the security guards standing watch over the various buildings he broke into to find supplies for the Canidae.

The phone buzzed a second time, as if impatient for him to check the incoming text. Stryge really hated having a cell phone again. But Pi had insisted he needed one in case another d’Artois needed to get ahold of him because they were in trouble. Or because they were going to a Poetry Jam. Stryge nodded as he read Sia’s text. He settled on a blue shirt made of soft cotton, and a grabbed a black fisherman’s coat, something with a touch more touch more class to it than his hooded black leather jacket. Satisfied with his ensemble, he locked the apartment, and headed to the elevator that would take him up to the ground floor of Sanctuary.

Five minutes later Stryge was at the Wickbridge Station, and boarding a train. He realized he was nervous, something he hadn’t felt in a long time, not even that fateful night not so long ago when he had been holding a gun to his chest with the intention of pulling the trigger. He also realized, despite the way it made his stomach flip-flop, that he was enjoying the nervous feelings. It felt healthy, like he was finally getting back to being a normal person. The various passengers around Stryge gave the pale young man odd looks, as he sat there on the train, smiling to himself.

It was not difficult to find the coffee shop based on Sia’s prior directions. The windows cast a warm glow out onto the street as he approached the door. He entered, and found Sia easily. She was already sitting at a table, and he noted with pleasure that she had styled her hair differently. Not that he had anything against the headdress she usually wore, but he got the impression that perhaps she had chosen this particular style just for him. Stryge gave her a warm grin as he approached. “Well hello there, m’am. Care for a little company?”

<Sia> Once she arrived, she couldn't help but think that what if he did not show? She would have troubles even looking at him the same again, if he just blew her off. It was all feelings of those little ounces of non-confidence , that she struggled hard to keep at bay. Of course he would come. She had done nothing to make him not want to. Sia shook her head as she made her way to one of the tables and ordered a water, which much to the waiters expression, made her look juvenile. It wasn't a weekend she thought to herself, even though many patrons and young students had alcoholic beverages of sorts in their hands. She would always prove to be different...no matter what.

And there he was. Her eyes lit up, but not too much that she made herself look like silly school girl. Stand or keep seated? Don't smile too big, your teeth are huge, she told herself. All making her feel sick with nerves. It was only a meeting at a coffee shop, not vowing her life to someone.

“Stuart,” she called out to him and kept seated, her smile simple, showing off the dimple on the ride side. She looked calm cool and collected, not how she felt inside however.

“ I am so glad you have come,” she nodded to the seat beside her. The cafe was always full on thursday nights. People loved to experience the raw talents of poets and communication artists at their best. “They have not even had their first act, so happy you came on time,” she giggled. Oh my god. Did Sia giggle? Normally it was a soft laugh, but she actually giggled. Odd.

The waitress came back with her water and brought one for her “date” as well. Sighing awkwardly, it felt like she had just met him for the first time. His accent was dreamy, the way he dressed was even dreamier. Sia, snap out of it. It was only a meeting at the coffee shop.

“ Do you do poetry at all?” she broke her end of the silence and took a sip of her water, to soothe the back of her dry nervous throat.

<Stryge> Every word, every laugh, every motion of Sia’s hands or expression on her face made Stryge smile wider, until he felt like his face might actually crack. Calm down there buddy, he thought, and coughed, a strange, unconscious gesture that could no longer be played off as anything other than what it was, considering that he no longer needed to breathe. However, her last question caused him to chuckle again slightly. “Poetry? Ah no, I believe I would do a fair job butchering any kind of poem outside of ‘roses are red.’ Though believe it or not, I was a big fan of rap back in the day. Biggie, Eminem, Jay-Z...”

Stryge’s smile turned slightly uncomfortable. Since leaving Texas, he had frequently found that his accent had lent itself to certain presuppositions on the part of anyone who lived north of the Mason-Dixon line. That he only listened to country music for one. And unfortunately, more often than not, that he was a racist gun nut who believed in the death penalty. Which, to be fair, pretty accurately described his father. But Stryge, even when he was Stuart, had always taken the generalizations and assumptions of the folks he met in stride. No ma’am, as a matter of fact I’m pro-gay marriage, or, well, honestly sir, I think it’s a woman’s choice. He had shared some of his musical tastes just now without evening thinking about it, perhaps because there was something about Sia that made him very comfortable. He waited with trepidation for the inevitable look of incredulity.

<Sia> She gave him the oddest look ever when he spoke of the rap artists, whom she believed played a good hand in screwing up the world’s youth and entertainment industry. “ Ah I see,” her face got a little more serious as she debated on whether or not to engage in tastes of music or literature. But now she wouldn't have been Sia if she let it go.

“I am sorry, but how I feel is that those artists had and have played a very prominent role in corrupting youth, making females feel worthless and is the major gateway to experimenting with drugs and alcohol,” she sure was cute when puffy and feisty. She folded her arms over her chest defiantly, trying not to seem like an overeager member of alcoholics anonymous or something. “They have torn women down over the years, with songs of shaking asses, bowing down to man and being less valued than cars or houses,” she could have went on for hours about this, but was interrupted by the host of tonight, introducing its first night’s act. Her eyes lit up, as it was her favorite amateur poet. It was perfect for this moment, because she always had inciteful ways of bringing truth into such a false world.

“I am sorry, “ she looked over to him, her eyes soft and embarrassing like. “Her name is Amnesia,” she explained to him and smiled up at the girl who seemed to recognize her with a little wave. “She speaks truth,” she nodded with a smile. Hopefully she hadn’t angered him and make him leave. Still it was principle that mattered most. She wanted him to understand her and see her genuinity from day one. She was never fake.

<Stryge> Yup, thought Stryge. Dating hasn’t gotten any easier since you turned into a vampire. Though he had been know to charm the young women he met when out and about back in Houston, Stryge had always found that given enough time and, in his case, alcohol, he could be counted on to rub everyone the wrong way. It had taken him less than a minute tonight, a new record. He could have argued Sia’s point, that the voice of an artist cannot always be completely divorced from the culture they were raised in, and that those voices should not be simply dismissed because of it. He was a strong believer in the First Amendment, and actually considered it one of the most important contributions his country had made towards changing the moral and political climate of other countries. Certainly a more worthy contribution than the ham-fisted attempts at armed takeover that were more frequently associated with U.S. foreign policy.

But Stryge decided that a passionate political debate might not be a great way to start their outing. And besides, the first poet had taken the stage. So instead, Stryge did what always did, and took it in stride. Smiling at Sia, he simply said “Maybe after this you can tell me about the music you like to listen to,” before turning his attention to the stage.

<Sia> I man that could get light a little fire under her *** and then put it out within seconds. This was new and it made her smile. Scooting her chair over closer to him, she rested her hand over his. Not in a romantic gesture on her part of course, but she did need to realize that not everyone thought like her.

The poetress began and the crowd went silent. A few closed their eyes to feel the words, not just listen. It was no different than music. Music for the soul. Sia gave a wide smile and a welcoming laugh the moment her friends’ words came out. Someone started humming softly from the back of the room as the poem became more heated with tone and meaning. Amnesia spoke tonight about music and how it moves people in general. It wasn’t all about music effecting young ones, but how different music made you feel different ways. Some parts she sang and some parts just cool mysterious words.

“If you want to be positive, then you should surround yourself with positive influences...such as choosing what music to listen to,” she whispered over at him, having to get closer to his ear, as to not interrupt the woman. “If i listened to Eminen all day, then I would probably want to rage and disrespect people all of the time,” she laughed, hoping it wasn't too loud against his skin. “Let it make you feel good,” she whispered and looked back up to the one called Amnesia, just as she was finishing. People actually stood and encored her.

“I am sorry if I was rude earlier, those were not my intentions,” she explained and then stood to compliment her as well.

<Stryge> Stryge clapped for the poetess, Amnesia. She had been quite good. Sia spoke quietly in his ear. It seemed to be two parts apology and one part explanation. He required neither, and found both endearing. He had really only brought up rap music as a way to make a connection to the necromancer’s obvious love of poetry. He had mentioned the artists he thought she might recognize. He had not bothered to tell her of his appreciation for lesser known artists such as Aesop Rock, who embodied none of the misogynistic stereotypes associated with rap music. But again, it was not a conversation nor explanation that needed to happen right now. As it was, Stryge was more focused on the hand that she had laid gently on his. Her cool skin was almost all he could think about, and it had made it difficult to concentrate on the words of the artist on the stage.

After Amnesia departed with a quick bow and a wave, Stryge and Sia resumed their seats, and Stryge responded to Sia’s last apology in a way that he hoped was reassuring, but realized might be slightly troubling. “Sia, the fact is, I haven’t really truly listened to music in over six months. There are some things about my past, and about my turning, that I haven’t told you. I made some mistakes as a human, and I made a point to make myself suffer for them. Getting rid of music, something I used to truly love, was one of those ways. So you don’t need to worry about the undue effect Eminem or any other artist is having on me these days. I was genuine when I said I hoped you would tell me more about the music you like. I’m a blank slate right now, and open to trying things that are new, and maybe even something that won’t remind me of the past.”

Another poet was making his way towards stage. He was a young asian man, and when he spoke, it was of the struggles he faced sharing his homosexuality with his family and friends. He frequently used humor in his lyrics, and Stryge found himself chuckling with the rest of the crowd and smiling at the young man’s bravery in the face discrimination. He also found himself glancing frequently at Sia to gauge her reactions, to see if she was enjoying the performance as well.

<Sia> Sia had learned nearly almost immediately when she arrived at the university, that there was so many walks of life, that she would have to become comfortable with if she was ever going to be productive. Gay, straight, bi...it didn't matter, and that showed through her amused face as the young asian spoke. He was new, but was doing such an amazing job, she applauded him for that. Every now and again, she looked over to Stuart, catching his gaze at her. It was sweet. He was sweet. Despite her little attitude a few moments later, she was enjoying his company immensely.

The man made his point and was off the stage quickly, his cheeks red but a look of accomplishment no matter. She was proud of him and didn't even know him. Sia looked over at Stuart, and it made her smile, not bothering to hide her mouth as she self-consciously did so often. Her lips were big, no one would deny that and it drove her nuts. She was an unusually built woman. She towered over many females and even some men, standing at 5’10. It sure put a damper on any dating prospects while she was at university; but Stuart didn't look at her weird as so many did. She was used to being the odd one out, which made her bury her nose in the books even more.

She wanted to say something to him, but wasn't sure what to say, another unusual quality she possessed. She was always the first to speak out in groups, the first to do mostly anything. Be it rallies, food drives, class presentations. And here she was not even sure what to say to a man at a poetry jam. She sighed and shifted nervously, the hesitation between acts leaving her mouth a little dry.

“Do you want to take a walk?” she looked over at him with a tiny smile, needing air even though she didn't even need to breath.

<Stryge> Stryge was slightly taken aback by the question. It was, after all, her idea to come to the poetry jam. Then he smiled, recognizing it for the compliment it was. She was interested enough in conversing with him that she wanted to go someplace where they could speak, just the two of them. He was just about to acknowledge that it sounded like a nice idea, but his response to Sia’s question was interrupted by the next poet taking the stage. Stryge looked over to see who it was, and his eyes widened.

Aisha stood in the shadows, gripping a piece of paper so hard her hands shook and her knuckles turned paler than she already was. She wore her usual, enduring attire; lace up boots, a dress down to her ankles, with a grey hoodie on top. The dinginess of her outfit contrasted starkly with her ethereal feathers, and swallowed up her tiny frame. It was probably impossible for her to look anymore nervous, with her brows knitted, and shoulders as straight and solid as stone. Aisha was tiny compared to those standing around her backstage, and felt as though she might disappear into the shadows at any moment. If she had a living heart in her chest, it would be beating frantically like the wings of a flightless bird, trapped in her rib cage. She was so nervous in-fact, that Aisha barely heard her name being called.

Slowly, Aisha made her way up on stage, wincing at the harsh lights beating down on her from above. She looked around her, eyes wide and searching, as she tucked her hair behind her ears. For a moment she resent that fact that she couldn't take a deep breath to calm her nerves, but yet the anxious, sick feeling she got in her stomach was still there. With light quick steps, Aisha make her way over to the mic, and with a bit of a nervous struggle, brought it down to her height.

"Um...hello Im Aisha," she spoke softly into the mic, her voice cracked only slightly," and this is a free verse called 'Golden Bones'." She paused for a moment, then began, the words spilling out like water from a fountain.

"A girl lived in a small box down at the bottom of the ocean,
the walls were made of white china,
no windows
no sound
and growing smaller
The girl sat in the center
weaving a web with her dark hair,
to build a door someone could enter
Her skin slowly peeled away,
like fish scales that shimmered,
with golden bones underneath
The walls were closing in
the roof was brushing her back
but the girl kept weaving
a door for someone to enter
The walls began to crack,
and salt water was seeping in,
until finally is broke like an egg shell,
to reveal golden bones in a net of black hair
at the bottom of the ocean."

Aisha let her voice fade, and her words float up into the ceiling. She felt dizzy, but in a good way, like she had just run a hundred miles and never stopped. The crowd waited a moment, then began to clap as Aisha bowed a bit too low, and made her way off the stage. Her steps felt light as feathers, and all the anxiety from before was washed away. The few people behind stage congratulated her, and Aisha thanked each person before walking back out into the dimly lit coffee shop. She scanned the crowd for a moment, and instantly lit up as she noticed a familiar face. Stryge sat just a few feet away, and Aisha bounced happily towards him. "Hey'o Stryge! Didn't know you were here tonight....," her gaze wavered over to the woman sitting next to him, and Aisha blinked. The woman was beautiful and statuesque, with striking African features, and a vampire. "Oh erm...nice to meet you, Im Aisha Marten." Aisha gave a bit of a shy smile, feeling a bit like she was imposing, since it was most likely two were one a date.

Sia pushed away from her chair and rose to stand. She tried hunching just a little, so that the others behind her were still able to see. Taking a look up at the stage, she was curious as to who would perform next; sometime it was friends of her’s or sometime she just got the feeling to stick around for a while longer. She noted a little shadowy figure of a girl who looked unfamiliar. It wasn't to say that she knew everyone on campus, but certain faces in these sort of activities had become frequent over the years. This girl looked nervous, her fingers white as could be; Sia knew how she felt. Her first time up there had been nothing but sweat, clammy palms, and an aching stomach. It didn't take her long to fall into place however, and had made the poetry jams a weekly routine during her first year.

The girl announced herself and Sia stopped for a moment. She loved her name, it was catchy and different, much like her own. She had a good eye for special and extraordinary. The moment the girl began to read, Sia believed was definitely special. She liked her wording, loved how humble she was to be on the stage. Too many artists held themselves too high and just looked like pompous, overly exaggerated speakers. There was a certain sweetness and genuinity behind her. Pulling her chair back out quickly she looked over to Stryge nodding and hinting, that they could stay just a few moments later. It didn't go unnoticed that it seemed Stryge might know the girl, she caught the quick eye contact of acknowledgement. Sia smiled wide as the girl finished her last words. Aisha looked relieved and again Sia could identify.

Sia was one of the few people that stood and clamped briefly, not wanting to cause too much attention to the girl, whom now made her way over to their table. Sitting back down, she looked to Stryge to Aisha. The girl didn't seem to notice her at first, but once she did she seemed like she may have thought she was interrupting. That wasn't the case at all and Sia smiled wide to welcome her. Any friend of Stryge’s was a friend of her’s.

“It is a pleasure to meet you too Aisha, my name is Sia,” she tried not to seem too overeager with her larger than life smiles and her glistening eyes despite the path she had taken. “Your poem was very lovely,” she reassured her.

Stryge didn't know exactly what he had expected to happen tonight, but watching a vampire to get on stage and recite poetry certainly wasn't it. You can't throw a rock in this town... he mused. It made him wonder for a brief second what the point of the Masquerade really was. With so many vampires and vampire clans, at least counting the ones that Pi had told him about, how hard would it be to simply come out into the open and assimilate into the society of Harper Rock? But a second later he snapped back to reality, realizing the path his thoughts had taken was a fool's errand. Vampire society was diametrically opposed to human society. They could play pretend by owning businesses or socializing (at night) with humans, but vampires at their heart were predators, one step above the people off of whom they fed humans. For that matter, Stryge routinely broke human laws with his b&e ventures, sometimes in search of ways to disrupt human security and reinforce the Masquerade.

His thoughts on the topic, however, were interrupted by Aisha coming over to their table. He appreciated Sia being so gracious to the newcomer. As a fledgling, Aisha was even less experienced than Sia and himself, and when they had met previously at Sanctuary, she seemed to be lacking quite a bit in the confidence department. He hoped seeing her on stage tonight was evidence that she was starting to gain some self-assurance.

"It's nice to see you again, Aisha," Stryge said, smiling at the pale young woman. "That was a lovely poem. Sad, but I liked it." To Sia, he said "Aisha is a new member of the family. A d'Artois. If I recall, I believe y'all even have the same sire." Stryge wondered if that was a vampire faux pas, and if perhaps he should have let Aisha reveal that particular tidbit herself, or perhaps even not at all. Sia and Lancaster seemed to have a certain closeness, and Stryge wondered how she would feel about him siring another so quickly. For that matter, Stryge himself wondered how he would feel the next time Pi created a new childe. Jealous? Quite possibly. What an odd idea. She wasn't his mother. But of course, in a sense, she was. It didn't help that Stryge's own mother had passed away quite a while ago. Freud would have a field day with vampires, he decided.

Stryge tried to push the conversation along, possibly past his indiscretion. "Don't stand on ceremony. Join us if you like," he said, gesturing to a chair. "Have you done that sort of thing before?" Stryge hoped Sia wouldn't mind the offer. He just knew Aisha needed some support, and that getting to know the rest of her "family" a little better might help.

Sia wrote:“It is a pleasure to meet you too Aisha, my name is Sia,” she tried not to seem too overeager with her larger than life smiles and her glistening eyes despite the path she had taken. “Your poem was very lovely,” she reassured her.

Aisha left instantly content around Sia, and mirrored the woman's smile with one of her own. There was a certain gentleness that surrounded Sia, down to the openness of her body language. Another vampire it seemed, who didn't fall into the stereotype's Aisha had previously known. She felt a refreshing calmness wash over her, and her voice was steady as she spoke,"Thank you...It feels good to finally say one aloud." This was, in fact, true. Aisha had books of words, of poems and stories just waiting to be spoken, and now she had all the time in the world to say them.

"Thank you as well, Stryge...," she said with some heaviness to her tone, but never losing her smile. "I'm starting with the poems from the beginning...and many of them are rather grim i'm sorry to say." Aisha briefly recollected the first time she had received her journal, when every page was clean and crisp. Her first night in the hospital she had written Golden Bones, and she had written a poem every night since, each one planting a seed of hope. Slowly growing, despite the withering of her body.

Aisha blinked as she tore herself away from her thoughts. "The same sire? You mean Lancaster?" Aisha turned to Sia then, a wide smile spreading across her face. There was no mistaking it now, the connection Aisha felt with Sia, was in a subtle way, like family. "This makes us almost sisters then!" Aisha's multicolored eyes sparkled with childish enthusiasm, her voice an excited chirp. It didn't occur to Aisha how invasive that statement seemed till after the fact, and the girl obviously recoiled her excitement, reverting back to a mellower temperament. "W-What I mean is...Lancaster is a good man, one of the best men I know, and I'm glad that someone as kind as you was also sired by him."

With a quick nod and a thank you, Aisha accepted Stryge's invitation and took a seat. The 'thirdwheel' awkwardness still lingered, but Aisha was admittedly very happy. She had little experience with things like this; going out, talking with people in a public place, and she loved everything about it. "Believe it or not, this was my first time," Aisha laughed, more than a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "I hope its not the last time...there's something amazing about being up on stage like that."

The more the merrier for Sia. Sure she loved one on one attention, but contrary to many, she felt more comfortable in big crowds than little ones. Poetry night was a perfect combination of crowd. Everyone from all different walks of life and some “unlife” as the three of them sat there. Who knew who else was part of their world? The whole half of the room could be filled with the beautiful creatures of the night...the suspense was enough to keep Sia on the edge of her seat. This life and everything about it, inspired her and excited her nerves. Meeting new people such as Aisha, was only benefiting to her experience in the depths of Harper Rock.

She listened to Stryge introduced the two of them a bit more formally. Her brows raised when he introduced her as family. Lancaster and Pi both from what she understood “sired” a lot. It didn't surprise her and it made her actually feel a bit proud to be part of such a growing line of fine, young, intelligent vampires. Perhaps, she should be planning for the future and learning what she could do to help grow and nurture her new friends. She didn't know nearly as much as some of the rest, but she learned fast and in no time was sure to be leading her own way. Sia made a mental note to set up maybe a meeting at the cafe for her and Lancaster. Sire. What was a sire?

Listening to Aisha go on about her poems, she smiled and remembered how excited she was to recite her first poem. She was an excellent writer but she soon realized her talents didn't really lie in poems and music, her gift was public speaking; and she was proud to work on perfecting that. The word sire raced around her mind, until Aisha brought it up again. She assumed it was reference to whomever brought one into this lifestyle. She herself liked to see Lancaster as more of a mentor….something like a professor. Sire just sounded so ancient. She wasn't fond of it at all.

“If you mean my teacher yes...It’s nice to know that you are d’artois as well,” Sia wasn't one for titles or names. No one in her book was higher or lower than the other, so unless a specific title had been deemed by common tongue, she had no intentions of calling anyone family or sire. Not for now at least. While she did feel she had a claim to her new fold, she wasn't quite comfortable just yet.

“Sisters…” she laughed softly, not at all offensively, just enough to make her think. “Sounds like a frat house almost...I never joined one of those; but I have no problem considering you my sister in good faith,” she hoped she offered enough for Aisha. Sia had never been one to bond with just one or two people. As said...she prefered the company of a bunch of people. It wasn't as though closeness bothered her. She longed for the day she could give all of herself to someone special, but people around made her feel powerful and content.

“Lancaster is indeed an excellent man, he has wonderful views and future visions,” she smiled wide as she thought about him and how they met. She had shocked him with her reaction to the new life. It seemed her expected her to somehow be disappointed. She seen it all as a new challenge. “We are both very, very lucky to have him by our side and each other as well,” she nodded and looked over to Stryge. It wasn't as though she needed affirmation as to how or what she said, she just hoped she hadn't been too cocky or dry.

Sia liked Aisha. A lot. The girl had good qualities in her...she could see it and she was eager to hear any other poetry if she wished to share. Watching the girl as she took her seat, she crossed one long leg over the other and sat back with comfort. “ Adrenaline...it is all adrenaline,” she nodded and looked up at the stage again as it was being prepared for yet another citing. The night was starting to become more interesting.