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Galain had remained fairly quiet throughout the entire scene he’d witnessed. He’d felt himself freeze when the White Witch had so suddenly arrived and now stared at An’Thaya. He avoided looking at Rauldac’s silent form. What do I do now? came the unbidden thought. Unbidden and unwelcome for the Gangrel. He had no desire to help Darian or Rose. Not at the moment. Perhaps not ever unless it suited his own purposes. Instead he sank to his knees, his mind trying to take in what would happen now. He held the Amazon’s hand loosely, his eyes finally settling upon the figure of his former Master. He would have to make a stand if he was to survive. The cold realization washed over him and his grasp of An’Thaya tightened perceptibly. Darian may have been your chosen successor, Rose may have been your Bride, but I was your partner in appetite and desire. Your favored one… Galain thought, a twisted smile coming over his face before he turned slightly to ’Thaya and pulled her down to him, teeth and fangs grazing her lips before he drew her into a kiss, pulling her clothing off her. His blood sang with need as he sank down upon her and blindly took her, renewing their recent bond. All other thoughts scattered for now… memories of the ring Darian had found, the sudden arrival and departure of the White Witch, the hysterics of Rose and amusement of Darian… and that strangely familiar presence that had pervaded the room. He would survive somehow.
An'Thaya woke nestled in Galain's arms, the Gangrelf slept fitfully, disturbed by dark dreams. The Amazon rose and dressed, the urge to wander always in her blood... no matter how diluted it was. Through the halls, cold and quiet in the aftermath of Rauldac's fall, her booted feet echoed loudly. She found a room with a balcony, a broad view of the city spread out before her. With a sigh she leaned on the railing, the cool night air stirring her deep red hair. Lost in thought she stared out at the night sky, nearly missing the sound of movement behind her....
Rage had been burning in the heart of the Dark Bride; everything that meant anything to her had been wrenched from her grasp. Everything but her Chylde... but one thing did stand her way. The bedamned Amazon he loved so much. When An'Thaya left Galain' side Rose was quick to follow, slipping up silently behind her on the balcony. The Amazon had just enough time to turn and see the face of death as the Gangrel thrust the stake through her heart, just seconds to stare open mouthed as she life drained away. It was only when the Amazon lay dead at her feet that Rose realized... Galain would never forgive this... she had won only his hatred eternally. With a cry of frustration she paced the balcony, unheeding to the coming dawn. "Rauldac," she twisted the wedding band on her finger, "You have left me nothing but despair and ruin." For a moment she relived a moment of her human life... a second of the happiness she had once felt, her life with Darian. "You are lost to me now beloved... passed me by as has everything else." With blood stained eyes she watched the rising of the sun, felt the sear on her flesh and welcomed it.... in the hours to come all that remained of the Dark Bride was ashes and tears.....
While Galain slept, a presence wafted over him, pausing once in temptation to strike at his heart. But it moved on, remember a promise made once, long ago to its favored child… a child of sunlight, flashing green eyes and living red hair. Instead it continued out to a lone balcony where two piles of ash lay. The presence, an arctic white sensation, did not bother with the one of ashes and tears. Instead it encircled itself about the one in which a blinking, bloodstained emerald lay, embracing it as a mournful keening blew through the sky. The White Witch’s favored one was no more. Ghostly, finger-like tendrils wrapped around the ashes, gently spinning until once again the form of the Amazon was whole. She did not breathe, she never would again. Carefully the white presence lifted her child upward and then it dissipated, taking her child home. The emerald dropped beside the sleeping Gangrel elf who awoke, clutching his heart in an agony of surprised grief. And somewhere nearby, in a hotel room full of concerned friend, a diamond shaped like a teardrop landed into the hands of a surprised Elyen. Within it a flame of red burned eternally, a flicker of emerald green glowing deep within its heart.
Broken. What in the world-- Emptiness. A return. Oh. Elyen blinked, then swallowed painfully. There was... I suppose you should be used to it by now, a dry voice commented in a steady stream of observations. It's happened before. So many times before. You really shouldn't have tried changing things you know. He frowned. Who in the world... I'm your mind. Remember that voice you keep ignoring? Well, this is what you get for ignoring me for too long. Really, you should have listened. I have a mind. And it has a British accent. Gods... There you go, not listening to me again. I swear, I have half a mind to leave you alone. Hah! Get it? "Half a mind"? And it makes bad jokes. Hmph, you don't have to be insulting you know. That's it. I'm leaving! There was a pause. But Ah'll be bahck. Good lords, now it has an Austrian accent. But the voice was gone. And with its loss... Loss. Lost. Something empty. Something yawning. He had forgotten. How could he have forgotten. Oh gods, 'Thaya. You promised me... He will not cry. Not again. He won't forget. Not again. He won't blank out. Not again. He won't do the same thing again. Never again. He knew she was dead the minute she died. He felt her die. Felt the sudden pain. Felt the surprise. He felt himself die. He let himself die. I should have been there. If I hadn't been a coward, I would have been there. It's all my fault. Again. Every one he cared for, wound up dead sooner or later. Everyone. He had that effect on people. He swallowed again, and forced himself to unclench his fists. His nails had bit into the skin of his palms, drawing blood. He stared dispassionately at the pooling blood, fascinated by the pain. Pain was a part of his life, after all. Pain was a part of who he was. "Elyen?" Someone called his name; he blinked again and looked up to see an Elven face. "Summerlin." His voice felt alien cracked as he spoke. "Comfort your brother." Galain was 'Thaya's Sy’Rish. He would feel her passing more sharply. Don't think anymore. He looked at the gem that suddenly fell into his bloodstained hands, closed his fingers about it. "It's safe to return to the manse. There will be no one there to stop you." He heard himself saying. "How do you know?" "They're all dead."
Galain sat up. He hurt. He looked on the ground beside him and beheld an emerald. It wasn't just any emerald either... it was the one An'Thaya had worn around her neck for so long. Her blood had somehow seeped into it, giving it a dulled look that echoed how he felt. He'd enslaved her to him, aided in her madness, used her and her love, selfishly saved her to have her close to him again, then failed her ultimately. He wouldn't be surprised if Elyen struck him dead if they ever met again. He rose to his feet, clasping the stone tightly in his hand and staggered out of the room, unmindful of where he was going and unsure. All he knew was that she was gone, utterly gone and there was no saving her this time. He bumped into a wall, but didn't move, instead resting his forehead against the obstacle a moment before pushing away and walking blindly down yet another corridor. Darian was still here. Still "alive". Galain's lips curled. He knew the bond he'd had with Rose was snapped as well and melancholy colored the sharp grief he had for the Amazon. She wasn't supposed to die. She was supposed to live, be free, save her people, be the Queen she was born to be. The Gangrel elf teetered on the edge of a small flight of stairs, then descended them, his body moving bonelessly, knees threatening to give way without warning. He reached the bottom though and abruptly sat down. Would he try to fight Darian? Would he try anything to save himself? He wasn't sure. He wouldn't know until perhaps he faced his rival again. Emerald green eyes glowed in his mind as he tried to understand the grief that filled him. There was a cavernous hole deep within him where his bond with the Amazon had been. Could he still have a soul? His conscious mind wouldn't contemplate it. Nor did it acknowledge that the hole within might somehow be filled, and that it was filling already, a steady blaze of painful light renewing itself in a place it had needed to take root.
Sweet Creator, he was losing it again, was the first thought that ran through Summerlin's mind as she anxiously watched Elyen. He'd not responded to Justaivus' challenge and now they knew why. "All dead? How do you know?" Summerlin whispered, her breath a sharp intake as she caught sight of the elf's hands. An'Thaya? Who else? She sank down to kneel beside Elyen and gazed up at Justavius, her eyesight wavering as she tried to reach out to her brother simultaneously. She felt black despair from that quarter and returned her eyes to look at Elyen. "Come with us, please," she asked quietly. She didn't want to leave him alone. The four of them would go: Marion, Justavius, Elyen and herself. They had to. She touched Elyen's hands gently, her heart breaking again for yet another loss for him. How much pain could he handle or would he have to handle? She rose slowly, conscious of Justavius' touch upon her. She regarded Elyen as a sort of distant brother and she was loath to see him this way.
Alais had wandered the halls of the Gangrel Manse, her violet eyes absorbing the details of each room as she went. Most of the rooms were finely furnished, holding artworks that dated back several centuries, whilst others were obviously more modern pieces. Art was one of the Tremere's first loves and many a rival within the ranks of the Tremere had made comment that she was more Toreador than mage. All of those rivals had lost their tongues. She had stopped and was admiring a large portrait of the Dark Bride when the sound of approaching voices drifted to her ears. Moving swiftly to a shadowed corner the Tremere remained perfectly still as she listened to the conversation of the lesser Gangrel. The Tremere barely contained her glee upon hearing the news that both the Dark Bride and the Amazon had met the final death. With two more Gangrel out of the way, it was going to make it so much easier to get what she wanted. Waiting until the group of four Gangrels passed the door and continued on down the hall, Alais moved out of the room and back towards the upper level of the Manse, her mind already assessing the implications and changes needed to reach her ultimate goal. Alais would need to find Galain first, as he was most at risk. Once the Gangrelf's meddling sister and her cohorts heard of An’Thaya’s demise they would surely make an attempt at saving him, especially whilst in his weakened state of mourning. And then there was Darian; she would need to contact him. It wasn't a difficult task in locating Galain. He sat upon the bottom step of the great staircase that led to the manse's upper levels. Moving slowly to his side, she laid a gentle hand upon his shoulder. He lifted his face to look at Alais, his eyes glazed and his cheeks stained with tears of blood. "Come child," the witch's voice was soft and gentle, despite the disgust she felt at Galain's weakness as she helped him to his feet. "You need to be away from here, in a place where you may mourn in peace." Alais wasn't even sure her words had sunk home. The Gangrelf's just stared at the witch for several moments, his eyes holding a disconcerting vagueness. Perhaps he had gone insane she thought. Lifting him to his feet the witch threw his arm across her shoulder as she moved back towards Galain's bedroom. Opening the door with a flick of her wrist she moved inside and placed him on his bed. The Gangrelf curling up into a tight ball. Taking a seat in a nearby armchair, Alais watched and waited. None would get close to him, not while she was nearby.
"She's... not there. And for a long time, he wasn't either." Elyen frowned in thought, then looked up into the concerned eyes of Summerlin. "Galain needs you. He needs family, friends. But I..." He swallowed, hard. "I can't go there. There'd been..." Too much blood. He shook his head, and looked from Summerlin to Justavius. "The two of you have more need. I..." He revised. He had to get over himself. How many centuries does that have to take? "I'll accompany you up to the main gates, but no further."
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