Tasting Metal

Sun, 16 Sep 2007 07:52:24 GMT

Guy had the most wonderful smile.

Thu, 13 Apr 2006 05:22:56 GMT

I don't know about you, Miss Kitty, but I feel so much yummier

Meow, indeed, my little children. I'm free of all prisons, now.

#37

Thu, 09 Dec 2004 18:09:19 GMT

I have a standing job offer. It would mean giving up my footloose ways and 'going over' to San Francisco but the money's good - great, in fact - and I'd be close to one of the major powerbrokers of this territory. It's a shame Atticus is so vile, but since he assures me that he won't chase my ass all that often (right) it might be bearable.

It would make a changing from killing and whoring - although it seems I'll have opportunities for both if I really want to pursue them. I'll have to think about it.

In the meantime, I need to focus on hunting. The Sabbat handed me my spleen - literally - and proved rather succinctly why I stick to human targets. I'd better not have any lasting scars from this, although I suppose I could always try asking that Tzimisce, Liam, to remove them if they manifest...

OOC

Wed, 08 Dec 2004 21:33:33 GMT

I need a functioning scanner. I found a model from the 50s who I'd love to use as Svetlana, but the picture that clinched it for me doesn't seem to exist online. *grr*

#36

Tue, 07 Dec 2004 17:40:34 GMT

I'm not being paid enough for this shit.

#35

Tue, 30 Nov 2004 22:32:11 GMT

How fortuitious. I've just been given an in with one of the most powerful kindred in the Bay Area - and I don't think anyone realizes the opportunity that it really is for me. Good.

I've been bought and paid for as a 'gift' for Atticus of Clan Nosferatu. I'm not really being paid enough to fuck a Nos but there were other factors to consider. I let the Malkavian Primogen - who is either paying off a favor to the Warlord of the Bay Area, or hoping to get one in turn - bargain me down just so I wouldn't lose the opportunity.

Yes, Ms. Primogen, I'm just a mindless whore and all I'll be doing is sucking Atticus' dick with your money in my purse. You just keep thinking that...

I expect our pillowtalk to be highly informative and - with luck - profitable for us both. Even if I don't have a future here in the Bay Area - which I doubt I do - I might at least leave with a favorable connection to my name.

#34

Sat, 27 Nov 2004 02:23:58 GMT

And what is there to be thankful for, I wonder?

I'm just being bitter. I have gifts that any human would envy - talent, passion and strength beyond imagining. But it's this time of year that reminds me that I'm utterly alone. I usually don't mind it - attachments and obligations slow a person down, make them vulnerable - but there are exceptions to every rule. The holiday season encompasses most of those exceptions.

I can't help thinking of Guy during this time of year. Christmas 1981 is still the worst on record. I suppose they were right, really, he was a vast liability, but my time with him was the best I've known. For all my bragging up the advantages of undeath, my happiest memories are of when I was most humane - almost human. I doubt I could re-create that joy again, be it with a human or another vampire.

I'm going out before I depress myself any further.

#33

Wed, 24 Nov 2004 18:39:11 GMT

Yesterday, I dreamed that I was dividing myself up - cutting off toes, peeling off chunks of flesh - and selling them to a variety of greasy-skinned faceless people. It would have been laughable had I not woken up to discover that I had been gouging chunks out of myself during the day. I'm going to have to spend the next three nights slumming in singles bars to top myself up again. What a chore.

#32

Wed, 24 Nov 2004 04:54:49 GMT

I've had a most illuminating chat with the Seneschal of the territory - my clanmate, coincidentally enough. I think she's rather desperate for Toreador company, and I'm willing to fulfill that need for as long as she keeps telling me things I need to know.

The possibility of flat-on-my-back work is slim, unless I want to go the fuss of hooking up with an escort agency which is usually more trouble than it's worth. The kindred population around here is either a) too poor to afford me or b) too intelligent. Ah well. Michelle made mention of some pseudo-Caitiff who might prove a useful meal ticket in a pinch, but nothing is certain.

Ready cash might be thinner on the ground but that's alright. I'll get by. At least it means I won't have to scramble to make room in my calendar for other work, should it come up. Catonelli has been trying to get a few digs in, in that regard, and I might have to stamp on his toes rather firmly. There's no need to go showing my cards this early in the game. I shouldn't worry. really. Catonelli's trying to rile me, but has only that one thing to threaten with. If he blows it too early, he's got nothing left. Besides, I get the distinct impression that this court could give a damn. "Another contract killer, ho-hum"

Parris might have had a point when he was grumbling in the local coffee house. I should have tried harder to get Catonelli's pants off him when I had the chance in Portland. Ah well. I'd better rein it in a bit when this Sybil person appears. I don't need some Brujah trying to claw my eyes out.

I've got a few little jobs to keep me busy, and I hear there's a good pistol range in Sausalito, so all is not yet lost...

#31

Mon, 22 Nov 2004 01:06:49 GMT

I must have successfully convinced (most of) the court that I'm a bimbo. One of the courtiers has contacted me, offering to teach me Animalism, because it would make my 'work' so much easier. Oh no, Svetlana, I want nothing in return. I just want to help. Right. And I'm Tsarina Catherine.

Whilst it might indeed be useful to know that discipline - for reasons far other than Sergio imagined - I can't trust an offer like that. There's no such thing as a free lunch, anywhere. I'm not helping Matthew out of any goodness of my heart - I need to carve myself a bolt-hole in this territory, and the quickest way to do that is to prove that I'm useful. And that means that the first job is free, and sometimes the second, too. We call it a loss-leader, tovarisch

But tonight, I'm bored. Vodka and blood mixed half-and-half isn't doing much to alleviate that, but at least the time passes more quickly.

I was thinking about a conversation I'd had with Matthew, years ago. The fool asked me if I had been married. A husband and 2.5 children, working cheerfully for the greater good when Mama goes whoring for the Rodina? Right. I haven't had anything resembling a normal life since I was 19 - and that was several years before I ran into a certain Toreador in Berlin.

I don't think I'd like being 'normal', though. It seems rather boring. Really, it does.

#30

Fri, 19 Nov 2004 17:00:15 GMT

Expendable? Of course I am. Right until it's realized that I've become essential. Still, I mustn't begrudge this chance to prove to the court that I'm worth keeping around for however long I want to remain here. Reconnaisance isn't my usual sort of thing, but I'm sure the training will come back to me. It'll have to. The menfolk of this court certainly aren't going to keep my nights occupied. As far as I can tell, there's only two or three rich enough for my services and at least one of them is a dangerous freak - even for a kindred. I'm steering clear of Evan Green unless he offers a truly startling amount of money...

I've been dreaming of Moscow a lot this week. Generally, it's been a slightly-uneasy pastiche of high school and my early days on the police force. Dream logic is always strange. I didn't sense anything odd about the puddles of blood in the gutters or that my uniform simply wouldn't fit, no matter how I buttoned it up.

Everything can wait a couple of days. The weekend is upon me and I want to have a little fun. A lot of fun, actually. I'm going to stay out of San Francisco - clearly it isn't safe - but I hear there are some perfectly amusing Yuppie bars in/around Sausalito. Just as long as I can avoid the Russian expatriate community around here, I'll be fine. You never know who you're going to run into.

#29

Thu, 18 Nov 2004 17:21:00 GMT

I finally cracked the code from my last bout of automatic writing (I call it that for want of a better name). I had used a very old cipher that I'd almost forgotten about.

Most of it was largely incomprehensible, of course. A running narration of my dreams (always unpleasant) lists of long-useless names and phone numbers, and - to my surprise - gossip and rumors about the court of the Bay Area. All jotted down more than two months before I consciously decided to leave Los Angeles.

It's an interesting coincidence, but not one I'm going to be disturbed by. Moving northwards up the coast is a perfectly logical progression for one such as myself.

If I were such a person as to worry about coincidences, I'd worry more about the extremely clumsy attempt on the Prince's life - if that's what it was - on the night of my arrival.

As it is, the court seems largely immune to such superstition, and I believe that I'm safe for the moment. I just have to keep playing the vacuous bimbo...

#28

Thu, 18 Nov 2004 05:26:06 GMT

I could eat them all up, yes I could. Maybe one day I will.

Ah, passion...

Focus, woman. Focus!

Smile, preen, turn on cue. Give them exactly what they expect. Time enough for the rest, later.

I have all the time in the world.

#27

Tue, 16 Nov 2004 19:38:18 GMT

I've identified what was bothering me about the kindred of New Haven. They're surprisingly unambitious. For what could be one of the most significant, most powerful courts in the Camarilla, the majority of those I met on Saturday couldn't give a damn about furthering themselves. "We're to sit at the kids tables while the grownups meet" one of them said of a Primogen meeting.

I'm lazy. Furthermore, I generally don't stay in one place long enough to get mired in politics. What's their excuse? These vampires could be the envy of the world, but they seem more preoccupied with personal issues than anything of significance.

Is it battle-weariness? They seem to have been fighting the Sabbat with precious little in the way of resources for quite some time. Is it simple ennui? None of them seem old enough to be suffering it. Or have the Sabbat managed to establish themselves as the victors in this area without the Camarilla locals even noticing? An apathetic, self-involved, slow-to-motivate court must be a godsend to the enemies of the Camarilla.

And why the hell hasn't the Prince of this territory moved to fix this situation? Before a building fell on him, I mean. A few well-timed propaganda stunts and morale-building rallies could do a lot of good around here. If it can work for the Soviets, it can work for practically anyone.

I don't know why I'm thinking about this so much. Then again, I've never seen such a fragmented court before. How can I take advantage of it, I wonder? If I'm going to stay, what will be in it for me?

#26

Mon, 15 Nov 2004 05:30:41 GMT

I have found myself in the San Francisco Bay Area. I don't know how long I'll remain here, as the kindred don't seem too squeamish, so I'm not sure how much real work I'm going to find to keep me occupied. At least one Evan Green was kind enough to provide me with a little ready cash for getting settled - but if there's a next time, he's paying double. Who knew the Tremere could be such vicious freaks?

Running into that Brujah, Matthew, was a bit of a surprise. He doesn't believe me that I've not got any agenda - yet. It's fun to tease him, but it could get dreary. I didn't get the impression that he's inclined to keep his mouth shut, and I don't like to advertise my more exotic skills too soon after arriving in a new town. Given what I could observe of the court, they couldn't give a shit about how I earn my daily bread - assuming they even begin to look beyond the trashy surface I presented. They're inclined to suspicion, just a little - I'll have to bother Paris or Portland for a 'letter of reference' before I'm Acknowledged - but either they don't know the right questions to ask, or they're subtle beyond words and my background is being vetted as I speak. I'm not inclined towards the latter. Matthew aside, I'm sure that once I present my bona fides, I'll be left to my own devices.

If nothing else, I think this will be a good place to rest for a few months and decide where I'm going next.

#25

Sat, 06 Nov 2004 03:36:58 GMT

It's been a busy month.

The Anarchs are easier to get along with than I had expected, but I'm getting a little bored of the proselytizing. Between that and the recent rush of work - nothing of note, quantity over quality - I'm starting to think that it's time to leave the land of the Lotus Eaters.

Maybe I'll go to Las Vegas.

#24

Thu, 07 Oct 2004 05:38:47 GMT

The 1990s were a pain in the ass from beginning to end, particularly for us former Soviets. I'd swallowed the party line for nearly fifty years, and had only become disaffected shortly before glasnost and the great collapse. I don't know how it looked to outsiders, or even other Soviets, but for me, it was a sudden, total meltdown. Routine was thrown out of the window, with safety close behind it.

In 1997, I had managed to get myself stranded in Albania. The local economy imploded when it became apparent that everyone - from the federal government to gray-haired grandmothers - had sunk their money into a pyramid scheme. The place came apart at the seams even faster than Russia did. Post-communist kleptocracies are stupid, hateful things. Never follow the suspiciously easy money, Svetlana - it'll bite you in the ass eventually.

I had been drifting. Russia had become uninhabitable and stupid, so I went to Germany which was, unsurprisingly, full of Germans. Paris was snotty and had no time for bumpkin cousins from the east, and on it went. As long as I had some money, enough blood and a place out of daylight, that was enough. I think I was in shock. I simply couldn't plan more than a week ahead, if that. That short-sightedness was what landed me Tirana with 10,000 Lek in my pocket (about $100) and a bad case of apathy.

I didn't give a shit about anything. I couldn't find stability, so I had to settle for mere survival. Need a throat cut or a dick sucked? Fine, how much are you gong to pay me for it? On and on. It was bloody awful, but I didn't care at the time - I couldn't even tell that I was drowning in shit.

In the end the humans drove me out. They were more desperate than I was. Hungrier and cheaper, too. I could have accomodated that - hell, it made me feel a little better, I think, to know there was someone below me on that totem pole of crap - but I ran into one man in particular. He proved to be the final straw.

Hunting had been poor in the city - the streets were too violent to be out late at night - and some fool tried to blackjack me as I was heading back to my hovel of the moment after a pointless night. He'd hit me hard, so I went down like a good little vampire. Money could be replaced - the markets for sex and/or violence are rarely sluggish - and I didn't want to break the Masquerade, even in the middle of a city being torn apart by its own infuriated residents. My assailant didn't want money, though. He dragged me into his ridiculous little three-wheeled van and thence to a stinking basement where he had been amusing himself for some time.

Then followed two days of shit that I hadn't heard of outside Spetsnaz. Two days before he finally got careless and got within reach of my teeth. It was a close thing. Keeping the Beast at bay and remembering to breathe all the time was almost too much. Remembering to breath and sweat and cry 'real' tears. Tough to do at the best of times - and that wasn't the best of times.

The fuckhead had his reasons, I suppose. I didn't give a shit. It didn't matter at all. All that mattered was playing his game long enough to get out.

I know why I tolerated it for so long. I was so fucking hungry I couldn't risk breaking free before I got some of his blood in my system. Otherwise, I might have gotten free only to fall straight into a torpor. Being dumped as a corpse in daylight would have been a stuipid way to go. The whole thing was stupid - how I got stuck there, what I was doing, how I finally got out. Stupid, stupid.

It shook me out of the apathy, though. Squealing agony for 48 hours or so will do that for a person, I guess. It makes you rethink your priorities and question what you've been doing. I sure as hell did. I got out of that hole in the ground and fast-talked my way onto the first boat out of there. You know your life is fucked up when the middle-of-nowhere in Greece is a step up from what went before. I spent six months in Athens, cleaning myself up and figuring out what to do next, but I'll save all that for another time...

#23

Mon, 04 Oct 2004 06:08:31 GMT

I wish I could say that it's been an interesting week, but it hasn't. I found the two-bit crook that gave me grief last week and took care of him. It wasn't much of a challenge.

What might be a challenge is dealing with the other kindred of this city. I thought I was keeping my head down, but I blew it. It's my own fault. I shouldn't have gone to that party or, at least, I shouldn't have thought that I would be the only vampire there. It seems that the local Scourge wants a word - and there I was thinking that the Anarchs were different from the Camarilla. But it's not like I"m looking for something different. I fled Europe one step ahead of the Sabbat - I just heard the news about Prague, and it's such a shame - and I had hoped that the United States would prove safer. Some hope.

I have no idea if the locals will tolerate my ongoing presence. I'll have to put on my most charming face and do my best. I'm getting tired of moving around so much.

#22

Tue, 28 Sep 2004 05:40:53 GMT

I want to feel tired - physically tired. Aching muscles, fatigue toxins, shakiness from pushing my body too hard. I want that. It's stupid, really. A tireless body is one of the most significant advantages we kindred have but there are times when I detest it.

Maybe it's because such fatigue is so utterly human. Humanity isn't something I miss all that much - honestly, the state ground a lot of those feelings out of me long before my incident in Berlin - but the missing of it manifests in small, surprising ways. The occasional urge for a leg cramp, a headache, anything like that is the one that hits me hardest.

Pain from injury isn't the same. A little effort, and my flesh is whole. Sometimes I don't even notice the extent of the wounds.

I know that there are certain wounds that can cause lingering damage, damage which can take weeks to heal. I'm almost curious to find out what that's like, but I hear it leaves scars, too. Scars, I don't need. Besides, it still wouldn't be the same. I'd know the difference.

It's the mundane things that remind us of humanity. How trite. Maybe I'm just a sentimental fool.

#21

Mon, 27 Sep 2004 15:38:02 GMT

Looking back over what I've written so far, I've noticed that I don't talk about friends - at least, none that survived very long. There's a reason for that, but now's not the time to discuss it...

#20

Sun, 26 Sep 2004 19:07:29 GMT

It took me a long time to enjoy "The Game" - although personal enjoyment was the last thing my controllers wanted to hear about. Oh no, comrade, enjoyment leads to creative thinking and creative thinking leads to asking questions and the next thing you know, expensively trained and well-informed personnel go walking into the American embassy.

So I didn't tell them. Need to know went both ways.

November 1986 in Helsinki. It was so damned cold, the heat from a sixty-watt bulb felt like the sun while I sat in an interrogation room, biding my time. I was waiting for the local bureaucracy to grind to its inevitable conclusion and persona-non-grata me out of the country following an incident. Finland didn't want trouble from the Soviets, and I had a diplomatic passport. The fact that I was even at the police station was a significant courtesy - on my part. I could have told Superintendent Haanes Tuominen to go fuck himself when he came asking about my possible - probable - connection with the assistant secretary of defense and his vanishing act but... I couldn't be bothered to cause that much fuss. I placed a call to the ambassador once I got to the police station and I knew I would be out of there and on a plane to Moscow long before the sun came up.

The police were hoping that I'd get nervous, let something slip before the embassy sprung me. It was a valid tactic. The Russians had left people out to dry before, and had I been an ordinary Sparrow, that might have been my fate. But I wasn't ordinary, and I knew that my masters knew that, too. No anxiety loosened my tongue, despite the oh-so-casual remarks and delaying tactics thrown my way.

It's hard to believe that boredom can occur in what was still - despite my confidence - a taut situation, but it did. There were only so many times that I could count the bricks on the walls, or be distracted by the wash of heat every time Tuominen walked by.

Tuominen was a superb detective. Intelligent, charismatic, able to lie like a diplomat when needed. Under different circumstances, I could have liked him. Under different circumstances, I wouldn't have been killing time in a cinder block room, watching him ignore the cold with apparently as much ease as I did.

They didn't have much to go on. I was Russian embassy staff, sleeping with a highly-placed government official. Suspicious, yes, but as I hadn't been caught in a conveniently red-handed manner, all they could do was pour that suspicion on me and hope I'd crack before my legal attaché arrived. As I've said, my breaking down was unlikely in the extreme. We both knew it, and yet they felt compelled to try. Tuominen poured it on as best he knew how - sympathy tempered with concern, alleviated by occasional flashes of temper. His eyes were exactly the same color as a clear winter sky - dark, endless blue - and he hadn't lost the trick of making sure his smile reached his eyes. Russians have difficulty with that. We rarely smile with our eyes - what's to smile about?

Tuominen didn't want to believe that I had nothing to do with the apparent disappearance of Jouni. Nor did he believe that I was a bored secretary looking for a little fun. Well, he was right on that score. I was tempted to assure him that I hadn't learned a damned thing from the target but I didn't like the superintendent that much.

The detective was persistent. He asked, demanded, wheedled - tried it all. I said that I'd tell him something if he kissed me - as I mentioned, I was bored. I wanted to gauge Tuominen's reaction. Surprise, contempt and an irrepressible bit of curiosity all manifested within an instant as even he couldn't close down his expression quickly enough. The situation could have developed any number of ways, had not an assistant come in with his coffee. So I asked for his coffee, instead. That much, I got. In return, I said that the vanishing minister was almost certainly alive and intact, wherever he was. I had nothing to do with his disappearance - and that was the truth.

The politician turned up safe and sound three days after I returned to Moscow. It later turned out my vanishing lover had taken a few days' unannounced vacation to decide the future of his marriage. My departure no doubt made things easier for him. No mistress, no reason to leave the wife. He was a valuable source of information, but not worth a diplomatic incident - a rare instance of the Fins and the Soviets being in agreement.

It doesn't seem like much, now that I've written it down. But it was the first time I found myself at ease in such a situation. I felt safe and largely in control - although it was stupid of me to feel bored. Now I know better. And I'm much more playful, when the opportunity arises. Can the cat be blamed for wanting to chase mice?

#19

Sun, 26 Sep 2004 01:52:20 GMT

It's surprising what one finds when cleaning house. Now I know where that quote came to me from. I'm not sure why I bought the book in the first place, but there it was, fallen down behind the desk.

***

Good morning comrades !!!!

Sorry,
Woke up on the wrong side of the continent this morning
- Was just wondering if they're
Cheerful in Gorky
You know,
Gorky
That place that's halfway between
the party's loving arms,
And Siberia
- Heard on the TV
That Gorky is getting
Pretty empty,
With this new Glasnost
that Mikhail
Has started.
Gorbachev
Good men have died
trying to do less
Glasnost, the new openness
- Still wonder
If they're
Cheerful in Gorky

***

(ooc: by netcurmudgeon, an embarassing number of years ago... And apologies for misquoting in the original entry but, heck, it's been a while. ;))

#18

Sat, 25 Sep 2004 22:43:51 GMT

What sort of idiot gives GHB to a man? Then again, do I want to know the answer to that question?

Actually, I do. I want to find the fuckhead who put a mickey in my dinner's drink, because I've got a hell of a bar bill to pay after smashing the place up. Thank Christ none of the witnesses can speak Russian otherwise god knows what sort of trouble I'd be in right now. I remember saying something about Berlin and that dog's dinner that was Hans - god, that was a mess. So was last night. I'm lucky I had enough sense to crawl under the bed before sunrise. I don't like relying on luck.

This town is ass-deep in vice and corruption, so it won't be a difficult incident to clean up. A large check and a few winning smiles will put everything aright.

But I think I'm going to do a little looking for whoever was hoping to roll or rape the man I had for supper last night. I don't like losing control in such circumstance and, besides, I'm bored. A bored Svetlana is a rusty one, and we can't have that, can we?

#17

Sat, 25 Sep 2004 03:48:02 GMT

Goddamn, motherfucking Moscow. I hate remembering it. It was a vile, hateful place. I wish I could tear it from my mind. Pull it out like so much other shit that has been exorcised.

I hate the taste of salt. Why is it everywhere? Fucking hate it.

Fucking Rodina. Raped us all and left us for dead. Literally. I owe those fuckers nothing. They owe me everything.

No they don't.

Poor Guy. Didn't deserve shit. Two bullets in the chest and no apology. Fuckers.

Largo. I should have let him live. Should have killed him over and over.

My parents thought I died in the 70s. I did but...

Shit.

#16

Sat, 18 Sep 2004 17:01:42 GMT

The blood of movie stars is no more piquant than that of ordinary people, but it was amusing to have the chance to make the comparison.

It was a big party. Lots of food, gate-crashers and self-congratulation, which made it very easy for me to remain mostly unobtrusive. I had to fend off of a few offers of "representation" - some of them might even have been honest - and I noticed a few of the omnipresent 'starlets' heaved a sigh of relief at that. It seems that the Hollywood meat grinder always has room for more and the ordinary levels of paranoia in that town are enough to make a kindred court seem like a tea party in comparison. At least, that seems to be the case amongst those who make their living by their looks and have nothing else to call on. I wsh I could have reassured them that they had nothing to worry about from me. I tried a stint of modelling in the early 1990s, but realized that it was a quick way to shattering the Masquerade. Now I avoid cameras, rather than seek them out.

Unfortunately, the paparazzi tend to swarm around media beings of any type, and I had to dodge a few cameras at the soiree. They're a little easier to avoid at night-time, I think, but I doubt I can make a habit of Hollywood party-hopping. Whilst violence is common - even to the point of homicide being routinely ignored by the press unless the killing is particularly memorable - assaulting photographers tends to attract notice, and brings one in even further into the public eye. The media darlings have to maintain a relationship with picture-grubbing vermin, and I'm sure I would quickly find myself very much on the outs if I took to behaving like Sean Penn. I don't want to be denied the occasional get-together with that particular set of mortals, the hunting is marvellous.

I didn't keep my promise to myself - not yet, at least. The bits of paper, cocktail napkins, backs of envelopes and whatnot are still intact and sitting in a slightly messy pile on my table. Maybe I'll read them. I don't know.