[Sodium_noir] The Chantry Before Sunset

[Substitute Storyteller]

Giger Greenville Montenegro
A Trio of Tremere
The Chantry
 
"Speak no more, Childe."  Elizabeth still hears her
Sire’s accusing voice in her mind as she opens her
eyes.  She looks at the clock, one of the sort without
hands.  Four o’clock.  More than likely it was before
sunset, so she could not yet travel out of doors
without feeling the fatal embrace of the sun’s warmth
and light.  

It was a strange thing, being able to rise before the
setting of the sun.  Some had said that mayhap it were
a side affect of her long sleep; in truth, it had been
something that she were able to do within scant days
of her Embrace.  Oddly, none of her Sire’s other
Childer possessed such an ability, and it was a thing
greatly envied.  Many had been the nights where her
Sire did demand her blood for experiments of various
sorts.  The Regent of London demanded her blood but
twice, and once, simply to properly ascertain that she
was indeed Raleigh’s Childe.  But that had been proven
well enough when she had opened her Sire's books
without any harm coming to her.   

Elizabeth sighs.  Were she in London, she would spend
this twilight time in the company of her cat, Rowan,
or failing that, she would be casting a protective
ritual upon herself.  But that was London.  Now she
were in Gotham, without her cat, and without the means
to cast the protective rituals.  She understood the
Regent’s reasoning for making her leave London.  

After dressing plainly in a long dark blue skirt with
a white lace blouse, Elizabeth goes to the dresser and
retrieves a monogrammed handkerchief from the top
drawer.  She holds it to her face and takes in the
scent of it.  Lord Water's scent.  It still lingered
upon the fine linen.  She takes a seat in the center
of the floor.  She holds the handkerchief in her hand,
and closes her eyes, meditating upon the image of her
Mentor.  

Eventually, as the sun begins to sink below the
horizon, Elizabeth feels the connection with the
Regent.  The hour in London was growing late, but
fortunately, the telepathic link could be done even
while the other slept.  "I do bid thee good eve, my
Lord."  Even when not in his presence, she was ever
polite and formal.  

"Good evening, Elizabeth."  Formality between them was
gone now that she was no longer his charge.   "So how
was your trip?"  

"My Lord, the trip did go well, though I did in truth
feel the call of Summoning come upon me when I did
arrive in the States."  

For a few moments, there is silence.  "How do you find
your new home in Gotham?  Have you spoken with the
Regent?  Answer me with your thoughts, not your
voice."  

Elizabeth nods.  "I do find it strange, this city." 
But taking heed of his words, she closes her mouth,
and instead closes her eyes tighter and furrows her
brow in concentration as she tries to think, rather
than speak the words.  

But you did warn me that the New World is much
different from that of fair England.  The Regent
  She
did not know where to begin. For a moment, she forgets
her Mentor's instructions and speaks again.  "He did
have us conduct the Ritual of Protection of the Sacred
Haven as soon as we did arrive here."      

Another period of silence, then a small rebuke.  It
seems my instruction has been lost upon you.  From
this point forward, Elizabeth, never speak aloud when
we communicate in this manner.  

Elizabeth lowers her head.  As you wish, my Lord.  She
relays.   

This Regent
Montenegro
he has seen to your comfort and
protection?   

The image of last night comes unbidden to her mind. 
He does seem most interested in me, she relays, but he
did not read the letter you bade me give him.  

More silence.  Was Lord Waters angered with her?   
Even when she were in his presence, there were many a
time when he was unreadable to her.  Here, an ocean
away from his presence, it were near impossible to
gauge his mood.  After a small space, Water’s reply
comes.  I will speak with Montenegro.

"Apprentice Greenville."  Someone else was speaking to
her now, breaking into her conversation with her
Mentor.   

My Lord, someone is in my room.  She opens her eyes
and turns to look toward the speaker.  Montenegro! 
The word is thought, and not spoken.  

Go, Elizabeth.  Regent Water’s voice echoes in her
head.   

Elizabeth nods, then looks up at Regent Montenegro. 
She tightens her grip upon the handkerchief.  She
starts to get up from her spot on the floor.  "Good
eve to thee My Lord."  She curtsies to him, and lowers
her eyes. 

Montenegro glares at the woman.  She'd been up to
something, but what? "What were you doing on the
floor, Apprentice?"


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