[Sodium_noir] Back to the Chantry

[Substitute Storyteller]

Giger Greenville
Tremere
In Transit 

The trip to Harlequin’s in the end, had been a tad
disappointing.  Giger muses as he and Elizabeth drive
back to the Chantry.  The vampire’s attention to them
was quite brief, and he favored Elizabeth with most of
it.  No, the encounter most certainly wasn’t worth
risking Montenegro’s wrath.  Assuming he even noticed
that they were gone.  He hoped that was the case, but
in his long experience, Giger knew that Regents
usually had various means at their disposal to keep an
eye on their apprentices.   

Giger smiles at Elizabeth.  She was very timid and
quiet for an apprentice of the Third Circle.  By then,
an apprentice had usually found their tongues,
especially once they realized there were others
beneath them they could abuse.  Once again, he
initiates the conversation.  "Is something wrong,
Elizabeth?"  Was he referring to her too casually?  He
was certainly within his rights to refer to her by her
first name, since he was senior to her.  

Elizabeth looks at Giger.  A shake of her head.  "In
truth, I am concerned over the Regent Montenegro." 
She replies.  "I am afeared that he will punish us
both for my leaving."  

"It was my suggestion that we leave the Chantry."  He
replies.  "And I will tell him that I convinced you to
go along with me."  

Elizabeth looks at him.  She was surprised.  Rare
indeed was it when another Apprentice would deign to
speak with her, much less accept a punishment meant
for her.  "Gramercy."”  She replies, lowering her
head.  "I do thank thee for thy assistiance."   

Giger looks at Elizabeth.  She was intriguing.  He
wanted to hear about her history, he wanted her to
relate her story.  It had to be interesting, based on
how she spoke, as though she had stepped from a time
period long since past.  

"So Elizabeth, tell me again where you came from." 
The trip back to the suburbs was too long for only
silence to pass between them.  Even though he was a
librarian, he did like to talk to people.  Perhaps he
was better suited to be a biographer, chronicling a
person’s life story, than a librarian, cataloging
someone else’s works.

"I were born in Canterburry, which is where I were
also Embraced by my Sire."   

Giger decides to try a more direct approach.  “And
what year was that
when you were Embraced?”  

"It were the year fifteen hundred and fifty-four." 
Elizabeth replies.  She closes her eyes to ward away
the horrible memories, and a blood tear slips from her
eye.  She quickly looks up, in an attempt to stop the
tears.  She was not supposed to cry.  

Her Sire had chided her many a time on the matter, and
reminded her that her tears marked her as one not
human, or at the very least a witch, and well did she
know what happened to witches.  She would have been
burned as one if her Sire hadn’t come that night to
free her.  But it wasn’t really freedom, he had
Embraced her that night, and made her a vampire, no
longer able to see the sun.  

Giger looks forward, attempting to hide his expression
of shock.  If she’d been embraced in 1554, then that
meant she was over 500 years old!  She should be an
Elder of no small power, not a timid Neonate, and
certainly not just an Apprentice of the Third Circle. 
"Well, then, Elizabeth, I suppose a great deal has
changed since your Embrace."  

"I have been told as much."  Elizabeth replies.  "But
I did not myself see much of it, as I did sleep a very
long time."  

Ah, so that explained the odd accent, the style of
dress.  She had been in Torpor a long time and had
only recently awakened.  He had heard tales of Kindred
that did that, but had never had the pleasure of
meeting one.  

As he recalled, the Regent of London fancied himself a
historian and an archaeologist.   Small wonder he was
overly concerned for the safety of this Apprentice. 
She had actually lived through a tumultuous period of
English history and could offer a first-hand account
of it.  Even the Tremere had yet to master the ability
to travel back in time, so the knowledge of someone
relatively unsullied or unduly influenced by the
modern world was a rare thing indeed.  

Finally, Elizabeth and Giger pull up to the Chantry
again.  Once again, the lesser apprentices (or were
they merely mortal servants?) come to greet them. 
"The Regent asks that you hand over your keys, Sir."  


So the Regent had noticed that they left.  More’s the
pity for them.  Who would the Regent punish more?
Giger had to wonder.  Him, for leaving the Chantry
without permission, or Elizabeth, for refusing his
advances?   

Elizabeth watches Giger as he hands over his keys, as
requested.  Montenegro, it seemed, had missed them? 
What then, would be her punishment for leaving?  She
had been given some terrible punishments for things
far more trivial than leaving without the Regent’s
permission.  

Giger looks to Elizabeth and sighs.  He opens the
front door for her, and motions for her to go ahead of
him.  "Time to face the music, it seems."

Elizabeth nods gravely and strides into the house, the
long dress seeming to make it look as if she were
gliding across the room.  She had a sort of natural
grace about her, as though she had been a woman of
noble birth once upon a time.  Prior to her embrace,
perhaps?  He wonders as he watches her, following
behind her.  

They walk through the halls.  They should probably
talk to Montenegro this evening, but it would be
better to delay it if possible.  Punishments tended to
be more severe when it was fresh in the Regent’s mind.



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