Requiem Ava: The Year of Heroes[June-December]
"We are those who do not disconnect the values of their minds from the actions of their bodies . . .
If this now makes me a disgraced woman in your eyes - let your estimate be your own concern. I will stand on mine."
- Dagny Taggart, Atlas Shrugged
December, 2007
Surprise. When the young Gangrel's arms wrap around her own - Ava's gaze still transfixed by Hawthorne and his Red Haze. -- carried up and away from the animate vitae. She is only marginally aware of the Carthian's insistant pull further and further away - the riddling puzzle pieces of the problem flip over in her mind. -- and then she she sees the vitae, rushing up the wall toward Sunda.
Fuck.
"Seal the Barrier!" She screams herself and Benjamin racing up the rickety firescape stairs, the demon's blood pours on the edge of the building, and the animate blood rushes up its sides toward him. Creole streaks from her lips, ["Simbi bind the circle, hold it tight in chains of our blood.. Simbi we call on you..."] like black winged butterflies to complete the barrier.
She stares at the Hero - hoping it worked...
---
June, 2007
Ribbons of flesh. There is something slippery about the pre-death moment. Something that niggles at the back of her mind eating at consciousness -- it tells Ava to stop this. [..and something else that begs it to go further. ] The small acolyte remains silent as small circular impressions of blood stain the alley walls -- and then burn into ash, pushed away by the wind.
This kill does not belong to the two clawed mercenaries. Nor she, who sat nails biting into the surface of her palms, watching an atomic explosion - there ends another requiem. No, this kill rested square on the shoulders of one acolyte --
"There. That rosary, you'll want that." She murmurs quietly from the shadows watching the demons pull through his clothing. Her eyes do not meet the other Acolyte's - and far too easily she fades.
---
November, 2007
It had been a long time since Ava traveled on her own. No armored cars. No ghouls. No private plane. No Coterie. She waited in the meeting place for ten minutes - no, twenty. Gadriel still had not arrived. Scowling mildly she called the Heirophant of Atlantic City, and after partaking in their ritual, she moved with the group en masse to court. Speaking with the assembled Voodoisant, with a light smile.
Gadriel was already there, picking fights it seemed to be. He was the sort of individual that seemed to possess confidence when he spoke - he did not walk but swagger. His words framed perfectly to garner attention, and outrage in the same breath. Urging his quarry [In this case, Roland Di Milan] into a loss of control. She had heard many things of Alexander Thibbedeaux, but she had not expected to feel feel pride in observing him.
Interesting.
----
June, 2007
Angelo is tailored and fresh, with a smile that could kill. His bowler hat is tipped upward to complete the devil-may-care image. Ava's singular duty tonight is to be of assistance to her covenmate - this weekend we are New York's Acolytes.. [..whatever you need simply ask--] So when he approaches her she politely excuses herself from a conversation and gives the Hero her undivided attention.
"I may need your help with tonight's ritual.." a folded slip of paper is handed to her.
"Of course. Whatever you nee--"
"You want to look at it first."
Ava folds the paper allowing it to disappear into her palm, "Non, I don't."
Hero stares at her for a moment twisting his head - in acknowledgment.
----
September 2007
" And we Have Evangeline de la Cruz." Ava stopped mid-runway bring the Gambara fashion show to a complete halt. The small Creole girl turned to the announcer twisting her head slightly.
The Models were not supposed to stop. Certainly there weren't supposed to stare down the announcer with expontential interest. " -- its Evangeline DeGuise." Her French accented words sharp and clear hung in the silence as she waited - the fourth wall cracked until the fluid easeful correction came. The girl then continued to move down the runway, toward the end and back again.
Later, after the show he approached her, "Oh I beg your pardon for the Oversight--" Boston's Harpy seemed flustered, until the Jetter Girl came and rested on his shoulders. "I, of course, would offer a boon for you--"
"None necessary, I assure you." Ava smiled, fingering the tiny diamond that embedded itself on the ring that encircled her smallest finger. "None at all."
---
October, 2007
On the arm of New York's Prince, at a Lancea Gathering - the Gran Ballo. Ava looked up at her Prince, her Faction Elder, Her Coven Father & Heirophant, and her ancestor, who smiled down at her, "Are you bored, petit?"
There was a smile to his words, as white teeth flashed against dusk colored skin. There were those that had labeled Felipe Saunier a playboy. To her he would always be an elder, a Granpere - but, occasionally she could almost understand the description.Ava smirked mildly and had the good grace to at least avert her eyes at the question.
Her lips press together, "Perhaps a little -- politics is tiresome, Papa."
There would be no dancing. The Autumn ritual would lack for meat. But the high point would be a few kind words from Enlilit, the re-acquaintance with an old employer Mssr. Najafi, the new acquaintance of a young bokor Elizabeth Williams, and the words of the infamous Mssr. Bodycount, and his completed quest from the Summer's Invocation.
In the depths of the Lance's Ballo, rites had been resolved, inspiration had birthed creation. And under Sunda's watchful gaze, she leaned forward to place a chaste kiss at Bodycount's cheek --
"Good luck Monsieur: all Our strength rests in Our Heroes.."