Jungfruklänningen med surcoat

Bild på jungfruklänningen

Fortsatt arbete med Jungfruklänningen.

Ikväll har jag sytt på kantbandet på den andra klockärmen på Jungfruns nya klänning. Jag har dessutom sytt på de två smala ärmarna som ska sitta inuti. Tyvärr hamnade den ena ut och in och måste vändas. Men på den andra har jag sytt på alla fem knapparna samt sytt två av knapphålen. Det är meningen att ärmarna skall knäppas efter att man tagit på klänningen.

2007-09-03

Talulah Jezebel: Numbers 32:23

It hurt. It hurt and she was scared.
The gaping wound burned like fiery ice. She had missed the knife in his hand and then the smelly man had cut her. Even stabbed her. She didn't say anything, as there was nothing to say. Talulah pressed her hands hard against her stomache, there was a strange and revolting taste in her mouth. Blood still oozed out between her fingers.
And she was afraid.

Try not to run.
Don´t try to run.
I'll catch you.
I'll catch you anyway. 

Talulah rarely left the club. She had no reason to do so. Sally surely didn't trust her to run errands. And the garbage cans were right outside the back door. Now, for once, she was outside on the streets. Star had made a real effort into making her look pretty. She had applied all kinds of makeup, done her hair and lent her a nice dress. For an hour Talulah had felt pretty and normal. And now the man had put a big, gaping hole in the dress and she was making a mess out of it. The stain was still growing. It hurt.

Give me the money. 

Please she whispered.

Why did you have to go and be difficult? Give me the money! 

She clutched the bag, the little brown paper bag that held everything she had on her that day when she was found behind the club. The authorithies. She had finally found the courage to go to the authorithies. And he took it away from her. The bag. The courage.

Please 

Her blood was hot on her stomache. Star´s dress was ruined. She dropped the bag on the street. She fell to her knees top try to find it again. She was afraid, things were getting blurry. Then came the light. The voice.

Do not kill. Do not rape. Do not steal.
He's overstepped the boundaries. 

With every breath came the fire in her lungs. But still, she forced herself to a standing position. She could hardly se him, yet tried to face him. The smell helped.

No.
Please go away.
Please. 

And in the light, there is a shadow, and the shadow is an embodiment of everything the robber has ever done wrong. His misdeeds and wrongdoings. His murders, rapes, and thefts. And all the fear that he instilled in the hearts of others are turned back to his own black heart. His sin comes after him.

Numbers 32:23, "But if ye will not do so, behold, ye have sinned against the Lord: and be sure your sin will find you out." 

Talulah is not sure she heard it. But she believes she heard it, as she drifted of into unconsiousness. Her hand looses it's strenght, the bag slips out of her weakening grip. It could be over now.

But it isn't.
Not this time.

Reverend Hosaia couldn't let the girl be another body on his streets. But she won't be part of his flock, not quite yet. She will wake up again. At the hospital with lot's of stiches. She´ll run, like she always does. Doing so, she is forced to leave the precious little brown bag behind her. And with it the dream of finding her way back. The way back home. This is the point from witch Talulah herself counts her long way down into the darkness with Jesus.

Pray with me.
For Talulah.
For all of us kindred.

Gambeson

Framstycket och bakstycket till gambesonnen klara.

Gambeson

Framstycket och bakstycket till gambesonnen klara.

Inkvisitorns vapenrock och mössa.

Jag har den senaste tiden arbetat med en vapenrock till min inkvisitor Nencia till Kastarialajvet I Cirkeln av Stål.
Här är resultatet.



En trend för Kastarialajven är alla dessa fåniga mössor. Jag föll för trenden och sydde en sådan igår.



Här är den på, jag ska eventuellt komplettera med slöja.



Här syns ett fint och stämningsfullt stilleben med den servett som ska användas under lajvet.

Talulah Jezebel: 1954

1954 

Snow rarely falls on New Orleans. Most recently, a small amount of snow fell during the 2004 Christmas Eve Snowstorm. On December 25, a combination of rain, sleet, and snow fell on the city, leaving some bridges icy. Before that, the last white Christmas was in 1954 and brought 4.5 inches of snow.

It's 1954 again.
Laos has just become independent; the US has tested a hydrogen bomb on the Bikini Atoll. In New Orleans Jimmy Cooper has been found innocent to the murder of his wife, uptown socialite and model Amelie Woolfolk "Diddie" Cooper who was found bludgeoned to death two years earlier. Her murder will never be solved.
But this isn't a known fact in December 1954.
 It is snowing. Jeremiah stands in a relaxed pose by the window with a cigarette in his soft, long fingered hand. His young looking face and his attention is turned towards the outside world and the white flakes which are slowly descending upon it. Some ashes fall from his cigarette onto the carpet. Kitty the malkavian sits, wearing a modern pink dress with a matching jacket made out of raw silk, in a sturdy office chair by the heavy wooden desk. She's writing one of her letters. Jeremiah took her diaries away, so now she writes letters instead. More than half are addressed to dead people. It's not a morbid thing; it's just that she doesn?t remember right now that they are dead. She remembers that she misses them, and so she writes them, drops them a note to tell them so.

Mister Jeremiah slowly smokes his cigarette. The smoke lingers in the air around him. Everything is oh so still. The only sound comes from Kitty?s pen against the paper. Jeremiah puts his free hand against the glass, as if to touch the night outside. He breaks the silence, violates it with his voice.
"Kitty."
The sound of pen on paper stops. Kitty looks up from her letter. She puts the pen down, quickly adjust her beehive hairdo and opens the small metal box in front of her containing thin, long cigarettes without letting him go with her eyes.
"Yes, Mr J?"
He turns away from the window to face her.
"Close your eyes, Kitty. Relax."
"Can I smoke?"
She holds the silver lighter in her well manicured hand and when he nods she gently lights her Lady?s Slim, puffs on it and closes her eyes. He actually bought her new cigarettes last night just before the tobacco store closed for Christmas, because they had run out and she never remembered to buy them herself.
"Count down from ten."
Kitty smokes and counts with closed eyes. Jeremiah walks up to the desk.
"It is summer." He says.
"Remember summertime. The air is hot and humid even at night. People ask you if you know Mardi Gras Mambo by the Hawkettes. They ask you a lot. You go to church. Who is in the church?"
Kitty nods, eyes closed, and answers.
"Reverend Hosaia. He holds a sermon for anyone who will listen."
"Who else is there? Is his daughter there?"
A smile flutters over Kitty's lips.
"Yes."
" What is she doing? Is he doing anything to her?"
A look of worry.
"He's holding her arm, showing the congregation something. It's her wounds. He strokes the hair out of her face. There is blood on her forehead. She doesn't want them to look. She wants to hide, but she doesn't know how too."
Instead Kitty herself starts to fade in front of him. He sits down on the desk and waits patiently for her to return. Minutes pass and so he lights another cigarette, after which the chair fills up once more.

"Who hurt her, Kitty?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know or you don't remember?"
"I don't know."
He gives her some time, but when no further answer is given he moves on.
"What happens next?"
"The doors swings open and they are there, all of them. Clan Gangrel of New Orleans. Everyone else leaves immediately. Everyone except me."
"What do they want?"
"They are angry. Their leader is angry. The Reverend is angry too. I think they might have fought each other if they were anywhere else. But the Gangrels respect his church. The leader points at me. Then he points at Jezebel. The Reverend shakes his head. Then one Gangrel comes up to Talulah and one comes up to me. The one who walks up to Talulah picks her up and starts to walk away with her. Their leader holds The Reverend back even though it really takes all he's got. Reverend Hosaia shouts something about promises and how this was already settled. He says they've got it all wrong. The whole time Talulah just stares, but she's staring at me, not her sire. They take her with them. Into the night."

Jeremiah extinguishes his cigarette in the marble ash tray and asks:
"Who came up to you?"
"Axel did. He's a nice young gangrel. He likes music almost as much as I do."
"Kitty. What happened to Axel?"
A wave of emotion moves across her face and suddenly she's seems grief-stricken.
"It..I..I killed him."
"Then who are you writing to, Kitty?"
She opens her eyes to look down at the letter lying in front of her. She reads the first two lines to herself. She starts to smile.
"I'm writing to Axel. He's a nice young Gangrel I know. He likes music almost as much as I do."
She picks up the black fountain pen and continues where she left off. Elegant handwriting slowly fills the paper.

Jeremiah sighs and puts his smooth silver cigarette casing back into his inner breast pocket and returns to the place by the window.
"Hosaia"
He murmurs to himself.
"How many must suffer for your mistakes before it's over?"
He then picks up a small notebook with black leather covers from the left hand pocket of his brown jacket and produces a pencil. He flips through the notenook until he finds a list titled Gangrel - N O. At the very end it says Axel (1952). He draws a line through the name and adds:

1954

Talulah Jezebel: Alternate Endings part 2

Talulah Jezebel: Alternate Endings

Del 2

And then she couldn't remember. Then she couldn't remember. She couldn't remember. Couldn't remember. Remember.

Lights. Bright lights. Fluorescent strip lights was mounted to the ceiling above Talulah Jezebel. She was lying down, on top of something which was very soft. Her chest hurt. She immediately sat up to get a better look at her surroundings. A bed, she was on an unfamiliar bed, some blood, probably her own, had stained the white sheets. There wasn't much of it though. It was a rather large bed, in a rather large room. Stiel was sitting in his comfortable couch made of black leather and chromed metal. When he saw her stirring he put away what ever he was reading. It looked like some kind of a transcript. "I've taken quite a good portion of your memories now." He said. "A lot of people just gone, poof, like that. But do you know what? I'm going to let you remember Archon Király. Because in time, you will, like everyone else who works for me long enough feel for me, like you felt for him. And do you know the twist? The wonderful little twist?" She shook her head. It felt strangely empty. "I am going to leave Király's mind almost intact. Every night when he wakes up he will remember exactly who you are, and what you have done for his sake." And with that thought he left her. And through that whole night, she did not move.

She slept because morning came. She awoke because night returned. There was even more blood on the sheets. Her black leather coat was hanging from the washing-stand. She realized that she wasn't hungry any more. A warm hand touched her shoulder. She spun around. There was nothing there. Then came a distant fluttering, like that of bird wings. A voice. Whisperings. She twitched. It sounded like they were saying "The law, the path, the plan."
"Who's there?" Her voice trembled as she asked. Once again, the feeling of presence, and a sound like an enormous sigh was drawn. She felt a breath of wind in her chamber and then it all died away. "Who are you talking to, Fräulein?" Said Stiel who's sudden appearance almost startled her as much. She ran too him, pressing herself to the glass, searching for his blue eyes. "Please, there is someone in here." He raised one hairless eyebrow in disbelief, hands behind his back, suit immaculate. "There shouldn't be, Fräulein. Only yourself." One of Herr Stiels four armed servants was operating her door to open it. "Are you ready for your meeting with Király?" She veered away from the memory, like it was too painful to touch. "No need to wash, I am sure a little dirt and...blood wouldn't change the way he feels about you." She stepped out, relieved to leave the cell behind and eyed the four armed monstrosity warily. "Fräulein?" She looked down at her hands. Claws. Her eyes widened in disbelief. "I'm sorry, Herr Stiel." "Ah, no need to be. It still happens sometimes, Fräulein, must be a reflex. This way." They walked for a while, got into an elevator, as tastefully decorated as everything else in white, black and frosted glass. It stopped at the top floor and opened to a luxurious pent house office. Stiel and Talulah entered, followed by his helper. "Király?" she whispered in an asking tone of voice and twitched.
"Ah, yes." Stiel had walked a bit further into the room, collecting a remote control from a table. He pointed it towards a wall and pushed a button. A curtain slowly was withdrawn showing what had been hidden beyond.

It was still Király. It looked like Király. Somehow he had been mounted to a frame which in its turn was fixed to the white wall. But he had no legs beneath his knees and no arms beneath the elbow. Then she realized that it was those that the frame had been crafted from. Her hand flew to her mouth, the other then reached out towards him. "One night" said Stiel behind her "you might be tempted to let Király free. I would not do that if I were you. Because you understand Talulah, that Király is very, very hungry from now on. I have seen to that." She let her sight stretch beyond the world, and into the otherworldliness. There was not only Király there, something was inhabiting his broken body alongside with him. And the only things he felt was hate, and hunger.

"But still" Stiel continued "I am going to let you remember him and what you feel for him, I'll let you remember. Because I am kind. That, and because the fact that I am going to keep him as an ornament in my office is going to feel so much worse." There was a shimmer in the air next to Király. It was vaguely humanoid, but a lot taller than both herself and Stiel, who seemed not to notice. It was coagulating more and more as Talulah watched, coalescing into what seemed like a woman. It turned towards the Király ornament and gently as a breezed gave him a soft kiss on the forehead. Talulah blinked. The woman was gone. She twitched.

Years went by.
In time Talulah Jezebel Fritz hardly existed at all. There where times when she'd disappeared totally for hours, only to bee seen on the cameras posted everywhere in the complex. She existed as a handy shadow for Stiel, devoted, like all his other servants. And then one night Stiel was talking on the phone. He was walking around the office, not really thinking about the fact that he brought his handy Gangrel. And all the whispering came back to Talulah. She twitched and then she, without as much as glancing in Herr Stiel's direction dragged one of the steady couches across the thick carpet to where it stood in front of the Király-ornament, and then got a chair which she propped up against the wall on top of it. When she had climbed her tower she had come face to face with the captive Király. He stirred, as if it was feeding time. He remembered her. She remembered him.

And so she brought her hand up, and claws grew through her fingertips and hardened. She whispered words as softly as she could into his ear. Tears of blood formed in the corner of her eyes and spilled over. She was crying now. After all these years. And then she plunged her hand right through his chest and pulled out his heart. Final death was immediate. She stood there looking at her bloodied hand as his ashen heart slipped through her fingers. His distorted body withered away, loosening from the wall and fell to the floor. Király the warrior, Király the Gangrel, Archon Király, Hero of Gothenburg, Hero of Sweden was no more.

"Now. Why did you have to go and do that?" Stiel hung up on his investor. He looked mad. But she couldn't tell. She could never tell with him. She didn't care now. She was numb. She trusted Herr Stiel now. She trusted him to act. He'd know best what to do now. Two of his freaks entered the room. "Nothing to do about it now." Herr Stiel gestured towards Talulah. "Feed her to the mouth. At least she can feed the devourer."

They put her in the back of one of the vans; encased in the same kind of frame they put her in her first night in the complex. Herr Stiel didn't even care to come with them, it was like they were taking out the trash to him. She was alone in the darkness. No. Not alone. There was a tiny light. It grew.
"Hello Talulah."
"It's me. I know we haven't talked in a long time. But do not feel fear. You are still acting according to the plan. You still remember what I asked of you when you were dead. This is where you have always been heading. You are doing my will. You are going where angels fear to tread."

The End.

Talulah Jezebel: Alternate Endings

Det som följer är en what If-berättelse. Den passar inte in Kindred Societys övriga story.

Lights. Bright lights. Fluorescent strip lights was mounted to the ceiling above Talulah Jezebel. She was lying down, on top of something which was very soft. Her chest hurt. She immediately sat up to get a better look at her surroundings. A bed, she was on an unfamiliar bed, some blood, probably her own, had stained the white sheets. There wasn't much of it though. It was a rather large bed, in a rather large room. "So you are awake already? How very...interesting. My name is Stiel. Willhelm Stiel, senior chairman of Bauwalt Developments." The hairs on her neck stood up at the sound of that voice. One of the walls, which she had been sure moments ago had been milky white had disappeared. Instead a couch with a man sitting in it was visible. He was the origin of the voice she had heard. He smiled at her. She did not like his smile. Talulah only looked at him with empty, black eyes. He was tall; she could see that even though he was sitting down. His hair was strawberry blonde, as his beard and her was wearing a suit that she had the distinct feeling had cost a quite a lot of money. Splashed across his face were freckles. He had no eyebrows; but instead he was sporting that small and vicious smile. "But that is not why I am here to talk to you about. I want you to tell me all you know about clan Gangrel in Gothenburg." She gave him a sour look and tried to get a clearer view of what his intentions might be with her soul sight when suddenly there was a horribly bright flash from behind him, which seared her retina painfully. Her hand flew to her eyes by instinct and a small yelp could be heard as an expression of her pain. "Oh, I know all about that. The eye of your clan back in Gothenburg. None of that here. Do you understand?" Another bright flash went of. She hid her face in her hands again. "You are Talulah Jezebel Fritz. I want you to tell me everything." Slowly she let all the colors in the world fade away, let it become mundane, then she returned his gaze. "No." She managed to whisper. "It is not really a matter of choice. You will tell me, and you will tell me soon. We have your friend too. Király." And then she remembered.

The weather was absolutely perfect this evening. But there was like a smell of death in the air already when they got ready to leave. Vanja had called, asking that Király meet her upon her return to Sweden. Basha hadn?t been too happy about Vanja choosing Király above herself, but there really wasn't anything she could do about it. Then Basha said that she wanted to come along, but Király turned her down. Instead he asked Talulah to come, to watch his back.

She was running quickly towards Stiel now, wanting to rend him to pieces, wanting to get out of the room. To find Király. What she found was a wall made out of glass, and that discovery came with the sound of it hitting across her face. She sagged to the floor. Maybe there was a small chuckle coming from her captor, she couldn?t really tell. Something hot was gushing down her face; she felt it and looked at her hand. Nosebleed. She looked up at him again. One of the flashes went off, but it did not hurt as bad now that the world was grey. Looking at him just made things worse. She was so close now, there was only glass between them and when she was sitting on the floor and he on his couch it was such a subservient position. He leaned forward, tiny malevolent pig eyes scrutinizing her. "They sure don?t make them as they used to. Be still." She couldn't move.

Talulah had trailed behind Király, just like he had told her. Close enough for her to see anything that might appear and close enough for him to hear her call out if she did. When they arrived to the end of the road where Király was supposed to meet Vanja there was a large space, covered in gravel. Probably there so that cars would have somewhere to turn around on when they realized they had gotten to the end of the road. In the middle of this area stood Vanja, unmoving. Something was hanging from her head. Instead of crying out to her, Király silently made his way down the slope and crossed the open area. A knot made out of the feeling that something was wrong suddenly started to form in the pit of Talulah's stomach. Something about Vanja just wasn't quite right. This was when Talulah had heard the cars. Engines speeding a long in the night. She heard the sound of their powerful engines. And suddenly an armada of black vans started to pour into the area. Király tried to get Vanja to move, but she did not budge. Instead he took a defending stance by her side. Talulah's hand frantically searched for the cell phone in the right hand pocket of her long leather coat. There it was, and she hit the panic-button which Taylor had explained to her would alert her coterie, the Alliance, that she was in danger, and where she was at the moment. Talulah felt then felt her claws pushing trough the flesh of her fingertips and hardening. These claws that could rend metal. She started to run.
As soon as a van had stopped, its side door was pushed open and people started to come out. They were large men, all of them, and their gear was as black as the cars. They were literally covered in protection gear. And they all went for Király with what to Jezebel was an unfamiliar type of gun. He was surrounded and so he did what Király would always do. He tore into them. This was the moment when Jezebel heard the familiar sound of a helicopter closing in above. The search light appeared above the tree-line and fixed itself on the fight billowing below. She tried to get a look at the helicopter itself, but the light had been to bright and burned her eyes. Then something hit her that stung right through her thick hide. She had been noticed. The man in swat-gear raised his weapon again, but he was dead before he could pull the trigger. She had to get to Király.
The death count was rising around Király. There were bodies everywhere where he had been. He certainly had taken a big chunk out of the arriving troops. Trouble was that there were still more vans coming, stopping by the side of the road and releasing even more people to the fight. Jezebel continued to slowly advance towards his position, he was slowing down and this gripped her with fear. He stopped, just for a millisecond, to gain his bearings in the bright light of the helicopters search light. He had no way of seeing her, enclosed in that cone of bright light. He stood alone and then someone she couldn't see pushed a stake right trough his heart. She thought she saw the shadow of a four armed giant of a man beyond the light. She was riding frenzy now, but not giving in too it however badly she wanted too. Slash left, someone gave a up a painful moan. Slash right, she was getting there, advancing. The helicopter was landing. Whoever had staked Király was clearly heading for it. Jezebel wasn't trying to engage in battle with anyone, and they seemed to be backing away from her now that they've gotten what they came for. She picked up the pace, now that she was able to run. Kept her eyes on the helicopter. A man emerged from it. Strawberry blond, tall, with freckles splashed across his face. His suit was immaculate, so very out of place in this field of death. And his soul, gray, like a slate of rock, like a lead sheet. Then he noticed her and the very faintest of smiles appeared. Gray aura shifted and disappeared and gave room to what really was there. And it was horrible.

Willhelm Stiel looked in confusion at the Gangrel that had been heading straight for him up until a second ago. She had, quite suddenly, tensed up, then kept going for just a moment by the pure momentum of speed built up until that was used up, landing her quite harshly on the ground in front of him. He very carefully prodded her with his shoe, but she didn't move. He then looked towards one of the closest soldiers which had finished loading Király on the helicopter. He nodded towards the girl lying in front of him. "Bringt ihr mit auch." And so she was loaded into the helicopter which made a lift of towards a distant country. When they had gained enough altitude a small object was thrown out of the machine. Talulah Jezebel's cell phone was immediately smashed into lots of tiny pieces as soon as it hit the ground. 

She could not move from her sitting position by the glass. She couldn't turn her head to look at who was entering trough the door to her left, what the origin of that metallic sound was. There were still random flashes? going off so if she tried sneaking a peek into the otherworldliness it would only hurt her eyes again, that bright light. Many hands gripped her, strong, and big hands. She was raised up, then lifted like she was a little toy. One of them moved into her line of sight. It looked just like the one who had staked Király. She twitched. The monster stopped working. He seemed to be eyeballing her, but when she didn?t move further he continued. They were strapping her into something. Her feet was on some kind of plate, and what felt like metal cables were tying her legs to a stable frame. They secured the rest of her in the same way, and the whole time she wasn't able to move. Then they tipped her a backwards a bit and the whole contraption started moving. It must have wheels. In front of her, on the other side of the glass, Stiel stood up, and absentmindedly corrected his tie. He still had a small, almost undetectable smile on his lips. Jagged teeth were visible if one paid enough attention, and Talulah sure was focused.

The door had actually been a part of the glass wall, she just hadn't noticed it before, and now it opened once more to let her through. Even though the monster who was obviously behind her to pushing her along had four hands she was certain she had felt even more and so there must be more of them. It was like some of the things she had seen with the Sabbath. He started speaking again. "I must say, that it was extremely fortunate, a strange twist of fate that I was to run into you." He said with what almost sounded like sincere flattering to his voice as he walked alongside her in her captured state. "Another name on the list to mark of. All in one evenings work. The eye...blinded." They were making way down a corridor with white walls and some kind of marble floor. It was still very bright, lit every few meters with lamps covered in frosted glass. It was actually very tasteful and...modern.
The corridor opened up into some kind of lobby with many doors made out of frosted glass. And so Stiel headed for the one straight ahead. The double doors opened up automatically and they entered.
"Being a seer, you know more than most. Ah, no need to answer that one, rhetorical question." The room had a metallic floor, and white walls. Like everywhere else they had been this room too was very bright. There were people in it. Normal people in lab coats. But what dominated the room was an enormous X made mainly out of metal. A St. Andrew's cross, a crux decussate. But instead of being joined at the middle there was an opening, a rhombus frame of metal bars welded together; and into this the arms in turn were mounted. The massive structure was mounted to the floor with enormous bolts. It seemingly had strenght enough to hold an old Brujah, of that she was sure. They stopped in front of it, and she was turned to face it. The monster who had been pushing her did something behind her and there was a metallic sound, metal on metal. She realised that Stiel had been watching her reaction, and that he was really close now. "You might think that this one is for you. But from those marks we found on you?..I'd say you had more than your fair share of such things." Mentally she cringed at his words. He paused, standing next too her, she felt she could move again, as much as the contraption allowed her too. She turned her neck and looked at him. His continued to look at the Saint Andrew's cross but leaned in closer towards her. "You know. I have the means, the ways to find out what you know anyway." He turned his face towards her. It was blank. "But I believe that would be far too...crude." His blue eyes, it was like they didn't only purvey hunger...they were already eating her. She tried to break away, but they were locked to his in horror. "And now, if Fräulein Talulah here is ready, I think it is time to bring him in." The faint smile returned, he brought his hands together and let her of the hook, return his gaze to the room. She dreaded what was to come.

They hadn't cared about strapping Király into any transporting device. The same kind of monster which had rolled her into the room came, accompanied by another one, carrying him in one set of his four arms. Király still had the stake through him, and his blue tattered jersey had some blood on it where it had come out the other side. She realized what force must have been behind the blow, as he was wearing his bullet-proof vest and it still had gone right through him. What was visible of his olive skin spotted strange wounds, which looked cauterized. His weathered leather coat was missing. A whimper pressed its way between her lips when she saw him. There hadn?t been any bright flashes since they left her cell. She slowly let all the colors of the real world, the world beyond creep back. She just had to know how he was doing. Immediately the souls of the four armed beast lit up. Controlled madness. The kind of devoted love a ghoul feels for it?s master, and something fouler and much darker thrown into the mess. Király was pure anger, riding the frenzy. ?Yes. You look. You look now.? Stiel was almost whispering, but she heard him loud and clear. One of them lifted Király above himself and held him to the cross. He then used one of his free hands to hold the left arm to the Saint Andrew?s Cross. She saw now that the arms of the Saint Andrew?s Cross had grooves into which wood had been fitted. The other four armed ghoul picked up what looked like an enormous nail gun or a bolt gun. She twitched. Stiel stepped into her view again. ?Be still.? Once more she froze up. He then did something very, very odd. He released her right hand and held it in his own, thumb pressed slightly into the palm of her hand. She saw the ripples of pain in Király?s aura as they pressed the trigger once. The nails were like those used when you laid out rail road tracks, and every one of them had a big head shaped like a cross. She felt the pressure from Stiel?s thumb hardening and then her claws pressing out through her fingertips, only on that hand. She hadn?t willed it, but seeing Király in such pain?
?Aw?just like a kitten.? There was a strange tone to Stiel?s voice which she couldn?t identify. He released her hand, and immediately the claws retracted. She felt cold metal locking her wrist to her body again.
They put four nails into each arm and four into each leg and each time the nail hit bone; the ripples in Király?s aura were smaller. He was mastering the pain. It wasn?t new to him. He was Király. This gave her hope.
The whole time they worked on him one of them was holding him up, so that his weight wouldn?t be unevenly distributed. Then they were finished and looked at Stiel who gave a small nod. One of them removed the stake. Király was opening his mouth to say something, but then the one which was holding him suddenly let go which led to his body dropping a few inches. Flesh and bone creaked and his eyes widened, showing a lot of white. She felt her own body mimicking his reaction with the difference that she did actually give a sound. He didn?t need to scream, she knew, she saw exactly what he felt at the moment he felt it.

?Now.? Said Stiel, looking at some papers one of the men in lab-coats had handed him and producing a pair of glasses from a pocket. ?We could start with this Basha. Tell me about Basha, Fräulein Talulah.? Talulah looked at Király. He shook his head and spoke ?Give them nothing.? He was still defiant
She shook hers, mimicking him. ?No.? She twitched. Stiel looked at her. Then turned to one of the men in lab-coats who scurried away. ?How unfortunate. For Király that is. That means Doktor Schmitt gets to work on him.? From the same door that they had entered with Király another man in a lab-coat entered. He looked like he was in his early thirties and was clean shaved, with short brown hair and sporting a pair of thick rimmed glasses from the fifties. Next to him walked a man dressed exactly the same who was pushing a medical steel cart covered with a white linen cloth upon which a diversity of things was laid out, including a powered bone saw. They stopped behind the Saint Andrew?s cross, but she could still see the doctor. The assistant got an extension cable so that they could plug the bone saw in. ?Now.? Stiel said with what sounded like glee. ?Doktor Schmitt here trained with Doktor Mengele in Auschwitz, and later followed him to Mauthausen camp after which he became a free agent so to say. He specialises in pain. Because, as we all know? Stiel nodded to them both, like they were old acquaintances talking about the weather or who was winning the baseball league. ?People like you, Fräulein Talulah, and like you, Herr Király very often have an unusually high threshold to pain.? At the same time the assistant was removing some blue cloth from Király?s back, probably his jersey and pieces of his bullet-proof vest. She didn?t se what tools he used. But she saw Doktor Schmitt picking up a scalpel, and then the assistant lighting what looked like a small welding flame so they could cauterise the wound as they were cutting. There was a smell of burning flesh in the air.

When they were done with this the bone saw started whirring with a high pitched noise in the hand of Doktor Schmitt. Both he and his assistant donned plastic visors. The bone saw it changed pitch as it started cutting into Király and the bone of his back. His body tensed up and he made a grimace, tensing his jaw. Then the smell of vampire blood came. It reminded her of how hungry she really was. The beast stirred when her eyes saw how small spatters of blood hit the metal floor beneath him. Hadn?t it been for the sound of the saw she was certain she would have heard the pit pat of every drop. Suddenly the Doktor hit some large vein or artery and quite a lot of blood sloshed out on the floor. It must have gotten on the blade as well because the doctor and his assistant both got hit over their visors with a splash of blood. Now the assistant got something from Doktor Schmitt which he put into a stainless steel bowl. It was a vertebra split into two parts. Király?s vertebra. Then came another, and another. Three vertebrae. She looked at Király again. He was hanging from the nails in his arms now, looking dead tired, but when he saw her looking he still shook his head. Then he drew back into himself, where she could not reach him. ?Doktor Schmitt, if you would please describe what you are doing? For the audience sake?? The Doktor peeked out from behind the St Andrew's cross so that she could see his face behind the visor. ?Yes Herr Stiel.? He felt pride of his work, and was more than pleased to describe the procedure. ?The edges of the wound is cauterized, but there is still a risk that of immediate re-growth in the area, and so? he picked up what looked like a piece of metallic tubing which was open on one side. ?we fit this titanium around the spinal cord, to keep it open to stimulation.? There was moment of silence as he did what he had just described. ?This generally delays re-growth considerably.?

The assistant pulled the plug that connected the power saw to the extension cable. He then got some kind of generator, or pump, or otherwise complicated item out from under the medical wagon. Until now it had been covered in the no longer pristinely white linen sheet on the cart. He plugged this one into the extension cord instead. ?And here? Doktor Schmitt explained ?Is the so called stimulator.? He removed the visor and adjusted his glasses. ?We could off course have given it a ah, fancier name. What it does is, quite simply, short circuits the ability to block out pain.? He smiled dryly. ?Herr Stiel, if you please?? Doktor Schmitt was holding something that looked like a very thick hypodermic needle connected to the stimulator, obviously meaning for Stiel to take it. ?Will you do me the honor?? She didn?t need to look at Stiel to know that he smiled as he passed her, crossing over to the cross and taking the needle from Doktor Schmitt. ?Now, Fräulein Talulah. I could ask you again about Basha. Or Laiyla Kaun or Orzos kid John Taylor. But I?m not going to do that just now. Because I want to do this.? And then he jabbed the needle straight into Király?s spinal cord.

She still had her soulsight on when this happened. That was a mistake. Not only did Stiel let down his gray lead sheet, exposing the vile, inhabited glow of his corrupted soul. But the sheer force of Király?s pain hit her like the power of a tsunami. She could have closed her eyes, she could have chosen not to receive. But she was pinned to the horror, and the only thing she could do for him was share. She felt claws extending again, arms chafing against metal cable, trying with all her might to break free. Király was screaming, he was actually screaming in a way that she had never heard anyone scream. She could see the pain like a white hot spear, like he himself was partly see through. It the color of searing white hot metal and was going from the removed vertebrae, all the way through his chest, through his vocal cords and throat and exiting through his face. He?d been impaled. All of his body was tensed, short circuited. Then the moment passed. The needle had been withdrawn.
She heard herself growling. Her wrists were smearing the steel cables with blood as they tried to work themselves through. She tried to rock to frame she was tied to, tried to make it fall over, but it seemed anchored to something. Through all of her, vampiric power pulsed and surged. She felt HATE, and she wanted to kill and the object of this desire was standing right there, right in front of her. "Stiel?" she growled.

"Behold." Stiel answered whilst giving the needle back to Doktor Schmitt. ?the Gangrel hero Király. Archon under Madam Guil of clan Toreador. Hero of Gothenburg. Hero of Sweden. Champion and pride of the Camarilla. It really isn?t right, you know, for someone such as yourself to put him through such inconveniences. You being a mere neonate and all that.? She twitched. Stiel nodded to Doktor Schmitt who immediately gave Király another dose. She bit her tongue but forced herself to watch again. The metallic taste filled her mouth, giving some amount of comfort, but only the kind of comfort a Gangrel gets from getting dangerously close to her beast. Now it was whispering to her of all the lovely things they would do to Stiel once they got free. But Stiel seemed to notice this. ?Ah, Talulah, I can see that you are, upset. Can?t have that, can we?? He gave a hand signal to someone behind her. One of the men in lab coats, he had a syringe in his hand with what looked like blood. There was something? moving inside of it. Something that was, in a way, alive. He quickly, and with quite some skill, inserted the hypodermic needle into the side of her neck and injected the content. First, it just made her less on edge. Then she noticed that she couldn?t hear the beast anymore, hear her beast. The whispering had died away as the content of the needle spread its poison through her.

?Too bad we had to resort to that. Now, we will talk again. And for every wrong answer you give me, Herr Király will suffer unpleasantness. And if you refuse to answer. Same thing, I?m afraid.?

Hours. It must have been hours. She told herself it must have been hours. After the first few jabs of the needle pearls of bloody sweat broke on Király?s brow. She herself had started bleeding as usual by then. The wounds on her back opened up and refused to close themselves. The tiny pricks on her forehead also reopened, and the next time the needle hit large droplets of blood formed, swelled and toppled over to run into her eyes. You could very well though she was crying if you looked at her. But Talulah wasn?t. This went on for hours. She told herself that it was hours. Her lips open and closed in murmured prayer. God had a plan, she believed in the plan. There must be a meaning even to this. Always. Always. Holy. Holy. God was with her. God was with them. God was with her. God have mercy.

?Please have mercy.? She was surprised to hear her voice. It was steady now. ?How nice.? Stiel was all smiles now. ?Fräulein has decided to talk to us. At last.? He moved his hand and Doktor Schmitt lowered the needle and took a step away. ?Please. Please.? She implored him. She tried to face her fear, tried to see his soul, what he was thinking, but there was nothing but that grey mass covering what should be there. ?Mercy. No more.? She shifted her black eyed gaze away from him, to the man on the St Andrews cross, to Király. He was coming back now. Returning from whatever hiding place he had found inside himself. She actually waited for him to return completely. She twitched. It was an awful thing that she was going to do, but she needed him there, with her. She wished she could clasp her cross in her hand, but instead she balled her tiny little fist so that her nails cut into the flesh of her palm. Then she extended her claws. They cut right through her hand, burning with aggravated damage as they went. She didn?t deserve better for what she was doing.

?I?ll tell you. I?ll tell you anything I know.? She forced herself not to look away from Király?s face. She needed too see, and accept whatever his judgment would be. To accept Király?s judgment upon her. ?Wonderful. I am so happy that we were able to gain an understanding of each other.? Stiel replied. She couldn?t see his face, as she was concentrating on Király?s. She was reading that he hoped she had some ruse. That she had come up with some clever plan to fool their captor or that she, quite plainly, was lying. He was sending?honor. He thought of Gangrel, and their ancient ways. Of what it meant to be Gangrel. Loyalty.
?Tell me about Basha.? Stiel said. She twitched, and her eyes hurt. It felt like Király?s quiet stare could have burnt a hole right through her. She opened her mouth again, and told all about Basha, even what she had seen in Basha?s soul. He asked about John Taylor from Newcastle. And she told. And the whole time she did not shy away from Király?s darkening gaze. And her soulsight told her even more. He felt she had betrayed them. He felt that she had betrayed their clan. And nothing could be worse than that. Ever. He?hated?her.

She had nothing more to give. There was silence now.
Doktor Schmitt had turned the stimulator of at a wavering of Stiel?s hand and when the sound of the generator died away there was nothing but the sound of an air conditioner somewhere in the other end of the room. She hung from the wire-frame like a used up marionette, putting all her weight on the shackles. She wanted to sleep now, to forget.

"Talulah."
It was his voice. Király's voice. She tried to raise her head again, show her clan leader the respect that had grown right into her spine since the day she first met him. But she didn?t have the strength. His voice was still strong, but cracked from the screaming. It had a low a menacing ring to it. It had judgement in it.
"You...are...not...Gangrel. You will never be Gangrel."

A presence next to her. Stiel. He very gently took her face into his hands. Clasping each cheek in his palms. Blue eyes looking deep into her black ones. "There's a good girl. What harsh words he speaks, Archon Király. He's just mad right now. It will pass." He glanced away, back at Király. "Or maybe not."

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Talulah Jezebel: The boiling point.

The boiling point.

Zero Hour. The whole world holding it?s breath for this exact moment. Soon now, thing will start to tip over. One way or the other it will fall and crumble. Time to save what can be saved. One came almost hear the air rushing in to take up the space that soon will be empty.

But what space will be vacant?

That is yet to see.

William had been on the balcony when she came looking for him. And she?d been upset. She was here to help, not make matters even more complicated. But Basha kept insisting, and insisting. It was what she was put there to do. And off course Talulah respected her wise clan leader and would lovingly obey her commands. But this was beyond respecting the elders, this was beyond obeying orders, this was beyond wise words and reasons.

And she knew that it was Amelie who came too her rescue, the ever vigilant Captain. Her Captain. And how did she repay the favour? Badly. She didn?t even stay to se the way the Captains face shifted. The way her soul tumbled and turned.

She couldn?t expect them to understand. Not without the sight. To know without seeing. And telling them would make things so much worse. This was her cross to bear.

William was on the balcony when she came looking for him with the fire in her gut. He was surrounded by gangrel when she saw him first, but they went back inside. She tried to make him say he was sorry. He refused.

Talulah was very sorry he wasn?t sorry.

Sorry William.

Sorry.

I'm sorry angel...so sorry.

Talulah Jezebel: Are you human?

Are you human? Still?

Talulah is.

Some vampires do not see themselves as human. Some refuse too. Some vampires see being human as being weak. Some see it as a blessed state that they no longer deserve after what they have had to do to survive as vampires. But Talulah Jezebel still sees herself as human and measures herself to standards. She is damned. But she is also blessed. She has her mission, and through that mission her life has meaning above and beyond herself. Talulah is quite simply a beliver, she belives in God Almighty, the God of her mother and father. The God of her sire.

Jehova.

Jehova is a demanding god. Jehova is a god of judgement. But he is also a god of love and of eternal grace. Amen. Jehova is God. God is God. God has a son who was born to earth as a human and died for the sins of all of humanity. Humanity got a clean slate. All remarks scratched of the criminal record. Humanity was reborn. This is what Talulah believes. What she was brought up to believe. And untill the night when she died she was no more able than you or me too break the bonds that made her and defined her. The bonds of being nothing more than a man. A human. But then she died and she became more than that. She was killed. It is true, that she was killed. She was an innocent and still she was damned. I can?t tell you what happened exactly, but some say she met her God and that he spoke to her.

Some say that and belive it.

I don?t know what to belive.

Talulah broke her bonds that night and became more. She became the eye, and she has the SIGHT. Many of my own clan has the sight, so it is a blessing I have the uttermost respect for. I can understand that someone would take comfort in the faith that it is God that grants her the Sight. Many would despair believing it came from the devil.

People...vampires who have the sight use it for many different things. All Talulah ever uses it for is to save people...kindred and kine alike. Mister Jeremiah, I have never heard of nor seen Talulah use it to do anyone any harm.

Yours Truly

Kitty of the clan Toreador
Member of the brotherhood Malkavia.

Talulah Jezebel: Girl in the corner

The girl in the corner.
Once more, she is the girl in the corner of an empty room, with no one to talk too. No one to talk too. No one who understood her. He wasn't here anymore. She still remembered the talk they had had under the Rhododendron bush by the church in the cooling evening. What she had promised him then and still kept since...
But it was getting harder. She felt herself getting harder on the inside. And now he was gone there was no one. Reverend Hosaia was across the ocean. Taylor was a friend, but not that kind of a friend, neither was Basha. Amelie was her captain, and had troubles of her own this evening. And Jeronn was a monster, as the way he handled his child had proven once more to her. So she sat alone in the complete dark until they came to her.


Talulah...they spoke...
Jezebel....they spoke...
The lord sends message and heed.
Too thee who is many times cursed and many times blessed.
The Lord is pleased with you and lets his face shine upon thee.
But he is also saddened by the acts of your brethren
those who truly wear the mark of Caine among you.... 

let the Lords will be known.
Let his will be done. 

Save them....Talulah Jezebel.....
Find them and save them... 

And weed the rest of them out.

And with that Talulah Jezebel is alone once more. Or as alone as she ever gets. Because the Lord is with her. Always.
Amen.

Talulah Jezebel: meditate

"Sword". She says out loud and lies the sword down on the concrete floor. "Toledo steel" . She sits down besides it, staring out into the half-lit room. Without looking she withdraws it from the scabbard and nimble, tiny fingers touches the cold metal of the blade. Her fingertips comes to rest there. "Sword" she repeats, "Toledo steel".
Unseeing eyes stares ahead, looking at something that isn't there. Her free hand streches out, seem to capture something from the air. "Chess piece....queen". She meditates on this. "still a pawn"
She plucks something else from the air, her right hand still resting om the sword. "Ring" another pause. "King......but only metal". Again the change. "Dice....chance." This one she seems to ponder for quite some time before shaking her head and dismissing it into thin air. "No such thing."
She leans her head to the side now and gets one more immatrial object.

"The Cross" She holds her empty hand up to the weak light, like she really saw something in it that she wanted some light on. She then moves it towards her chest where her own cross is nesting. She rest like this for a few seconds, left hand hiding the necklace. Then a wave, a cramp moves through her body, and her right hand is almost snatched away from the sword. She again lifts her hand away from her necklace and seem to stare with sadness and disgust at whatever invisible thing she's holding.

"This isn't his cross."
"This is yours."

But whoever she's speaking too isn't there.

Talulah Jezebel: Mr. J.

There is a Baptist church i New Orleans and there are many doors within this church.
There was a knock upon a door in New Orleans.
There was a knock upon a door in New Orleans and it was answered.
"Jeremiah." The black man who opened the door for his visitor stated, like it really wasn't a surprise.
"Do come in. Have a seat" 
"Thank you, Father Hosaia." The younger looking man nodded to the priest, into whose office he now entered with swagging confidence. The black man, who boar some resemblance to Malcolm X for those who knew of the reference, held the door open for a second more and then closed it gently behind his guest. He crossed the floor, which was covered in outdated green carpeting, probably from the 1960:s, and got into the chair behind his desk. The office was quite well lit. He did not offer his guest a drink as Jeremiah sat down across from him. They sat in silence toghether for a while, Father Hosaias index fingers pressed toghether, building a pyramid with his hands.

"Father Hosaia" The young man started the conversation. "I understand that you have heard from Talulah"? Hosaia adjusted his heavy 1950:esque glasses upon his nose and sighed although he did not need to. "Yes." His face was blank and unreadable. "And as I understand this should be good news as her whereabouts were up for some debate? And that we even lacked confirmation on wheter she was alive or not?? The young man continued. Father Hosaia put one of his hands on the table and calmly drew a cirkle with his index finger, following it with his gaze. Like he was waiting for the other man to say something more. But the visitor did not.
"I recieved....a letter....yes."

The visitor lit up, all smiles now. "Ah, and she is well, I trust!?" He threw his hands up in some kind of mimic of a relieved gesture. The Father gave him a blank stare, with heavy eyes. "No...she is not. The letter was not from her." Now it was the visitor who went blank, but there was some surprise to his features. Then he put his hands together, mimicking empathy and compassion. "I'm truly sorry tah hear. Does this mean we have to take....precautions?" This provoked a deep, almost subsonic growl from the black mans position, but nothing changed in his features. "She is not.....It isn't...she's not into that kind of trouble." He opened one of the wooden drawers in his impressive desk and picked up a letter that had been hidden within. "The letter is from a Nosferatu Elder named Skuld." He put it very gently upon the desk between them, like he was daring the other man to pick it up. "She writes to let me know that my childe is currently in her employment in Gothenburg." He got up from his chair, but stayed behind the desk, leaning slightly over it. He was an impressive sight, for a clergyman. And beneath his priestly collar the scar of his hanging could now be seen.
"Which is in Europe. Which makes her an European elder.....now please tell me, Mr Jeremiah, what kind of precausions you wish to make with my childe?"

They stared at eachother in silence. Father Hosaia needed not draw his claws. Mr Jeremiah did not need to show any of the plethora of powers that were at his disposal. And in the end Mr Jeremiah got up, not to quickly and not to slowly. He opened the door himself. But as he was about to walk out the door, he stopped. Without turning he spoke once more "One of these nights Hosaia...There are lot's of gangrels in Europe too...and I don't think I need to cross the ocean just for her. She is not that special.? He paused. "And she will not save the world."

Talulah Jezebel: 6:e april

She had been to the Tabernacle on Storgatan just prior to coming to the Elysium on Kungsgatan. There had been a musical portraying the last hours of the life of Jesus. It had been invigoration. The happiness and the warmth of those people. They even had headphones that gave her a translation to english of what they were saying, and singing. Not that she really needed one. She was so in tune with everything that happened on stage.
Some of the other homeless men that she used to meet at the soupkitchen that the Tabernacle used to give four times a week had also come. Most only because the weather had taken a turn to the worse, becoming colder again. Afterwards there was coffee for the rest of them. She herself walked up Raoul Wallenbergs street, across the bridge and over the canal to Elysium. She liked using her feet. They had served her well in her years, before her eyes were opened up.

A lonely figure moves across the canal, past the University building for Pedagogy. She is dressed in black cotton and linen and black leather and she wear a cross across her chest. And she carries her heart on her sleeve.

 

Talulah Jezebel: Angels fall first

I en rabatt i en villaträdgård sitter Talulah, några bleknande blåmärken rikare och filosoferar. Hon har förtröstan, hon har förtroende och där under marken kan hon fortfarande höra honom ännu en liten stund även efter det att dörren stängts och låsts. Hon måste ge sig av, hon har andra plikter, men något håller henne kvar tills alla ljud dör ut.

Hon mumlar för sig själv.
"All who use swords are destroyed by swords.
Don't you realize that I am able right now to call to my Father, and twelve companies, more, if I want them, of fighting angels would be here, battle-ready?
But if I did that, how would the Scriptures come true that say this is the way it has to be?" 


That this is the way it has to be.... 

Hon ställer sig upp, knäcker till med nacken och borstar av sig det värsta av rabattjorden. Händer vilar än en gång framför bröstkorgen när hon sakta avlägsnar sig från huset, och det är inte förrens hon är en bit därifrån som hon vänder sig om och tittar på det. Hon undslipper sig en suck, och hennes ögonbryn rynkas bekymrat. Men hon återvänder inte.

Talulah Jezebel: Angels Fall First

She awoke
she had to be awake.
The two pains were confusing....his wounds and her own still melting into one feeling. Talulah sat up in the bath-tub where she´d chosen to rest for the day. Not only was the once warm bath-water now icy cold, but as always her lifeblood had seeped away from her, turning the water ar sickly pink. Her lifeblood...or his?
She half-expected the angel already, but there was no such precense in the darkened room. Slowly her wounds closed themselves to their maximum extent, leaving her famished. Hungry. Hungry once more. You could run....yes....one could run, or flee...but what had God asked her? He only asked of her that she go....where angels fear to thread.

It was up to him if he dared follow.

Talulah Jezebel: Angels fall first

1. She didn't know if the others we're watching her, and she didn't really care. She didn't know if he would be able to hear her, or find it in his heart to try to understand her. But it was important to God that she at least tried. And in the dark and crowded room which smelled overwhelmingly of blood and hate she crouched in front of him where he sat chained to the broken down sofa.

I'm sorry angel...so sorry. 

His face was a mess now. Some of the others had really shown a mean streak in their cruelty. They took turns now that their elders were away. Responsibility thrown aside. They see him as the enemy - the thought appeared to her. Just the way that Mister Jansson treated that sabbat they asked her to interrogate. But in many ways this was worse.
And then, the shrilling vision played out in front of her. His soul twisted, darkened...and broke...as the mind of another touched his and violated it's most basic nature.

I think it might be time to stop now....please? 

Afterwards she sat beside him. But there was nothing she could do. She ran her fingers through his bloodmatted hair as he lay still. Nothing else she could do. She couldn't even think of a fitting psalm.

2. The darkened corridor outside the strange room at the elysium. They were both crouched down on the floor, herself and the Captain. That thousand mile stare of hers. Something tired in the way she, the captain held herself.

You and me are both soldiers, Jez.
It's not for us to ask why.

Talulah Jezebel: there will be blood

Forrest
Chaos

"I have a phone, we could caall Alice"
"Jag ringer, du kan ju inte prata"
Tystnad.
"She's on four"
"Öh...hallå? Alice?"

Chaos
Forrest.
The pain was excruciating even though her enemy didn't hit anything vital. She'd taken worse but most of those times she had been face to face with her enemy, not jumped from behind and pinned to the ground. And it wasn't his claws pinning her to the wet ground that hurt the most, it was the fact that she was kept as an captive, an hostage against her clan. Just because she had been the slowest one, the one who set the pace for the rest of them. The one he had been toying with.
They snarled threaths to eachother in swedish and when they turned to talking instead she felt the pain subside and let loose it's grip. Slowly she worked herself over on her back, still lying down, only to find herself in the midst of a blaze of auras aflame....
The thud of the weapon, the uttered words of disrespect and she could see Taylors beast lunge before him. So she went for the enemy.

They all did.

And in the following darkness she could feel nothing more than impending doom and regret ...as his blood was on her hands.

Talulah Jezebel: Approval

They hunted in a pack for them. There was the Angel, and Alice, and Taylor and a Tremere and others getting fuzzy to her eyes.

Camerapeople. Warm camerapeople confused Talulah, the pitiful creature. Warm camerapeople who hid in the crowds where she could not se them as they flickered and melted in with everyone else.
Return and tell the captain. Return and report about them and what had happened. She´d know them if she ever saw them again, but she wished that she wouldn't. Wished she could wish them away. But that was only because she was a pitiful exuse of a soldier. Part of her had wanted to run away, to give in to the base instinct. But they were warm and almost human. They we'rent the Hurricane Katrina. They were not an act of God.
She wanted to be whole again. She longed to be whole.
She longed to be with God again, but she felt herself slipping further away from herself, and from God.

Where was He, when she needed to se His bravery? Where was He when she needed the good example? She'd do what He asked of her, to the last drop of her unholy blood. Just to see His approval.

And for the ArchAngels approval.
And for the Captains approval.
And for the Reverends approval.
And for the Angel Choirs approval.
And for the approval of Jesus.
And for the approval of God.

Did they all hunt in packs for approval?

Talulah Jezebel: Stena Line/When It's cold I'd like to die

13 of januari.

05:30 in rain and storm. Talulah wished her captain would offer to hold her hand whilst they jumped ship into the blackened, enraged sea with their extra load. Instead she held the limp body of their Sabbat enemy tight to the tattered mess that was her own. The impact was great enough to first push them far below the wawes and the chock of cold was still enough to register as utter pain somewhere in her subconsious. Then her reflexes took over and spasmic kicks transformed themselves into something that propelled herself and her cargo back to the surface where the searchlights from the coastguard blinded her. She tried to turn, to search the area with her eyes to relocate her captain but lacking the power of potence all her might was forced into the one great task....keeping herself afloat, and keeping to orders.

....just keeping to the orders....


Where were you when I was lonesome?
Locked away with freezing cold
Someone flying only stolen
I can't tell this light so old

I don't want to swim the ocean
I don't want to fight the tide
I don't want to swim forever
When it's cold I'd like to die

What was that my sweet sweet nothing?
I can't hear you through the fog
If I holler let me go
If I falter let me know

I don't want to swim forever
I don't want to fight the tide
I don't want to swim the ocean
When it's cold I'd like to die

I don't want to swim the ocean
I don't want to figh the tide -Moby

Talulah Jezebel: Halden

I fight for God.

There are always things that are worse, and to Talulah there was a strange comfort in that. She'd been bad, Jezebel, not following orders at all times. But she only did it in a hapless try to protect them. To protect them all.
She had failed.

She sat besides Tyler in the car, riding with him and Jack, who she was getting to know better. If they've been human she would have felt the warmth from them, but none of them were.
It was the same as last time, the headset, so that she could talk inside the heads of everyone and warn them. Keep them safe. And a vest to keep herself safe.
The reverend had actually dug up her old shot-gun from the church in New Orleans. Actually dug up, the dried up mud from the flooded church after hurricane Katrina could still be seen in the carved details of the stock and recoil pad. She could use this one better than the modern, halfautomatics from last time.

But she failed and Jack never did come back to Gothenburg.

Talulah Jezebel: I don't know Jack

It started with rain that evening, and it did not stop completly until the sour stench of diluted sewage took over when the cover blocked out all the lights of the city.

She would see him again that night, as she had carefully taken to herself to remember. October the 20th, in the park. She didn?t know what the ?vattentorn? was, but she?d get there. She just had to.
There was some rustling, and there was carefull stepping and straightforward walking and some were missing but eventually the hill was climbed and they were there. And he was there. In the multitude of shadows on the brown gravel their souls shone with faded colors, and his was the brightest of them all. As topics were brought to the surface, their intensity faded and spiked, to fade yet again. Flickers of animalistic traits and cigarette after cigarette was lit one after another. They didn?t exactly disagree, but they didn?t exactly agree either. Old souls, or at least tattered, and even the bravest of them thread carefully at times.

Then Elysium, where higher clans roam and all those thing she does not understand happens. All the rules she cannot help but break. Reassuringly, two familiar faces stand out from the crowds of new arrivals. They were not exactly friends in New York, but they were not enemies nor rivals either and it is good to speak of good times with someone who does not miss half of what one is saying. Toreadors.

But it is odd. There is movement amongst the Gangrels and He is missing. When He comes back, he is not alone. With Him comes Jack. And to Talulah. Jack is a whole other chapter by himself.

First comes the Archon with his dark brown hair, golden eyes and olive skin. Then comes near-shaven hair on a skull tightly draped with withening skin. The marks of the hungry. Red eyes, a flash of a toothy grin and then there's a Gangrel in the way, so Talulah can't see. It's like it's not ment for her to see him. The man...chuckles. Did she hear him right? Her ears hardly ever fails her.
Neither does her eyes, there is hardly a man or woman who does not have some kind of strong reaction to the entrance made of these two people.
Taylor, who IS he?
That's Jack. Taylor light is gleaming, spinning, faster, faster. She looks away. The man is by the stage, in front of the prince. He's on his knees and the prince looks at him. Someone is standing behind the curtain, with his foot on the homecomers hand. She doesn't think anyone else notices. But she notices. They all go to the hidden room. The prince, the Archon, everyone important, Jack. Some get thrown out. They weren't important enough.
She wait's.

The angel comes to her.
Have Jack contacted you? No. Have you heard rumours of Jack? No. Have you seen Jack before tonight? No.

I don't know Jack.

The Angels light shone upon her for a little while longer, and he was displeased with her, but did not raise his hand or sword against her and let her be.

There was a rush as life returned to the elysium. The black curtains separating the bar from the hidden room moved from a silent wind and they came back. He rushed past her, not even giving her a glance and then there was this man, this Jack. He staggered forth across the room, red with stripes of white moving across the aura in an electric pattern. When he reached the billiard table he almost collapsed in front of her from the pain and it was then she knew... she had to know him, and what had happened.

The balcony in the rain, Basha and Magnusson giving him blood they've gotten from the bar. It mixes and mingles with the downpour, weakening it. Everyone is excited, whispering amongst themself in swedish gibberish.

Who IS Jack?

They look up, they're amused. He's amused. She doesn't know who Jack is, and for some reason, that strikes them as funny. They leave, one after another, to let him tell her himself. Basha leaves. Magnusson tells her to watch Jack until Basha takes over. She nod, finally somethings she understands. And so, Talulah Jezebel gets to hear parts...pieces about what has happened in Gothenburg.

But still, Jezebel doesn't know Jack.

People want's to speak with Jack and Talulah watches him, as she has promised. He is strange, but in this strange city he fits in, like a slightly different pice of the puzzle. A whole clan demands his precense and she waits outside the door to the strange room. When the meeting is finished they walk toghether down the corridor, as they turn the corner something shimmers in the air and becomes visible as it moves. It's one of the better dressed vampires, and his movement is a hand that reaches for Jacks shoulder, Jacks surprised look and reaction makes her senses focus on this man. She snaps her teeth at him, get's in his way, and on the knot of his tie rests a tiny cross. He says something in swedish to Jack, unitelligble to her, but his soul isn't.

It's not for a christian man to gloat...

It comes out clear, for the first time in over a year, but then she's ripped back to reality by a rough hand on her shoulder. She almost thinks Jack is going to be mad at her so she snaps her teeth again, ready for the slap which does not come.

He's an Elder Jezebel! That's Van Dike, that is!
No way to treat you. Ungodly.
He's an Elder!

And that is that.

The clan is in the park by the canal and the rain still pours. Tempers run high as they argue with each other about the best plan of action. No one has the time to explain or translate what they say, but she picks up bits and pieces, really trying to understand what they mean.
Some of them, she can se right through, some are partially closed to her. And then He speaks in anger. Israel tries to get a word in and Jack nearly mauls him. But they say things, signal things that confuses her. She does not understand the undertows, the currents even though she can almost se them clearly. And then Jack speaks again and it's almost like everything clicks into place inside herself. She goes cold, her heart sinks. If He doesn't want to take care of them, is she then one of them? Or is she an individual in herself?
Choices, He demands choices.
Choices and obedience to the system. She can do both.

I?
they can?t hear her. Louder then.
I fight for GOD?.I?m leavink..!

She walk's away as fast as she can without breaking into running. She has to do this. She has to reach this elder before he leaves. She has to talk to him, ask him before he disapeares.
If she shows courage, and obedience in this, maybe he can see her and in time even care for her.

Elder Afif! Do you fight for God, or do you fight for yourself?

And that is why she pulled the sewage cover over her head and put out the lights of the city, and decended to darkness and pain once more. Because it had to be done. Pay through pain, as she later told Jack. Pay through pain.  And they gave her a lot of pain to pay with. But there was also music by Sinatra, and the rats and last but not least, the readings of the scripture.
And she reverted to herself and looked just they way she saw herself. And some of the nosferatu understood, but none of the gangrels except for maybe Jack.

Talulah Jezebel: Malmoe/ The Ball

Malmoe 

She'd been watching. They didn't know it, but she'd been watching.

They got back from Malmoe, and though Theo had died in front of her, it was massive scenes of slaughter that burned so deep in her mind now. Seeing the souls go out one after one. Sometimes sudden, and at other times fading slowly, like embers in a dying fire. And she had touched the monster with her own claws, the creature from hell. A moment of ice cold horror. And then Basha shoving her aside and putting the nozzle down the hole and firering.

But they did get back to Gothenburg.
Elysium was even more confusing than battle. She got to meet the prince and smoke those fat cigarrs which she hadn't touched since she sold them herself. On the balcony her eyes darted back and forth from the prince to Kiralý. But still...she was not presented. She was not presented but got invited to a ball. A toreador ball.

Why was she thinking about him? He needed noone, no help from her.

The ball 

Nervousness. Nervousness and hunger. There was a church not far from the ball, Hagakyrkan. Had she still had her heart it would have been ticking at the speed of light. She was uncertain how she looked. The toreadors would laugh at her, in her old dress. But the toreadors always laughed att her, even when they didn't show it. Oh, oh. Talulah braced herself. He is inside....he will be. He had an invitation.

She had hoped to bring someone. Someone who owed her and would dance with her and tell her what to do. But now she was alone. She was here and she was the only gangrel she knew except for Kiralý, the newly appointed Archon, who was so high above her. And his lady was.... Skuld. Upon seeing this Talulah felt a strange feeling inside that she didn't recognise...it was hard to stand...and she could do absolutley nothing about it. Nothing.

There was a table with drinks, and to her great relief, some other single ladies. She thought about Reverend Hosaias advice and approached them.
Be nice, be courteous, ask them questions about themselves.
Point out your own good sides but be humble.
Identify the harpies. Stay clear of the ones you can't handle. Talk about your achievents to those you can. You are doing the will of The Lord and all should know the power of that.
Be proud of your clan.

And she did not expect to dance. But then came a man, a handsome man hidden behind the biggest mask of the ball. It was a funny mask that Jezebel liked. It was like a human, but twisted face with a great big mouth with enormous teeth. She remembered the monster from a painting of Hieronymus Bosch that the Reverend had showed her. Then the monster had been eating people. She thougth that was fitting.

Once more she was invited to dance. He was covered in bandages, but she noticed that they were new, fresh for the ball. This time, dancing went better but something he said went like a nail through her heart.

"I'm not very good at this"
"You glide..."

Did she? Did she glide? He said it with his voice completley broken, a man who choked to death. She lost track and concentration. He felt damp to her touch, the smell cool earth, dark places and despair went through her. It was like starting to offer your hand to someone who is drowning but then retracting it because you´re not sure if they will drag you under instead. She left the dancefloor dizzy.

And that is why she couldn't remember if that dance was before or after they called some of those who were in Malmoe up on stage and had some sort of a speech. Because he was there...and behind her, the elder Skuld. The crowds of people fell away. Everything became silent and dark inside her head, with three lights flickering....her own....his.....and his lady for the evening. And she...turned around.....to look at her...

The shimmer is always there for Talulah. But what she is looking at right now is so much older than most. Maybe that is normal here, as far as vampires go, but to Talulah it is ancient. The physical table that occupies the space between herself and the elder woman first elongates, becomes a road into infinity, and then vanishes. It is just them now. It is crystal-clear, an amazing floating egg. The crystal is tinted with gold, pink and silver which swirls hypnoticly on the surface of the egg. It really is beautifull. But what lies within is not. For Skuld has company within her egg. Talulah can not hold the gasp from slipping out between her lips.
The...creatures rage insanely in their captivity, always almost on the verge of breaking through. It is to much, too strong, and she cannot bear it. Skulds eyelids start to move, she's about to look up from her folded hands on the table. A chill runs from Talulahs head to her toes and she is forced to look away.

They are let down from the stage. Talulah waits for the others, and him to walk down the short stair before she looks back at the struggling beasts once more and hides herself in the shimmering sea of souls that is covering the ballroom floor.
There is the host of the ball, the tremere that fought with them i Malmoe. He's wearing his hair tied back and a has a giant red tie. His cold mistress, leader of the clan sits stiffly against the left wall. The angel and the warrior woman from the brujah clan are waltzing as Talulah passes them by. Hadn't it been for their signature spirits, Talulah would never had know it was them. They look so different in their masks and formal wear.
How scared the human guard gets when she passes by to close for his tastes, and then she finds a chair to hang on to. Then time speeds up, like it had to catch up from falling behind when she was caught up on stage. People whirr past, dancing, dancing. Their voices rumble in unintelligble swedish.

Then everyone stops and look to the stage again and even though she does not understand what the skinny man that almost definetnly i Af Wissen (although he seems different) is saying, it seemes like everything will be over very soon.

And she is sad. She is so very sad that he didn't ask, And something she doesn't understand burns inside as she looks up to get a last look at the woman on the stage from afar, through all the people who've begun to dance once more.

And this is when it happens. That the couple dance right, and left, and leaves a passage in the middle. They divide like the red sea, not even noticing, and they let him through in his white uniform, with the gold and the red. A gloved hand is extended.

She doesn't even hear him ask. She hardly hears the music.
She gets her dance. The one that mattered.