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gorbalsvampire · 3 months

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On the Proxy Kiss

I wrote this in an attempt to do a plain English explanation for someone on Reddit. Maybe you'll find it useful?

The Giovanni and their associate families used to have a very formal Embrace procedure, overseen by the elders of the Giovanni family itself.

Let's make up a character: call her Alessandra Giovanni. Before Alessandra can be Embraced, she's got to spend time as a ghoul, proving she's worth it. She will be ghouled by someone who is NOT going to Embrace her, and might not even be from the same family. They call it the Proxy Kiss.

The idea is that every new "Giovanni" vampire has gone through an apprenticeship and shown they can cope with the family's activities. Each has bonds to at least two Kindred – the one who ghouled them and the one who Embraced them. Everyone has divided loyalties, and nobody gets to choose their own childer and build up a power base.

If Alessandra has two Giovanni parents, she's a prestigious ghoul. Single blooded. Stronger necromancy. That's what they believe, anyway. Also, as a Giovanni, if she gets sired by someone who isn't a Giovanni, that makes her look bad – like she didn't deserve the family blood and name.

Now let's make up another character: Bruno Puttanesca. Bruno Embraces Alessandra when he feels like it; he doesn't wait for the elders' permission, he doesn't wait for the big family meeting on the 4th of April (when Embrace rights and Proxy Kisses are traditionally assigned). He just goes for it.

This annoys everyone. Alessandra's regnant has lost her ghoul. Alessandra's sire to be has lost his future childe. The Giovanni elders have been disobeyed. And it's Bruno's fault. Alessandra was just THERE.

Why is it Bruno's fault? Because he knows the rules. Because the Giovanni do follow the Camarilla's Traditions (it's part of the Promise, their whole neutrality deal with the Camarilla).

One of those is the Tradition of Progeny – you need permission from your elder to Embrace. Normally this is the Prince, but Giovanni are strictly discouraged from being Princes. They get to do things internally, instead; their own elders decide who gets Embraced.

Another is the Tradition of Accounting. A sire is responsible for the actions of their childe. A childe cannot be responsible for anything. Under vampire law they're basically not a person yet. So even if Alessandra asked for it, manipulated Bruno into Embracing her, he should know better than to say yes.

So Bruno has annoyed the Camarilla as well, by breaking their rules and threatening the security of the Promise.

Bruno is probably going to be punished by someone. It might be the Giovanni, internally, or they might turn him over to the Camarilla and say "this one broke the law, and it's your law: what do you want done with him?"

Alessandra might be killed by the Camarilla – she's not really a person yet, she's a mistake – so the Giovanni will probably deal with it themselves. They're likely to make the vampire who was supposed to Embrace her Blood Bond her instead, or maybe she'll be passed to an elder because nobody else can be trusted.

All that's from the Revised Edition of Clanbook Giovanni. In V5, after the Family Reunion, things are a bit different.

The Giovanni aren't the boss of everyone any more, and the other families are more free to Embrace internally, and local domain law matters more. That said, it's only been a few years, and vampires are slow to adapt.

We don't know exactly when the Reunion happened (it's deliberately vague so Storytellers can do what's best for their game), BUT I think we can use the date of Revised Edition ending as a cutoff point. If Alessandra was Embraced before 2005, the rules above would have been followed.

#vtm #vampire the masquerade #clan giovanni #meta #god I love the Proxy Kiss

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the-art-block · 11 months

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Franca Bellatarga, a high-ranking retainer in the Giovanni echelon, went missing from her New Jersey home when Innocenzo was starting middle school.

Family believed she'd been kidnapped but never received any ransom demands. Formal police investigations alleged she'd been murdered out-of-state, and even Giovanni inquiries failed to uncover the truth of what happened. No concrete answers were had until the mid 20-teens when she resurfaced - Embraced as a Gangrel, and embedded into the Anarch scene of West Michigan.

Innocenzo had already joined the Giovanni fold by then, and would travel as a liaison between the Family and the burgeoning domain that Frankie had long been part of.

Though the visit would focus on official business, the reunion of mother and son would break the hearts of many onlookers.

Today, they remain in close contact on a near-nightly basis. There's a lot of lost time to catch up on. 🖤

Fun fact: Frankie was in her early 20s at time of Embrace and 'Cenzo was in his late 30s, it's a fun conversation starter when the two go places together.

#vtm #vampire: the masquerade #clan hecata #clan giovanni #gangrel #caitiff #and their powers combined makes them the loudest and fastest talkers in any room

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thesixthplaneteer · 2 months

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Here is my entry for the Masquerade Breach zine!! I have been hitting that word limit like a brick wall for the past month, and I am too excited to keep it to myself! My piece is titled Hell-O-Ween! A Masquerade Breach Story because we like cheesy horror in this house. Thank you for reading!

It’s the late 1980s in Las Vegas, Nythanel, and Noa are attending a Halloween party being put on by Don Jacob Rothstein. Held in a mansion in the desert far away from the city, so the more illicit activities don't fall under unwanted scrutiny, and only those in the know are supposed to be there. One person slipped past security, an ancient enemy of the Giovanni whose true motives are unknown, but their eyes are set on Noa tonight. What can a neonate necromancer and waterblooded sorcerer do when things really start to go bump in the night?

The green makeup of his Audrey Two costume hid the redness but Nythanel still felt the warmth of embarrassment and anger on his face. Fighting back tears he side stepped between costumed guests, tray toting servers, and did his best to fight the urge to bull them over as he went back to the ballroom. Don Jacob Rothstein's Halloween party was in full swing. The dance floor was lively, the bar was packed, and the live band seemed like they could go all night long.

He wanted to make his problem everyone else’s problem but held onto his senses, making a scene at the head of Clan Giovanni’s party wouldn’t make his night better. Noa’s bright red hooded dress and silver devil mask were easy to spot, but seeing her didn’t bring the ease to his mind he wanted. A tall figure in an elaborate red Venetian masquerade costume with a matching laughing mask loomed over her, holding her wrist.

The party-goers near them shuffled away and gawked. No doubt they thought some crass couple brought their backroom fun to the front. A wall of bodies formed to watch, but over their shoulders Nyth could see another masked person grab Noa from behind. Nythanel shoved over a woman in a peacock dress and jammed his elbows into the sides of two clowns to get through.

Noa struggled to get out of their grasp, but Red Mask jerked her arm the other direction. The snap was audible over the music, a pained scream erupted from Noa, a jagged peak shot up from under the sleeve of her dress. The crowd around them gasped, some retched, some clapped for what they thought was some Halloween entertainment, some quickly fled, others watched on unsure what to make of the display.

Nythanel burst free of the crowd and charged them, seeing that the second assailant's costume was also Venetian - though far less elaborate and the color beige. Red Mask noticed his approach and abandoned Noa with a leap backward as Nythanel slammed into the tussle, bringing them all down to the floor hard. Noa’s silver mask clattered to the ground while Beige’s mask was knocked askew but stayed on their face. The thin fabric of their costume tore as Nythanel gathered a fistful of it and pulled, the other fist delivering a hard blow to the back of their head, forcing them to surrender Noa in order to defend themselves.

The surrounding crowd was now comprised mostly of individuals thinking this was simply a show for the party. Some clapped, some cheered for who they picked as their favorite, while a few pulled their partners away.

Moving with trained agility, Nythanel threw his leg over Beige, pushing them onto their back, gaining control of the situation. Flesh exposed itself, the torn collar of the costume revealing their throat. Nythanel gazed at the sight for a moment. He had no Beast. There was no voice demanding he feed, no inner monster begging to kill. This desire was all his. He opened wide and lurched forward, his fangs breaking skin. Any scream to come was cut short by the crushing of their windpipe beneath teeth. Fresh warm blood cascaded into his mouth. Mortal, musky, the sting of alcohol, and a wine-like sweet finish. Sanguine he thought to himself as it empowered his own weak vitae.

Nythanel didn’t see where the sawed-off shotgun came from, nor notice how Beige was able to pull the concealed weapon, he only heard the deafening bang that brought him back to reality. A shower of blood and bone poured from a bystander’s face. Screams of terror erupted from the crowd, they slammed into each other in their mad scramble, going toward the back of the manor to get away from the no longer entertaining brawl. The band abruptly stopped, the gunshot ending the revelry. Not wanting to risk Noa or himself being the target of the next round he twisted and wrenched, flesh and inner tissue tore until he ripped free the section of throat seized by his vicious teeth.

More yells of fearful confusion came from the guests, the handful of them brave or drunk enough to think they could stop a gunman turned and ran as Nythanel spit the chunk of meat onto the floor. Suddenly, he felt pressure build in his ear drums, his heart became heavy with dread despite the flood of passion from the blood. He'd felt this before, when Noa had shown off her necromantic powers in their rare moments of being able to be alone together since arriving in Las Vegas. Nythanel had thought he’d become accustomed to it, or at least shouldn’t be caught off guard by it. Still it numbed the hot anger and hatred he felt. A curtain of wispy, incorporeal figures began to fall from the ceiling. They manifested into the material world like shadows cast into the air itself as they drank in the light, only allowing a dim glow to illuminate the room. Recognizably human, yet completely otherworldly. One such shadow fell over the victim of the beige thug’s gunshot. The body began to twitch and jerk, a sickening gurgle came out of its throat as the air pushed out of its lungs. Nythanel reeled back from the corpse shambling back to its feet, and turned to see Red Mask holding a black stone.

Noa moved to stand, and for a moment she was awestruck at the blatant display of Oblivion's power. Her already dark eyes turned black like a starless night. She wiped her palm across Nythanel’s chin, wetting her hand with the blood of his victim. Willing forth her vitae through the protruding wound in her arm, she let it drip down and mix with the cooling blood before taking hold of the locket around her neck. The air around her became humid and cold. A shiver went through Nythanel as he felt an icy touch trace his spine. The rose on his lapel wilted, and the few mortals that tried running past them collapsed, their eyes went dull, skin turned pale. Sapped of life. She waved her hand out in front of her and took measured steps forward, like a priest performing a sanctifying prayer, and the wispy shadows began to retreat.

The sound of wet choking reminded Nyth of the reanimated corpse, and as his head turned back, he saw it rush past him. His body at first couldn't move as a deep and primal terror seized him. It was walking death, but not his kind of death. True death, the kind even the undead feared. He didn't want to go near that thing, but as it closed the distance between itself and Noa, he knew he had to act or he would lose her. Grabbing hold of his dying lapel rose, he squeezed hard along its thorny stem to draw blood, calling upon the sanguine power within him. He mumbled the incantation and the rose revived in his hand, more vibrant than ever.

Nythanel willed the rejuvenated plant to grow, attempting to whip it towards the corpse to stop it in its tracks. With perhaps more luck than skill, the branch wrapped around the creature's throat, barbs digging into dead flesh. Nyth pulled hard, managing to stop it mere inches from Noa, yet the body remained upright as it struggled to fulfill its goal of reaching her.

Noa didn’t waver at all, either completely confident Nythanel would help her, or far too focused on taking control of the descending wraiths.The room was a thunderous cacophony of horrified cries and screams of dismay, the shattering of glass on the ground, the panicked stampeding of a mob with no direction to go in. Those who had witnessed Nythanel's attack and the arisen corpse tried to run away, but those who hadn't seen pushed back to try and reach the front exit. Spirits accosted various bystanders, forcing themselves into unwilling bodies to inflict more fear onto those surrounding them. Poltergeists scattered plates and knocked over chairs, some managing to even drop a large chandelier on top of the crowd. In the confusion, they didn't care who was trampled. The guests desperately lashed out at anything impeding their own escapes. Jewelry, costume accessories, blood, and bodies all dropped to the floor and were stomped on without a second thought. The wraiths were erratic, but Noa fought, countering the incantations of Red Mask as the shadows ebbed and flowed around them like a turbulent ocean. To an unknowing observer, the two appeared to be simply standing in place and muttering strangely, but Nythanel knew they both were manipulating the thin fabric separating the land of death from the land of the living.

The rose Nythanel turned into a weapon was also being sapped of its life and desperately it drank from him to stay alive. He shifted his weight and pulled as hard as he could to try and bring the corpse to the ground. There was little hope in killing something that was already dead. He forced his will onto the rose once more, allowing it to drink even more of his vitae. It expanded rapidly in response, sprouting more branches that ensnared the body and sawed into its skin with mutated spikes. Despite it being controlled by a spirit, it was still limited to the strength of the muscles it still possessed, or so Noa had previously explained. The writhing and wriggling vines continued to tear, severing the veins and nerves and rendering the wretched thing immobile for good.

His vision started to blur, his head swimming as his vitae was near exhausted. The rose had taken root in his arm and now it threatened to drink him dry. With nearly all he had left, he willed the passing of seasons on the flower, advancing its life cycle to the point it began to wither and decay until it too became immobile and dead.

The two necromancers were still locked in their strange duel, fighting for control of the spirit current that flooded the manor. Nythanel knew he had to help Noa, something better than running headfirst into a death dealer but his options were limited. His eyes went to the floor for answers, and sure enough there was: shotgun. Hurriedly he picked it up and aimed, hoping it had the promised second shot, though the room spun in his hungry near-delirium. With a squeeze of the trigger the weapon thundered, sending its payload into the shoulder of the Red Mask. Crimson exploded from their wound as they stumbled back, their concentration breaking enough for Noa to gain the upper hand. Her good arm raised higher, and the undulating ceiling seemed to calm as the wraiths obeyed her. The shadow over the ballroom lifted slowly as she brought them to heel.

The Red Mask despite all of the trouble and their fresh injury seemed to have accepted their defeat. With only a glance to Noa and a dramatic throw of their cape, a cold silence surrounded them as they simply walked away. Despite the chaos of the still frightened crowd, they were swallowed within the mob as if they had not even been there. Nythanel at first made a move to follow, but stopped himself as Noa began to buckle. Good riddance, he thought sheepishly as he turned to her, relieved the death dealer decided to just leave. She was more important to him, anyway.

As the full brightness of the lights returned and the pressure lifted from his ears, the distinct sound of Italian leather stomped across the floor towards them from behind. A ham-handed man took hold of his collar and jerked him into the air, the shotgun crashing loudly onto the marble.

"You're gonna wish you were fuckin' dead when I'm through with you, Warlock." Growled Adolfo Puttanesca, right hand of the Don.

#vtm #vampire the maquerade #my writing #world of darkness #nyth #nythanel #noa #noa hidalgo #thinblood #clan giovanni #clan hecata #masquerade breach #vtm oc #harbinger of skulls #wilted roses

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m-blackwell-and-associates · 30 days

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Follow Up pt 4

This dour mood followed Angelina for the rest of the car ride and doubled when pushed into the morgue to find the medical examiner already there with Peitro’s Proxy. The Rosselini took one look at her and then her gaze slid to Pietro standing just behind her. Angelina knew she had been dismissed out of hand and the anger seethed. Such a thing had happened many times before. When people went to meet the Donna of Grenoble, they expected a woman in her prime, perhaps one aged into wisdom, all demure silk velvet over maternal steel. When they saw a slight girl frozen forever at 18, round face still carrying the memory of childhood, they discounted what they saw and turned to Pietro as the continuing authority, he having been her voice and direction up until the moment of their first meeting.

Pietro, well schooled and endless amused by this bitter bit of theater, stayed where he was and said nothing, waiting for Diana Rossellini to figure out the silent error she had made. Angelina did not wait for those brown eyes to widen, or the face go ashen to realize she had dismissed the one that had given permission to be Proxied and that permission could be revoked.

“What did you find?”

The Proxy caught herself, startling to be addressed, but not looking alarmed to be caught out. “Donna Angelina, a pleasure to - “

“Yes,” Angelina agreed, a great pleasure to meet yet another family member that would have to be taught respect and comportment. “Your findings?”

Angelina could feel Pietro’s amusement behind her, like a wave of warmth coming off a fire and she made a mental note to address his instigating these awkward introductions at a later time. One did not humiliate one’s enforcer. Not if one wanted to keep their good humor and loyalty.

The medical examiner cleared her throat from where she stood on the other side of the table, a skeleton, white and unweathered, laid neatly on a steel topped table. “I’ve been able to narrow it down to three missing persons.”

“A three way tie?” Angelina asked, brows raised as if mildly curious about the outcome and the examiner flushed, turning a faintly accusatory stare at Diana.

“I had just arrived with the dental records, Donna.” Diana handed them to the examiner, as cool as you please. The way the other woman snatched them out of the Proxy’s hands suggested that the files had been withheld, either for spite or for testing of the examiner's skill in reading the bones. It wasn’t that Angelina disapproved of testing the academic might of the people called upon to perform a service, just that at this moment, Angelina wasn’t in the mood for delays. Or for anyone to decide now was the time for a power play.

Hurriedly, the woman took out the x-ray images, the shaded transparencies hung up on the light box to be studied. They waited, Angelina not unaware of the Rosselini’s subtle attempt to size her up, comparing what she saw to what she had imagined. For her part, she let it go. There would be time later to put Pietro’s Proxy in her place if necessary.

“This one, Ms. Giovanni,” the medical examiner said, hurriedly. Taking down the transparency, she slid it back into its file and handed it to Angelina over the table holding their mysteriously departed. “I’ll give you a moment.” Stripping off her gloves, the woman left.

“Simeon Boucher,” Angelina read aloud before putting the file down on the metal table. “One parent still living, two siblings living abroad, no spouse, no children. Cause of death, blunt force trauma.”

“That would be consistent with what we saw when we dumped his body,” Diana confirmed. “We - “

But Angelina wasn’t interested in the explanations or stories the Rosellini was quick to give. Ignoring her, she stripped off her own gloves and set the soft black leather aside, concentrating on the well ordered bones before her.

“Simon Boucher,” she murmured under the self-aggrandizing chatter of the Proxy. “Let’s see if you’re still here.” Angelina laid both hands on the bones, one hand cradling around the smooth curve of the skull, thumb tracing along the zygomatic arch where a spider web of fractures hinted at the violence of the man’s final moments. The other hand rested on the cracked and ragged remains of the sternum.

She wasn’t surprised to feel that Simon’s soul still lingered. A death as sudden as violent as his had been, often made spirits bound to this world. Ones so bound were unable to let go of their former lives and find whatever peace was beyond the Shadowlands. Angelina called to the spirit gently, testing to see at what strength the contest of wills between her and the unwilling dead, and while she hadn’t been surprised to know he lingered, she was surprised at the promptness of his response.

Simon’s soul manifested as suddenly as switching on a light, vivid and clean as if drawn on her vision by some bold artist with only a faint transparency to suggest that he wasn’t of this world. Whatever chatter Diana had been engaging in stopped and Angelina had blessed silence in which to contemplate the spirit.

“You’re like her,” it whispered, voice coming from some other place.

“Like whom, Mr. Boucher?” Angelina asked, hand absently stroking the smooth bone of the skull, as if petting a cat, or soothing a child.

“I assume he’s talking about Elizabeth,” Diana put in unnecessarily. “I didn’t think little Miss Princess could do the family business.”

Angelina set her jaw, cross that the Rosselini dared to speak, but before she could order her cousin to silence, the sad and despondent shade of the late Simon turned to survey the room. Once his eyes fell upon the disdainful Diana, it flared, a shadow behind a flame, blown to grotesque proportions and flickering as if caught in a hot and terrible wind.

“You left me to die!” It roared, leaning towards the shocked Rosselini, mouth agape and hands turned to grasping claws. “YOU KILLED ME!”

Sternly, Angelina bound the enraged wraith of Simon Boucher so it could not attack the stunned woman. But, with a bit of satisfied spite, she let it slowly drift in her directly, forcing Diana to back up a step. Aloud, she said, “Perhaps your recounting of your mission wasn’t entirely correct, Ms. Rosselini?”

The look that Diana shot her before looking back at her slowly stalking wraith was murderous. “No, Donna. We found him dead and - “ The wraith roared, cursing. “He was beyond saving! I could see that just by looking at him!”

Angelina believed Diana when she said that she had seen the man’s fast approaching death. It was her family curse, after all. Everything was on the cusp of death to her and everyone that had the Rosselini gift. She did not, however, believe that Simon had been beyond saving.

“He might have been more useful alive, Ms. Rosselini,” Angelina said, sounding disapproving of Diana's protests and indifferent of her discomfort.

#amwriting #authors #fiction #flash fiction #m blackwell & associates #vampire #oc #clangiovanni #Clan Giovanni #Angelina Giovanni #Diana Rossellini #No one hates you like family #Professionally Petty #Family Business #wraith #Summon Spirit #Sad bones #Follow UP #chronicles of darkness

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macabre00danse · 8 months

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Hanging out with the Anarchs

#vampire the masquerade #vtmb #vtm bloodlines #clan giovanni #macabre00danse

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tlwebb · 10 months

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#world of darkness #mage the ascension #ttrpg stuff #ttrpg memes #vampire the masquerade #clan giovanni #necromancy

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freedombeginsathome · 1 month

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youtube

- Fully voiced Malkavian Protagonist -

MOD used: Vampire: The Masquerade - Bloodlines Unofficial Patch

Chinese Twin Brother's fight music sequence by me.

#vampire the masquerade #vampire #voiceover #vtmb #vtm bloodlines #bloodlines #malkavian #comics #fanart #Youtube #world of darkness #wod #clan giovanni

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cosmicbutterflies · 2 months

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OC Aesthetics/OC Moodboards: 024/??? ↪ Maria Contessa "Tessa" Giovanni for my bestie @arylace

#my moodboards #friend's OCs #VTM #clan hecata #clan giovanni #giovanni #vampire: the masquerade #World of Darkness #tastes like marinara sauce

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bones-and-bondage · 5 months

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I think I finally have the look of my VtM character down. This is Dr. Lazzaro Giovanni, of Clan Giovanni, formerly medical examiner in Venice, now a reluctant resident of Madrid.

If it wasn't for the way he seemed to stare through someone straight to their grave, he might even be considered handsome. Unfortunately for everyone, he's much more interested in how a person will die than how they are currently living.

Hopefully now that I've got his key features down, I'll be able to make some proper reference sheets for him. Fingers crossed!

#my art #vtm oc #clan giovanni #madrid by night #lazzaro #everyone's least favorite resident necromancer

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crownedinmarigolds · 2 months

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(X) Noa having her girl dinner rudely interrupted. ❤️

#noa hidalgo #noa #vampire the masquerade #vtm #vtm oc #clan giovanni #giovanni #hecata #clan hecata #world of darkness #inspired by talks with daz and alex about moonrise and noa running around the woods - she never gets to do that!#my art #blood #i drew her dress so sloppy but i was just sketching aghhh maybe i will update later when im more awake #my daughter kidnapped me

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gorbalsvampire · 6 months

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Alistair ref sheet by @iravaid

Probably the character of whom I'm most proud, and who's come the furthest since their ideation. Alistair was originally... almost a joke, riffing off the templates in the early Clanbooks that were really obvious expies (Giovanni Lara Croft springs to mind). Hence, Vampire Malcolm Tucker - a foul-mouthed, scheming fixer with no official power in the Camarilla but a terrifying personality and an understanding that he was there to do the dirty work. Then I actually started playing the old fart, and worked out a whole CV for him, and between his being a coterie Retainer in Blood Money (my sadly abortive 1960s Dunsirn game) and a coterie Mawla in Wild Roses, he started to get... depths.

His gangster past developed out of my deep and slightly embarrassing love of Guy Ritchie movies - look, VtM is a Mafia thriller with fangs, it owes as much to the gangster genre as the gothic mode, and Snatch came out when I was a teenager, it's just... one of those synchronicities. There's something about the grotty, chippy, top-bants-with-the-lads energy of those films that I think works for a peculiarly British kind of vampirism, especially for an Anarch game that's opposed to the higher, cleaner, classier grace-and-favours qualities of the Camarilla. And of course, the violent farce plot structure works so well for a TTRPG, which is after all a Disgraceful Behaviour Simulator anyway.

Historically speaking, Alistair occupies a kind of Arthur Thompson shaped space in Glasgow's underworld (one might, if inclined to really force the historical point, suggest that in-WoD, he successfully assassinated Thompson in 1966, becoming the connected and feared three-dots-in-Retainers ghoul he needed to be for the start of Blood Money proper in 1969).

I can talk about this old man... a lot. He's enormous fun to play - abrasive, charming, absolutely unafraid of Kindred ten times his age. They've been around longer than him but he's older than them, he's lived a full life and has none of the insecurities an eternal twentysomething is stuck with. Also, that one dot in Composure giving rise to furious swearing fits in moments of crisis always puts a smile on my face.

#oc: alistair dunsirn #chronicle: wild roses #chronicle: blood money #vtm oc #vampire oc #vampire the masquerade #vtm #dunsirn #hecata #clan giovanni #clan hecata

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moontouched-cryptid · 8 months

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ooc post

Ivnao gets to meet his new (Adopted) childe. Ten seconds later he meets the mud

@getaway-hearse-driver

#my art #friend's oc #my oc #vtm #clan giovanni

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matzo-ballpit · 8 months

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Extreme silliness with Anthony @m3m3nt0--m0r1 and Ivano, apparently the dumb skelly would wear that shirt in front of people

#vampire the masquerade #m/m #my art #clan giovanni #clan cappadocian

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m-blackwell-and-associates · 2 months

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Following Up pt 2

Nicky’s people had cleaned the grave well enough, now that the original mission, both true and false, was over. Nicky had the manners to police his own. Now it was left to her to gather what dust had fallen out of her cousin’s reach and how she could make it pay. It would be more satisfying to have someone else pay the costs now resting in her ledger.

“Any reason you chose…” Angelina turned back a page to see the list of operatives that Nicky had sent. “Diana Rosselini, alias Anna Betancourt?”

“I felt she was the best of the four.”

“What made her stand out?” At first glance, all four seemed to be of similar quality. Military training of one flavor or another. Specific skills earned in vague unnamed places. Confirmed kill lists. All from distant branches of breeder families, probably only accidentally aware of the family business, if aware of it at all. No one with any strong ties to any Kindred family that she could recall at this moment. Perfect operatives for those hopefuls with nothing left to lose and willing to work for a family pariah.

Family pariahs.

Angelina frowned slightly, perturbed at the unnecessary self-reminder, tucking that thought away for later contemplation. Now was not the time for meditating on old injustices.

“I feel that a Rosselini was more suitable,” Pietro gave an easy shrug, as if such an important choice was merely an afterthought. Normally a temperate guide, she found his lack of care or worry to be irritating this evening.

“More suitable than what, Pietro? Do not dissemble.”

He capitulated immediately. “The Rosselini was the only choice, donna. I wouldn’t dare Proxy Jara without approval of the Pisnob. I didn’t feel that you’d want the della Passaglia here, all things considered, so Durant was also not an option.”

“Your consideration of my feelings is commendable, but if he was the better candidate, I would have accepted him. Chances are he wasn’t involved with the…current politics.” Angelina clicked her teeth shut on the words, biting them where she couldn’t bite those that had risen against her.

Again that nonchalant shrug and easy grin, tacitly ignoring the tempest she held under thin glass “I would not risk it and besides, the Rosselini was equally qualified and the fourth did not survive the mission.”

“Karl Koeing, alias of Gerhart Auer,” Angelina mused, putting the papers back in order and finding the small work of neatness to be soothing. There would be very little this evening that would be considered soothing. “Nicky removed him from the operation himself?”

“Compromised,” Pietro agreed. “At least that was what my Rosselini has told me, though I find it all a little extreme. The Butcher didn’t like the fact he was passing information. I understand his reasoning, but it wasn’t as if the Koeing was speaking out of house.”

A flash of annoyance cut through her precarious calm, jaw tightening against what she wished to say. Vincenzo. They had been contemporaries once, equal in status as one of the North American padroni. Their cousin’s unexpected murder had given him the job and she found the timing of it suspect, as well as Vincenzo’s lack of proper familial mourning. “And Ms. Rosselini was the one that made sure the grave was clean?”

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