more dumb

This young Visionary reminds me too much of me in my youth. A street rat, with the best of intentions, who fell in with someone who became a Warlock outside of her control, and later another Kindred. A poor child cornered by a Serpent who had imbuement foisted upon her and no way to refuse. Is it any question that when I learned of her, I grew attached? I wanted to ease her pain as much as I could, take hold of her from the bickering chorus that held her prior. I too had an arguing senate of voices, and they tormented me, and I couldn't do anything about it. I couldn't force them to let go, and it scared me.

I certainly know the pain that is the fear of mortality. When you surround yourself with immortals with no way to become one yourself, it soon becomes all you think about. They tried. I know they did. Makvala and Zviad both were some of the dearest people I had in my life. My dread of having to leave them consumed me, just as furor to save my life consumed them. In truth, I knew there was no way, but I tried to stay positive for them, even when I entered my twilight years, and they began to slip into desperation. I promised them that when they broke the secret, we would leave the town, and the oppressive reagent and Prince they lived under. What more could I do?

I don't hold it against my sweet that she didn't leave her lab until it happened. I spent most of those final days with Zviad. They tried to get her out of there, I remember. They tried for days. I was old, and tired, and I couldn't hold on much longer. So, I asked them to cremate me, when the time came, so that my ashes would endure where my deceased body could not.

We talked a lot, those last days. We talked about their ideals, and how much they wanted me to live, how much a 'kine' like me meant to them. One who didn't fear kindred, and wanted to walk among them in coexistence. We talked about Makvala, and her furor. They said she was on the verge of losing herself to this. Neither of us wanted to see that end, but how could we stop it if she didn't leave the lab, or even feed unless you made her? We talked about our memories together, about times long past. Makvala and I were married once, you know. It was their idea, as a form of protest. They always did want to see a better world.

When I passed, I made it my mission to guide other young Visionaries, to help quell their troubled souls by being a voice of reason amid the chaos that is the mind of a Hunter. I followed the tales of my dearest friend and wife through those Hunters I spoke to.

I watched Makvala tear herself apart from the inside out over what she percieved as her own shortcoming. I watched her slowly slip away through the loss of loved ones, consumed by her own anguish and wrath, and convince herself that Zviad must have killed me. I watched her beg to every god she knew to bring me back to her. I watched her sink into deep depression, and finally exile herself from the Empire in which we lived, carrying my ashes with her.

I followed her travels through Europe, and I saw her weep for days upon finding the ruins of a Mage's chantry in which she discovered a book about time magic. I saw her sail across the ocean, and settle in a New World city named Seattle, in need of what they call a Primogen. I watched her finally return to herself there, but she also never was able to let go of me.

And what I watched of Zviad was appalling. They truly did lose themselves after I died, and Makvala fell into near-insanity and depression. They sank so low, from a perhaps intense idealist, to an uncaring monster, who stopped regarding anyone's life with honor. I watched them meet a Sabbat Bishop, and become close to them instead, in their mutual inhumanity. I watched them become transformed from the one I knew into a terrible creature, a beast. After a point, I couldn't bear to watch anymore. They were no longer my dear friend. Though sometimes, I do wonder if there's anything left of my Zviad inside the thing that calls themselves Abraxas.

So, I began to follow Makvala full time. After she settled in Seattle, I continued to travel from Hunter to Hunter, as I had for hundreds of years, in the area of the three cities that surround it. Until one day, I encountered one in particular. This young one lived out of a dumpster, and sold stolen goods to pay for her own food and unclean motel rooms to stay in and clean herself in. She was rather close with a then-neonate, and indeed, was tormented by a screaming chorus, of upset parents this time. They looked upon this child, and they saw a scared orphan, but could not agree on the best course of action. But I, especially after she began to fall in love with this kindred, looked upon her, and I saw a terrified reflection of myself.

So, I forced my way in. I tried to metaphorically push the chorus aside, but they weren't having it. But I did what I could. I tried to help her, and perhaps was able to stop her killing herself when her not-yet-lover wasn't there. I tried to guide her gently, but sadly was often drowned out by the chorus. Only as of late have I been allowed to speak over them, as they come to see how much more she trusts me than them, how much they see that they've nearly ruined her life.

It's funny how history should repeat itself, as the young kindred began to fall in love with her in turn. In time she too began to desperately search for the secret to saving a Hunter like her. And after a heated argument at a party one night, who should come into my sights again but my love herself? She warded over this kindred like she was her own child. Perhaps she saw what I saw in the Visionary; herself. She told her our story, though I did notice her leaving Zviad's role in things out of it. Perhaps it was for the better. And, so it seems, she was able to stop this young one from tearing herself apart in order to find a secret which may not exist. Instead, she set her on a path to enjoy what time she did have with her, to never waste a moment.

I still do wish that I could tell her, tell her I'm not angry, and that it's okay for her to let go. I've watched her grow quite attached to another Kindred, but she won't allow herself to feel what she truly desires to. I want her, most of all, to be happy whether I'm there with her or not. Perhaps someday there will be a means, but until then, all I have is this Hunter, and all I can do is ease her troubles.

When I speak to this Hunter, I feel again the dread of mortality, of my own demise, as if I'm still a spry young Imbued in far over her head, rather than a lonely Messenger with too many regrets. When this young Visionary cries herself to sleep over it, I try to calm her. But I don't know what much I can do, besides talk.

I've watched my child bring herself to admit her love, and admit that she isn't as self-sufficient as she thought. I watched her get a crippled leg healed by an odd young man, and eventually fall for him, too. I watched her finally take on the therapy she so desperately needed. I watched her life get overall so much better, but the dread is still there, from all of them. I wish I could do anything, anything at all besides talk. But talking, soothing, is all I have. What else might I do? Grant her Edges? There is no Edge that grants life eternal.

I should correct myself. Talking is all I have, with one exception.

I have the power of warning. I see her fate ahead of me. I see pain, and darkness. I see the hurt of her lover, and I feel the searing of lightning. I see the monster that was once Zviad, casting her aside without a care. It's coming. What I see ahead of me is coming on fast, and I must make a decision. It is the nature of a Messenger to stay distant, and guide the hands of those they speak to through riddles and mystery, to let the Hunter decode for themselves.

But how impersonal am I willing to stay? With the lives of both my child and Makvala's favored on the line, how much am I willing to let by under the guise of impartiality? I cannot abide this monster to hurt them. Not when it's my fault, in the end, that they became this creature of malice and hate. Perhaps if I hadn't made those promises, they wouldn't have become this.

Perhaps if I were there, I could stop this. But I know better, and now I am forced to act through another, if I can act at all. I cannot, so I suppose I must do what I've always done. Guide her, keep her as calm as I can. I know that my time is over. I accepted that a long time ago, though I have my regrets. Now, I must place my trust in this young Visionary.