"It is a lonely existence." She shuffled a little to the left as the wind picked up. "To have wings, when those around you do not. It is difficult to give them the vision you alone have experienced." Synneve wrapped her arms around her legs and quelled the urge to shiver. She always felt an awakening of spirit when she perched on the taller buildings in Gothik. They each had a unique but beautiful view of the city. She felt as if she were one of the gargoyles attached into the cement and stone, and as alive as one of the statues as well. Alone, above and apart from the tiny figures moving to and fro in the city streets. Apart from her fellow Kindred, as she spied upon them from their balconies.
There had been a few attempts to join the social circles that fluttered around Prince DeLarch. But his eye was quick and she was uncomfortable about the scrutiny of her peers, even the Primogen. There were other times in which she was often absent from the city. Business for her clan and for the Black Hand, and even for her own Childer tore her in directions she had little control over. The curse of the Gangrel was to wander alone and she had always embraced it as strength in her younger days. Until she met Julianna and there was brightness only associated with having a companion with which complete understanding was as easy as a mortal�s breathing. They were as two halves of a whole for centuries. Or so it had appeared.
The Manus Nigrum had taken her pledge long before the Kine maiden had stolen her cold, undead heart. Once the pledge was given it could never be returned and nothing short of Final Death could achieve escape. And Julianna was weak. Her spirit was too strong and her humanity too great. She cared about the lands and the animals and she even gave her care to the Kine. It was what the Hand would have wished, the protection of humanity and preservation of the children of Adam. But they would have asked more than what was available in Julianna�s reserves and she would have withered in their darkness.
The schism between the pair had existed before they ever met and continued until it was shattered by Julianna�s own knowledge. Synneve had lived her two lives, keeping each in its place. There was a compartment for each and a lock on each drawer. It wasn�t easy when she was young, there were times when she was almost bursting with news she wished to share with her Childer. So many exciting events she had taken part in, victories to celebrate and failures she yearned comforting for. Instead, she was allowed silence and ignorance, and the safety of her Childer.
She shifted her weight onto the balls of her feet, gripping the sides of her stone perch more carefully. It wouldn�t do to fall and become a stain on the sidewalk, even if that would please some of Gothik�s more nocturnal citizens. She allowed a small smile at the thought, and let the temptation slide away. There was much work to complete and her attention was needed. So much of it had already crumbled and wasted away. The Hand was not the presence it once was, not with the Assamites missing from the ranks of leadership. If not for their absence there would have been no need for this impossible task of creating a new support base for the sect.
With the breakdown of the Manus Nigrum her own double life may have been merged, at least in private as she could have recruited her own Childer. Even with their flaws they would have been worthy as soldiers. With training they could have become more. If she had known the possibility of this, perhaps there would have been other options when Julianna had discovered her secret. Or perhaps this collapse of order was her opportunity to reveal her deception and bring forth that light once again. Her life had become so empty without that candle by her side.
Synneve stilled as a pigeon joined her on the building. It ignored her, fluttering its wings as it settled and cooed to itself. The Gangrel was hardly invisible, but her actions had been ignored for a great many months. Even her own Watcher, Sasha, had been blind to the decisions being made in Gothik. It paled in comparison to the double life she had lived in the name of the Hand, but the new deception had as many deadly consequences should it be discovered. Unless, and it was a gamble, the circumstances of the present allowed it to be forgiven. If her fears could be defeated, then perhaps that light would be seen with her once again.
She stood with a sharp movement, and spread her arms wide for only a moment. It was time for her to be making some of those disagreeable decisions and not wallowing in the past heartaches. She stepped forward from the gargoyle and dove. Her transformation was quick and effortless, years of practice allowed her feathery form to emerge with minimal troubles. A large raven swept around the Spire and headed with haste towards the city zoo, wings held wide to catch the wind.
*