I almost fell asleep playing my harp yesterday, and I am not joking. I sat there, occasionally plinking out a melody, mostly just finding snippets of sound that would work well together, looking drowsily at the room, or at the harp itself, but I closed my eyes for longer and longer periods of time. I kept playing, and the fingers kept finding the right strings.
Some time later, I felt like I was surfacing, still playing, and decided it was time to go to bed...
It did result in some interesting dreams where a mother just wouldn't keep her fething kid off my harp, and both it and the mother just HAD to touch the strings. She was showing it, "No, don't touch there, the girl is playing. Here, you have to touch the lower strings, then you won't disturb her." After several times of telling them to stop, where I got the "you are not telling me how to raise my child"-look from the mother, I raged and drove them away.
That dream took place in some sort of Edinburghian city, but segued with just a bit of fuzzyness into another dream...
I was Katarina. And I reentered the building, the room with the vaulted, whitewashed ceilings and walls, and I took in the scene. Stone floor, a lamp here, light from the outside streetlights pouring in through the uneven windows. A door at the back led to I cannot remember what, but in that alcove, a woman stood. I must have seen with Auspex or something, for I knew her. Not her person, but what she was. And to my right, not up on the little dais, was Thomas (who, oddly enough, definitely had some looks borrowed from Malk, but that's dreams for you. Bloody Malkavians invading dreams). And I knew. My breath, which I didn't need since so long ago, caught in my throat.
"Thomas. What. Is. She. Doing. Here."
He didn't even need to answer. I knew what had happened. I used my blood to get me quickly out of there, quickly as I could, and virtually flew outside, tore out a few medallions and symbols attached to strings, before diving headlong in again. The witch moved to stand beside him.
I remember, my voice did not carry well.
"You... why have you done this? Thomas, why?"
He didn't reply, didn't answer. The witch laughed, instead, fires of hell burning in her voice. I didn't let her speak though. I thrust the medallions and symbols out in front of me, the protective pyramid, the Sixth Pentacle of Saturn* which in the dream held the power to hurt. I pronounced its power against them, and my beloved childe Thomas, and that witch, they burned with agony... perhaps as their own power was turned against them.
But of course, the masters which they now served, they are fickle. They had their fun, and then once more turned their laughing attentions to them, not abandoning them yet, not turning against them as I had hoped. And the witch stood up, kicking Thomas, saying,
"That Pentacle has no power over us... get up! We must kill her now! She is in the way."
I knew well that all my trinkets and baubles held little hope of stopping them, they had, after all, infernal help, where I had but my own wit and blood. To call upon the strength of the Pyramid, I would have to have a seconds respite, or to be able to concentrate for a while, anything, but I was too upset. My Thomas, my true love, had turned to infernalism. How could he? I boiled, I seethed with rage, and desperation, and a grief deeper than the oceans.
But still, I had to try. And the trinkets and baubles did indeed hold some power, or else I would not have had that small moment of triumph, and they would have burned me to cinders already. My pentagram flared and burned as it, too, protected me, but my strength was always in rituals, in being prepared, and I had been prepared, but not for this...
I kept them at bay, enough to fight for my life, enough not to be overwhelmed. They moved to take me on, the witch to my left, Thomas right in front of me. He was somewhat reluctant, but still he did fight.
Is this how it goes with my bloodline? First, my sire turn against me, now, my childe... Or did my sire see me as turning against him? I never lifted a finger... I always respected him, and held him in high esteem. It will not end like this.
Dodging something the witch threw at me, I cared not what, I concentrated my efforts on Thomas. I pounced, tearing him off his feet, slamming myself into the other wall and holding him as a shield against the witch who did not want to damage, or hurt, her accomplice or perhaps ally, perhaps servant.
He did fight, he was strong, but I was always stronger. That was something I developed early on, an ability to hold him down with sheer physical strength if needed be. He was hotheaded, my Thomas, and he looked into my eyes as I had locked him in an iron grip, his body pressed to mine for the last time.
I found myself grow cold again, sorrow welling up inside. Ultima ratio. And I held him against me, with all my strength, but like a lover, and I let my fangs sink into his skin. He whispered then,
"A bit higher..."
and I knew he had realised what he had done, how far wrong he had stepped, and didn't know any way back but this. And I drank deep, drank his life, felt it coursing through me as so often before but I did not restrain myself, and he did not respond in kind, he just put his arms around me, gently, lovingly, and whispered in my mind, "I love you", before disintegrating to dust and ashes.
I gave him life. I took it again. And the dream faded, as the witch screamed in rage, and as I drove her from my house and purged her very being from existance.
Goodbye, Thomas, once again I have killed you.
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*"Figure 16.--The Sixth Pentacle of Saturn.--Around this Pentacle is each Name symbolised as it should be. The person against whom thou shalt pronounce it shall be obsessed by Demons.
Editor's Note.--It is formed from Mystical Characters of Saturn. Around it is written in Hebrew: 'Set thou a wicked one to be ruler over him, and let Satan stand at his right hand.'"
Katarina Wallén is a Tremere vampire. Created and played in the old World of Darkness system.
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And then I migh have woken up beside him, with a dread, icy feeling in my stomach, but relieved that it was just a dream. Or maybe I woke up for real. I did wake up for real a wee bit later, I know that.
That was my night. My dream. Katarina again. It is, however, about nine years on the month since I played her the first time, so, perhaps not so surprising.
Speaking of "since". One year. Scotland. Spring has me ache for it again.
Working six days this week. Yay!
Reading up on info about the Thule-campaign, and the lrp Tuonela's Gate. There is a LOT, but what with me having decided to go bard/minstrel, I must know it all. I will be less of a simple musicmaker, and more of a... well, proper bard.
Pondering another small shopping-spree. There are a few things I need to renew in my wardrobe, specifically.
And playing more harp. Need to get that softness in my wrists.
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