Detectives Eveline & Sarai - The Investigation

Eveline and Sarai met up, the idea was simple, make a good impression on the Brujah, by getting to the bottom of what was going on in Encamp.
Before, when Sarai had met with the Brujah; Roc and Maria, there had been an expressed desire to find out who might be profiting off the people.
Form the sound of it, some kind of rich-exploiting-the-poor situation, but that was too early to say.

The point is, they would find out, and then get in good with the Brujah, it's a win win!

Together they didn't have much of a plan, Sarai had done some investigative work before, which is how she wanted to gain access here, Church officials on a naughty list.
However that had to wait for now, she'd already made the poor man pay with some particularly intensive stalking. Good times!

"So, I guess we should not start close to the Garrison. We'd just risk running into the wrong people, and besides, if the common man is being exploited, then I suggest we go out into the country, farmers and the likes, they don't open up to outsiders perhaps, but they'd know if anyone was scamming people in the area don't you think?"

Eveline, wearing the brown dress and wide hat she wore at the meeting with the scourge, looks around with high-spirited curiousity. While certainly not the kind of place she'd ever like to make her home, she rather enjoys the novelty of it all. Not even as a kine did she ever visit the rural areas associated with farming much, or even the parts of her home city where the workers far outnumbered the 'culturally inclined'. 


"No, you are right. If someone's extorting these poor souls, it'll be someone above them. Someone from the area, which would explain why they won't dare come forward."

"Oh, I'm sure they'll warm up to our charming ways willingly." She winks at Sarai, a playful smile revealing she intends to wrap them all around her finger. "O, and should you find a 'clue' of any kind, tell me right away! I've finally learned to...read?...objects, things!" The emphasis she puts on 'finally' clearly states she's either worked very hard for it, or that she's merely looked forward to it a long time.

"So, off to one of the villages, then?"

Sarai nods. And curiously asks. "So did you make a read of that message? Did the Tremere miss anything?”

Sarai and Eveline soon realises that there aren't many villages in Encamp, the homes outside the city are rather more farmsteads. You both know there is a another village closer to Les Escaldes, but that seems to be about it other than the city Encamp itself. Though there might be something further up the mountains, alas unlikely, perhaps on the other side of them? Weren't the entrance to Andorra also in Brujah domain? Then again, that is perhaps too far from the city for anyone to know what is going on there.

Eveline's reading of the necklace gave her quite some impressions:

She senses it being worn by a woman, you get glimpses of her, mostly her neck. She is in a luxurious carriage, a Spanish Hidalga. Her brown skin wears the necklace nicely. Despite the beautiful imagery there is an uneasy, almost terrifying presence to it, she hears screams, a woman's scream and senses blood splatter on you as you are ripped away from the beautiful woman. The last thing you feel is her cold body.

The gloves holding you are made of fine leather, black, it is about to mark you his. Something blocks your view of him, but you sense it, his sense of power, of entitlement, so strong that you just know he is trouble. The cold from her body transferred to his heart. "SILENCE!" An angry, dominant male voice suddenly screams, before you come back to your room.

Eveline's face takes on a dreadfully serious expression. She makes no effort in trying to hide the uneasy feeling that comes over her at the thought of what she gathered from her 'scrying'. She stares off into the distance as she recalls it - "I don't know if he missed it, but I sure learned a great deal more than he told us, that's for sure. ...not that he withheld it on purpose, I guess. I don't know. But that man - Monsieur Rosa - he may have a beating heart, but it is cold. I'd say dead even, but there was such rage to it as well. I believe the doctors would call him morally deranged?" 

She caresses her arms like she would have had she been alive, trying to ease a wave of goosebumbs crashing in. There are none, but the feeling is the same, and it is stronger than it would ever have been when her heart still beat.

"I know what he wants of me. What I am to him, even. ...a commodity. Some 'thing' he wants to call his."

Her gaze is still distant, but her fingers start working, opening up her purse, pulling forth a piece of paper. She snaps back to the here and now when she sees it and turns fully to her friend, handing it over.

"This is a letter he sent me the other day." She gives off a joyless chuckle as she adds: "He clearly likes to hear his own 'voice', that's for sure."

The letter reads...

Loyalty, ah, what a peculiar word that resides within the depths of contradiction. Have you ever considered its paradoxical essence? It embodies both a noble virtue and a self-inflicted prison, confounding the minds of those who dive into its depths. I often find myself captivated by the limitless perspectives related to loyalty and its influence on the human experience.

Let us begin this rumination by examining how loyalty appears commendable, coated with honor and respect. Society praises individuals who showcase an unwavering commitment to their families, friends, or even their country. It is an echo chamber of applause for those who never waver from their allegiance. But pause for a moment, and reflect on the blurred line between loyalty and blind subservience. Is it not disconcerting how loyalty can transform into a tool for manipulation and control?

Within the web of loyalty's complexities, one stumbles upon its baffling relation to trust. Can we genuinely trust someone who seeks loyalty above all else? Are they not attempting to extinguish any potential for dissent, creating an environment where feigned unity reigns? Seemingly, loyalty and trust ought to dance harmoniously, yet they sway upon separate stages, devoid of true companionship. Loyalty disguises truth and suppresses individuality, rendering trust a mere illusion trapped within gilded bars.

Another fascinating aspect to ponder is loyalty's inherent duality. It is a double-edged sword, slicing through the unending cycle of human connections. Boundaries blur when loyalty persists in a state of moral ambiguity. How does one reconcile loyalty towards an individual, when a collective demands fairness and justice? Does loyalty mean forsaking one's own principles to appease a misguided sense of alignment? Such quandaries illustrate the profound madness that loyalty inspires.

In contemplating loyalty, one inevitably arrives at the realization that no loyalty is perpetual. It is transient, as ephemeral as the whispers in the night, and yet we hold it as a virtue deserving unwavering commitment. It crumbles beneath the weight of doubt and uncertainty. Betrayals erect themselves as towering monuments, cementing the fragile nature of this illusionary bond. The fleeting nature of loyalty renders it both a treasure and a ticking time bomb.

Are you loyal miss Garnier? And if you are, do you accept the prison you've built for yourself? I believe people forcefully caged are happier than those who blindly cage themselves, putting on masques of smiling so they need not see their own despair in the mirror.

A better question yet. Is your friend loyal? Someone so desperate for freedom, would she stay loyal to you if she finds me and see for herself the cage you've built for her? I'd relish the opportunity to find out, but she is not ready, neither is you. My time will come, but the light doesn't call for me yet.

R

Sarai reads the note.

The words, so... inspiring, there is a beautiful and truthful sentiment within. Which only make the last bit ring all the more sharply. Will she be loyal?

The truth is of course, that her adversarial streak is not so vehement and violent as some others, but it rings true, and prisons of any kind does not do the soul any good.

But her friend surely doesn't see things the way she does, Sarai knows she's a stranger among the rest. She would worry about their friendship, or ponder their union, such as it is. But moreover, she gets a little hopeful.

This R, whoever he is, would probably be a very good person to know, someone she wouldn't have to adjust to, someone who she could just 'be' with, and she didn't realise how much she has missed it.

After all, where does she fit in around here? The witch? The Adversary? The crazy one? The killer? None of these aspects unites her with the rest.

But the last thing she needs is to exchange one patron for another, which only makes it more true, she truly isn't ready, not yet. And the insight plagues her, like envy, he might just be, where she hopes to be... one day, some night in the future.

"Huh." she blurts out after reading. Not really divulging her deeper feelings.

"Well, he's got a way with words, I'll say that much. I mean, if it was just me, I'd let go of the fear and read between the lines."

"He speaks of freedom. I think... I think he might be an adversary. And he speaks of the prison you built for yourself. I know you find him creepy, but you might be doing yourself a favour and think on that part, are you giving up too much?"

Sarai says this, not knowing all that much about Eveline's secret allegiances, but simply as an interpreter for a friend. She genuinely feels there might be more to this than "creepy" but it's for Eveline to recognize and deal with.

"What? No..." Eveline realises Sarai can neither see the things she herself 'saw' or - for that matter - really read between the lines like she can. She shakes her head as if trying to find a better way of explaining, better words.

"Those words are...siren-song. He is clever, and I do see the appeal in his words. But they are just that. Words. I'd say they are empty, but that is not quite true - they are rather filled with something else than what they say they are." She pauses for a moment, clearly struggling to find the words.

"But here!" She points to the passage in the letter promoting forced loyalty as preferred before blindly caging oneself. "This really means he just wants me to switch my own chosen fate to his tyranny. I am blindly caging myself because I'm not his. To him...My. Own. Choice. is a cage."

Eveline looks into her friend's eyes, frustrated by her inability to convey what she put together from both the frivolous gifts, the murder of some poor kine, the letter and her scrying of the necklace.

"If only you could feel him like I can." She unconsciously reaches her hand out towards Sarai in an impotent attempt at sharing the knowledge by mere touch, but stops halfway as her mind catches up. "This is a tyrant masking as a liberator, little rabbit." The nickname is not meant as belittling at all.

Suspecting Sarai's hope to find a fellow adversary trumps her own concerns, Eveline asks: "Will you still help me find him?" hoping she does so for the right reasons should she say yes.

Sarai shrugs: "I have no reason not to. You seem to find him a credible threat and you deserve some answers at the very least... Though, we seem to catch him in a different light. I understand you have your reservations, and I wont question them, but please understand that all I see here is someone who tells you to be careful with your trust, and if he refers to the Prince, someone who forced me to tell the truth I can't help but feel like he has a very good point."

"It doesn't change me wanting to help keep you safe though."

Eveline's demeanor turns to one of substantial concern, as she tilts her head and states:

"You cannot say you understand my reservations - nevertheless that you don't question them - while simultaneously saying all you see is someone telling me to be careful about whom I trust. Those are at odds, Sarai. If you do not question me, you cannot say all there is to the letter is his concern for me. I've felt him murdering someone, his lust for power and an outlandish rage to boot. ...not to mention his wish to own me. O wait, I just mentioned it." She can't help but deliver that last part with palpable acerbicity. 

She pauses for a moment, then relaxes as she senses the pain Sarai must have felt as she lost the power over her own words at the 'hand' of their new Prince. 

"It hurt you a lot, didn't it? Vanessa's ability to hinder lies, I mean. I will not pretend I know how She worded it to you, but please tell me if it was different from what she told me! She was open with me that She would use this gift to render me unable to lie, but I was free to leave should I want to. But if I wanted to stay - in Her domain - I would have to take the 'test'. No one bound me in any way or hindered me to leave Her house until She had gotten a chance to force the truth out of me."

Eveline lets the words sink in before asking: "Was it different for you?"

Before she gets a chance to answer, however, Eveline's mood turns back to something akin to her ususal one, a crooked smile adorning her face as her gaze strays to the right into the nothingness, and she muses:

"I mean, imagine if you had a beautiful house somewhere - but surrounded by vile enemies on all sides - wouldn't you want to be assured your guests won't let them in? Or open the shutters during the day for that matter! Especially if you don't even have to force them...only setting a condition to their stay?"

Eveline's smile is one of reconciliation, while her eyes radiate a strong hope for her friend to see reason.

Sarai holds her hands up in exasperation, giving Eveline a look that says "you're impossible right now"

"Eveline, I shouldn't have to tell you this, but differing opinions is a thing, I can accept that you see this man differently from how I see him, we're different people! We should see him differently!"

"Now I've offered to help out, but I'm not going to pretend to agree with you!"

"I voiced my opinion, just in case it might benefit you. It didn't mean you had to change your mind. That's the sort of thing a Prince might ask."

"As for the Prince, no, let's not even get into that anymore, see I can have my opinion about her, and you can have yours, see? Same thing!"

Eveline freezes in place. She is clearly shocked - hurt - and fights to keep the control. It's not hard, but it has to be done, and after a little while she manages to blink slowly, now assured she won't do anything...rash.

She can't afford any emotions weakening her calm, so she answers with an eerily monotonous voice - quite rare for the young Toreador:

"...yes, 'differing opinions'..."

She turns her gaze away from the malkavian, not until then able to regain some semblance of normalcy, and says:

"Well, we best get to it, no? ...seeing as how different our respective approaches are, it'd be best if we split up. I'll go to the village close to Les Escaldes. I don't think there's time enough for more than one village a night anyway, so I'll return home when I'm done there."

"...We'll keep in touch."

Eveline turns and walks away to find a carriage to take her to Engordany.

While giving a nod to acknowledge Eveline's departure, Sarai is saddened by the event. Did she say the wrong thing? Should she have played along?

Obviously, it seems like the answer is yes, much like at the party, she's getting more evidence that she cannot show her true self to the Kindred here. The Mysterious letter certainly proved to be a wedge unlike any other, and it even mentioned herself, almost... prophetic?

But that doesn't matter, it resonated with her, it was true, and such things are more important than trying to fit in. Eveline must walk her path, and it's her choice.

She ponders on the task at hand, finding evidence of someone extorting the populace. She's in no mood to play nice anymore. Or waste her own time trying to fit in. She goes aside to somewhere more discreet, and performs her ritual, and then goes around to ask her questions.

Results:

Finding a carriage was not much of a hassle, so Eveline is soon enough in the aforementioned village. Still rather upset, her patience is pretty thin at the moment, so she simply scans the village for a home most likely belonging to someone not that very well off, and sets off towards it. 

She is surprised at how memories of the unrelenting lashings from that night with the Prince suddenly surface, and even more suprised at how they undoubtedly soothe her. When she's reached the door, she is almost her usual self again.

She knocks on the door with light tappings, hoping to reassure the owners their nocturnal guest isn't of ill intentions.