|The Killing Table
||[Jul. 8th, 2008|07:35 pm]
Two of the remaining retainers of Janus' estate temporarily put down their weapons and took up formal positions adjacent to the doors that lead into the formal dining area. They opened the doors in unison, revealing a fully dressed conclave table.|
"May we into the meeting room, Primogen. We have things to discuss."
And plans to make.
"Sasha is right. Continuing on our current path is as pointless as it is fatal. It seems, then, that there is a simple choice between two options: Fight or flee. As is our way, I leave it up to the conclave to decide. Give me a show of hands for those who wish to flee."
Curious. She is so determined to her own death.
Sasha looked around, curious to see who would join Everette, keeping her hand, of course, upon the table. She smiled inside at the determination in Pondor's unmoving massive figure. I knew I could count on the Gangrel.
"This is madness! Fight now and we shall die now. Flee now and we shall return with the Camarilla at our backs. There is no shame in retreat when the battle is already lost."
One sure, steady hand rose above the table.
Skiouros looks around the room, shifting his focus throughout random areas of the ornate chamber before becoming transfixed on his hands and his metallic wrist armor.
"Obscured by the haze of sulfuric deception, the sanctuary becomes less visible the further we travel. The gravity of the situation flows through the blood of the fingers, heavier than the world itself."
Skiouros mumbles to himself and bounces energetically in his seat, staring at his hands laying against the table.
Fatima raises her hand. Figures. I grow tired of all this pointless fighting. She pauses before addressing the table.
"It appears we are up against a powerful force. We need the power of the Camarilla behind us. I, for one, am not in the mood to die." She looks at the other primogen. Clearly, not everyone knows the power of appearance.
Ember flicked her eyes around the hands at the table. Her own stayed flat against the cool surface.
"Camarilla see New York as a lost cause. IF we flee there is no return. Better to fight than crawl away like a coward." There was no insult in her graveled tone, though her masked face swivled toward Everett and his whining. And that was probably the most words she'd ever said in a meeting, or outside of her clan for that matter, but it needed to be said.
Izaak looked around, noting how the others had voted. 4 for fighting, and 2 for fleeing. It seems that no matter which vote I cast, my opinion will not change the outcome. I don't like either of these choices, but another option has not presented itself.
Izaak smiled apologetically at Sasha. "Although I have a high respect for all here, and although I would prefer not to give more ground, I value life over certain death." He raised his hand in the air. "I say we flee."