Artemis Seth (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stranger_to_the_rain) wrote2012-03-23 10:30 am
stranger_to_the_rain) wrote2012-03-23 10:30 am
Entry tags:
Over River Wide and Mountain Tall
The anarchs came out of nowhere, a whole coterie of them. Being anarchs, there was no real way to identify who they were or what they wanted. All that really mattered, though, was killing them quickly and quietly. Fortunately, as Artemis’ blade flashed under the glow of the streetlamp, she made quick work of the first one, putting out both of his eyes. Young Cainites were so foolish. They relied far too heavily on their disciplines. How were you supposed to Dominate when you couldn’t make eye contact? That was a puzzle he’d never have the chance to consider. In the next instant, the long blade of her ceremonial dagger sliced clean through his throat. His head never even hit the ground before it was nothing but a shower of ash.
Sadly, the anarchs were the least of Artemis’ problems tonight. She’d spent a good five hours waiting for a truck that never arrived. Under normal circumstances, she would have simply called Liam to find out what was going on, but the truck she expected contained precious cargo. Her sister. Diana’s failure to arrive from Phoenix wouldn’t do much to improve Liam’s disposition which, of late, had grown increasingly surly.
The second anarch attacked her with a stiletto. With a fluid swing of her arm, she aimed the blade at his shoulder. She was starting to suspect that her attackers had seen one too many ninja movies, where the horde enemy only attacked one at a time when the third fired a gun at her head. Artemis shifted to one side and the bullet missed her, blowing into the other anarch’s skull. She turned to swing her blade at the gunman, but before she could do anything, a man appeared out of nowhere and punched him. The gunman let out a startled gasp and crumpled to the ground. Artemis’ rescuer drew a stake out of his coat and rammed it down into the anarch’s chest.
Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Artemis turned her attention back to her little friend with the stiletto. He was whimpering in pain from the bullet wound, but it wasn’t enough to incapacitate him. Artemis was only too happy to help. She rammed her knee into his chest, doubling him over. Twirling, more for the effect the movement had on her long, tan duster than for actual balance, she rammed the tip of her blade down between his shoulders. As he let out a grunt of pain, her rescuer produced another stake, sending it through his chest.
Three anarchs. Two of them staked. One of them dead. And a new mystery.
Brushing her hair out of her eyes, Artemis turned her full attention on the stranger. He was attractive, in a rumpled sort of way. His hair was brown and unkempt and his teeth put her in the mind of a chipmunk or other small rodent. He smiled at her, bowing from the waist. “All right there?” he asked. A Londoner, she was guessing, his accent eerily similar to hers.
“Been better,” Artemis replied, leaning over to wipe her blade off on one of the anarch’s coats. “I suppose I should thank you.”
“I suppose you should,” he replied.
Cocky son of a bitch. “How many winters?” she asked. It was obvious he had to be a Cainite. He’d so expertly dispatched of the renegades, leaving her unharmed, that there was no question.
“Over two centuries,” he replied, confirming her suspicions. “How many winters?”
“Over two centuries,” she said. “They were anarchs.”
“I figured as much,” the man muttered. “They say LA is overrun with them.”
“That’s a gross exaggeration.”
“Well, there are three less.”
“You’re new in town.”
He nodded. “Only just arrived. I was hoping someone could tell me where to seek acknowledgment.”
“Elysium is two blocks from here. The history museum. Court is held on the last night of every month. Our Prince is a Ventrue named Liam Stephens.”
The stranger blanched. Blanched. Artemis had never seen a Cainite do such a thing before. It rocked her to her very foundation and she barely heard him mutter, “I’m only passing through.”
He started to turn from her. Artemis latched onto his arm, pulling him back. “You were seeking acknowledgment before you heard our Prince’s name.” Children of Eden. He had to be. They, of all people, knew to fear Liam. He’d been utterly ruthless with Grandmother’s followers. Any one that dared cross into his territory met Final Death before they realized where they were. It had been many years since Artemis lived among them, but she still remembered the rituals well enough. “Where is our garden?” she asked.
The man stared at her blankly. “What?”
“Where is our garden?”
“I heard you the first time.”
“Where is our garden?”
“I don’t understand what you’re asking me.”
Artemis drew back. Not Children of Eden. What then? “My apologies.”
“No matter,” he said. His eyes traveled down the length of her arm. “You’re wounded.”
She looked at her coat and saw a blossom of blood on it. Damn. Of course, the odds were she had nicked herself in the fight--anarchs were entirely unimpressive--but she had to assess the damage. Unfastening her coat, she pulled it off. Just a scratch, really. Still, she hated to think that she’d gotten sloppy. She sent vitae coursing through her skin and watched the wound seal. “No matter,” she said, looking up.
If she thought her strange, new friend was pale before, to look at him now, she was quite certain he would soon be translucent. He was staring at her, wide-eyed. Not at her face. Not at her bosom. Her throat. She moved to put a hand over it and scold him for being so rude, but he latched onto her wrist with surprising force, pulling it away. “Where did you get that?” he demanded.
“Get what?”
“That,” he said fiercely, baring his teeth as he glared at her necklace.
Artemis glanced down at the necklace her father had given her, many winters ago. She scarcely ever thought about it, really. And never took it off. And no one had ever had a comment about it before. “What difference does it make?” she asked.
“Answer me.”
“I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you think.”
“Did Adam York give it to you?”
Silence. Stillness. The two of them locked eyes and froze there, on that strange event horizon. He wasn’t Children of Eden. But he knew her father’s name, his true name, his proper name. Artemis didn’t know whether to be puzzled or enraged or scared or some combination of the three. But she twisted her hand free of him, stepping back. “Who are you?” she asked him quietly.
“My name is Joseph,” he said. “Joseph Penn.”
A name she knew as well as her own. From a dozen countless nights, lying beside Diana and whispering in the dark about regrets and loss. Diana had painted a vivid picture of the man’s face and, seeing it now, really seeing it, Artemis was not disappointed. He was everything she’d imagined, as easy in a brown leather jacket and blue jeans as he must have been in a waistcoat dozens of winters ago. “My name,” she said evenly, “is Artemis Seth.”
He stared at her for a moment. And then he lurched forward. For half a second, Artemis thought he was going to attack her, but no. He wasn’t charging. He was falling. Down to his knees, he fell, letting out a soft noise, a release of breath that was shockingly human. Leaning forward, he threw his arms around her waist, burying his face in her black blouse. Artemis suddenly didn’t know what to do with her hands. She held them awkwardly out to either side before absently touching his head with one, as though she were blessing him.
But that was Diana’s domain and this was Diana’s boy.
He muttered incomprehensibly against her stomach before raising his eyes and whispering, “You have no idea how long.”
“How long what?”
“How long I’ve been looking for you.”
She kept her expression neutral. Those pleading eyes told her the story of a struggle that had gone on for centuries. He thought it was at an end now. How could she tell him that Diana hadn’t returned from Phoenix?
Sadly, the anarchs were the least of Artemis’ problems tonight. She’d spent a good five hours waiting for a truck that never arrived. Under normal circumstances, she would have simply called Liam to find out what was going on, but the truck she expected contained precious cargo. Her sister. Diana’s failure to arrive from Phoenix wouldn’t do much to improve Liam’s disposition which, of late, had grown increasingly surly.
The second anarch attacked her with a stiletto. With a fluid swing of her arm, she aimed the blade at his shoulder. She was starting to suspect that her attackers had seen one too many ninja movies, where the horde enemy only attacked one at a time when the third fired a gun at her head. Artemis shifted to one side and the bullet missed her, blowing into the other anarch’s skull. She turned to swing her blade at the gunman, but before she could do anything, a man appeared out of nowhere and punched him. The gunman let out a startled gasp and crumpled to the ground. Artemis’ rescuer drew a stake out of his coat and rammed it down into the anarch’s chest.
Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Artemis turned her attention back to her little friend with the stiletto. He was whimpering in pain from the bullet wound, but it wasn’t enough to incapacitate him. Artemis was only too happy to help. She rammed her knee into his chest, doubling him over. Twirling, more for the effect the movement had on her long, tan duster than for actual balance, she rammed the tip of her blade down between his shoulders. As he let out a grunt of pain, her rescuer produced another stake, sending it through his chest.
Three anarchs. Two of them staked. One of them dead. And a new mystery.
Brushing her hair out of her eyes, Artemis turned her full attention on the stranger. He was attractive, in a rumpled sort of way. His hair was brown and unkempt and his teeth put her in the mind of a chipmunk or other small rodent. He smiled at her, bowing from the waist. “All right there?” he asked. A Londoner, she was guessing, his accent eerily similar to hers.
“Been better,” Artemis replied, leaning over to wipe her blade off on one of the anarch’s coats. “I suppose I should thank you.”
“I suppose you should,” he replied.
Cocky son of a bitch. “How many winters?” she asked. It was obvious he had to be a Cainite. He’d so expertly dispatched of the renegades, leaving her unharmed, that there was no question.
“Over two centuries,” he replied, confirming her suspicions. “How many winters?”
“Over two centuries,” she said. “They were anarchs.”
“I figured as much,” the man muttered. “They say LA is overrun with them.”
“That’s a gross exaggeration.”
“Well, there are three less.”
“You’re new in town.”
He nodded. “Only just arrived. I was hoping someone could tell me where to seek acknowledgment.”
“Elysium is two blocks from here. The history museum. Court is held on the last night of every month. Our Prince is a Ventrue named Liam Stephens.”
The stranger blanched. Blanched. Artemis had never seen a Cainite do such a thing before. It rocked her to her very foundation and she barely heard him mutter, “I’m only passing through.”
He started to turn from her. Artemis latched onto his arm, pulling him back. “You were seeking acknowledgment before you heard our Prince’s name.” Children of Eden. He had to be. They, of all people, knew to fear Liam. He’d been utterly ruthless with Grandmother’s followers. Any one that dared cross into his territory met Final Death before they realized where they were. It had been many years since Artemis lived among them, but she still remembered the rituals well enough. “Where is our garden?” she asked.
The man stared at her blankly. “What?”
“Where is our garden?”
“I heard you the first time.”
“Where is our garden?”
“I don’t understand what you’re asking me.”
Artemis drew back. Not Children of Eden. What then? “My apologies.”
“No matter,” he said. His eyes traveled down the length of her arm. “You’re wounded.”
She looked at her coat and saw a blossom of blood on it. Damn. Of course, the odds were she had nicked herself in the fight--anarchs were entirely unimpressive--but she had to assess the damage. Unfastening her coat, she pulled it off. Just a scratch, really. Still, she hated to think that she’d gotten sloppy. She sent vitae coursing through her skin and watched the wound seal. “No matter,” she said, looking up.
If she thought her strange, new friend was pale before, to look at him now, she was quite certain he would soon be translucent. He was staring at her, wide-eyed. Not at her face. Not at her bosom. Her throat. She moved to put a hand over it and scold him for being so rude, but he latched onto her wrist with surprising force, pulling it away. “Where did you get that?” he demanded.
“Get what?”
“That,” he said fiercely, baring his teeth as he glared at her necklace.
Artemis glanced down at the necklace her father had given her, many winters ago. She scarcely ever thought about it, really. And never took it off. And no one had ever had a comment about it before. “What difference does it make?” she asked.
“Answer me.”
“I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you think.”
“Did Adam York give it to you?”
Silence. Stillness. The two of them locked eyes and froze there, on that strange event horizon. He wasn’t Children of Eden. But he knew her father’s name, his true name, his proper name. Artemis didn’t know whether to be puzzled or enraged or scared or some combination of the three. But she twisted her hand free of him, stepping back. “Who are you?” she asked him quietly.
“My name is Joseph,” he said. “Joseph Penn.”
A name she knew as well as her own. From a dozen countless nights, lying beside Diana and whispering in the dark about regrets and loss. Diana had painted a vivid picture of the man’s face and, seeing it now, really seeing it, Artemis was not disappointed. He was everything she’d imagined, as easy in a brown leather jacket and blue jeans as he must have been in a waistcoat dozens of winters ago. “My name,” she said evenly, “is Artemis Seth.”
He stared at her for a moment. And then he lurched forward. For half a second, Artemis thought he was going to attack her, but no. He wasn’t charging. He was falling. Down to his knees, he fell, letting out a soft noise, a release of breath that was shockingly human. Leaning forward, he threw his arms around her waist, burying his face in her black blouse. Artemis suddenly didn’t know what to do with her hands. She held them awkwardly out to either side before absently touching his head with one, as though she were blessing him.
But that was Diana’s domain and this was Diana’s boy.
He muttered incomprehensibly against her stomach before raising his eyes and whispering, “You have no idea how long.”
“How long what?”
“How long I’ve been looking for you.”
She kept her expression neutral. Those pleading eyes told her the story of a struggle that had gone on for centuries. He thought it was at an end now. How could she tell him that Diana hadn’t returned from Phoenix?