IRL datum: 21 februari 2014
IG datum: 19 januari 2012
Aanwezig: Harm-Jan (GM), Iris (Ollivandra), Noor (Syeira), Eelco ( R )
Geschreven door: Ollivandra Veenstra (Iris)
Threw a coin into a beggar’s cup
Me and Syeira both got up at 11 so that we had some time to go shopping in the city centre. We rushed there and got some nice clothes. I tossed some coins at a beggar. Syeira stopped because he was making music or something. I tried to pull her along when he got kinda scary and went all ‘frieeends’ at us, but then he showed us a piece of paper. Ugh, he was terribly smelly, too; luckily Syeira took the piece of paper.
It had our faces on it and said ‘your new friends’. Yick. No, please. He started explaining about himself, his name R, said Sneakers was his sire. I asked him if he knew computers. He said he didn’t, but he knew something from his education on MAVO level and they’d taught him some of the occult. Hard to control a gigglesnort. I asked how long ago it’d been. 12 years. Wondered what sort of school he’d gone to that they didn’t even have computers to teach him shit with.
Syeira told me to be nice. I was trying, but apparently not hard enough.
The fucker presented me my wallet, which didn’t really help with the whole liking-thing. Great, now I’m paired up with two thieves! (Well, okay, Syeira hasn’t stolen anything from me, but her clan sure’s got sticky fingers) Well, I suppose it’s better than him being completely skill-less. He doesn’t have any money, either. Gives what he steals to his contacts for information.
At least he seems a lot more docile than Nic, which is good. Although… The way he carries himself, all bent forward and whatnot, it makes me want to give him a swift kick in the butt and tell him that if he’s going to be a useless bum, he should at least take some pride in that choice… Or whatever. He didn’t want to talk about his past, or how he’d gotten to live on the street. But he seemed happy this way.
You don’t talk about…
We went to a coffeeshop not far from there where we found R and went out back. It didn’t take long before my clothes smelled like weed, and unfortunately that meant all of my shopping was ruined until it was washed, too.
There were two guys there. R invited them over to our table. He introduced us with fake names. I noticed they were eyeing me and Syeira. One of them, a big bulky guy, had blood all over his knuckles and some dark splotch of blood on his right hand. I realised that they were evil-ass werewolves in disguise, so of course when R asked if we were ‘thirsty’ I immediately answered that none of us were thirsty in the least. The second guy looked like he was family of the first, though he looked a lot less bloodthirsty and a lot more docile. They said their names were Sjonnie (the thin guy) and Karel (the tall guy) and they were from De— uhh, Enschede.
Syeira asked about the mark on Karel’s hand. I asked if I could see it. The guy said they’d been partying, and that they came around this city once a month to party. When I saw the mark I instantly knew that it was the fight club (or whatever it’s called; we don’t talk about it, so goodness knows what its name is) symbol. But why would some evil werewolves be part of it? Didn’t make sense in the least.
They said that they knew Grandpappie. Guess it was a soma kind of party. At least it made me know that he was in the fight club organisation too. I asked them some questions. If they let Sjonnie in even though he didn’t fight? He had other uses. Dunno what that meant, but when I looked him over again I realised that ‘Sjonnie’ was really a lady. Then I knew what it (probably) meant.
Fancy-ass rich people
When they were gone, I said they were evil-ass werewolves out to get us! But it turned out that they were humans, or ghouls, or whatever. That… sort of made more sense.
I explained that the symbol was from the thing-we-don’t-talk-about, since Syeira hadn’t connected the dots yet. R had taken the bulky guy’s wallet – good for him, already more useful than Nic! – and it had pictures of the guy with a picture-perfect family (of course, things are never what they seem like — I must be on a hundred of those kind of pictures throughout ten family photo albums; what a joke those were), cards of the The Hague lawfirm he owned…
Yup, didn’t surprise me much that he sought his thrill here. It surprised R, though. He said that the guy had ‘derailed’. Nope. I said the guy’d just go back to being Mr Joe Perfect tomorrow, and Syeira agreed (even though I doubt she knows shit about rich people). Rich people just need their thrills, because pretending to be perfect is exhausting, I can tell you. I’ve been there, after all. Interesting stuff.
Syeira brought up Ninna. She suggested the only way we could bring her down was probably to lure her to our terrain. I didn’t think she’d take the bait; she wasn’t that stupid, she’d know.
But I did have another plan. We just had to sort out what territory Ommen (and more specifically, the international boarding school we went to) was on, and if it was neutral, we could meet there. She’d know I was genuine, putting myself in a more vulnerable position. If not there, I’d have to try and win her trust back by genuinely going alone to the cabin or somewhere else neutral, but I wasn’t sure if that’d work. Wasn’t sure if she’d be able to see that it was just me, how I was, and that punching someone didn’t always mean I hated them (hey, I didn’t hate Nic, and I punched him plenty of times). She should know that.
Even if it’d be a lie, of course.
But half of my time in this world I’ve spent being conditioned to smile and wave and put careful pecks on peoples’ cheeks — ever so careful not to actually touch them with my lips to silently underline the casual, meaningless relations these people had to me — and more of that shit. I could pretend to love her, especially because — even if it makes me pissed off to think of this — thinking about her still strikes a chord.
Well, we’d just have to see. This new guy might come in handy somewhere down the line.
Volgende sessie: Vrijdag 7 Maart