Veridian Shores

Chapter 22 - Wars of Words

Where the hell are they?

Brooke couldn't see Capper and Gliss anywhere, and their absence had her alarm bells singing like the tower of the cathedral. The incident in the Drucatta still had her mind racing with utter confusion. She'd felt a tangible sense of something not quite right within the chamber, an instant before Vandel had gone berserk. And now she couldn't see Capper or Gliss anywhere among the delegates.

After the guards managed to restore order and Vandel had been dragged off by his brother, their procession to the debating chamber had resumed as though nothing had happened. She still couldn't make sense of the vampire's actions – he just suddenly lost all control of his body and destroyed a priceless heirloom. She'd never seen anything like it. The timing was far too convenient to be coincidence. Somehow they'd managed to trigger Vandel into that action in order to slip away.

She could only pray to the First that they weren't doing anything insane. Or at least, no more insane than bringing Gliss to the Synod in the first place. She had no idea how Capper had managed to convince the Elders to let him bring her, and every glimpse she caught of the newcomer filled her with anger and apprehension in equal measure.

There was nothing to be done about it now though.

In the meantime, she had her own problems to worry about, and she sure as hell wasn't about to rock the boat by pointing out the absent duo. She now sat in the vast, vaulted debating chamber that engulfed a huge space within the estate. Each wall was dominated by rank upon rank of crimson upholstered chairs, now full of throbbing Aspects from all across the city.

Next to her, Marshall sat, elbows on the armrests of his chair and hands clasped together, his brows creased in thought. Being on his arm this evening hadn't been as bad as she'd imagined, though his hands were a little too eager to glide the contours of her body. Beyond that, he behaved more or less as a gentleman, letting her speak her piece when needed, doing the rounds and gauging exactly how plausible his scheme actually was.

So far, Brooke didn't hold out a whole lot of hope for any kind of alliance. The interactions so far had been respectful at best, and downright acidic at worst. They'd avoided making any direct requests, but even still, none of the Pyre Elder-Bloods seemed very amenable to any kind of friendly interaction with anyone.

And it wasn't just Pyre. The whole chamber crackled with pent up energy, as though at any moment a single spark might ignite the whole spectacle, burning away the veneer of diplomatic goodwill that had been draped over the evening like a shroud. The hatred of centuries threatened to erupt at any moment – Brooke could feel it crawling beneath her skin, desperate to get out. Being around so many other clans and Aspects made her head hurt, feeling the push and pull as those around her tried to project themselves onto the very air around them. She had to do the same, forcing her Aspect out in a protective bulwark, jockeying for space with the hundreds of other Elder-Bloods in the room.

Vandel seemed to have calmed down after the incident – they had been offered no actual explanation for what had happened and she wasn't about to upset the apple cart by asking. Instead she tried to focus her mind onto the greater problem at hand.

Trying stop the whole Synod from falling apart around her.

"I hope you're ready to do this," Marshall said into her ear.

She grimaced as he leaned so close. "I know how to handle myself," she hissed.

"It's not you I'm worried about. It's the rest of these people."

"Let's see if Baelock come out swinging before you hit the panic button." She gave him a withering look. Marshall may have had the inkling of a good idea in forging some kind of a cooperation with other smaller clans, but if he didn't keep his cool he would undo it all before they could even start.