Lost In A World I Never Made
New Orleans seems a poor choice for my new home; all the better. There is much hope that a place so unfitting, so un-American, as they say here, will be so unfitting for me as to be a place to lose myself in.
The prince is a voodoo priestess. The Ventru lie about engaged in venal sins of the flesh or simple business transactions at the direction of northern Gin runners. The Tremere hide in one dark house and leave the city well enough alone, which suits me fine.
I have made the acquaintance of several promising 'kindred', however. All of them seem useful to my purposes, and perhaps even amenable to my plans. By far the friendliest and most forthright is the Ventru panderess Ember. She seems to have a level head, some ambition and drive, and no willingness to take direction from a Sicilian tough with fangs. I find I rather like her.
Miss Victoria is another diamond in the rough. Ventru again; they do tend, even here, to take the most capable of what's available. In all appearances she's a polite withdrawn widow woman, but she has an effortless way of taking a cut of anything that transacts in her vicinity. I pity anyone who drops a wallet in her vicinity with any hope of recovering it. She wouldn't rudely tussle over it; no, she'd make sure the paperwork to reclaim it was more effort than the recovery would be worth.
I seem to have chosen enemies well; this Val person, a musician of local repute, seems beloved by all, and ever so put out I was rude to him. I've made myself out very well as a dangerous and deluded mark. On my presentation, there was a mere wisp of a foundling who for some reason that makes sense to all and sundry has been chosen to be a spy in the slums. Apparently there is something to her I haven't seen yet, and so I shall try to look much closer.
Ember's partner, I assume in more than business, seems a most unsettling sort. She hits me as one oppurtunity shy of diablorie. Providing her with that chance might at least yield some spare parts to trade with my clan for a bit of freedom.
Last but not least are the Malkavian girl who stares so expectantly, and the New York thug. They both are of such immediate utility it chafes to give them their head until they can be drawn into furthering my plans. For now, I see, but through a glass, darkly. With patience, when the flag is run up the pole I suspect they shall be the most eager to salute it.
Cash seems of less utility here than anticipated. Invaluable advice from both Ventru of any use was to spread the cash thicker on the bottom layer. The pretensions of gentility and absence of raw need imbues the locals with a pride that makes them shy from being tipped. As everywhere, those in true need hold no such romantic notions about a reward for a job done. I suspect the Italian will not scruple a few quid for a pro quo either.
If there is any locality that offers release from this awful bond to Vienna and the mad doctors, I feel New Orleans will be that place. If only the local magic should prove strong enough to break Valdarie, escape from the Sabbat shall finish the matter cleanly. No high profile Anarch me; simply to be released to spend my time collecting, studying, and indulging my researches shall be obtainable. The old man's money just might buy the freedom I crave. Life with no bearded watcher to disaprove more than compensates for the horrid weather and lack of intellectual stimulation. The true genius finds inspiration within himself.
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