Amy approaches the door carefully, until she sees the shoe peeking out. It's a brown, working shoe, it's one of Mike's shows. "Hey, you're up?" He steps into the door, seeing her holding the broken toaster. "It's um... broken. And well... we can't eat bread." He looks mildly embarassed.
Victor still avoids eye contact. Putting the keys on the kitchen counter. And pushing them as far from him as possible. Yes, it was defiantely fear. She could hear from outside glass breaking as she grabbed the keys. It was a bad neighborhood all right, but her disheveled appearance made her fit in a lot better than she would have wanted to admit a night ago.
Josef paced. "What can destroy us? That Erica is lesson, two. It is a good sign that self preservation is the first thing on your mind, an adequate question. As for that book?" He gesutred to the one on the table. "A history lesson if it interests you. It describes the society we live in. There are other sects of kindred, though none are as organized or as powerful."
He stepped close to her, and Erica could feel an unease in her, not out of fear, or of lack of trust, but how powerful Josef felt next to her, made her feel weak in comparison. "The first lesson, Erica, is what you are, what you have become. Only when you understand yourself can you understand what threatens you. Now Erica, I want you to reach inside yourself, find the passion within you. Project it, force it upon me. Do not move your body, do not speak words. Focus."
"Nothing important." He gestured, and the two walked to one of the side offices. After closing the door, Flockton turned around, looking like he was ready to hit Faruq. "Do you want to tell me why you made a fool of yourself last night? You would speak that way to the Russians if they paid a visit. Or would you? If Yuri Votslav came in with a dozen enforcers with him, would you call him a fool?" Yuri Votslav was known to anyone with criminal ties, the most influential, and cruelest criminal boss until one got to Seattle. "Speak, Faruq, it's your specialty after all."
Quenton nodded. "No worries, Venice doesn't care much for social pleasantries." He stood up and pointed Rick to another table, one with several printed papers on it. As Rick approached, he could see the were word documents written in old english style.
"To be honest Rick," Quenton continued, "What we do isn't real magic. Supposedly it exists, but it's not something the dead can do. Superhuman strength, speed, unnatural allure, these are things many kindred can do with their cursed blood. Our magic is the realization that the blood can do far more things than most kindred realize. It is one of Clan Tremere's better kept secrets. Other kindred call it blood magic, giving power to it, making it seem superstitious. In truth? It's the exact same as their powers."
He pointed to one sheet of paper labeled Path of Blood. "This is the fundamental to all the other lores. One can learn one type of blood magic without knowing the Path of Blood, it's simply more difficult. Take a read, see what interests you. It's a fairly important decision, but there is no right or wrong answer. Hank likes to let the newly embraced make the pick early. In fact, I hear other chantries don't make this kind of selection. However, it's our tradition here in Havensworth."
As Rick browsed some of the sheets, it was like reading a Fantasy book. Lure of the Flames, Path of Conjuring, Hands of Destruction, Alchemy, the Focused Mind, Path of Curses, Path of Transmutation, Elemental Mastery, the Green Path, Path of Technomancy, Path of Shadowcrafting.