Victoria the younger sits at the couches near the fire where she apparently settled in for the evening after coming in from the gardens earlier. Still wearing the woolen slacks and heavy sweater from earlier, she has pushed the burgundy knitting up past her elbows and seems to be occupied writing on a small lap desk that seems to be older than she is. Even considering her extended age.
     Her slightly curled locks are pinned up out of the way with a pen, catching the firelight behind her to reveal the red highlights in the warm brown. She has a small stack of letters already folded and sealed formally next to her on the side table, creamy stationary under her hand as the sounds of the pen point on cotton bond echoes through on stone.
     Picking up her coffee mug next to her to sip from it she pauses, reading over the writing already on the page momentarily as a precaution before flourishing her signature on the bottom.

     Footsteps enter the great hall before he does, echoing off the great walls and ceiling. A moment later, the tall, lanky man known as Raf steps into the room. His long, chestnut locks are pulled back in the usual ponytail, the elastic tying it at the base of his skull. It remains the same length, to his mid-back, as it was in New Port, his body's aging process slowed to a standstill by the blood fed to him regularly from Tori's own veins.
     Dressed in black jeans, black combats, and a deep green sweater, he might look a little dressed-down for such a fancy place as this. Even in Antonio Girault's home, he refused to wear the suits and other fineries offered to him. When his mistress found him, he was homeless, so now to him, all of this is magnificent, but truly unnecessary... perhaps even extravagant. Or perhaps he doesn't even think that much about it as much as it's more a feeling of discomfort. To him, working in the club was his heaven... this is a completely different world.
     But he's gone along with his mad mistress without a complaint. His loyalty is unending, it seems.
     As he enters, his pace slows. His dark gaze scans the room and lands upon your form seated at the fire, busily writing your letters. Shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, Raf clears his throat and says softly, "Victoria... I didn't mean to interrupt. Tori is resting now." She is safe for now.

     She seems to blend perfectly with the landscape now, even in her more casual attire. Even since New Port she's become more polished, more refined, somehow. Perhaps it's the result of the abrasion of having held two primogen seats. Or simply the passage of time. Whatever it is, her sphere of energy seems bigger than it once was, and stabilized.
     Looking up, Victoria puts her pen in a top compartment on the small notebook sized wooden box, smiling to Raf as she sees him come in and move towards her through the hall. Folding the corners in on the paper, making it into its own envelope in an old fashioned method that seems to come to her naturally before she sets it aside, she seems to be taking a break from her correspondence.
     "Oh, not at all. I was finishing up for the moment anyway. Just sending regrets around to people I haven't had the chance to see like I'd hoped. These trips always seem to run shorter than it looks like before you get to them." She nods, "Thanks, I was hoping she'd be able to settle in easily. Is she doing better generally?"
     She did see her briefly months ago at William's gallery opening. Even if things aren't perfect, they do seem much improved over her condition then at least.

     The scratches on his face are gone. He looks a little pale, as well, with the effort of forcing the healing along at a quicker pace. But otherwise, he seems sturdy and strong. Rubbing his cheek absently, he says, "Well, if you were finishing up... then I guess I wasn't interrupting." He offers a small grin, then approaches the couches near the fire, his hand dropping down to his side.
     Seating himself on a couch nearby yours, he inhales deeply and lets the breath out noisily, as though in a nearly exhausted manner. Dark eyes glance back at you as his shoulders pitch in a shrug. "Overall? Yes, she is better. But she has the bouts every now and then... and she's not as carefree as she once was. She is so reserved most days that I find it hard to read her, hard to know what's going on inside that thought-cage of hers," he explains, leaning back against the cushioned surface behind him.
     He brings a leg up to rest one leg on top of the other, the ankle making contact with his knee. The more manly cross-leg pose, perhaps. Resting a hand on the raised leg, he adds, "There are, as you saw, three personalities that we have noticed. Tori and Faith are the calmer of the three. Faith is just, from what I can tell, a child-like version of herself. She told me once that her middle name is Faith..." His voice trails off as he glances into the fire, letting you absorb this and ask what questions you wish.

     The desk is set over on the vacant seat next to her, allowing her to lean over on her elbow as it's propped on the arm of the couch. Victoria nods a bit, slightly frowning at the information though it seems more thoughtful than disappointed. Holding her mug in both hands she nods over to the sideboard where a carafe and other drinks are set up for the various guests and the owners of the castle, "The coffee is pretty fresh if you'd like some. Or something stronger."
     "That's good, hopefully she'll improve steadily." Taking a drink from her mug before she settles it lower again she goes on, "Any kind of personality disassociation disorder that comes up is a pretty complex situation. Particularly when one of them is violent. Even if you can reassure the person that the situation itself is resolved, that other defensive response is still there without a lot of work."
     She tilts her head to the side slightly as she thinks about the situation, "I've heard that there was some kind of incident with her sire? Is that what triggered all of this or was there another event that I don't know about?"

     Glancing over at the carafe, Raf murmurs, "Actually, brandy would be good..." He stands again and wanders over to it, looking through the choices. Silently forming the word, "Ah!" on his lips, he grabs the one that looks like brandy, pulls off the lid and takes a sniff. Ah, yes, that's what he's looking for. Pouring himself a snifter of it, he replies, "Well, the third personality is violent, as you saw. Faith refers to her as the Other. Tori never really talks about her. But I've heard Antonio refer to this violent one as 'Alice'. I don't think she's ever mentioned her name in my presence, though."
     Turning back to you as he takes a sip of the brandy, he closes his eyes for a moment to savour the taste of the fiery liquid. As his eyes open, an eyebrow quirks up. Lowering the glass, he says, "Oh... so you don't know. Well... it wasn't the incident with Morgan, no. Though, that did alter her in some ways. In some very big ways, in fact. She destroyed him with her own hands, after all." Tori? The one with the aversion to violence? "She became even more free, and perhaps a little.. free with her words. I wasn't there, but I heard she basically told someone that the Council can go fuck themselves the next time they want a pawn, or some such thing." Chuckling, he sits back down in much the same position he was before. "She... what's the phrase I'm looking for? She grew a spine. Or some such." Good for her, really.
     He pauses a second, then asks quietly, "Did you know Darius Wolfe? Have you heard what happened to him?" He's very hesitant about this, and says Darius' name carefully, lowering his voice, as though it is a name not to be repeated.

     "Well, she might not have a name as such, really. Not all kinds of personality disorders form complete separate consciousness. It's a pretty complex situation. Or she might have one and not be terribly open with it. Violent alternative personalities are generally developed as a defense, so they don't get really overly friendly." Victoria says absently. Psychiatry and all being one of her former fields, or current the last time she and Tori were together regularly.
     "That's good, actually, hopefully it'll mean we can help encourage her to stand up for herself now. She's got the strength for it, it's just convincing her that she does. Down to the subconscious level." She takes another drink from her mug and shakes her head once more, "I remember Darius, we met a few times in New Port though we never really got to spend a lot of time together. I know he and Tori were very close though. I hadn't heard that anything had happened to him." She doesn't seem surprised at this, really. While the two of them had related circles, their spheres of influence never touched enough that someone would go out of their way to let her know what was going on with him.

     Raf nods at your explanation of the violent personality and how it generally works, knocking back a bit more of the brandy. "This is true... perhaps Antonio could provide more insight about 'Alice'," he suggests offhandedly.
     But then you respond to the subject of Darius and he glances into the fire. Gazing there, he murmurs, "They were very close. Closer than you realize, perhaps." Downing the rest of the brandy with a slight wince, he pauses a moment to figure out what exactly to say. Finally, he says, "They had a mutual blood bond. I know a little about how Kindred society works...Tori refused to keep me in the dark. She was always very open about the nature of things."
     The glass is rested upon his lifted knee as he pulls his gaze from the fire to look at you again. The expression is drawn, tired, but he continues, "Darius... was destroyed. We don't know how, or by whom. But, we do know that Tori felt it... through the bond. And it was at that moment that her mind shattered." He pauses, looking back into his empty glass. "If it wasn't for a friend of William and Ian's, that might have been the end of her. We might have lost her that night."

     "I'll ask him if I get the occasion to meet him, I haven't actually been able to do that yet, though I've heard him mentioned before." Victoria bites her lip a little at that explanation and nods, "Blood bonds can be dangerous... Even just singular ones can have after effects. Sometimes they're an asset, but other times they can cause a lot of confusion. I wouldn't be surprised if you'd gotten some of the after effects through her for something this strong. Double bonds even more so... Well, you've seen what they can do when there's a problem. Particularly well established ones."
     She gets up and goes over to pour herself more coffee, letting you have a moment to be free of scrutiny after the obviously painful description. Adding some sugar and cream and stirring it she turns back, sipping as she remains standing off center.
     "How long ago was that? Several months, obviously, but I hadn't seen Tori for years until the gallery opening."

     He hadn't told anyone before, but his face admits it all. He has felt a lot of her turmoil. It's the curse of being someone's ghoul, perhaps. Mae would likely not feel Tori as much now, being cared for by another in New Port now, though she still remains loyal to her previous mistress... and Stephen has death to thank for the blessed silence. But Raf can't escape it. Every time Tori is in pain, he is, too -- just not to the same degree, obviously.
     Sighing, he murmurs, "I can feel her pain, yes. Sometimes, I react to people in a way I don't understand, then I realize it's not my emotion but hers. It's why I don't talk a lot usually, but stand back in the background." He's learned some amount of control, too, it seems. Shaking his head, he murmurs, "But, it is my burden to bear. I would bear it all for her if I could. The night Darius died, I felt it, too... but it was her pain that crippled me for the night. It took some time before I was able to pull myself out of the agony-induced haze. I... I'll admit I resorted to using drugs to help. Now, I resort to alcohol when it's really bad, but mostly it's just personal control."
     Standing back up, and heading for the brandy again, he adds, "But this isn't about me. It's about her. I felt a change in her, but I can't describe it. It's been gradual, and has grown since her time with Antonio started. She is stronger than she was. But there is something else. Again, perhaps he'd understand it more. I certainly don't." He's not a vampire, after all, and therefore doesn't fully understand what he's feeling through the Bond.

     She nods a little at your expression, but doesn't go into detail about her own understanding of that sensation. "I might be able to help you with that, somewhat. It's a tricky area." She smiles a little with a rueful amusement, "There's not a whole lot of research on it to show what treatments work the best."
     "But, in theory, some of the same exercises that she uses could help you. Particularly if you can recognize the signs of what's going on. It's going to be harder, though, because they're not your triggers. The up side, such as it is, is that sometimes even if she can't figure out how she's feeling about something you might be able to help?"
     She takes another drink of coffee, thoughtfully. "I'll have to talk to him about that, definitely. I'm going back to the States in a few days, but I'm moving over to Switzerland in a month or so. Hopefully I'll be settled before New Years. I don't want to step on anybody's toes, but if she'd like my help, I'm going to be fairly free of distractions once I get back."

     A strange sound echoes through the great hall. Raf is laughing. Pouring himself another drink, he says lightly, "Victoria, I doubt you'd be stepping on any toes. Antonio might even welcome the help, and I know Tori wouldn't resent it, either, you being her friend. In fact, I know that right now, she feels very alienated, despite everyone's best efforts." The glass of brandy is raised to his lips, but he doesn't sit down again.
     After a swallow, he adds, "She doesn't feel like she fits in here. She feels awkward. Not only has she expressed this, but I've felt it from her. A feeling of uneasiness permeates her being. I don't think that it's a matter of fitting in, however, as much as feeling that she's a burden, so she doesn't feel 'right'. She's trying hard... so very hard. She wants to be well. But right now, many Malkavians might say she's insane."
     He grins, but it looks more like he's got a bitter taste in his mouth. Sighing, he adds, "But, regardless of how she's feeling, there have been improvements... and it's been a long haul. The incident happened not too long after she came back to London... after the incident with her Sire. Personally, I think she's made a lot of progress."
     He nods again. "You're right though, that some of the exercises she uses helps me. You're a smart woman." Downing the rest of his brandy, he murmurs, "I should check on her. I'll be here if you want to talk more. Or give us a call on my cell." He leaves his card on the table with the drinks. "Thank you for listening."

Posted by rowan at November 15, 2003 03:13 PM