“Thank you for meeting me.”
The silent ancient lifted his eyes from the bowl warming his hands. Those eyes traced along the distorted reflections in the brass lining the booth and up to the speaker. He was memorizing the shape of the jaw that spoke and the hollow voids above it.
“I hope you haven’t been waiting long, friend.”
“We are not friends.” The words escaped the old one’s lips with measured pauses.
“Maybe so. Maybe soon. We’re all on the same side now, afterall.”
“Are we?” The ancient didn’t bother with any pretense of belief.
“Yes. That is why I wanted to talk, and, I suspect, why you agreed to meet.”
“Call it curiosity.” The venerable Kindred sat back on his bench. None of the restaurant’s other patrons had given them any notice. “Surprise can come even to me. Say your peace.”
The newcomer had settled into their seat, and was now appraising the antiquated fossil on the opposite side of the table. It was an excuse to buy time as they chewed on words they’d carefully rehearsed in their head many times over. “Things have been difficult for some members of my clan, difficult for me.” The speaker ignored the feigned look their host gave. “We are well versed in controlling or otherwise existing alongside our Beast, but some methods are unsavory by Camarilla standards. The Convictions I once held could put me at odds with the Tower I have come to embrace. So I ask for your help in guiding me through this period of adjustment, in finding most suitable ways to live with my Beast. I understand that is the sort of thing you teach at your Eternal Academy.”
“Not quite, but perhaps.” This was not the subject the ancient thought they would be discussing. He stroked his chin absently, giving genuine thought to the matter proposed.
“Perhaps?”
“You present an interesting challenge, one, I fear, that I alone cannot resolve.”
“If not you, then who?”
“I said, ‘I alone.’ You are no doubt aware that Prince Jackson is hosting a large gathering soon, an exhibition of sorts to show the Camarilla that its youngest Prince is strong and that his model is one to copy. He is even loosening his restriction on the number of Anarchs he allows in Chicago. I should think that with so many diverse voices, we are certain to find someone who can speak to your heart, your Beast, and provide you with mentorship on this path.”
An almost annoyed tone inveigled its way into the voice of the ancient’s guest, “you ask me to place my pride and person at the mercy of strangers?”
With the calm words of a patient teacher, “is it any different that what your clan has done by petitioning the Tower. Is it any different than what you have done by asking this of me? Consider a moment, what is a night of possible ignobility compared to an eternity of greater understanding with your Beast? Then think of those whom you will teach, the benefit you will bring them, and the prestige that will gain you.”
The answer that came was a pair of narrowing eyes.
“I will take that as acceptance.” The ancient teacher even gave a slight chuckle at the prospect before them, “it shall be arranged. A Symposium, a debate, an opportunity for others to speak of the wisdom of their Convictions and how they help them both maintain their humanity and adhere to the strictures of the Tower, or possibly not. Prod them, sort through the chaff and find the grains of wheat you seek, that you may plant those seeds within your heart.”
