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The Fate of Annabel Lee (w/Jeff)
Jan. 28th, 2012 03:55 pmIt was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me...
This is not personal. It is about business. Just a small meeting about the new prince. Maybe Jack hadn't caught the name. Maybe he's even forgotten it over the years. Faintly glowing eyes look up at the tall warehouse. Nothing of the original building remains. Her shipping office is long gone and the docks themselves have been rebuilt several times. But, at the heart of it, it is the same. A city grows and changes, but it always retains a core, almost an awareness. Ninette can feel the swamp even from this distance. It is all connected on a level that most never even imagine. The darkness of the alley holds her well, shrouded as she is, alert for familiar footsteps.
The heart of the city remaining is exactly right. The city that has torn his heart out once - and yet always draws him back, one of the two places he calls home when he's there. And she was one of the reasons it became that way. Now, these days, its Violet. She has his cold, unbeating heart, so much so he's made no secret of it. But there was life before her, and one other who almost had that role. His footsteps are heavy. The Brujah primogen does not bother with stealth when it isn't necessary. He's looking for something, someone, he hasn't seen in a long time - and makes sure she knows it, if she's in this old, familiar place.
He knew of the Dowager, but over the years, she's made a point of always dealing with Violet or one of the girls. The reason why is obvious. Her honeyed voice, refined with just a touch of french accent is unmistakable. "Nice enough night for a stroll, Mister Darnay."
Its been almost two centuries. Doesn't matter. He'd know that voice anywhere. "That it is, Dahlin'." he replies in that thick, Georgia boy accent that hasn't changed in a long second lifetime.
There. There had been nothing for her to worry about. Everyone was 'dahlin'. Dahlin wasn't anyone special. "A touch of chill to the air though. Perhaps we can talk someplace out of the way?"
Well, not everyone. Dahlin was reserved for ladies, which is an entire category apart from females or girls. Especially these days with their pants and short-shorts and nonsense. But there's only one 'Belle', only room for one in Jack's world. Once upon a time it was Ninette - but if she lived all this time, and never told him, then she had to blame him for the loss of her boys. Or something happened. Despite which... she's still dahlin'. No sign of the Brujah temper or any resentment, but things obviously aren't expected to be the way they were when he last saw her. "Never minded the chill, or the smell of the sea. But it doesn't become a gentleman to deny a lady such an easy request. Please, lead the way, dahlin'. We should, indeed, talk."
Her confidence rises a little as she suspects that he either has not made the connection or he's forgotten all together. Somehow, even after all of these years, that stings. She turns, heeled boots clicking softly on the concrete. The corset has been forgone, her robes falling even more indistinctly around her withered figure. But, she cannot hide her hands so easily. The long, greyed digits resemble talons more than fingers. Yes, something had happened. Despite requesting someplace out of the way, she walks instead to the end of one of the empty piers where the sea and the wind will distort anything they might say long before it reaches the ears of any others.
Jack settles in comfortably out on the end of the pier. So near the water, he's comfortable. Despite the greying flesh, the withered fingers, the robes falling oddly, there is still a fondness when his eyes light on her. "Ninette." he says first. He hasn't forgotten, it seems. "Ah'm glad to know you're alive. World's a better place with you in it, Dahlin'."
Ninette takes her seat at the edge, ankles crossed and leaning back slightly on her hands. The moonlight casts a sheen over the veil that makes it impossible to see through. She is quiet for a long moment, fighting back emotions that have not had reason to surface in centuries. "I do not believe that the world cares a whit for my existence, Jack." She sighs almost grudgingly, "Though that you do may be some comfort." She had never been quick to admit to emotional ties. Even the few years between her marriages, she'd been the one making it clear that their relationship was purely physical and business. Of course, they'd had been many years after that.
"And Ah don't give a whit what the world cares for or don't, dahlin'. My world is better with you in it." he replies without hesitation. He's never been the soft spoken or shy type a day in his life, nor does he tend to hide his emotions to any great degree. He sits down, giving her respectful space, but close enough they can talk without raising their voices any. "And if that gives you some comfort after all this time, I'm glad for that, at least."
That cowled head bows, "I am sorry I did not tell you. It seemed... pointless."
His lips draw back a moment. He's strong willed enough that the Brujah curse has rarely ruled him - but the woman who was almost his first wife feigning her death for centuries, being here, and not talking to him? She can doubtless see the flicker of temper... and then its gone. She's a lady. He'd loved her once - in a world where a lot of kindred outside of Toreador... don't love... and for them, its a fleeting thing. He's been gifted with four loves - the sea, the open road, Violet... and once upon a time, Ninette. He'd no more raise a hand to her than he'd deny the call of the sea. "Ah don't see it that way, but I wouldn't blame you for bein' angry. Ah'm... sorry about the boys."
Those yellow eyes blink beneath the veil. "Jack. Without you, it is likely I never would have had the boys to have lost them. They would have followed you to the end of the earth. But, they were their own people. Men before their time, perhaps, but that was the era. It was not your doing. No, my reasons were far more selfish." Her head turns towards him. "It would not have been what we planned. You like pretty things, Jack. You always have. For all of our love... I would have been replaced as first in your life. That would have killed me as surely as anything."
Jack nods. "They wanted to go to war." he agrees quietly. "I tried to get one of 'em to stay, to see to you. They wouldn't have it. Ah can lead men... always had a talent for it. Never been so good at gettin' 'em to stop listenin' to their hearts. An'... I was gonna' make you beautiful forevah, dahlin'. It was the plan, when things settled. I like my pretty, its true. Wouldn't never go denyin', it, but you were... more'n that. Beautiful, but outspoken, willful... an' whip-smart. All the things most women of your time weren't. Jus' pretty... well, jus' pretty ain't ever been more than a bit of arm candy."
"I wanted that. I only wanted to see Jackson married first. To see that the boys would be alright on their own. And while we were waiting, someone beat us to it. You have no doubt heard the rumors, Jack. I am the Dowager. I've heard it said that I am everything from an eccentric ventrue to a wayward tzimisce." She chuckles weakly, soft voice dropping. "If only. In the end, it was a Samedi that took my life." Her head bows again, watching the water far below her dangling boots. "Pretty may not be everything, but it is a requirement."
He glances out towards the water. His first love, the one that's always been there, and always called to him, sooner or later. "Ah wish Ah could tell you that wasn't true, Dahlin', but we both know me better'n that, and Ah've never lied to myself... and never lied to you. Once upon a time, that may have been able to change, or maybe it wouldn't have. Ah don't rightly know, except to say that I loved you then. And Ah'll always treasure those years. And Ah know you've pulled apart from a lot of society... but we were friends when you were with another. Ah'd like to see if we can be again. Can't look backwards on 'could have beens', Ah try not to anyway, just go forward... so, 'stead of regrets, where do we stand now?"
"It would not have changed. I saw it." Ninette is and has always been so amazingly logical that it is easy to forget that she is a seer. The dreams and nightmares that she has are often disguised premonitions. Her gifts made them a fortune in those early nights. "That was enough. I could not have lived it as well." She takes a deep breath and smiles weakly at the sea. "We gave our sons to protect New Orleans, Jack. It will be a cold day in hell when I allow her to be burned by the Sabbat or to rot under the Camarilla. Our goals are the same. They always have been."
He nods. "They were good boys, couldn't have been prouder of them then I am of my own childe. He may be a little more Cam than me, a little less anarch - but he runs the city like a free place. Keeps the Ventrue from diggin' in and lettin' things stagnate. I can't promise Ah'll always be in this city... the sea and the road... they still call me, just like they did in the old days... but Ah'll always come back, sooner or later. We got a new opportunity now to build somethin' great here, free of the claws of the Cam, an' the torches of the Sabbat, if we do this right."
He'll always come back. She knows that. The difference is that he used to come back for her. She made New orleans his home, but he returns for another. She can not let herself think for even a second that him knowing the truth has made the slightest difference in that. Instead, she focuses on the only passion that they can still share.
"I have never felt more sure of that." Ninette climbs to her feet, smoothing her robes. "I... I have things I need to see to before morning, as I am sure that you do, as well. I would like to talk again. I am eager to hear what you think of our shiny new prince."
It took a long time for him to heal, to get over Ninette. But time healed that wound. And while this is a shock - and he can't help but remember some of that first, fierce passion... part of that healing was finding Violet. His heart is hers just as she is his - and that's been the way of the past century and a half. Almost half of his life. The only thing that takes him from her side now is the road and the sea... which came before either of them. "Of course, Dahlin'. Ah'd like that."
Ninette nods. "You know the Bellemère place in the swamp. You can reach me through them." Turning from him to begin walking down the pier, she pauses briefly, a tightness of emotion finally obvious in her voice. "And please don't call me 'dahlin'. It is just a reminded of how much less I have become. Goodnight, Jack."
He stiffens at that, but then nods. "Very well, you know Ah was never so good at denyin' you anything." He won't call her Belle. Its not the old days, and he won't insult her like that. There's only one. But she still gets respect he gives few others, to honor the place she held in his heart for so long, once upon a time. "Good night, Ninette."
A faint nod and she moves into the darkness.
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me...
This is not personal. It is about business. Just a small meeting about the new prince. Maybe Jack hadn't caught the name. Maybe he's even forgotten it over the years. Faintly glowing eyes look up at the tall warehouse. Nothing of the original building remains. Her shipping office is long gone and the docks themselves have been rebuilt several times. But, at the heart of it, it is the same. A city grows and changes, but it always retains a core, almost an awareness. Ninette can feel the swamp even from this distance. It is all connected on a level that most never even imagine. The darkness of the alley holds her well, shrouded as she is, alert for familiar footsteps.
The heart of the city remaining is exactly right. The city that has torn his heart out once - and yet always draws him back, one of the two places he calls home when he's there. And she was one of the reasons it became that way. Now, these days, its Violet. She has his cold, unbeating heart, so much so he's made no secret of it. But there was life before her, and one other who almost had that role. His footsteps are heavy. The Brujah primogen does not bother with stealth when it isn't necessary. He's looking for something, someone, he hasn't seen in a long time - and makes sure she knows it, if she's in this old, familiar place.
He knew of the Dowager, but over the years, she's made a point of always dealing with Violet or one of the girls. The reason why is obvious. Her honeyed voice, refined with just a touch of french accent is unmistakable. "Nice enough night for a stroll, Mister Darnay."
Its been almost two centuries. Doesn't matter. He'd know that voice anywhere. "That it is, Dahlin'." he replies in that thick, Georgia boy accent that hasn't changed in a long second lifetime.
There. There had been nothing for her to worry about. Everyone was 'dahlin'. Dahlin wasn't anyone special. "A touch of chill to the air though. Perhaps we can talk someplace out of the way?"
Well, not everyone. Dahlin was reserved for ladies, which is an entire category apart from females or girls. Especially these days with their pants and short-shorts and nonsense. But there's only one 'Belle', only room for one in Jack's world. Once upon a time it was Ninette - but if she lived all this time, and never told him, then she had to blame him for the loss of her boys. Or something happened. Despite which... she's still dahlin'. No sign of the Brujah temper or any resentment, but things obviously aren't expected to be the way they were when he last saw her. "Never minded the chill, or the smell of the sea. But it doesn't become a gentleman to deny a lady such an easy request. Please, lead the way, dahlin'. We should, indeed, talk."
Her confidence rises a little as she suspects that he either has not made the connection or he's forgotten all together. Somehow, even after all of these years, that stings. She turns, heeled boots clicking softly on the concrete. The corset has been forgone, her robes falling even more indistinctly around her withered figure. But, she cannot hide her hands so easily. The long, greyed digits resemble talons more than fingers. Yes, something had happened. Despite requesting someplace out of the way, she walks instead to the end of one of the empty piers where the sea and the wind will distort anything they might say long before it reaches the ears of any others.
Jack settles in comfortably out on the end of the pier. So near the water, he's comfortable. Despite the greying flesh, the withered fingers, the robes falling oddly, there is still a fondness when his eyes light on her. "Ninette." he says first. He hasn't forgotten, it seems. "Ah'm glad to know you're alive. World's a better place with you in it, Dahlin'."
Ninette takes her seat at the edge, ankles crossed and leaning back slightly on her hands. The moonlight casts a sheen over the veil that makes it impossible to see through. She is quiet for a long moment, fighting back emotions that have not had reason to surface in centuries. "I do not believe that the world cares a whit for my existence, Jack." She sighs almost grudgingly, "Though that you do may be some comfort." She had never been quick to admit to emotional ties. Even the few years between her marriages, she'd been the one making it clear that their relationship was purely physical and business. Of course, they'd had been many years after that.
"And Ah don't give a whit what the world cares for or don't, dahlin'. My world is better with you in it." he replies without hesitation. He's never been the soft spoken or shy type a day in his life, nor does he tend to hide his emotions to any great degree. He sits down, giving her respectful space, but close enough they can talk without raising their voices any. "And if that gives you some comfort after all this time, I'm glad for that, at least."
That cowled head bows, "I am sorry I did not tell you. It seemed... pointless."
His lips draw back a moment. He's strong willed enough that the Brujah curse has rarely ruled him - but the woman who was almost his first wife feigning her death for centuries, being here, and not talking to him? She can doubtless see the flicker of temper... and then its gone. She's a lady. He'd loved her once - in a world where a lot of kindred outside of Toreador... don't love... and for them, its a fleeting thing. He's been gifted with four loves - the sea, the open road, Violet... and once upon a time, Ninette. He'd no more raise a hand to her than he'd deny the call of the sea. "Ah don't see it that way, but I wouldn't blame you for bein' angry. Ah'm... sorry about the boys."
Those yellow eyes blink beneath the veil. "Jack. Without you, it is likely I never would have had the boys to have lost them. They would have followed you to the end of the earth. But, they were their own people. Men before their time, perhaps, but that was the era. It was not your doing. No, my reasons were far more selfish." Her head turns towards him. "It would not have been what we planned. You like pretty things, Jack. You always have. For all of our love... I would have been replaced as first in your life. That would have killed me as surely as anything."
Jack nods. "They wanted to go to war." he agrees quietly. "I tried to get one of 'em to stay, to see to you. They wouldn't have it. Ah can lead men... always had a talent for it. Never been so good at gettin' 'em to stop listenin' to their hearts. An'... I was gonna' make you beautiful forevah, dahlin'. It was the plan, when things settled. I like my pretty, its true. Wouldn't never go denyin', it, but you were... more'n that. Beautiful, but outspoken, willful... an' whip-smart. All the things most women of your time weren't. Jus' pretty... well, jus' pretty ain't ever been more than a bit of arm candy."
"I wanted that. I only wanted to see Jackson married first. To see that the boys would be alright on their own. And while we were waiting, someone beat us to it. You have no doubt heard the rumors, Jack. I am the Dowager. I've heard it said that I am everything from an eccentric ventrue to a wayward tzimisce." She chuckles weakly, soft voice dropping. "If only. In the end, it was a Samedi that took my life." Her head bows again, watching the water far below her dangling boots. "Pretty may not be everything, but it is a requirement."
He glances out towards the water. His first love, the one that's always been there, and always called to him, sooner or later. "Ah wish Ah could tell you that wasn't true, Dahlin', but we both know me better'n that, and Ah've never lied to myself... and never lied to you. Once upon a time, that may have been able to change, or maybe it wouldn't have. Ah don't rightly know, except to say that I loved you then. And Ah'll always treasure those years. And Ah know you've pulled apart from a lot of society... but we were friends when you were with another. Ah'd like to see if we can be again. Can't look backwards on 'could have beens', Ah try not to anyway, just go forward... so, 'stead of regrets, where do we stand now?"
"It would not have changed. I saw it." Ninette is and has always been so amazingly logical that it is easy to forget that she is a seer. The dreams and nightmares that she has are often disguised premonitions. Her gifts made them a fortune in those early nights. "That was enough. I could not have lived it as well." She takes a deep breath and smiles weakly at the sea. "We gave our sons to protect New Orleans, Jack. It will be a cold day in hell when I allow her to be burned by the Sabbat or to rot under the Camarilla. Our goals are the same. They always have been."
He nods. "They were good boys, couldn't have been prouder of them then I am of my own childe. He may be a little more Cam than me, a little less anarch - but he runs the city like a free place. Keeps the Ventrue from diggin' in and lettin' things stagnate. I can't promise Ah'll always be in this city... the sea and the road... they still call me, just like they did in the old days... but Ah'll always come back, sooner or later. We got a new opportunity now to build somethin' great here, free of the claws of the Cam, an' the torches of the Sabbat, if we do this right."
He'll always come back. She knows that. The difference is that he used to come back for her. She made New orleans his home, but he returns for another. She can not let herself think for even a second that him knowing the truth has made the slightest difference in that. Instead, she focuses on the only passion that they can still share.
"I have never felt more sure of that." Ninette climbs to her feet, smoothing her robes. "I... I have things I need to see to before morning, as I am sure that you do, as well. I would like to talk again. I am eager to hear what you think of our shiny new prince."
It took a long time for him to heal, to get over Ninette. But time healed that wound. And while this is a shock - and he can't help but remember some of that first, fierce passion... part of that healing was finding Violet. His heart is hers just as she is his - and that's been the way of the past century and a half. Almost half of his life. The only thing that takes him from her side now is the road and the sea... which came before either of them. "Of course, Dahlin'. Ah'd like that."
Ninette nods. "You know the Bellemère place in the swamp. You can reach me through them." Turning from him to begin walking down the pier, she pauses briefly, a tightness of emotion finally obvious in her voice. "And please don't call me 'dahlin'. It is just a reminded of how much less I have become. Goodnight, Jack."
He stiffens at that, but then nods. "Very well, you know Ah was never so good at denyin' you anything." He won't call her Belle. Its not the old days, and he won't insult her like that. There's only one. But she still gets respect he gives few others, to honor the place she held in his heart for so long, once upon a time. "Good night, Ninette."
A faint nod and she moves into the darkness.
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.