Information reveals itself in tatters and troves, but never droves.
"It's about lakes," waters instead of wars, "Not even the good and bloody part," his composure regains as he corrects Kali. No, the thing is actually about the lakes of Lerna and the settlements there. If someone should look at him for more, he throws up his hands. "Fuck I know? Kine need something to read on the toilet after I give him the bite."
In her perusal Kali begins to notice something about the binding and cover that triggers the thief in her. Something hidden often means something valuable. The ever-present insights, more cerebral powers of the blood at work, notice a place where the binding is just beginning, after all these centuries, to draw back. Where the leather cover stretched over its hard backing can be peeled away.
"Fuck it," Baja says of the now-blood-stained tome with a shrug, in case she were to worry about damaging it. The skinny bitch with the bad blood mojo hadn't worried about damaging him.
The book has another name, the first sheath a layer preserving the next for posterity. An Examination of the Lernaean Quorum and its Persecution by Tomás de Torquemada, it reads, this time inscribed in Old Spanish. No author's name is given.
As Kali begins fiddling with the tome, it's Mercy who next has something to add to the mix, should she chose to. The Gangrel catches the scent of blood – not just Baja's or his assailant's, but more potent vitae, which seems to saturate the book. Much like she had once smelled a dream drenched in.
When Kali examines the spine and its binding again, she is able to pull out something wrapped in brittle linen. Its threads melt away as she folds it to reveal a piece of metal nestled inside. It is shaped like the curved blade of a letter opener, only pointed on both ends, tarnished with age and etched on one side with an eye and on the other with the skeleton of a hand pointing. It is inset with a piece of amber, inside of which a mosquito lies trapped and fossilized, a little window through the odd artifact.
Perhaps his curiosity is waning because of his wounds, but Baja instead sets about putting on the television with the click of the remote, the flat screen that hangs in her living room coming to life. 3 AM and 4 AM teasers are already coming on for the 5 AM news, and they tell of the arrest of a man suspected in a hit-and-run in Federal.
Mercy will not elude reminders of the one that got away.
Spitting dryly at the mention of the man, Baja picks up the woman's hand, a ring still pulled onto its right ring finger. "Costume jewelry wearing skank," he says. Baja wears many rings, baubles and jewels in silver and gold that twinkle on his dexterous fingers, but this one is a trophy he seems to relish.
Until he tries to pull it off.
The tips of his fingers sizzle as he touches it, and he drops the hand like a hot potato, launching into a new and renewed flurry of curses and Romany oaths.
"It's about lakes," waters instead of wars, "Not even the good and bloody part," his composure regains as he corrects Kali. No, the thing is actually about the lakes of Lerna and the settlements there. If someone should look at him for more, he throws up his hands. "Fuck I know? Kine need something to read on the toilet after I give him the bite."
In her perusal Kali begins to notice something about the binding and cover that triggers the thief in her. Something hidden often means something valuable. The ever-present insights, more cerebral powers of the blood at work, notice a place where the binding is just beginning, after all these centuries, to draw back. Where the leather cover stretched over its hard backing can be peeled away.
"Fuck it," Baja says of the now-blood-stained tome with a shrug, in case she were to worry about damaging it. The skinny bitch with the bad blood mojo hadn't worried about damaging him.
The book has another name, the first sheath a layer preserving the next for posterity. An Examination of the Lernaean Quorum and its Persecution by Tomás de Torquemada, it reads, this time inscribed in Old Spanish. No author's name is given.
As Kali begins fiddling with the tome, it's Mercy who next has something to add to the mix, should she chose to. The Gangrel catches the scent of blood – not just Baja's or his assailant's, but more potent vitae, which seems to saturate the book. Much like she had once smelled a dream drenched in.
When Kali examines the spine and its binding again, she is able to pull out something wrapped in brittle linen. Its threads melt away as she folds it to reveal a piece of metal nestled inside. It is shaped like the curved blade of a letter opener, only pointed on both ends, tarnished with age and etched on one side with an eye and on the other with the skeleton of a hand pointing. It is inset with a piece of amber, inside of which a mosquito lies trapped and fossilized, a little window through the odd artifact.
Perhaps his curiosity is waning because of his wounds, but Baja instead sets about putting on the television with the click of the remote, the flat screen that hangs in her living room coming to life. 3 AM and 4 AM teasers are already coming on for the 5 AM news, and they tell of the arrest of a man suspected in a hit-and-run in Federal.
Mercy will not elude reminders of the one that got away.
Spitting dryly at the mention of the man, Baja picks up the woman's hand, a ring still pulled onto its right ring finger. "Costume jewelry wearing skank," he says. Baja wears many rings, baubles and jewels in silver and gold that twinkle on his dexterous fingers, but this one is a trophy he seems to relish.
Until he tries to pull it off.
The tips of his fingers sizzle as he touches it, and he drops the hand like a hot potato, launching into a new and renewed flurry of curses and Romany oaths.