One Night in Early February, 2009
Manchester, New Hampshire

It was never easy, pulling herself away from Jason and leaving him within the walls of her sanctum. It had been harder than she had expected. Harder than she had wanted. Isolation clawed quietly at her insides. She knew what it was like, being alone again.

Jason was awake sometimes. He told her things sometimes. He was still and torporous more often. Yet, tonight the voice in the back of her mind urged her away from his side. It would seem there was something out there to be done--and she was the one to do it.

A check of the Elysium for messages and a brief stop at the fountain in front to cast the 100th wish for Jason to wake. The coins hit the water and sank. For both for his sake, and for hers, he needed to wake soon. The more time that passed, meant...well, nothing good anyway. Dmitri's words had taken root and she silently cursed the manipulative Tremere for being right. She stared up the length of the 25 stories of Storm Tower and sighed.

Then, as if drawn by an unseen hand, the Prince of New Hampshire started the walk up Elm to the north into a night. It was one that she knew all too well, yet could not predict the course of, even after a millenium of life.

Fursa comes in from outside and stops near the door. She adjusts her glasses and then takes a look around the room, observing the musician, offering a slight nod, and finally walking into the room.

Alan smiles a little at the woman and heads back toward the piano, break over.

Jesse nods companionably to Alan, and smiles.

Sue finally reemerges after several long moments, having pulled herself back together. Her steps carry her back to the bar as she watchs Alan ascend the stage once more.

Alan settles himself on the piano bench and shakes out his arms.

Jesse watches Sue re-emerge, grinning wryly.

Walking toward the bar with a nearly silent gait, she goes to hold up her hand, three fingers in the air and then stops.

Gretchen's tavern is a source of comfort. The beer is good, the atmosphere calm enough to allow both human contact and solitude of thought. She knew it wasn't good to stay at home, or in the wilds, forever. The isolation could take you from the path, make you forget yourself. 15 years in Manchester, immersed in its people and its...life...kept her alive in the subtle ways that Broghe had spoken of.

The music improved with the new singer. Gretchen's nightly receipts were booming. Frith was a good thing. The pool table was the crowning achievement, it's slate top having been the spot of many nights of fruitful meditation.

Then, her eyes caught a face in the crowd....

Jesse watches the newcomer idly.

Four ladies wearing dresses walk in and sit at an empty booth.

Fursa gives a look around the room, seeming to sniff the air for a second and then looks -right- at Jesse.

It's never easy seeing someone in person that you have only seen snippets of in vision. She integrated the two knowledges slowly. The young Lasombra pining for his lost lover and the presence of the lover meshed in her mind, causing her pause.

The young man was not the same now. His Wyrd had shifted perceptibly.

Jesse smiles pleasantly, halfway between grinning idiot and deer in the headlights.

Sue's gaze catchs on the woman as she retakes her seat, her eyes flicking to the other woman's brow, noting the shade of her hair almost as an afterthought as she settles onto the stool.

Jesse blinks as Sue retakes her seat right next to him.

Fursa holds her gaze on Jesse for a minute more and then sweeps it away precipitously as she holds up that hand, three fingers up, palm out, to Matt.

Beer solves most all problems. For one, it keeps your hands busy while your mind does other things.

Sue shrugs a little, replying to a muttered question.

Alan begins to play again, this time Joshua Kadison. "Beautiful in my Eyes." But he doesn't sing.

Fursa taking up her mug of dark beer, she pauses, nods a little to the air and turns to Jesse.

Beer also has a bitter edge, much like love.

Fursa focusses intently on Jesse, pausing as if she will speak to him and then cocks her head oddy before whispering

Fursa whispers "He comes soon...he still loves you."

Knowing when Wryd has touched someone is a burden. There is always so much that you can't speak of, for fear of rejection, or simply because somethings are better left unsaid. This time, though, a healing word was as important as the oppressive silence of doubt.

It also assured that Wyrd would wend on as Wyrd should.

Jesse freezes. Totally freezes. And goes quite pale.

Jesse shakes his head. "What do you mean?"

Sue's gaze narrows a tad as she takes the opportunity to study Fursa once more, a frown following as she sees Jesse's reaction to a half-caught whisper.

Fursa breaks off what else she might have said and murmurs a soft "Forgive me." as she moves by, giving Sue a gaze and touching her own brow before walking on like nothing happened.

Sue's eyes follow Fursa a small way, before turning back to Jesse.

Alan plays the love song as if totally focused in it. He doesn't look up to the women watching him...or the men either, really.

Fursa walks through the crowd to the stairs, her presence heavy in the air. It breaks and departs as she does, for the loft.

An apology. It could only be a hollow comfort to him. The mysterious woman beside, strange star burning on her brow, him made further discussion of what could be said impossible. You had to be certain before you spoke of the sacred among strangers.

Bitter inside, she walked on and went to take refuge in the loft. The pool table, of all things, would comfort her where nothing else, save the return of Jason to wakefulness, could.

Fursa melts out of the shadows a bit, they shield her from view

Jesse doesn't see her immediately. He looks around, possibly annoying one or two patrons who are up there for privacy.

Fursa stands in the shadows by the pool table, well away from its light

Jesse walks over, slowly, cautiously.

Jesse asks quietly, "Hello?"

Fursa just watches him quietly, not saying anything.

Jesse finally notices the odd shadow in the corner by the pool table. He stops about six feet away.

Fursa just watches him. She is neither hiding, nor making her presence known.

Life goes on below. Cynthia comes on duty. The piano man sings. The shadows behind the pool table are sufficient to shield her from immediate detection. From there, she can watch him...and wonder.

Jesse takes a step closer, asking quietly, so the other occupants of the loft cannot hear him. "Who are you?"

Always, they ask this. Always, the answer is never that simple.

Fursa grabs a pool cue and says quietly "No one that matters overmuch." Her voice is not very loud at all.

There are two laws that the Kindred of New Hampshire hear from the mouth of this Prince....

Jesse asks quietly again. "How do you know about him?"

Fursa stands there, deciding to dump balls out on the table with loud thumps, saying "I cannot tell you."

"Keep the Masquerade."

Jesse takes a half-step forward. "It's important...to me." Very much so, given the emotion in his voice.

Fursa racks the balls and breaks "I cannot say more than I have."

Fursa pauses, grimaces and rubs her brow, holding her hand there for a moment and shaking her head to clear it again.

Jesse frowns. Then he closes his eyes and asks quietly, "Do you talk to him?"

Fursa remains silent and then breaks with a resounding crash of balls. They scatter around the table in all directions and she says "Yes."

Jesse's features relax slowly as he exhales a loooong sigh. He shakes his head. "Can you tell him something for me?"

Fursa shakes her head 'no.'

Jesse picks up a piece of cue chalk lying on the rail and fidgets with it, his eyes opening once more, looking down at it. When he sees the motion out of the corner of his eye, he looks up. He simply nods, sighing once more. He looks once more at Fursa, as if memorizing her so they can speak again some other time. Then he nods, and clears his throat. "Thank you," he blurts out, barely keeping his voice from breaking.

"Keep the Peace."

Fursa straightens up and says ever so quietly "You will tell him yourself, in the end."

Jesse just nods, clearly fearing to speak. His jaw is clenched tight. He falteringly turns to go back downstairs.

The birds on her face flutter silently, flaring to life as her expression, changes. Fursa watches you go and says softly "Wyrd walk softly...life is fragile."

But she knew that Wyrd demanded that the Peace be broken soon. She abandoned the game and left by the terrace door for the solitude of the February night. The angles on the table ceased to be meaningful to her.

It troubled her only because, deep down, she knew what Love was, and what Loss was as well. Jason had taught her both. She knew Jesse had taught Luke, even as she shadowed the Lasombra neonate in his movement toward a future that was as unpredictable as the nightimes it would be played out in.