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Much fun was had in Toronto. I got to chill out with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
redlyra, snowy_kathryn, sarcasm_hime, zoe_serious (thanks again for supplying crash space!), and a host of other dancers (raqs sharqi, tribal fusion, Kathak, and rave dancers). It was interesting to hear about Asala from the performers' perspective. Ofttimes, the most interesting parts of a show happen backstage.
I went to the Lush party which was actually quite disappointing. The last party I went to, invitees were treated like royalty, with one-on-one personal attention, lots of freebies, and plenty of contests and tasty comestibles. This time, it just looked like a crowded shop with overtired, bleary-eyed staff, and no freebies aside from a bath bomb. And there was no food, despite it being advertised. Bah.
And then last night I gamed.
Once again, Margd very nearly died (and still could). My Sabbat pack and I were ambushed by a Camarilla assault team, and one of the Sabbat started throwing fire balls around. Since the Viniculum had given me the highest possible bond to Gerard, a vampire who lie staked within the conflagration, I pumped blood and burst into the fire to save him.
I took a LOT of aggravated damage, but managed to haul Gerard's staked arse out of the fire. Then, since he was still in danger, but I was incapacitated, I spent more blood to heal, which pushed me over into Elisabet territory. She doesn't give a shit about the fate of Gerard, so obfuscated and skedaddled to relative safety.
When we called it a night, she was pinned against a wall watching the effects of three fireballs, and the gathering of a lot of very angry elder vampires.
If I survive, (which I likely shall, since I'm hidden away), I'm going to get the fuck out of there and write a nice letter to Margd. In the past 600 years, Elisabet has never tried to communicate with her daughter. That is about to end with this:
My beloved daughter:
It has been many years since we last spoke together. To say we did not part on the best of terms is a monumental understatement. You have been a failure to me, both in life and unlife.
You failed me in Kronstadt, all those years past. You married, but failed to give me grandchildren. You married, but failed to keep your husband alive. You claimed to be my protector, but you killed me.
Yes, you murdered me. What a foul awakening that was. I remember having the most wonderful dream, a vision of you as you could and should have been: the dutiful daughter and fruitful wife. As I dandled one of your sons upon my lap, I watched you chop and blanch greens for the evening meal. Your husband worked outside, chopping wood for the fire. Your eldest boy stood on the side, watching and learning. He was a fine young lad, strapping and strong even at the tender age of five, and I knew he would grow to be a good man. And even as I watched with the maternal pride I was due, my sleep was torn asunder by the screams of a demon.
I awoke to see you crouching over me, a red hellfire gleam filling your eyes, your crazed howling piercing my ears as sharply as any needle.
I struggled, but you showed no mercy. I pleaded, but you crushed me beneath you with unnatural power. And even as I called out to God and the saints for succour, you tore my throat out with devilish pointed teeth and devoured my soul.
But simply killing me was not enough for you, my unnatural daughter. In the years since, despite knowing I reside within your repulsive body, you have gone to extraordinary lengths to hold me prisoner. What sort of daughter keeps her mother in a dungeon? A demon daughter with no natural sense of compassion.
And when I am let out of my prison, my existence is no better for it. I live in a constant state of starvation, knowing that if I ameliorate my famishment, that you will once again imprison and torment me.
While you claim to follow the path of humanity, you act the part of a malevolent god, dispensing agony and torture with impunity to all, including the dam who bore you. You are no flesh of my flesh. Surely you are a changeling, switched away from my breast as I suckled you. For all your claims of innocence, you are surely a child of Satan. You killed me and I shall never forgive you. You have tortured and imprisoned me, and I shall never forgive you.
I deny, revoke, and disown you.
Love,
Elisabet
And now for some links!
Nice T-shirt: Probably NSFW (thanks,gha5t).
Driving Skills: In Soviet Russia, the cars drive you.
Village in Ukraine: Gorgeous photography.
Jet-Man: It's a bird! It's a plane! It's a man with wings and a jet engine (thanks,revdeadcorpse)!
He-Bro: Utterly incomprehensible. The first thing online that's made me spontaneously yell, "What the fuck!?!" in a long time (thanks,snowy_kathryn).
redlyra, snowy_kathryn, sarcasm_hime, zoe_serious (thanks again for supplying crash space!), and a host of other dancers (raqs sharqi, tribal fusion, Kathak, and rave dancers). It was interesting to hear about Asala from the performers' perspective. Ofttimes, the most interesting parts of a show happen backstage.I went to the Lush party which was actually quite disappointing. The last party I went to, invitees were treated like royalty, with one-on-one personal attention, lots of freebies, and plenty of contests and tasty comestibles. This time, it just looked like a crowded shop with overtired, bleary-eyed staff, and no freebies aside from a bath bomb. And there was no food, despite it being advertised. Bah.
And then last night I gamed.
Once again, Margd very nearly died (and still could). My Sabbat pack and I were ambushed by a Camarilla assault team, and one of the Sabbat started throwing fire balls around. Since the Viniculum had given me the highest possible bond to Gerard, a vampire who lie staked within the conflagration, I pumped blood and burst into the fire to save him.
I took a LOT of aggravated damage, but managed to haul Gerard's staked arse out of the fire. Then, since he was still in danger, but I was incapacitated, I spent more blood to heal, which pushed me over into Elisabet territory. She doesn't give a shit about the fate of Gerard, so obfuscated and skedaddled to relative safety.
When we called it a night, she was pinned against a wall watching the effects of three fireballs, and the gathering of a lot of very angry elder vampires.
If I survive, (which I likely shall, since I'm hidden away), I'm going to get the fuck out of there and write a nice letter to Margd. In the past 600 years, Elisabet has never tried to communicate with her daughter. That is about to end with this:
My beloved daughter:
It has been many years since we last spoke together. To say we did not part on the best of terms is a monumental understatement. You have been a failure to me, both in life and unlife.
You failed me in Kronstadt, all those years past. You married, but failed to give me grandchildren. You married, but failed to keep your husband alive. You claimed to be my protector, but you killed me.
Yes, you murdered me. What a foul awakening that was. I remember having the most wonderful dream, a vision of you as you could and should have been: the dutiful daughter and fruitful wife. As I dandled one of your sons upon my lap, I watched you chop and blanch greens for the evening meal. Your husband worked outside, chopping wood for the fire. Your eldest boy stood on the side, watching and learning. He was a fine young lad, strapping and strong even at the tender age of five, and I knew he would grow to be a good man. And even as I watched with the maternal pride I was due, my sleep was torn asunder by the screams of a demon.
I awoke to see you crouching over me, a red hellfire gleam filling your eyes, your crazed howling piercing my ears as sharply as any needle.
I struggled, but you showed no mercy. I pleaded, but you crushed me beneath you with unnatural power. And even as I called out to God and the saints for succour, you tore my throat out with devilish pointed teeth and devoured my soul.
But simply killing me was not enough for you, my unnatural daughter. In the years since, despite knowing I reside within your repulsive body, you have gone to extraordinary lengths to hold me prisoner. What sort of daughter keeps her mother in a dungeon? A demon daughter with no natural sense of compassion.
And when I am let out of my prison, my existence is no better for it. I live in a constant state of starvation, knowing that if I ameliorate my famishment, that you will once again imprison and torment me.
While you claim to follow the path of humanity, you act the part of a malevolent god, dispensing agony and torture with impunity to all, including the dam who bore you. You are no flesh of my flesh. Surely you are a changeling, switched away from my breast as I suckled you. For all your claims of innocence, you are surely a child of Satan. You killed me and I shall never forgive you. You have tortured and imprisoned me, and I shall never forgive you.
I deny, revoke, and disown you.
Love,
Elisabet
And now for some links!
Nice T-shirt: Probably NSFW (thanks,
gha5t).Driving Skills: In Soviet Russia, the cars drive you.
Village in Ukraine: Gorgeous photography.
Jet-Man: It's a bird! It's a plane! It's a man with wings and a jet engine (thanks,
revdeadcorpse)!He-Bro: Utterly incomprehensible. The first thing online that's made me spontaneously yell, "What the fuck!?!" in a long time (thanks,
snowy_kathryn).
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-12-23 07:40 pm (UTC)From:That He-Bro thing was made in Japan, wasn't it? WASN'T IT?!??
no subject
Date: 2006-12-23 08:37 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2006-12-23 08:44 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2006-12-23 09:07 pm (UTC)From:"A He-Man parody, He-Bro, appeared in 2006 on the TV show Wonder Showzen which portrays He-Man as a Jewish black man who can stretch his muscles like Plastic Man. The feature stays true to the actual Filmation style."
They missed some easy Sammy Davis Jr. jokes there.
no subject
Date: 2006-12-24 01:47 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2006-12-23 10:37 pm (UTC)From:(you do realize that the employees are treated pretty poorly and way over worked and have shitty scheduals)
no subject
Date: 2006-12-24 08:07 pm (UTC)From:And yes, I gathered they are treated poorly, are overworked, and have shitty schedules, hence the observation they were overtired and bleary-eyed.
no subject
Date: 2006-12-23 10:42 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2006-12-24 08:14 am (UTC)From:Tasteless and lewd. Gotta love it.
The most recent tee i got from them was for the Hubby.
It has a pic of Brass knuckles on it, and says, "I know Violence isn't the answer, I got it wrong on purpose."