Snippet #1211685

(Soren "Nightstalker" Hawkins, 1st District, Melody's Residence)

It was something like watching a three-way tennis match, one where there were no defined sides. For the most part, the ball just kept bouncing between the Piper and the Groves woman, but Crawford's contribution had been interesting as well, particularly the veiled warning to himself. The man might be paranoid, but to a certain extent, Soren was too. And that meant he wasn't going to take any warning too lightly.

Still, he was beginning to grow a bit bored. He had seen enough people willing to put anything on the line to get what they wanted that such an attitude failed to surprise him anymore. He spent a few moments contemplating the relative oddity of such a thing, but it made sense, after a fashion. living with the Levani was a high-stakes affair; you had to be willing to risk nearly anything to survive. Or be very good at remaining hidden. By that logic, the most unexpected person in their group was actually Ophelia.

But that was a train of thought for another time. For now, it behooved him to focus on the present. Just as well; Lilliana was now offering the Piper anything she wanted. Did this woman truly believe she was capable of giving anything that could be requested? Or was it simply that she wasn't planning on honoring the deal in the first place? "You speak as if the world was yours to dole out as you choose," he pointed out flatly, then fell silent once more. In all likelihood, the Piper had picked out the very same logical discrepancy; it was hard to miss.

His mind was slowly drawn in part from the scene in repose before them, and back pastward. Anything... I'll give you anything was indeed a request made only by the pressured. Only they could forget what such a thing meant for them, what damage giving carte blanche to another soul could do. People had attempted to ply his own will with it, before. Before they died, before he had felt the weight of another spent, wasted existence settle over his conscience, or at least the shreds of it that remained. Awful people, each and every one of them, wailing out the offer as though a lie might turn his blade. And still, no matter how clean the carbonized weapon, no matter how completely the blood that stained his hands might wash away, it still did not disappear. Good thing he was strong enough to bear the weight, at least for now.

Nightstalker removed his pocketwatch, flicking it open. Time was a funny thing; it moved so very inexorably. Intangible, and yet in the end, the single most vicious, sadistic killer of them all. Slave driver and executioner of men. But time also eased wounds, redeemed sinners, faded scars. So what had Lilliana choosing to make this offer now, of all times? She claimed to be simply tipping the odds in her favor, but the odds of what? Piper could easily ask fro her death as compensation, even if he did not think she would. So it wasn't the odds of survival. The odds of killing all the Levani? A great lot of good that would do you, were you dead. Altruism was clearly not a motivating factor here, so he was back to vengeance. Foolish, so very foolish.