[b:15d3da1989][u:15d3da1989]Minneapolis, October 3rd, 2002.[/u:15d3da1989][/b:15d3da1989]

Finn rolled over onto his stomach. His eyes gazed lazily at the candle’s flame as she ran a cool hand down his back.

[i:15d3da1989]“I wish we didn’t have to keep this a secret, Tappy. It kills me not being able to see you when I’d like. Having to share you with [b:15d3da1989]him.[/b:15d3da1989]”[/i:15d3da1989]

Tapestry’s face fell. She ran fingers through his hair and kissed the nape of his neck.

[i:15d3da1989]“I know beloved. It pains me too. If I were to lose you, I’d become adrift.” [/i:15d3da1989]

She somehow suppressed the tears welling in her dead tear ducts, and forced a smile as Finn looked up at her. His black eyes shining and fullof whatever passed as devotion among the dead.

[i:15d3da1989]“You’ll never lose me, Tappy. Not in a million years.”[/i:15d3da1989]

Tappy smiled, this time genuinely. But behind her smile her feelings were tainted with colder ones.

[i:15d3da1989]No. Not in a million years, Finn. But maybe sooner.[/i:15d3da1989]

The two secretive lovers held each other as the sun rose to it’s Zenith.

As the sun was replaced by darkness and moonlight, Tapestry made her way to her Prince’s side. Finn watched helplessly as she left. He made a few calls, arranging to meet the rest of his Coterie at the Fine Line, before driving off across Minneapolis on his rusty old Triumph motorcycle.

-------------

Smith Emery was incandescent with lust. Though for once, his lust was purely for power. Not sexual gratification. The Ventrue had secured the city several years ago, with Emery being heralded as the “next big thing”. He smiled darkly as his lover and personal “prophet”, Tapestry, stepped into his apartment. The click-clack of her bare feet upon his marbled floor kept perfect time with his enforced heartbeat. He instinctively quickened his heart’s pace as her countenance became fully apparent.

Her hair hung in jet black rivulets, cascading over her shoulders. Her ghost-like complexion and blue within blue eyes completed the stark beauty of her.

[i:15d3da1989]“Tapestry my sweet. It pleases me to see you this eve. I trust you slept well?”[/i:15d3da1989]

Tappy feigned a smile, forcing her skin to flush slightly. Anything to give Emery the impression that she lived for his admiration.

[i:15d3da1989]“Yes Emery. The loom tells me your meeting with Anselmo went well?”[/i:15d3da1989] She stepped closer, kissing him gently. The action caught him off guard, but he wasn’t fazed.

He returned her attentions with a second, more probing kiss, before applauding himself.

[i:15d3da1989]“Why yes! It went splendidly! By this time next week, I will be the sole owner of all of Minneapolis’s night spots. It couldn’t be better!”[/i:15d3da1989]

Tapestry grinned.

[i:15d3da1989]“Oh I can think of a way to make it better, sweetness.”[/i:15d3da1989] Her false affectations made her core twist in knots. She thought of Finn and swallowed the acid taste her Prince’s touchings gave her.

-----------

She spasmed again. Her fingers became spastic from the effort as the loom rattled in motion. Each strand of the thread becoming something of the future. A picture plucked from the ether, translated by her palsied mind and printed out in the form of a tapestry. She sweated blood as the vision unrolled. As she collapsed, Emery unhooked the scroll of fabric. His eyes lighting up as he studied it’s patterns.

[i:15d3da1989]“The Glasswalker Council will agree to my ceasefire? Oh my dear Malkavian. Today could not have ended better.”[/i:15d3da1989]

She drank her fill from Emery’s personal vintages of vitae, before making her excuses.

[i:15d3da1989]“Of course my sweet. I understand the loom drains it out of you. Go rest your weary, troubled, beautiful mind. I can’t have my precious burned out, now can I?”[/i:15d3da1989]

He was sickening she thought as she walked across town. Everything he said was a sugared lie. Everything he was, was a front. He was a slimy bastard. But he was also Prince. And she was, however sadly, his play thing.

[u:4388f2660b][b:4388f2660b]October 13th.[/b:4388f2660b][/u:4388f2660b]

They ran like children through the falling leaves that came earthward in gold, brown and red spirals. Kicking up those that had already touched the [i:4388f2660b]mother[/i:4388f2660b], and chasing each other in the limping moonlight that managed to cross from moon to soil.

Finn would feign a jump to the left, drawing a girlish giggle from Tappy as she tried to escape. The games would continue, always to the same moment. As Tappy rounded an old Elm tree she’d begin to scream. Finn, extending his curving, bird-like claws would run to her aid and suddenly find his feet gripped by some hellish mnemonic snare. Forced to watch as the just joyful face of his lover would be transformed, remade by fire.

Then he awoke, and sadly, terribly, the dream’s climax became all too familiar.

He rose from his retreat, rising through the cloying acrid layer of ashes that were all that remained of his and Tappy’s hideaway.

The sudden realisation almost drowned him. He staggered as he stood, ash falling from him in cloudy plumes.

The memories were too recent and too hellish for him to even try bearing. And so he collapsed in a heap, sending a mist of ash airborne.

And the blood welled up in his eyes for the hundredth time.

[u:0d7effb04c][b:0d7effb04c]October 11th.[/b:0d7effb04c][/u:0d7effb04c]

[i:0d7effb04c]“frozen inside without your touch without your love
darling only you are the life among the dead...”[/i:0d7effb04c]

It all started with the weaving of a truth.

Tappy saw it coming. She always had. But now, horribly, it was here.

Emery had asked her, as he always did, to predict his future. And so she consulted the loom. The furious click-clack of the ancient machine echoed around her room, the thread arranged itself, following whatever madness her fingers applied. And images would appear, merge, spill over her fingers like silent visions.

Emery took the scroll of newly created fabric prophecy, feverishly scrutinizing it with dark eyes.

His eyes went darker still.

[i:0d7effb04c]“What is this? Who is this? Tapestry?”[/i:0d7effb04c] He tossed the future-weave to the floor violently.

Tappy could only look up at him, a glazed, lost look in her eyes.

[i:0d7effb04c]“It’s what you asked of me, Emery. It is the fabric of things to come. It is your ending, Emery.”[/i:0d7effb04c]

The words struck him as if she had actually slapped them home. He stumbled back, shaking his head in a frenzy.

[i:0d7effb04c]“Lies! Lies! How could you, Tapestry? After everything I’ve given you! Everything I’ve done for you! How could you betray me!?”[/i:0d7effb04c]

Her face was vacant. If he were a rational man, if even he were a man, he might have seen the expression in her face ruled out any falsehood or malice. She was merely stating what the weave showed her.

Smith Emery. Businessman. Entrepreneur. Monetary visionary. And Vampire. Stormed from the room, doors slamming in his wake, retainers buffeted by his paranoid rage. And Tappy sat, staring at the future. Feeling the knitting together of time yet seen criss-cross over her slender, cool hands.

---------------------------

Finn threw another beer down his gullet, followed by another dart at the board in the pub. O’Malley’s was his personal haunt. Were his Coterie ever looking for him, you could guarantee he’d be there, dousing himself in the cheerfully tacky Celtic charm. He ran fingers through his crest-like hair and frowned as his cell beeped, a message awaiting his perusal.

He smiled as he saw the sender’s ID. [i:0d7effb04c]“Tappy.”[/i:0d7effb04c]

A quick click of the “read” button and he saw the simple message.

[i:0d7effb04c]“Come home.”[/i:0d7effb04c]

He tossed a few bills at O’Malley himself, grabbed his coat and walked out to his bike.

---------------------------

Emery sent for Simian’s gang. They were the youngest Coterie in the city. That made them, in his eyes, expendable and impressionable.

Simian, the “leader”, was a bullish Brujah. He wasn’t particularly adept at anything except hitting things. And to Emery’s dismay, his ability to intimidate was limited to how much pain he could inflict with his fists. The others in the gang, the Toreador “Estelle”, the Caitiff “Duncan” were a motley crew. But they were sufficient, he presumed, for the task he had in mind.

Simian stepped forward, slovenly chewing a cigarette butt.

[i:0d7effb04c]“Sup?”[/i:0d7effb04c]

The Prince of Minneapolis narrowed his eyes in contempt at the youth’s arrogance, then he smiled.

[i:0d7effb04c]“My, my. You honour me little ape.”[/i:0d7effb04c] Estelle snorted at her Brujah friend’s insult. It was way too linear for Simian to grasp. He just grunted.

[i:0d7effb04c]“You didn’t call us here to talk sweet, did ya? You want us to do something...or someone.”

“You’re more astute than I thought, child. But yes, I have something...in mind.”[/i:0d7effb04c]

The three youths gathered around their Prince as he gave them instructions.

They left almost two hours later. Emery had supplied them with whatever they’d asked for. And they left chuckling and back-slapping each other.

Duncan whooped, bouncing in the backseat of the Ford Terrano.

[i:0d7effb04c]“It’s a pity Finn wasn’t around tonight. You know how he likes rough-housing it.”[/i:0d7effb04c]

The others agreed, laughing and jeering as the car drove across town.

The shelter Tappy shared with Finn stood in the middle of a patch of wasteground, the local housing development had never got around to pulling the derelict down. Not that this state of affairs would’ve lasted much longer, what with the Van Der Veer housing association buying up land all over the city.

Tapestry knew they were coming, even before she heard the 4x4 approach. She closed the window, locking the makeshift door and sat waiting.

The car skidded to a halt a few dozen yards from the ruins that walled the haven from the rest of the wastelands, Estelle and Duncan spilling out before it had even stopped rolling. Simian lumbered out from the rear passenger seat, his massive fists clutching a holdall that bulged ominously. As the trio reached the ram-shackle doorway, they each took a container from the large bag.

[i:8c4f8375cc]“You in there, prophet? We was hoping for a bit of resistance at least!”

“Do what you are destined. My fate is sealed.”

“If that’s the way you want it. Emery sends his regards.”[/i:8c4f8375cc]

Each of them began to empty the contents of the containers over the wooden structures. Dousing every inch with the liquid that spilled over the lips of each vessel. Inside, Tapestry sat, trying to ignore the cloying fumes of the gasoline that would be her doom. She closed her eyes and thought of Finn.

Simian threw his gas can into the ruins, with his next action he lit a lighter and shouted at the others to get back.

The ignition coughed as it struck the fumes rising from the pools and rivulets of fuel. The burst of flames sent the three killers stumbling back to the safety of their car. Tapestry didn’t scream. She didn’t cry out. She just clung onto the image of Finn in her head and sighed solemnly.

Her madness protected her from the fear of death. Even when the first few flames caressed in their burning little kisses, she wouldn’t cry out.

Simian sat watching. All three Kindred listened for the screams, cursing when they heard none.

As the last of the wooden beams collapsed. As the once-haven became ash, they were long gone. Finn’s bike spluttering with the exertions of crossing the city at speed.

He practically fell off the bike as his eyes locked on the charred spot his haven once inhabited.

The flames deceased, he pulled at the crumbling timber before falling to a heap as the shape of a metal loop shone up through the black charcoal ash. His fingers sought it desperately, wiping the grease and grime from it.

It was a silver Mobius strip, the back engraved with tiny words that detailed his giving it to Tapestry. In the months since he’d given it to her, she’d never taken it off. And it was that, and the lightly coloured ash it lay in that sent him sprawling into the ashes screaming. Blood tears pooling on his clothes as he suffered the most terrible of realisations.