'...like holding burning coal'

[Maalik]

3209

To the ears of kine, the catacombs below the streets of Paris were, to use a clichéd term, as silent as the grave. To a Kindred, however, there is no such thing as silence. The air, cold and stale, flowed in faint whispers past the neatly stacked bones of the underground ossuaries, the faint squeaks and scratching of the rats that called the dark passageways home, the slow dripping of water, regular like clockwork; these sounds were all clear and defined to the ears of the creature who lurked down there in the dark, as if they were music played for an audience of one.

The figure wore a thawb, an ankle-length, long-sleeved tunic of rough black wool that scratched against his cold, pale flesh. Carefully wrapped around his right hand, was a string of ninety-nine delicate olive seeds. These were his misbahah or, in layman's terms, prayer beads. His most treasured possession, these particular seeds had been imported from a grove in the Holy Land in the late 17th Century, preserved by various oils and glazes he applied himself.

In the metropolis above, dawn was beginning to break and, although none of the sun's deadly light would illuminate the tunnel down which he walked, the skeletal being could see as clearly as if it were noon. Long, skeletal fingers, tipped with vicious claws, traced with unnatural grace over the bones that lined his path. He could not help but wonder, as he often did, who these people might have been before; before they had succumbed to death, before they had been laid to rest in the cold earth and before they had been exhumed and carefully arrayed in this hallowed place.

Rumors of a Nosferatu presence in the catacombs had been a staple part of Camarilla society since their construction, but only recently the presence had announced itself to the Prince. It was, no doubt, an uncomfortable revelation to some; even the local Nosferatu had failed to see it and their investigative skills were second to none. The truth was that certain areas of the Catacombs occupied by the bones of particularly pious individuals. Even in death, these Kine projected an aura not dissimilar to True Faith among the living; any normal Kindred who approached them would no doubt feel negative affects. It was these very bones that had shielded this particular Nosferatu from the outside world. He had once been a member of the Hajj, a sub-sect of Ashirra Nosferatu that had once guarded the holy sites of the then-fledgling religion of Islam and it was this affiliation that provided him with a particular resilience to the effects of True Faith.

With his birth name long forgotten, he instead used a name that had been with him since his induction into the Hajj, nearly fourteen centuries ago. The name had been chosen then for its ominous associations held by his namesake, the angelic guardian of Hell whom the Prophet(ﷺ) had met on his heavenly journey; Maalik. The irony was not lost on him that he was a damned individual using so holy a name to identify himself. It was this concept of identity Maalik pondered now as he proceeded to slide his skeletal frame through a gap behind a stack of skulls that stretched from floor to arched ceiling, disappearing into the darkness beyond.

[Arabella Balfour]

The sky outside was not yet pink with morning light. Only a pale ribbon of gray upon the edge of night. Regardless the city was awake. The noises. The smells. The lights. Cities changed slowly, but these simple things were fairly consistent. From the parking garage, she could smell bread baking. She could hear traffic on the street outside, see the irritatingly bright lights of passing vehicles.

Arabella had only just arrived home, her driver seeing her from the car door to the elevator, bidding her a 'Good day.' only when she was safely within. Once inside, she had only to press a button to be carried upward to the top floor. Home.

Instead she inserted and turned her master key, pressing a different selection. Down. There was still another visit she wanted to make.

[Cereza Belmont]

There was something down there. Certainly, she'd heard the stories from the nuns; who took measures to keep energetic children abed by divulging scary tales of demons that lurked beneath the city streets, creeping the halls for those unwise enough to rise before the appointed time. Cereza was a precocious child of eight and unlike the other orphans at the Belmont Abbey, she did not fear the darkness or the demons. Having been blinded in a motor accident, that had tragically robbed her of her parents, at an age younger than recollection, one could say that she and darkness were fast friends.


Everyone at the Abbey considered her to be a very odd child. She had no other friends, she much preferred to read her limited collection of braille books away from the other children; who, of course, could be quite cruel when it came to things unnatural and imperfect like her. This was why it was becoming an increasingly more familiar habit to climb out of her small twin bed and sneak through the silent halls before any of the others emerged from their dreams. As quietly as possible, she would slip into the gardens where she hid her 'adventuring' boots and overcoat. Stealing was a sinful thing to do, she knew, but the extra garments kept her from getting found out by the Abbess when she crept down to her secret hideaway.


Said place was a cellar-like niche in the garden and she no longer needed to count her steps to make her way there. Her small hands pulled at the worn brass handles and she carefully clambered onto the steps within. The air inside the cellar was cold and dampness from yesterday's rains still clung to it, causing her to shiver somewhat as she picked her way carefully toward her destination. Down and down she went, paved flooring giving way to something more natural. She felt the familiar, bracing grip of the unknown and a little smile curled her lips. A small toy bear was clutched beneath the same arm as her favorite book and she set both items down before her as plopped down on what felt like a small stone pedestal. Her legs kicked happily and she hummed, finally in her element.


Her humming stopped suddenly, her unseeing eyes turning along with her head. "Bonjour... or do you like good morning, better?"

[Maalik]

Deeper within the caverns, twenty three pale forms lay on elegant rugs acquired in Damascus centuries earlier. Some writhed, as if in the grips of a fever; some were deathly still. Every figure was a Malkavian, long since lost to the incurable madness that ran through the veins of Malkav's children. Maalik's skeletal form was crouched among them, while his voice, soft and reverent, spoke above the moaning and mutterings of the mad.

"In the name of Allah, the Gracious, the Merciful..."

A small gourd was offered to the Malkavian's lips, one by one. As distasteful as it was, Maalik was feeding them rats blood, just enough to keep them from death, but too weak to be a danger to themselves, to other Kindred or to the 'Masquerade' as the Camarilla called it in these times. This was a task he had undertaken with great care for nearly six hundred years... a necessary evil.

"No need to worry... Sickness is a means of cleansing from sins. All is as God wills it..."

To hear a person talk to God with such humility and reverence was rare even among the living, let alone the undead. Since the great Suleiman Ibn Abdullah converted to Islam in 622AD, there had been few who were truely faithful. Maalik was a member of a dying breed...

When his task was done, the Nosferatu left the insane to their fevered dreams, walking softly through the tunnels in deep thought. Such deep thought, in fact, that he almost didn't register what he was hearing. Light, scampering footsteps, no attempt made to stifle the sound. After centuries of secrecy, it was such an alien experience that he couldn't help but be drawn to it.

A small, human child. Maalik was stunned; Only the bravest or most foolhardy adult humans dared to walk these passageways. To see one so young here, utterly without fear, was truly incredible. As if that wasn't surprising enough, the little girl turned her head to greet him, causing him to emit a dry chuckle.

"Bonjour to you too, young one. As-salamu alaikum, peace be upon you," he said, his accent still bearing faint traces of Arabia, "Aren't you extraordinary... how did you know I was here?"

Before she answered, Maalik's ears picked up more footsteps in the distance. These were far more uniform, although equally unafraid. It appeared it was going to be an eventful day...

All is as God wills it... He thought, his fanged face stretching into some semblance of a smile.

[Arabella Balfour]

The walk was not far before modern concrete gave way to much, much older clay. The elevator, her elevator, had once been one of many vertical shafts leading downward, into the greater mines. Access to her building was sealed off from wandering cataphiles by two sealed heavy doors not worth the time to bother with. Or worth the penalty of being caught, warning signs and cameras were clearly posted. If they wanted a tour of the catacombs, they could pay for one.. Just not the parts that she could access. It was why she bought the building to begin with.

Her presence would not go unnoticed for long. There was a constant tapping of her heels, much like knocking on a door. It was true that she had an amicable relationship with those who dwelled below, hers was not the only key after all. Under normal circumstances, they would come to her. There was only one thing that would send Arabella down into the catacombs herself, she was there on their prince's business.

Evidently, there was someone who wanted to speak with Byron.

From the sound of voices carrying off the walls around her, she was interrupting a conversation already ongoing. Arabella might have stopped, reversed course and fled had she been a foolish little morsel. The scent of her perfume, and of her would have already given her away by now. And of Byron. As it happened, the prince's kept ghoul smelled distinctly of Gangrel this morning..

Smiling quite unrepentant, Bella kept walking and announced herself. "Bonjour..?" There was a definite question to her greeting. If she was intruding, she would be happy to come back later..

[Cereza Belmont]

Unseeing eyes continued to stare past where he might have been but her head tilted at the faintly accented voice that responded. She smiled, pleased that the shadows had finally answered back. She could not place the tinge to his voice, her worldliness relegated only in theory posed by the braille books she consumed. Her lips parted, ready to contribute more conversation with the answering darkness, only to pause as her attuned ears caught the echo of footsteps. More company? Goodness, today was an interesting day!

"Bonjour! A friend of your's, mon ombre?" She asked with a curious giggle, the scent of a woman's expensive eau de parfum overriding the otherwise musty, death-like smell that permeated the air around her.

[Maalik]

Maalik smiled warmly; as warmly as his fanged features would allow, at least. Turning to look at the raven-haired newcomer, he bowed his head in greeting.

"As-salamu alaikum," he said, respectfully offering the traditional greeting of his faith.

He could smell the Gangrel scent still lingering on her skin, but she was unmistakably human. He could even hear her heartbeat in the silences between words. A Ghoul perhaps? Who better to conduct Vampiric affairs during daylight hours. Without breaking eye contact with Arabella, he answered Cereza's question with a smile.

"Yes, little one, a new friend. Allah has blessed me with two new friends in one day, it seems."

Knowing full well that the Masquerade must be upheld, the Nosferatu made an educated guess. He had, up until relatively recently, a Ghoul bound to him. He had been murdered in the early 19th Century by a group of Hunters, but before he died, he brought Maalik many lifetimes worth of reading material; great boxes filled with books and scrolls. As always, the Nosferatu had started with anything relating to languages. Hopefully, the one he needed now hadn't changed much in the past two hundred years...

'Do you understand?' he signed silently, before returning to the spoken word.

"My name is Maalik. It is a pleasure to meet you both."

[Arabella Balfour]

There were some things that had simply ceased to shock Arabella. The appearance of the Nosferatu clan, for one. It had not happened overnight, but with time she had learned to see beyond what was generally considered deformity. Not only was she not bothered by their uniqueness, the ghoul admittedly found their distinct manifestations intriguing. If she had to assign a describing term to this one, she might go with antiquated. Although having seen two centuries herself, Arabella was not precisely in the bloom of her youth. Not yet knowing this particular Kindred, she proceeded with a measure of prudence.

"Wa ʿalaykumu s-salām..", Arabella returned politely. Languages had always come easily to her, she'd spoken three before her governess had left the family's service. While not fluent in Arabic, she did know that much at least.

Her eyes rested on the girl. It had taken years of practice, years of study, to not allow herself to react to the very sort of stimulus that jabbed her in the chest this very moment. While the child appeared to be in no imminent danger from their new friend, she was she a little girl. Sitting, chatting away happily with vampires was not where she should be. At all.

"Yes, hello there. Nice day for it..", she tried and failed, to cover her aversion to the situation. Maalik did not know her, anymore than she knew him. It was not him she objected to..

She signed back. Yes. Is she..lost?

"Enchanté, I am Arabella Balfour. The pleasure is mine, I'm sure."

Cautiously, she knelt before the little blind girl. "And who are you, my sweet?"

[Cereza Belmont]

There was such kindness, such patience in his words. Despite growing up in an abbey, under the thumb of many dogma fueled authorities, she could not say that she felt such sincerity before. Of course, she was young and unused to such things, it was entirely possibly that she was finding in his words that which she longed for. She had to remember not to trust so readily. In her experience, adults would tell you whatever they wished to keep you in line. But, she was willing to trust just this once. She hadn't had new friends in such a very long time.

Cereza slid down from the flattened pedestal she'd perched on; in actuality, it was an altar straight out of pages the of some LaVeyan Satanism doctrine, complete with dried blood, human skulls, and other objects one might expect. Maalik and Arabella introduced themselves and the blind girl dipped into an almost graceful curtsy. "Cereza Belmont. Although, Belmont is not my reaaal last name. They gave it to me, at the abbey." She informed them, her small hand reaching out to the woman's face, as she had knelt before her; she could tell by the parfum and shifting of the air. Her skin was smooth and she could tell she was beautiful. She just knew.

[Maalik]

Maalik smiled inwardly, finding himself grateful that Arabella had given the traditional response. It was nice to hear those words again, after so long... After bowing once more, he signed another silent message, this one accompanied by an amused grin.

'I think she is exactly where she wanted to be, it is us who disturbed her.'

"I know this Belmont Abbey, a holy-place of Christianity not too far from here; some of these passageways extend right beneath it. Many years ago, one of the resident Priests would come down here to practice his sermons and I would listen from the shadows."

As he watched those tiny fingers tracing delicately across Arabella's pale, yet beautiful face, Maalik could not help but be grateful that he had been guided to such a tender, innocent moment between the two mortals. These occurrences were so evanescent that the beauty of them increased exponentially. The light that burns twice as bright burns half as long... but those carrying Caine's Curse within them were condemned to the dark, barely any light left for them to find their way... It was surely a gift from God that he be there to bear witness.

"All the praises and thanks be to Allah," he whispered, his gaze upturned, as if looking beyond the earth to the sunlit skies above.

[Arabella Balfour]

The girl's artless curtsy was enough to pull upon the ghoul's heartstrings. When was the last time she had seen a little girl do that?, Arabella wondered. She held very still while the girl came close, reaching to touch her face. For a moment, Arabella had struggled, almost wanting to pull her face away from the touch. No, don't touch me. Don't make me feel for you, girl.

It was too late, the girl's fingertips made contact, skimming over her skin seeing her.

"It is very nice to meet you, Cereza. I know the abbey as well. Will you not be missed?"

From where she knelt, heedless of the dirt collecting on her, Arabella felt nothing but concern for the girl. It was not that she had any reason to mistrust Maalik, he seemed remarkably pleasant enough. Sometimes, it was the lovely ones that were the most rotten inside, as Arabella well knew. She had not become a ghoul by her own choice after all..

She was a very peculiar girl, blind but not hindered. Sweetness, surrounded by macabre surroundings, and there was something else about her, Arabella could not place it but yes..it was something about that sweetness. Maybe Cereza was just a pure soul, and it had been a long time since Bella had met one.

[Cereza Belmont]

Cereza listened to the accented, masculine voice of the pair with rapt interest; all the while her fingers gingerly exploring the soft planes of the woman's face. So, there was someone else at the abbey who knew about her secret hide-away, then? Although, he did say it was some years ago. She rather liked having this all to herself even though she knew it was selfish not to share. She'd just need to be extra careful...

"I don't think so... not until breakfas-" A bell chimed in the distance, still close enough to resonant the passageways with its tolling. Her hands dropped and she paled slightly, spinning around to gather her book from the pedestal. "I... I have to go! It was so very nice meeting you!" She scurried past, back the way she came. She paused at the threshold of the corridor, her free hand steadying her against a row of skulls.

"You'll... come again, right?" She asked in a small voice before disappearing into the shadows.

[Maalik]

Maalik chuckled as the abrupt realisation that accompanied the bell dawned across Cereza's little face.

"I'll be around, but take care not to stray beyond where you can hear the bell," he called after her before the shadows embraced her.

"What a fascinating child, so unafraid..." He said, turning back to Arabella, "I happened upon her mere moments before your arrival. Would you care to follow me?"

Maalik gestured down one of the many passageways that lead deeper beneath the earth.

"I take it your visit the Prince did indeed receive my letter? I fear I may have startled the Nosferatu I gave it to somewhat. Those cursed with Absimiliard's Bloodline spend so long beneath the world, that they sometimes forget to look deeper than their own Warrens..."

His voiced was tinged with amusement as they made their way further into the Catacombs. It was, after all, that very fact that had allowed him to stay hidden for so many years. Previous attempts to reintegrate with the society above had not gone so well...

[Arabella Balfour]

The tolling bell had much the same effect on the child, as the one in the tale involving fairy godmothers. All of a sudden she was rushing off with practiced steps, faltering only slightly as she tried to secure a second visit with them. Arabella felt the loss of her presence instantly, and did not know quite what to do with the feeling. It was as though their light had been stolen away..

"She is enchanting, but she should not be down here." Arabella muttered, rising to her feet.

"Yes, lead the way." Following Maalik deeper into the catacombs, Arabella did indeed hope he was as he appeared to be.

"I'm sure it was quite a shock to them. They do pride themselves on their knowledge, after all.", she smiled speaking of her other Nosferatu acquaintances.

"The Prince did receive your letter, yes. Please, think of me as a pleasant distraction until you are able to meet with him in person."

That she was there for no better reason than to get a bead on Maalik before he met with Byron was not said, but obvious. If he wanted to meet with the Prince he could go through the prince's fancy pet ghoul first, like everyone else.

[Maalik]

"Part of me wonders whether she's safer down here than above..." Maalik said, leading Arabella into his personal library. Walls of bones were replaced by shelves, carved out of the very rock. Upon these shelves were centuries of accumulated knowledge, scrolls of papyrus, books bound in faded leather and boxes containing trinkets and relics.

"The fear of 'other' runs deeply within Kine," he elaborated, his tone clearly betraying personal experience as one would expect for any Nosferatu, let alone one who followed Islam.

"My clanmates have every right to be proud of their accomplishments, even they have often been driven by survival or base paranoia at times. If ancient lore is to be believed, our dark father is still hunting us, even now," Maalik said, laughing softly, "I do not believe it myself, but I definitely hope I am not mistaken."

In the centre of the room, a long oak table served as a workplace for the Catacombs' occupant. He quickly moved a stack of books from one of the chairs, pulling it out for Arabella.

"Forgive me, I am not used to having visitors," he chuckled, "Pleasant or otherwise."

[Arabella Balfour]

How Maalik had managed to remain concealed beneath the streets of Paris for so long would be one of those unsolved mysteries that they always wondered about, Arabella supposed.

Not one to fidget over objects not her own, the way some of her friends were wont to do, Arabella found herself sorely tempted by the sights awaiting her in the Nosferatu's library. The sensitive pads of her fingers, artists fingers, itched to touch the delicate scrolls, unroll them and let her dark eyes roam over their secrets..

Instead, she slipped into the chair, as gracefully as though she were taking tea with royalty. "Forgiven.", she smiled. "For someone greatly out of the habit, you are a gracious host, Maalik."

She thought about his words. "Perhaps Allah keeps you well hidden?"

[Maalik]

Maalik watched carefully as Arabella's attention was captured by the contents of the library.

"Then what kind of host would I be if I denied a fellow scholar her curiosity?" he said, grinning once again, "There is no real system to my collection, but you are welcome to browse it at your leisure."

Crossing to a small cupboard set back into the stone, he retrieved a dusty bottle from within. Blowing the dust from the label-less brown glass, he presented it to Arabella before busying himself cleaning a glass for her.

"I'm afraid this is the only bottle that I have left that will still be drinkable. A Rüdesheimer Apostelwein, Vintage 1727," He said, completely oblivious to how much the bottle in question was actually worth, "You might want to let it breathe a little."

It was safe to say that the Nosferatu was thoroughly enjoying himself. Simply put, it was just nice to have company again.

"The Prophet, peace and blessings be upon him, once said 'God is kind and likes kindness in all things'. I try to exist by the many teachings of my faith but, I have to say, that one has held a special place in my heart for many years."

His smile turned from one of amusement to one of warmth at her query about Allah's hand in his remaining hidden.

"All is as God wills it. If he has, in his wisdom, kept me from harm all this time, then truly I have faith that it was he who guided me to rejoin the world also."

[Arabella Balfour]

"Oh! Please, can I?" Arabella was already rising from the seat she had only just occupied. Delighted like a child in a sweet shop, she was unsure where to begin. And not ready to go so far as to touch anything yet, but happy to look. She was not sure she should be touching any of it at all, she'd never forgive herself if it were damaged on her account.

Arabella turned, only to eye the bottle of wine. That had been old before she'd been born."I daresay.. Here, allow me. This I have done before, though maybe not one so kept, cher.."

Patting down her coat pockets she found two things that would help her greatly, a pair of tweezers from her travels, and an embroidered cotton handkerchief. Nothing she would lament the loss of, she had a drawer full of them somewhere. Things did tend to pile up. Standing over the bottle, she held it carefully in the crook of her arm, and held with one hand. The other hand wielding the tweezers with the sort of finesse that came from years of practice. Gradually, she managed to work them around the edge of the cork, not trusting it's age to a key, bit by bit she pulled it free and set the bottle down at once to breathe.

While it did, she considered what Maalik had said about kindness and found herself nodding. "It's a difficult subject for most, their faith or absence of it in some cases. I.. struggle with it myself." She waited for the glass, and when she had it set her handkerchief over the top, preparing to decanter the wine if all went well.

[Maalik]

Arabella's enthusiasm was infectious. Though it had taken him a great many years, he had read each and every treasured word contained within these rough-hewn walls. The prospect of reading something new was now a very real possibility, if the inevitable meeting with the Prince proved favourable. Now, as he watched the raven-haired woman uncorking in expert fashion, he couldn't help but admire her.

"It is said that Caine created the first Ghoul during the time of the First City. By some accounts, he was revered to the same extent as the Antideluvians themselves. In the past, I have found myself guilty of envying those like you. To be able to savour the taste of wine, the feeling of contentment after a meal, the warmth of a hearth... all things lost to Kindred."

His words, as always, carried a note of honesty that would be hard to doubt. In a way, he was lucky that he had only found his faith after his Embrace; not having the misfortune of having it called into question during an already turbulent time.

"Faith is often called into question by those who see our world. It is quite ironic, really, when so much of Kindred Lore is a direct parallel to the Abrahamic religions," he explained, having taken a moment to ponder her predicament, "Tell me of your struggle, I will endeavour to help as best I can. You are a Christian, yes?"

[Arabella Balfour]

In the short time that she had known Maalik, Arabella had already come to the conclusion that she hoped that everything would work out for the best. She was finding herself having a pleasant conversation, despite the odds, and could feel that he had meant what he had said about kindness. All the same, she would not like to see what would happen if anything should change that perspective, or threaten it. His age, his story, all of it remained shrouded in mystery, but she was very eager to learn it.

Those things he mentioned feeling the loss of, they might have mattered to her at one point. Did they anymore? Arabella was not sure. Taste, contentment and warmth, all describing words for things which she had neatly replaced in her life long ago. "Perhaps..", she allowed, not really able to speak on matters she'd yet to experience herself. "I find those things meaning less to me as my years like this go on."

Her struggle was of a private nature, and not something she discussed with strangers, but in this place beneath the streets, with just Maalik something occurred to Arabella. Something that she had read, a phrase about how you could not truly be trusted, until you had first placed your trust in someone else. Harder said than done, but she knew how to make a sacrifice, or a peace offering, depending on perspective..

"There was never really a plan for me..", she began. "Something happened to me, and my continued existence as a ghoul is simply the result. I became aware." The Masquerade, all of it..

"I never wanted to be embraced. I always had this little fantasy that someday, when I had lived enough, I would simply let go and what? I'm not quite sure! Float up to heaven and into my mother's arms, but.. that's not going to happen for me. Not after the lifetimes I've stolen, the sins I've piled on top of piles."

[Maalik]

Maalik felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he listened to Arabella's reply.

"Then perhaps it is a blessing that your attachment to them is waning," he said, his words warm and reassuring; a stark contrast to his appearance.

The Nosferatu listened with rapt attention as the Ghoul offered such a personal insight. He would not have been offended had she chosen to keep her cards close to her chest.

"Ah yes, the paradise that comes next..." he said softly, a knowing smile upon his face, "A question so buried at the heart of humanity that it has been asked since a time before memory... lucky are we who have found our answer, even if that answer is not all too appealing at first glance."

Throughout his many years, even one as pious as Maalik had experienced the occasional crisis of faith. Each, he surmised, was merely another test to be passed to prove his devotion.

“It is written in the Holy Qu'ran; God does not burden any soul with more than it can bear. I believe this to be true, even of us who walk in the darkness,” he said, reassuringly, "Even one as old as I cannot assume to have the vaguest idea of what the Almighty has planned for me. But what is faith if not trusting in his plan?"

Maalik chuckled.

"Or perhaps he is merely being patient with us and has given us more time to walk our path?"

[Arabella Balfour]

There was always something about Arabella's mouth, not quite a smile, but an expression of perpetual beguilement. Either she was seeing something she absolutely loved, or she was aware of something that someone else was not, or she was simply using the mannerism as a defense mechanism. Presently, it was an expression of true amusement. While she was grateful for the ritual of presenting a visitor with a gift, she wondered if Maalik understood the value of the bottle he was parting with. She rather doubted it. Still, she would not dream of insulting him by refusing it, or questioning it.

Wry grin still in place, she carefully poured the settled wine over the linen while they continued to talk.

"Perhaps..", she allowed. "It would be nice to think that maybe this was His plan for me. Complicated family history aside, I can tell you with complete conviction, Maalik. I don't want to be damned, but If our prince is not welcome in that paradise, I won't be going either."

Wine successfully poured, she removed the handkerchief and picked up the glass to see the results. Luckily it did not seem to have soured into a vinegar with age.

Lifting the glass with a smile, she waited a moment more. "To sudden appearances?", she smiled, meaning him.

[Maalik]

"Have you considered that there's nothing stopping you believing that?" the Nosferatu asked, a gentle note of teasing accompanying his sincere words.

A knowing smile tugged at the corners of Maalik's mouth. He remembered how powerful the bond between a Ghoul and their Kindred could be. It was a memory that was tinged with sadness, but at his age, such things were easily tolerable. He bowed his head in polite response to Arabella's toast.

"To sudden appearances and to new friendships," he replied warmly, regarding the raven-haired woman with great interest.

Perhaps it was time to return the gesture she had shown through her openness and honesty.

"I have been around for a very long time, Arabella..." He began, chuckling at how much of an understatement that statement was, "I lived in the times when the foundation stones of our religions had not long been hewed from the Earth. In all that time, I am still far from understanding the mysteries of faith, but I have learned to recognise blessings for what they are. That we are here, now, is a blessing in itself. How many moments across the eons have led us to the experiences we have had?"

Maalik paused, grinning. He knew whose face would appear behind her eyes when he spoke next...

"To the people He has placed in our path, and us in theirs?"

[Arabella Balfour]

Arabella lips parted to reply, but she said nothing for a moment. A response that quick might imply she was young and foolish, and she was no such thing. She had considered it. There was nothing to stop her from believing just that. Nothing perhaps but more than a thousand years of patriarchy and scripture, the Holy Roman church, and..her father once upon a time. Breaking some mindsets were more difficult than others, she found. Yet..maybe he was right. If she knew anything, Arabella knew that in the scheme of things, ultimately she was very small. Hers was not to know, but to have faith. That was what she had always believed to be true.

"That is something to think about.", she allowed, after a moment.

"New friends.." With the tentative lips of a novice at the communion wine, she sipped and listened to Maalik as he shared some of his story with her.

Maalik correctly deduced who her thoughts immediately went to. How could they not? What he was describing conjured it almost immediately to mind. A series of otherwise unrelated events that had led Byron right to her. Exactly when she had needed saving in the worst way. If that was not an answer to her prayers, Arabella was not sure what was. Perhaps Maalik was onto something..

Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was that what Maalik was saying simply resonated so deeply within her, regardless Arabella nodded. "Yes..", she agreed. "You may well be right.."

[Maalik]

"Perhaps I am... but I don't pretend to have answers, of course. I merely offer a different perspective," Maalik said softly, "I may be somewhat biased, for it has been my faith that has protected me through my hardships; guided me to be a better man. I was not always so..."

There had been a time, before he found his Faith, when he had reflected the suffering of his Cursed existence back upon the world. They had been violent times; the sins committed... countless. Maalik had much to seek forgiveness for, yet he did not let the past distract him from the present for more than a moment. He had questions and curiosities that burned within his mind.

"Would you do me a small kindness? Tell me of the Kindred world as it is tonight? What latest moves have been played in the great game?"

As he enquired, he retrieved a few items from the shelves nearby; A large, leatherbound book, quill and parchment. Sitting opposite Arabella, he opened the book and flipped past centuries of notes to reach a blank page. Knowledge was essential to survival, after all.

[Arabella Balfour]

There was something in the way Maalik said that, 'I was not always so...', that gave Arabella the first real sense of pause she'd had that morning. She had a vivid mind, there were images evoked that she could not really stop. She swallowed, not nervously, only the wine. Somewhere above them, the sun was probably out by now. It was first thing in the morning and she was having wine in the catacombs for breakfast. Very droll, even for her..

"Oh, cher.. that is a very long conversation.", Arabella smiled, though her eyes pleaded for understanding. She covered a yawn that crept up on her. While used to keeping odd hours, the desire to be helpful was present, but her quite mortal body was flagging. She'd had an energetic evening after all. "I'm not sure from where I need to catch you up, for starters."

"I think, Maalik.. that you definitely should speak with the prince though." She could not wait to hear what her darling one thought of his recently unearthed denizen. "And when you have, then please do feel free to come and see me above. You can find what you are looking for there, and if not I'll get it.", she promised. "That is what I do."

[Maalik]

Maalik found himself chuckling heartily, realising the enormity of the question he had just asked. He had been gone a long time, after all, and the Great Game the Kindred played was unceasing.

"Forgive me, perhaps a better question would be, who are the players? I have been hidden here since before the reign of your Prince began. While age itself poses no threat to us, we are far from immortal. I'd imagine most, if not all, of the few that knew me passed long ago."

The old creature paused, stroking his chin as he regarded the woman in front of him. His piousness did not negate his ability to recognise beauty as one might expect. After all, beauty was a gift from Allah, a blessing that could not be ignored.

"After all, a story is little without it's characters," he said warmly, breaking the brief silence with another inhuman smile.