[Sodium_noir] The innocent mansion of a panther's heart!

[Alyson Young]

> *The Sabbat manse
> Little Italy
 >
> /' Right,' a shout, backed up by all the power his dead lungs could 
> "Our pack are called the Mockingbirds, Templar. We have seen many war 
> parties and conquered cities. By the grace of Lilith I lead the pack, 
> and you may call me Elzibeth Vortigen. This is the Priest, Fatima, and 
> my sisters are Athenya and Sarah. It is our duty to protect the Priscus 
> in his wanderings."

Rachel starts to step forward, then stops.  Like a crashing wave, her 
uncertainty crashes over her.  She knows where she stands with Titus - 
they have a solid understanding, a shared blood tie like any other 
Sabbat pack.  Even in the space of days, that bond was unbreakable.

And she knew her role, both in fact and in planning.  She was Titus' 
pack priest, effectively his second in command, and earmarked to control 
the pack when he made a bid to replace Santiago.  She had the confidence 
and support of Two-tone, Lenny, and Karl, and was rapidly learning the 
basics of her new position.

But as to the social nuances of the situation before her ... she might 
as well be a fish flapping on carpet.

Rachel could never be described as stupid; she could size up this 
situation as easily as any other.  Titus had the floor; he had given it 
to anyone he didn't know, in order that they might become known, but he 
knew her in every sense but the biblical (so far).  The floor was not 
hers.  People had come forward to answer his challenge; logically, the 
next move was his... not hers.

Rachel knew somehow that this was a critical moment for her development 
as a pack priest and future leader; the people here were people she 
would need to know, to work with (and around!) in the years ahead, and 
that this was the time for those relationships to begin.  She also 
sensed instinctively that she had no standing with which to make the 
introduction.  The floor belonged to Titus.  It was his place to 
introduce her, or not to introduce her, as he saw appropriate.

Nervously, Rachel clutched her arms to herself, with a hand before her 
lips... a gesture defensively hostile, but not threatening.  By habit 
she began licking the edge of her palm... grinding her tongue so firmly 
into the flesh that her fangs left visible marks on her pale skin.  As 
usual, the gesture calmed her... allowed her to claim some measure of 
control.

Knowing that her future status rested at this moment in Titus' hands, 
she shot him a look that spoke volumes - of her understanding, her 
nervousness, her commitment, and maybe a little bit of good friendly lust.

TAG