Basingstoke by night.

The 1st night.....

Watching a new crowd

Riding along the Old Basing road heading towards the town centre, a woman dressed in leathers is being tailed by a very specific style of car.
It’s been exactly 4 weeks to the day of the last gathering, a meeting of minds, influence, power and lust. Self important indignation lords it over actual talent, a counter to the adage with age comes wisdom.

But I digress, I’m telling their story not my thoughts on their kind.

She is overtaken by the car who flashes their lights and sounds the siren, indicating they would like her to pull over…..

Her beast takes a quick hold and for a moment the urge to resist this authoritative presence, but common sense prevails as there is such a thing as being unfashionable late.

An exchange of humour and a message to pass on leaves this creature of dreams perplexed and uncomfortable….

He is positioned by the knowledge of other people, led, pushed, guided and downright railroaded towards Indigo, he’s scruffy, smelly and out of place amongst the revellers, yet strangely he’s meant to be here, he’s got no real understanding of why, but he’s running and this is comfortable.

He’s manoeuvred upstairs where he is met by a social dominance and a secretive knowledge,

She’s beautiful, self assured and very familiar, have I seen her before…..

She looks at him with feigned disgust……
She knows he’s here for a reason, she has a thought that maybe he doesn’t know why he is here…..

She holds court here tonight, social court that is, not regency, that may come later….

She moves him to another room to give her time to greet the others, she’s conversed with him as is the requirement, but the secret just stands and watches……

In oblivious foppery another jester of this court watches all without it being seen……. That’s odd….. BE VERY AFRAID OF THIS ONE, I’m very rarely worried about this kind, but is Death….. no that’s harsh on Death, death is just, he is responsible for fear, murder, for a lot of the souls that are missing from this mortal world.

Next to be greeted by the rose, is a fake, in more ways than one, his family line hold onto a slender power wrestled from a miracle of their kind.
He also holds another secret, a figurehead for others power, a puppet if you will.

The puppet and the rose undergo pleasantries, before he quickly heads to see the Thorn, she invites him to another room, Hmmm warded….

Well I’m not meant to see this then.

Others float around, an old friend is here, I like him, I must see him again soon, tell him what is happening…..

To much material power this next one lording it about as if he owns the place, that will come as a shock…….

So the story is underway, I am very rarely surprised, shocked or fearful of anything but tonight I am all 3, that has not happened since Cain became……



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