[sub][b]P E T E R    L A P I N    +    E S T H E R    P U N I C E U S[/b][/sub][hr][sup][b]                        T a y l o r ' s    S t e a k h o u s e[/b][/sup]

	The meetings and public pageantry were getting more frequent and tense. There were rumors spreading like wildfires, and the Dream seemed to be more of of a vision lost to a nightmare, now. The loose leaf information, they were trying to piece together made nothing less of an heretical icon. 

	Along the dark wooded tables, freshly washed with cloth, the kindred sat patiently, as undead generally found their whole life a giant waiting game, a chess match that lasted generations. This time seemed no different yet different in all of its genre. 

	"They're drinking others."

	"One mind. One body. One soul."

	"I-... It's suicide."

	"Are the words, 'Beauty will save the world,' not words from a famous Dreamer, as well?"

	Esther interrupted the conversation. Her gentle fingers charmed the beads in her lap. "Is this true beauty?" Her inquiry was laced with an inner depth. Her dark eyes narrowed at space that separated each Kindred. She contemplated upon true beauty. There was something perplexing and awesome about the rare Tzimsce, "Their ways are strictly forbidden in Via Caeli." Her quiet voice was stern, "This is the way of the Dream, our road to heaven. They've lost their humanity. Diablerie is a sin. The road of the Beast is paved with sin. The Road of the Beast is not part of the Dream."

	"One. Two. Three. Four. Five," Peter began. His head ticked at thin air to the rhythm of Esther's fingers guiding prayers along the beads. "Raz. Dva. Tri. Chet'yre. Pyat." A crooked smile began etching and twisting itself over his lips.

	"A hare went out for a w-a-a-lk. Suddenly a hunter appeared, and shot the hare. Bang bang. Oh! Oh! Oh! My hare is going to die. He was b-brought home, and he turned out to be [i]alive[/i]..." A laughter tried to escape him. 

	"Ah," the Brujah interjected through the Malkavian's outbreak, "Was it not Anatole himself who saw this happening? He committed diablerie on many occasions." The Archeunuch sniffed his fingers as he thought about all this, "They whisper to him about Gehenna."

	[i]"Octav-io. Octav-iooooo."[/i] The Malkavian growned. His hands slowly reached for his head, "No, no, [i]noooo."[/i] 

	"Although, I do understand fully, there was an androgynous beauty of which the Byzantines relentlessly wished to capture," the Archeunuch continued. "And, it is not that of what [i]Sascha[/i] has done to themselves." His eyes met with Esther in agreement. "Furthermore, I have the ability to understand why Anatole may appear to have broken [i]some[/i] rules." His gaze left the Ventrue and cast carefully at the frantic Malkavian. "Do we not all sometimes?"

	The other Malkavian stiffened her shaky posture at the words of Andre. Her eyes darted from the Brujah to Peter and then to her cellphone -- desperately awaiting some phone call from the Camarilla to summon her return. It was difficult leaving her daughter with them, and once she had taken her back, she would be free, again, "I-I-I d-do-do-do not l-like it wh-when h-h-he m-mentions... when he mentions [i]Octavio."[/i] She glared at Andre. Psychotic tendencies swirled in her mind.