Cursing the Darkness (complete)

[Sansa]

<center>The Kidnapping of Sansa Martin by the Sabbat Archbishop Katarina Gordislava</center>

"Oh no. No, no, no, no!" Emile laughed, planting herself in front of her flatmate and forcing Sansa to stop walking. "You are so different! Who is this man that has you under his spell?" She waggled her fingers mysteriously, and Sansa pushed her hands out of her face irritably.

"Emilie, you're supposed to be helping me shop, not giving me the third degree about Gabe-" She snapped her mouth shut.

"Gabe?!" The blond Parisian nearly shrieked the name, causing several other late night shoppers to look their way. She grabbed Sansa's arms, nearly causing the other girl to drop the bags she was carrying. "So there is a man. I knew it!"

Sansa grimaced, "Yes, yes. You're very sharp, Emilie." She pulled away from her friend's touch, and handed her one of the bags. "Can we just get to the last store on your list before they close?"

Emilie made a face, but took the proffered bag in her black gloved hand. "But of course." They walked in silence for a while, and then Emilie giggled, "I cannot believe you've actually found someone, and you are hiding him from me! You wretch! Mon Dieu!"

"Yes, yes, I know." Sansa grinned, finally, the thought of Gabriel bringing a smile to her face. "But you'll find out in time. I don't want you to scare him off, after all."

"Moi?" she spluttered, "But no, I would not!" Emilie linked her arm through Sansa's as she steered them across the street. Neither seemed to notice the shadows growing around them.

[Sergei Vishnyakov]

The girls, being so caught up their laughter, failed to notice a man running right towards them. Conversely, he appeared to have not noticed them. It was an unfortunate combination and lead to all three colliding in the center of the street. Their bags fell to the floor, spilling out some their contents onto the icy road. The man stood stock still, apparently not sure what to do, his face partially obscured by the up-turned collar of his winter coat.

On either of the street, the shadows were growing longer.

[Sansa]

Emilie loosed a string of French curses as she flopped comically about in the street, slipping and trying to scoop up a pair of shoes that had come out of their box. Sansa had the breath knocked out of her for a moment, but was soon shaking her head and pushing herself up with gloved hands.

The man standing next to them seemed as surprised as they were, but as the moments passed and he still didn't move, both girls had a sense of foreboding. Sansa tried apologizing as she grabbed Emilie's hand to yank her friend to her feet. "I'm so sorry, we didn't see you..."

[Sergei Vishnyakov]

The man shook his head, as if coming out of some daze and began to apologize profusely. He knelt down and tried to help the young woman gather up her shopping, all the while cursing his clumsiness. In the end, no harm was done, and both parties carried on with their daily routine in spite of the inconvenience, annoyance lingering only briefly. Sansa and Emilie got their shopping, the young man got to his destination in time, and world peace was achieved. Or at least, that is what should have happened.

The shadows at Emilie and Sansa's feet, shadows that technically should not have been there, suddenly sprung upwards. The dark shape behind Sansa wrapped its tenebrous, constricting arms around her, while the form at Emilie's heels pushed the young woman forward with a vicious snarl. She collided again with the man in front of her, only this time it was his fist that hit her, right in the jaw.

[Sansa]

Sansa felt her throat constrict in fear, her screams seized up before they could be voiced. She tried to fight with...whatever it was that was holding her, strugging against cord-like wrappings that her brain could only describe as tentacles.

Emilie was punched in the face by the man who'd knocked them over originally, and she fell limply to the ground, unconscious. Their attacker snapped his fingers, and an unmarked panel van came up the street, stopping beside them. A tentacle wrapped itself around her head, covering her mouth and eyes. A series of strange sounds could be heard - the doors opening, the thump of something solid being thrown into the van. Other sounds she could not identify.

Sansa was picked up with ease and also placed inside the vehicle, still bound and helpless. Terrified, she tried to struggle against whatever it was that had her held, but the thing around her head merely shifted, blocking her nose as well. Denied air, Sansa's struggles became more intense, until she slipped into darkness.

[Katarina Gordislava]

"They will be here shortly, Archbishop." The young Lasombra bowed, showing herself out of the sitting room.

Katarina practically leapt to her feet, as excited as she'd been in weeks. There was a room prepared for their guest, though not as comfortable as the flat where the kine had lived. No, not comfortable at all.

She resisted the urge to rub her hands together, but her sense of satisfaction was growing. Gabriel's abominable plaything was hers, and she would make him grovel to get her back. The Camarilla were so weak minded when it came to mortals, and the Toreador the silliest of the Camarilla. With Sansa Martin in her hands, and the Assamite readying his assault on the Primogen, the Prince of London would find himself on very shaky ground.

Katarina left her rooms and swept down the stairs towards the first floor.

[Sergei Vishnyakov]

The front door swung open with perhaps a little more force and bravado than was really necessary, as tall bulky Lasombra made a show of forcing Sansa and Emilie inside – the latter being pushed far more forcefully than the former. Much more subdued, Sergei stepped over the threshold without a word, and effortlessly held young Miss Martin by the wrists, his grip seemingly iron-wrought. The sound of the Archbishop descending the stairs could be heard and the over-eager Lasombra, clearly taking pleasure in the terror he instilled, sized Emilie by the back of her neck and thrust her forwards, as if presenting her to Katarina. Around the room, through doors ajar, pale faces peered out in curiosity.

[Sansa]

Her wrists crossed over each other in front of her, Sansa stumbled into the house after Emilie. The man beside her was holding her wrists with one pincer-like hand, his grip strong enough that her fingers were going a little numb.

For whatever reason she couldn't fight his hold on her, but her terror was so strong it was almost palpable. Emilie seemed dazed, her blonde hair mussed and a bruise was forming on her jawline. The ...man? who held her shoved her forward by the back of her neck. There seemed to be people all around them, watching silently as a stylish woman came down the large staircase into the entry way.

The front door closed behind them, and Sansa could barely make out the sound of the van driving away. She forced herself to pay attention to what was going on, trying to remember faces - no, wait, if they showed you their faces didn't that mean they would kill you? Her knees threatened to buckle, but somehow she was held up by the grip on her wrists.

The woman from the house was dressed in a fashionable black pantsuit with a dark red shirt underneath. Her face was pretty, if not a little thin, and she stopped well away from the two captives, a look of disdain twisting her features.

[Katarina Gordislava]

Ignoring the Londoner who pushed the blonde kine at her, Katarina directed her question to Sergei. "And pray tell, why are there two of them?"

Before he could answer, she stopped him with a hand gesture. "An answer later. Get these into the room and secure them both."

[Sergei Vishnyakov]

The Cainities nodded collectively. The kine were marched from the vast antechamber into an equally impressive antechamber. There were rooms far less welcoming in the manor house, but those dark cells would be saved for later. The parlour was dark and dusty, as if had not been used for years. There was a large oval portrait of an elderly man of noble blood on one wall, whilst a dresser of yellowed china and ornaments rested against another. A birdcage stood in the corner, occupied by a ex-parrot, stuffed.

Once inside their new temporary home, the two mortals were gagged and bound securely at the wrists and ankles, then cuffed to the sturdy chair they had been sat upon. Sergei oversaw the entire affair, making sure that the London Lasombra didn't make any bumbling errors. They worked well, and he allowed them to remain on guard of their prisoners, while he departed to find Katarina.

[Katarina Gordislava]

Sergei nearly bumped into her in the hallway, and Katarina snapped, "I ask for one kine and they bring me two? Could they not tell the difference between them in the darkness?"

[Sansa]

Emilie blinked slowly, turning her head to look at Sansa. There were voices in the hallway, but they couldn't hear what was being said.

Sansa felt like she was going to hyperventilate, but with her mouth taped shut she could only breathe through her nose. Her flatmate moaned against the gag, leaning over and resting her head on Sansa's shoulder, her arms held away from her at an angle because of the handcuffs. They were seated on an antique loveseat of some kind, with sturdy arms and legs. She worried for a moment that Emilie would overbalance and end up falling off and hitting the ground. With their arms bound and cuffed to the chair, there was no way to catch themselves.

She leaned her head against her friend's, smelling the citrus shampoo they both shared. Across from them there were two men - one sitting on a dusty chair, the other standing. They were both watching the girls with the intensity of scientists regarding lab rats.

There was a woman behind them, but Sansa couldn't turn her head to see where she was exactly. She looked at the men again, and changed her mind about the way they were looking at her and Emilie. It was more like a starving man regarding a sandwich.

Sansa closed her eyes, and thought about Gabriel.

[Sergei Vishnyakov]

“They thought she might be useful,” Sergei replied, not in the slightest taken aback by the Archbishops irritated manner. “That we could use her to get information out of the Prince's toy.”

[Katarina Gordislava]

The Archbishop raised an eyebrow. "She may. At the very least we'll find another use for her."

Katarina swept into the room, pausing to remove her suit jacket and to carefully lay it across the back of a chair. "Hello girls." She smiled an unfriendly smile.

[Sansa]

Sansa's nostrils flared with fear as the woman from the staircase came into the room. What did they want with them? Who... or what... where they?

"I am going to ask you some questions," her accent was light, but distinctly Russian. She was looking into Sansa's eyes. "And you will answer them truthfully, without a fuss, or it will go badly for your friend."

Emilie made a choking sound, muffled against the gag, and the flatmates looked at each other, their fear mirrored in the other's eyes.

"Look at me." Sansa turned and looked at the woman in the red shirt, unable to stop herself from doing so. "Do you understand me?"

She nodded her head shakily, yes.

"Good." The woman turned to one of the men who'd been watching them, "Remove the tape from her mouth."

He walked over to her, and Sansa winced as the tape was ripped free, taking a bit of her lip with it. She licked her lips, tasting the iron of her own blood.

[Sergei Vishnyakov]

Sergei watched everything in silence. The whole world was about to come crashing down around these two young women. Their lives as they knew them were over. Unlike the Camarilla, the Sabbat did not take time to tie up loose ends. While the Ventrue soothed the confused kine with the lies of the Masquerade, the Sabbat simply killed those who were useless or a liability. They hadn't asked for it, simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but such was the lot of kine, getting themselves tangled up in things they didn't understand.

[Katarina Gordislava]

Katarina took a seat across from the kine, crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap. "Who are you?"

The dark haired girl blinked, but seemed unable to reply. Katarina snapped her fingers, and the Lasombra female who was behind the mortals strode forward, using a key to unlock the blonde's cuffs. She effortlessly yanked the girl to her feet, and the brunette shook her head, her eyes pleading. "S-sansa. Sansa Martin. Please, don't hurt -"

"You do not get to beg, Miss Martin." Katarina cut off the girl's plea, but nodded to the Londoner, who sat the French girl down on the rug, her fingers twisted cruelly in the girl's blonde hair. "What is the nature of your relationship with Gabriel Rodermark?"

[Sansa]

Who am I? Who are you?!

Sansa's thoughts were a mess, jumping from one place to another. Emilie was crying, her sobs unheard as she was placed roughly on the floor. Now the woman was asking her about Gabriel, for some reason. He was well off, but surely if he had dangerous enemies he would have told her.

She didn't hesitate, but tried to answer as quickly as possible to spare Emilie. "We're friends... I just started seeing him a few weeks ago."

"Only friends?" The woman raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"N-no, we..." Was he her boyfriend? Calling him that seemed like it would cheapen their relationship. "I love him."

"She loves him." One of the men in the room mocked her, but was silenced by the woman in red.

"You have only known him for a matter of weeks?" She leaned forward slightly, intent on Sansa's every word, every nuance of her expression.

"I - I met him on New Years... at the Barbican Art Centre. Please, what is going on? I swear I don't know anything about anything." Sansa felt her eyes welling up with tears to match Emilie, but strangely enough the worst part of it was that she felt she would never see Gabriel again.

The man who'd brought her into the house was still standing by the door. He exchanged a look with the woman in red.

"You were at the Barbican on New Years?" Again, the raised eyebrow.

"Y-yes..." Sansa tried to choke back her tears. What was going on?

[Sergei Vishnyakov]

They had met at the Barbican. Surely that meant that she had been witness to the attack, yet the ignorance she confessed seemed sincere. The Camarilla had pulled the wool over her eyes, like so many before. Sergei did not speak – it was not his place to overstep the authority of the Archbishop – yet he wondered whether she believed that Rodermark loved her in return. It was a truly sickening thought and any respect that he had previously possessed for the London Prince evaporated with it.

[Katarina Gordislava]

The thought of loving a kine was mind boggling. When she'd first been reborn, Katarina had struggled for years with her new life. Her relationship with her husband had fallen apart. Her children had served as sick reminders of mortality, even more so when they were murdered.

It was only when she'd been given a clean slate, free from her mortal loves, that she'd truly been free to experience everything the Lasombra had to offer. To cling to such delusions, especially knowing that a mortal would die so quickly...

"She's a ghoul." Katarina narrowed her eyes at Sansa's whitened face. It was made sense - keep your plaything around for as long as you wanted, while ensuring loyalty. Well, it made sense for a Camarilla. She got to her feet, and walked towards the girl. "Miss Martin, tell me what you know about the London Camarilla."

"The... the what?" She seemed genuinely confused. "Is that... another art gallery?"

"No, you fool." Irritated, Katarina pushed away the female Londoner and pulled the blonde kine to her feet. She shoved her at Sergei, and the girl fell into his arms, unable to catch herself because her feet were bound. "The more you play these games, the worse it goes for her. Remember?"