From the Outside In
Lies, Damned Lies
You may question why— with our interest in experiments and physical transmutation— we do not mix with Tzimisce. It’ s a good question. The harsh truth is we harbor aversion for Fiends who experiment by adding new orifices, appendages, and similar. It’ s all so vulgar. Yes, there are rare metamorphosists who impress with transcendency of the physical form. A cabal of Kiasyd has attempted to follow their Path of Metamorphosis, as it does speak to the part of us craving change. You’ d do well to study it. Alas, most Tzimisce are simple children who’ ve not yet passed Freud’ s phallic stage, and so cannot be approached. They have no refinement, and it’ s offensive to compare their experiments with ours.
I will hear no more on the subject!
From the Outside In
Throughout our meeting, you’ ve been pulling disgusted expressions whenever I speak truths. Truths are, frankly, impolite to air. Our bloodline does not make the mistake of telling other vampires the truth, and risking impropriety. We remain civil, even aloof, when met by other Cainites. It’ s easier to lie when wearing a mask of politeness and couching dialogue in deference, use of titles, and formalities. We sip vitae from silver chalices, dab our lips with handkerchiefs, and nod sagely as the Archbishop speaks.
Not so when among our own. Airs of graciousness are dropped during the Grand Symposium, for instance. Among our kind, we speak with candor and honesty likely to horrify others. We practice acts I dare say would even make debauched Toreador antitribu blanch.
When we feed in private, the masks drop. I know of a Weirdling cauchemar who creeps into sorority houses to feed. If the grounds fall in the territory of another vampire, he feeds without leaving a trace, except for perhaps pleasant dreams in the mind of the vessel. If the grounds fall outside of said territory, and the Kiasyd knows himself to be alone, the inside of the sorority house becomes the scene from a nightmare. Expect survivors so traumatized they’ ll never recount the events. They’ ll likely kill themselves before anything other than screams leave their freshly lipless mouths.
We’ re not savages or sadists, as a rule. Everything we do is done for a reason: experimentation, pushing our boundaries, drinking blood from a wailing vessel when compared to a weeping one, and so forth. We record the results in our diaries, and when we meet fellow Weirdlings, we share our findings. Some Kiasyd feel the need to remain in touch with their Humanity, and that’ s acceptable, if limiting. If they can contribute to the greater work of our bloodline while imitating genteel vampires of legend, more power to them.
INE BLOOD— PART-COAGULATED THROUGH SHAKING— INFUSED WITH AN AROMA OF ALMONDS AND BRINE, WITH A SPLASH OF SODA, WHIPP WARNING! PREPARE YOUR PACK WITH A STAKE IN CASE OF BEDLAM!
Personally, I savor the intoxicating taste of fear.
Lyssa’ s Froth
n THE TASTE OF PURIFIED RAGE IS POTENT INDEED, AS LYSSA’ S FROTH PROVES. PRIMARILY FORMED OF LUPINE BLOOD— PART-COAGULATED THROUGH SHAKING— INFUSED WITH AN AROMA OF ALMONDS AND BRINE, WITH A SPLASH OF SODA, WHIPPING CREAM, AND SUGAR SYRUP; THIS MULTIFACETED BREW IS BEST CONSUMED FROM A TALL, SILVER CHALICE.
Lies, Damned Lies
The Kiasyd bloodline of Marconius is the only one extant. This is fact, but a hard truth to swallow for those who claim differently. Such liars need to be put down quietly and properly. There are many lies doing the rounds these nights, none of which hold a grain of veracity.
One is Hrotsuitha has returned from the Abyss after a millennium submerged in its tendrils. Supposedly, she’ s quite insane, violent, and seeks to do irreparable harm to Marconius and his descendants. A few Kiasyd have fallen silent in the last decade, but I attribute this to torpor or a natural desire for seclusion. Boogeymen stalking our dreams and eating us from within is a nonsense tale, designed by Kiasyd with rampant imaginations. Talk of Weirdlings claiming to be of her bloodline is likewise poppycock.
Additionally, there exists the dangerous myth that it’ s possible to Embrace a changeling. This lie gathered momentum some centuries ago. Falsehoods with enough impetus can become truths— at least until they’ re quashed. I tell you now; Embraced fae do not become Kiasyd. They die horribly. To concede the possibility is to concede our founder is no more than one of the fair folk, unlucky enough to have been on the end of a Lasombra’ s fangs. It would also mean everything he ever told us was a lie.
In our case, I prefer the truth with bad intent.
58 KIASYD