Marisol/Contacts

Selena: Mi ductus. Much more grounded than the typical Fiend, too.

Lux: Aside from an unfortunate fixation on bikers, the finest seer one could ask for.

Sinclair: It is refreshing to find a wild boy ready to grow up.

Noa: I get the appeal of court jesters better now.

Freeman: Build a shrine to the ancestors and it is religious observance, yet honoring a royal lineage is the work of 'fascists' now.

Gregg: There is quite a lot of potential there. There is quite a lot of everything, in truth.

Hassana: It is perhaps more just to have the means of the enemy subverted to the Jyhad. But I do enjoy plowing with salt.

Santos: It is good for my Sister to have a project. I am sure she can see the example set by my chamberlain and work towards that.

Vera: The other kind of fiend. One of the, how do you say it, rednecks.

Khamael: Would someone get this poor soul a tongue already?

Salvatore: What a disappointment. But with all things Italian, perhaps a German will be along to do it better.

The Red Circle: Once, decades ago, I found myself in New York, and travelled for a time with the Ruff Ryders pack. Their ductus, who was proudly associated still with his mortal contacts within the Fistfucking Federation of America, had a distinct prolapse that through various viccissitudes was capable of movement and even rudimentary speech. I wish him and his packmates well wherever the Night may take them even now. In contrast, the Red Circle was a dishonorable freakshow best left to the dust of history.