Heather of New Haven
- 1 Overview
- 2 Character Information
- 3 The Stories She's Told
Heather of New Haven
The Cast Iron Cunt
Real Name: Many are rumored, none confirmed.
Apparent Age: Mid Thirties
Concept: Do not fuck with me, and I will not fuck with you.
Physical description: Caucasian female, 6' tall, medium build and muscled. Blonde hair in braids usually pinned to her head, yellow eyes and an odd twitch.
- Acknowledged by Prince Hayden of Yuba City
- Just by Prince Alejandro Patron of New Haven
- Indomitable by Prince Riley of Sacramento
- Relentless by Prince Book of San Fransisco
A hard enemy to have, Heather is an even harder friend to loose for the few she has named such.
Heather stood as one of the Seventeen that fought and destroyed what was left of Angus the Unruled on the Mirakatsu, and drew first blood with a rifle given to her on that night. Though dodging the spotlight seems to be her MO, she spoke at the Conclave that restored Xavier to the Justicarial seat and emerges from time to time with scathing retorts when provoked.
Heather took the Praxis of New Haven, but left it 6 months later with little explanation to live in Sacramento as one of Jackson Riley's pet former Prince brigade. She is often seen tagging along with Shanghai Kelly, though rarely looks happy to be there.
To the Camarilla, Heather's loyalty to her clan is a great disadvantage.
To the Gangrel, Heather's loyalty to the Camarilla is a great disadvantage.
To the Anarchs, Heather is alternately one very Cast Iron Cunt or amusing to poke with sticks, the jury still seems to be out on which.
Are you nuts? No one can stand this bitch for long enough to coterie with her.
See above. Though she does sometimes seem to have the ear of the oddest people...
Anyone who pisses her off, which seems to be everyone.
Breyer of New Haven
Probably others, you know how these Gangrel are...
God, can you imagine being kin to her?
7 of 9, and my cat.
Bound for Glory, Floater
Fever Dream, 300 sound track
The Roast of Shanghai Kelly
I am just a simple Gangrel.
Sit down and shut up until you earn your right to speak, childe.
You cannot possibly be that stupid. PLEASE, tell me you are not that stupid, and you are just trying to fuck all of us.
Tell me why I should listen to you. Make a compelling argument, and I might.
Use your magic on me and I'll use my claws on you.
Heather fled Northern California after being caught indoctrinating neonate Gangrel with Anarch propaganda.
Heather is Wilson Coltrane's childe.
Heather and Shanghai Kelly are lovers.
Heather is gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide. Except the lesbian version of that.
Heather is a coward.
Heather will rip off your face with her claws if you piss her off.
Heather was named Heather by her sire because she is so soft.
Heather is City Gangrel.
Heather's sire picked a fight with Prince Book, and Book blood bound her in retaliation.
The Stories She's Told
Heather sits up, rolls her shoulders. Turning slightly, the light from the fire catches her eyes frequently as it flickers. Its an odd double reflection off of the glasses lenses and then her pupil's coyote-reflecting glare
"In the long dark long ago, before there was more than one of each thing in the world there lived Raven and Coyote. Then as now they lived often on the edges of things, watching, and playing."
"Now, there were few laws in that time, but the few there were were inviolate. Nothing could break them, for Man had not yet come to the world. First and foremost of all the laws that had not yet even been written was balance. All things in balance."
"In that time Coyote was not as we know her now. She could run through the sky at will, alone in the dark blank that did not yet even have the stars to light the way. Raven, too was different. He wore a coat of brilliant, beautiful colors. When Raven passed, all who saw him were haunted by his gorgeous feathered magnificence, and so to make sure the saw him always he simply hopped along the ground."
She leans forward slightly, and in a faintly mocking tone "Raven was as we know him now, you see, in his pride."
Releasing your gaze she leans back again. "The world spun, and new things came to it. One night, Hunger came into Coyote and spoke quiet words to her. So, as they played Coyote snapped at Raven, snapped and caught the wondrous, beautiful coat of feathers.. and Coyote swallowed it up."
"Coyote stopped, and tried to beg forgiveness from Raven, but he was very angry, and made even more so by the liquid, crystal notes that Coyote now spoke with. The law, said Raven, is the law. So, snatching, he took from Coyote her flight."
"Cackling in his dark voice, Raven fled for the night. After not too long a time Raven found forgivenss had grown in his heart and so he went to share with Coyote this new thing, to trade for this Hunger Coyote had gained. When he returned though, he found Coyote could not see him. Black against black, there was no more brilliance for Coyote to pick out in the night. And Coyote sat, and howled her loneliness to the dark."
"Even this Raven could not hear though, for the black night swallowed it up. All alone Raven flew in the cold, bereft even of the small whispers of conversation between others. So Raven, quick thinker that he was and is, went to the river and bathed, and flew to the sky, smearing droplets of water across the night. Heather looks up at the stars Then, Raven could hear Coyote's song, reflected back to him."
"Moved by their friendship and Coyote's cries, Raven came again to Coyote. Coyote, at last able to see her friend sihloetted against the stars, quieted and smiled. She promised Raven to never again come at him, and Raven promised to never again be so slow as to let himself be caught."
"Then, Raven told Coyote the other thing. Coyote, my friend, he said. I have taken from you something, and all things must balance. A gift for a theft, always. So, now dear friend,
Heather's eyes flick back to yours
"As I take from you your loneliness, I give to you your Clan."
In the raw beginning, there was little to stop the wind and the rain and the thundering strike. Those who lived in this time put their shoulder to the wind and pressed on, resting only for a moment in the lee of a hill until the wind changed again and they were forced out. In darkness, in night, when a voice was lost to the howling winds it was lost forever, remembered by none.
There were those who grew tired of this existence, and so erected six pillars against the wind. In darkness, in night, there arose a structure to fight the storms and shield those underneath the lofty roof.
Some chafed against the mighty walls, scoffed at the building and the overly polite ways of those within it. They built their own houses, but in the end found that they would stand only while leaning against the great pillars. In darkness, in night, many came to the great house, and some to the lesser.
Time passed, and some wished to exit and face the wind on their own. Into the Wild they went, pressing into the wind and rain, come what may. Their wanderings became the stuff of legends, but storms arise that no one man can stand and face alone lest they be swept away. In darkness, in night, where does the lone traveler turn?
To the Tower, standing tall.
The Little Brujah that Couldn't
Pyro Torpor. Let me tell you about Pyro Torpor, the little Brujah that couldn't.
Cracking her neck, Heather stands.
Once upon a time in a place not so very far from here there lived a nice.. ok, a horrible bitch that we'll call 'Ivy'. 'Ivy' worked for the Prince, Alejandro Patron. If you've ever met that man, you may have some idea of how rough it might be working for him. Well 'Ivy' got along well enough, but Prince Patron liked to have 'Ivy' be the bad guy any time he could. So she handled Hospitality for Patron. One night the Brujah Harpy, Zhan, came to 'Ivy' with a new Brujah to be introduced. Something was off about how the Harpy was doing it though. You know how teenagers egging each other on sort of stand back when their buddy is about to do the really stupid thing? That's what Zhan did when this new Brujah was asked his name.
Pyro Torpor. The boy says his name is Pyro Torpor. And I'm .. I mean 'Ivy' is just kind of flabergasted. Then 'Ivy' figures the punk is just fucking with her, but to be sure 'Ivys' not going to need to murder a bunch of people who end up carding the little bastard, she asks for his ID. There, plain as day, he's got "Pyro Torpor" on his government issued ID.
A loud pop is heard as Heather's neck cracks with no apparent movement.
'Ivy' gives the Harpy a look and he swears he'll take care of it. Court comes around and the time comes for Hospitality. Heather straightens "Welcome, Kindred of New Haven. Do any of the city have business before this court?" She unbends And up comes Zhan and his new little friend. Zhan says he's got someone seeking hospitality, and the fucker gives 'Ivy' his shit eating grin and announces Pyro Torpor.
So, what's a girl to do?
'Ivy' turns to the Prince, has a nice little chat while showing the court her 'angry face'. Then she turns back, and announces that as good Harpy Zhan has vouched for her, Sally Torpor is hereby given the Hospitality of the Domain of New Haven. She is welcome within the Domain.
Thing about Brujah is, they're just looking for a reaction. Probably Zhan's grand scheme was to have me flip out, and for the Prince to extend mercy in a grand gesture. Zhan was a rough friend to have. But, I have my secret weapon. Holds her arms out, mimes pulling something out of a sleeve and then gives you a conspiratorial grin. 'Ivy' does, I mean and so do you, now. And that is, not being what you let them think you are.
Now, what happened to dear little Sally? Well, seems like she couldn't control herself. Flipped out right after court, sadly still in Elysium. Of course 'Ivy' looked the other way while the Brujah hustled her out quiet like. Heather's eyes glint It is important to extend favors to our dear friends, isn't it?
Moral of the story's a simple one, though you'll have to forgive me for speaking it. If you're not willing to Sally forth on the field of battle given to you, you'd best be willing to end up in Torpor.
With a mock bow, Heather sits.
The time I met Joe Barclay? Sure, I'll tell you about meeting Joe. I was in San Fransisco, for my very first ever big get-together since David found me. I was a biddy little Sheriff for New Haven, and my oh my were there ever some intimidating mother fuckers out there. Book got up, was joking about diablerie.. good times. Heather cracks her neck
So finally I figure its time to stop hugging corners and say hey to the locals. I ask a lady with a very large stick if she is indeed the Gangrel Primogen as I was told, and she says no, no she aint. Her tone tells me exactly where I can stick my Gangrel and smoke it, too, but she's ever so nice enough to point out to me the Gangrel Primogen, Leanne Brokencage. I don't know if you know of Brokencage, she's a story in and of herself, but she was certainly a Gangrel Primogen of Sacramento even if it was for less time than it takes most people to fart. In her usual way Brokencage had something else to run off and do, so she says 'here, this is Joe, he's one of us talk to him' and she scampers off.
Now here I am all by my lonesome with Joe Barclay, who it turns out is an Anarch Baron of something or other. Now I knew crap all about how the Anarchs worked or who was what, but I did know from my time up in New Haven that they tended to enjoy throwing eggs at Sheriffs, so I figure sooner or later Joe's going to be looking to serve me a warm slice of crow pie. I stick this on my back burner though, because as you know if you've met Joe he's kind of an.. 'intense' conversationalist. A half grin At least his issues with personal space and the other creepinesses about him confirmed he was indeed Gangrel.
We sit down, and Joe does that thing where he turns the chair around and sits on it reversed. This has always been a pet peeve of mine, because as much as I may give two shits about how you decide to sit your ass down, its always bugged me that doing that means if you try to get up you're legs are going to get tangled. And I've had a long night and I'm tired of biting my tongue and its a damn Anarch, if you can't mouth off to Anarchs who CAN you mouth off to right? So I ask him why he sits like that, and he tells me. He tells me its so if his vest goes off I'll be partially protected, and then he shows me his vest.
You seen Joe's vests? C4 and ballbearings, and a shitton of wires all mixed up in a big old mess of explosive happy times. Just the thing to set you at ease. To top it off, Joe does that thing, you know- Heather looks over your shoulder, then raises her eyebrows slightly as if she just recognized who is behind you. She looks back at you with a slight grin. That. I glance behind me all nice and casual like Heather mimes a somewhat panicked look over her shoulder. and oh who do we have here? Three little punks in leather and chains, gee those couldn't POSSIBLY be Anarchs coming up behind me, could they? I stand up so my back's not to them, and Joe follows suit. Of course now Joe's done his thing Heather steps forward until she's uncomfortably close, looking intently at you and again he's glancing over my shoulder oh so subtly and confirming whatever it is they have plan with his buddies. She steps back out of your personal space.
Great. Its 'punk the Sheriff' time in San Fransisco. Good thing this is Elysium, right? Except now I notice that the whole damn room's cleared out and its just little me and the Anarchs still here for playtime. Ok, I think, just keep them in Elysium, they're not going to kill you here, anyone could walk in at any time.. But now Joe's walking me ever-so-casual over to the door and the Anarchs are following along and its getting harder and harder to not have my back to them. Heather cracks her neck again. Joe looks me over, then with that gleam in his eye tells me
"You've GOT to try this."
He looks over my shoulder again, and nods. We're right by the door and here we go, I'm getting my weight balanced, hands out of pockets and god damn you fucking Anarchs if its a fight you want you're going to damn well get it..
Then Joe reaches past me to the table I hadn't really registered into the clothes on display, sinks his hands up to the wrist in the fabric and starts kneading the thing and I shit you not, PURRING like a damn six week old kitten, muttering "so soft... its so sooofftt.."