Tania Warden

Tania stood amongst the shadows of the alleyway, waiting for a customer to appear. Tonight was a downpour, though few others than herself would consider the rain to be filthy. She could smell the filth being washed from the roofs and walls of the buildings around her to pool in the streets, running off to sewers and possibly the river. This city had been her home for all of her thirty two years, St. Louis was the place of her existence. She moved down a dark stairwell, just big enough to get her out of the rain. Tania was a firm believer in the old St. Louisan saying of "Don't like the weather? Wait five minutes." And as if on cue, the weather got worse. Wind sprayed her full in the face with rain and small debris, water came down in torrents to wash her shoes in filth.1

"Fuck this. Ain't nobody gonne be stupid enough to come out in the rain, even if they do need this shit."2

Tania walked out into the downfall and began to jog home. Her umbrella had been stolen about a week ago, and seeing as rain really didn't hurt her, she never bothered to replace it. Nothing but fire, sunlight, or sharp objects could really hurt her anymore. Not since that high and mighty asshole, Jeamesson, had stepped down off whatever pedastal he came from and stolen her away to Wisconsin for a six years. Sure, he made sure that she knew what she could and couldn't do, told her was his people were all about, made sure she could handle herself without offending anyone, but not once in that entire time, not even once had the fucker asked -her- oppinion on anything. She didn't get a choice, to him, all she was was pretty property. At least he'd paid well enough and not mistaken her for what she wasn't. He'd paid her to hang on his arm, laugh politely, be a pretty decoration. Not once did he take a further step than that. Not untill October 12, 2004. He'd cornered her in her very own little room, told her some crazy shit, then the next thing she knew it was the next night and she was eating people. For three years now, she'd been a blood sucking monster of the night. Even the money she donated to charities couldn't take away the guilt that she was slowly killing people so she could live forever. Jeamesson had told her all about her "Family Lineage" as he called it. She had a Family now, people she belonged to, a sect she had to obey the rules of, all that kinda fun shit. After that, she spent about a year wandering around, earning adjetives to add onto her name, though most of the time that was accidental. How was she to know that those assholes on motercycles that tried to kill her were Sabbat? The Enemies of the Camarilla? She just responded to their attempts at killing her with all her speed and strength. Looks like killing shit got you somewhere with this crowd. 3

"Fuckin Mafia style bullshit..."4

Her Family, the Brujah, had to tell her right off the bat that they weren't "Magic using freaks" like she'd thought. Though in all honesty, how could they not expect osmeone to freak out and call them witches when the very name they operated under meant witch? When Tania had come back to St. Louis, about a week and a half ago, she'd started re creating her old allies and contacts. She'd had to do alot of tap dancing to explain why she'd been gone for six fucking years and where she'd been that she'd paid off everyone she owed money to when she got back. Now she was back on the streets, instead of huge mansions, wearing grungy jeans, tanks, coats, and steel toed boots(Her only allowance for herself) instead of ball gowns and slinky dresses with equally slinky high heels. She no longer wore makeup. Though she did keep her hair the way she always did. Long, undecorated, shining, and clean. Yeah, she was grungy, but damn if she'd be filthy like the rest of these street urchins. She debated about going to East St. Louis to visit a few girls she'd known there. 5

"I wonder if Lidy still works fourth street..."6

Yeah, her friends, drug dealers and hookers. She herself sold everything but her body. She had connections with just about every kind of dealer out there, which made her a fairly popular girl, even if she was a bitch. 7

Tania made it back to her apartment in one peice, one thouroughly sodden and drenched peice, but one peice. Her one companion that she actually trusted met her at the door. When she'd left Jeamesson's presence, she'd needed a partner in crime. Someone who would take care of her daytime crap. She'd met Lidia in California, rescued her from some assholes, and taken her home with her later like a lost puppy. Lidia was her Ghoul, what the Camarilla called property. Tania would smack the taste out of the mouth of the first person to call her that. Lidia took her sodden clothes from her, dressed her in a warm, fluffy bath robe, and walked her to her room.8

"I figured you'd be home early 'cos of the storm. Do you need anything?" Lidia eyed Tania with a trace of worry. She hadn't quite gathered that Tania was imperceptible to a cold.9

"Nah, I'm fine. Though Ernie's gonna be a bit pissed if he finds out that I sold jack and shit today. But then, I don't exactly need him. Therefore he'll have to live. I mean, seriously, I own this apartment building, I have more contacts in more states and countries than he could ever believe, and I'm a supernatural creature of the night that with the right training can be impervious to bullets. Only reason I keep up with his shit is so I can have extra cash to donate for kid's charities and shit. Hell, this place is cheap for a reason too, I don't take anyone in here that I don't think belongs here. Cases of need only at this complex..."10

"He's probably just trying to get the most he can from you is all. I mean, he grew up in the streets alone, that's bound to make folk a little greedy."11

"I know, but it still pisses me off when he bitches."