Tyler grew more serious now, some of his laid back and casual nature being replaced by something aged, and weary. They were nervous because they feared overstepping. Interference, or the assumption of a relationship was not something Tyler wanted Ben to connect with them, and yet there was something that needed to be said. It was a hard decision to speak on it, but the traveler hoped it was the right one.
"Since I've been in town, I've heard about your feud with Jake." They let that sit for a second, but continued before it could be denied or confirmed. "Let the past die," Tyler advised, sending out a tendril of mental connection for Ben to take. Kerr was invited too, but not as warmly, and it seemed more out of politeness than desire to include him. In Tyler's experience, sires often wanted to be included in the mental communications of their childer. Misbehavior could occur otherwise.
If Ben accepted the connection, his mind would see a brief series of images, short bursts of memory meant to convey a relationship quickly. The first was of a handsome knight, in shinning armor who held the banner of King Charles the 7th of France. The knight extended his hand, and Tyler took it in their own. Ben would see unaltered flesh, no tattoos, and would fell the pulse of Tyler's long gone humanity. The feelings were relief, gratitude, infatuation, but mostly, anger. The anger was deep and bitter, well formed and chewed on. It was a lot of burden for one so young.
The next image was that of a monster. A tall, blonde, dark fey like creature bore down and hunted a hungry fledgling for sport. In reality, he was an ancient vampire, and Tyler was nothing more than a fledgling. They knew he was playing them, cutting them off when convenient, popping up to scare them every so often. The dread from his aura was terrifying, and all Tyler could think or feel in this moment was survive, survive, survive.
The next image was a mighty castle, the throne room in fact. The monster from before had been beaten to the point of death, even for a ancient Kindred. Hardenstadt looked on in fear as two Brujah pulled him to his feet, and tossed him upon the throne. His mind was weakened from loss of blood, and so he was no longer a threat. Tyler approached, and Ben would see their full image for the first time, the other moments vaguely glossing over their appearance. The traveler crossed to the throne, and whispered into Hardenstadt's ear.
The Ventrue don't deserve your power. But I do. Tyler moved their lips to the Ventrue's neck, and it was then that the ancient one knew how he'd face demise. In a moment of pure rage, they bit down on their hunter's flesh, their compatriots cheering as they consumed the essence of their mortal enemy. The Anarchs had lost the war, but Tyler would ensure that their Camarilla oppressors would know the beast they have created, and they would do it by taking the Camarilla's first son. It was personal, political, and terrible. As Tyler consumed the last of his blood, the vampire's body crumbled into dust. Tyler felt power like never before, but the other vampires in the room backed away slowly. For their vengeance, and their power, they'd blackened their own soul. A stain, dark as night was clear to all the Kindred around them, and in that moment, something good about Tyler died. It faded away, leaving them the worse for it. Their power would give them no relief from their guilt and regret.
The images ended. "Jake will never stop competing with you for power. If he loses, he'll find someway for you to continue this rivalry. It's just in his nature. But you can be the bigger person, and end it now. Two vampires vying for power and control will always compete for dominance, unless one of them stops it."
