Stormy's Musings: Night 1 ~ Re-entry Into The City That Care Forgot

Stormy hadn’t known what to think ever since she had gotten back home to the City. She had not wanted to be away from her home, New Orleans, but duty and respect called her away to Chicago and New York for a while. She was Sheriff there in both cities because she had to be. She didn’t know why she had to be, she just knew that she did. So many things had went down under her watch that she was overly glad when she crossed I-10 in that gray 1993 Camero that she had poured so much love into and over. There it was, her exit, her way home. 

Things would get easier now, or so she had hoped. There was only one way to tell and that was to get into the city and make things happen again – good things! Her engine revved a bit and roared to a stop, the sight here was always welcome.

So, she hung around here a bit, got out and looked around to settle her mind into the fact that she was really and truly home. When she had renewed her senses of the sweet succor of the city again, her city, she got back in the Camero and roared off to her haven in the Warehouse District of New Orleans just a jump from the Superdome.  

The outside circular driveway cradled a high-rise hotel (in subtle appearances) that glowed in neon pink at night, sometimes changing to purple when the mood hit it. It stood out in the distance as a statement unto itself. The huge sign said “Hotel Modern” and that name fit its purposes, too. This funky, modern hotel was fixin’ ta get a Malkavian makeover! (As if it didn’t already look it – and it did!)

With a few nods and hellos Stormy had slung that damned brown backpack of hers – a little worn at the edges! - over her shoulder like a trillion times before and headed toward the staircase to go to her long-awaited room. Her room. Her personal room. Her “Purple Palace” that Princes Jade and Wydow had given her when she first came to meet them in New Orleans. They had been new to the city that she already called home. It was an interesting story, to say the least, that she would tell another time. For now she just wanted seclusion. She needed time to think, to write out her thoughts before her head exploded. The sight that greeted her at the staircase was once more welcoming, beckoning her home.

She reached the room and stuck the card in the door, then pushed something that no one could see and the door came open with an air-sealed “pop”. That sound had felt so good she sighed when she walked through the door and quickly closed it behind her. Suddenly all of her tensions dropped from her like magic beans. Alone. She could cry if she wanted to, she didn’t but still she technically could. She could do anything. “The world is waiting for you, Stormy!” The Network kept screaming into her head. She didn’t know what they meant her to do. What would she do with the world if she found it anyway? These were tough questions for her to consider.

All of this pressure! First the Satanic Panic, name dubbed by Stormy herself, among the kindred of New Orleans when they swore that Gehenna was upon them and they were seeing crazy shit. Then it spread to New York City where smells of incense and antediluvians filled the air and she had tried to banish them with the songs “That Smell” and “Things Goin’ On In Your Nose”. Undoubtedly it had worked no matter how crazy it sounded. She was home, wasn’t she? Yes! The song bit was most likely inspired by the two Toreador that helped raise her up to be the Pack Killer that she is today (FAME 4).  

Thing was, when she was done with her meditating and writing her notes she would need to head out of the District to a little place called “Cypress Tides” where both Princes resided to announce her newest arrival back into the city. She couldn’t wait!

(TO BE CONTINUED)