WAR: Birth

Hanna Clay
April 20th, Las Vegas, NV

She held her tiny hands before her, concentrating on holding the limp form with only the power of her mind. While there were plenty Caineites that could use telekinesis, it still wasn’t a very common ability. She had only come by the ability after diablerizing…

She furiously locked her mind on the task before her as her control started to waver. Best not think about anything but what was right before her.

As best as she could, she lowered the naked form into the steaming bath, trying to go slowly so that the water wouldn’t splash everywhere. She could have limited herself to performing a sponge bath, reducing her contact with water as much as possible, but she never considered it more than a second. She may have repaired the girl’s body from all the incredible damage that had been done, but the child was absolutely filthy, covered in blood, urine, semen, beer, and feces.

Once the still form was almost completely submerged, she relaxed her will. She drew a chair near the tub, dreading what was to come.  Since the cave…

She shuddered a little at the thought of it, trying not to remember.  She had already been vastly stronger than most other Caineites due to her age, Generation and training.  When one had instructors who had been using their abilities for millennium, and spent almost a millennium learning as much as one could, the results tended to make others look infantile. The Diablerie had changed her even more drastically. She was stronger by far than any other Caineite living, save the remaining few Third Generations. Lamech, one of the three Childer of Caine himself, was the only Second left “alive”, and he had been August’s Sire.  He had come to her after she had left New Jerusalem, once she had killed the assassins that had destroyed what was left of
the city, and would have killed her for the Sin she committed.  Why Lamech had spared her after she Diablerized his Childe she didn’t understand, unless he understood the true reason she had done it.

Her abilities were so grossly outrageous now it made her sick to think of what she was truly capable of.  “Power corrupts,” she whispered, her broken voice almost harsher than Davistch’s had been,” and Absolute Power corrupts absolutely.”

She shook her head as she took the soft sponge and submerged it in the water. Before that day, she was incapable of even standing in a puddle of water without becoming incapacitated. Now, her arm was in the tub up to her elbow, and it barely bothered her. She snickered a little then, at the memory of August.

Grabbing a bottle of gel soap, she pulled the wet sponge out of the water, covering it with the soap. She put the bottle down, and slowly began to scrub the filth off of her lost little darling…