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In a lineage where most of the membership are so white they're blue, I'm the one who had an Indian father.
Which is hilarious by the way. You should see how uncomfortable the others get whenever I walk into the room.
I'm pretty easy to spot, if you need to leave me a message and someone doesn't know my name, just point out the 6'8" rail-thin Indian guy with the all-black eyes and a certain sartorial flair. I make no promises about when I'll be getting back to you, though; I might be reading for the next three hundred years.
That's a joke! Yes, I made a joke. I might be reading for a month or two, tops. So I know what you're asking yourself. Why is he here? What could possibly have drawn a Weirdling to noisy, smelly, violent L.A. with its gaud and its... Anarchs? Why is he bothering to be so openly invested in the Sabbat here, of all places?
Well, fortunately, I don't have to explain myself. That's my business, and you ought to mind your own.
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