Joseph felt no guilt for the moment they were sharing now. They had earned it. If he had stopped living with every loss, he'd have given himself over to torpor and final death over a century ago. Losing people he was the price of immortality. He'd learned the best thing he could do was cherish and live every moment like it was his last. Because it might very well be.
The loss of Elysium and more so, the loss of Anastasia, would resonate through the Kindred of New York for awhile. It was a violation of epic magnitude and if anything, a sign of the dire times they were in that the Camarilla was still trying to ignore. Joseph's acceptance of the End Times theology was not a popular view in the Camarilla. But as a Learned rebel, that happened more often than not, really.
If he was being honest, the thought of it all ending didn't bother Joseph all that much. The Camarilla's system was antiquated and exclusionary. The traditions were all fine and good, But they had alienated so many neonates that the numbers of the Clanless had swelled while the Beckoning pulled away their Elders and clans like the Brujah and Gangrel abandoned it. It was madness to carry on the way they had.
There could be a balance between the old ways and the new ways. Joseph managed it fine, there was no reason the rest of them couldn't. They just didn't want to and refused to see what was happening right before their eyes. It was one of the many reasons there were so few Brujah left in Camarilla. His Elders could see the writing on the wall and weren't about to follow the Ventrue blindly into Gehenna.
Were it not for the young prince's ascension, Joseph might have joined the Anarchs himself. But part of him hoped the young vampires of the Camarilla could move the sect away from the self-destructive traditions of the past. He was still watching closely. Honestly, if it hadn't been for Micah's quick generosity, the Brujah would have been at the Prince's doorstep demanding he do his bloody job. Lucian should have made a public statement by now. It'd been two nights already.
But for right now, none of that mattered. What mattered was right in front of him. Joseph wrapped his arms around Rhys, deepening the kiss. The laugh sounded so strained, as if the Tremere was about to break himself. Completely justified, considering the harrowing nightmare of the last two nights.
"I know, love," Joseph murmured. He wished he could promise his lover it would get better. But he couldn't and wouldn't lie to Rhys. "It hurts. And it's hurt for days. I know."