My my… What a difference a day makes.

Here I was, thinking poor Eric was a terrible flirt – and a bad one at that. Turns out though that this seems to run in the Tremere bloodline. Enter: Freiherr von Stahl. At least that’s the name I understood, though some people would say von Stein. Doesn’t really matter. I swear, if he still had his balls in a working condition he’d have jerked off at holding my finger last night. My guess is he thought himself pretty clever to suck up to the non-threatening Toreador, play easy to get. Whispered things like “Don’t worry, you can go to sleep. I’ll protect you.” The fuck, man! As if I would have any random warlock watch my back. And then he’s enough of an idiot to flat out let me know that he read my thoughts. Plus I’m pretty sure there’s another line of command established within the Tremere. One we don’t know about. One we shouldn’t know about. And something they call a guild house. Judging from how he tried to cover up his mentioning that it’s something important. In so many words: He screwed his clan over completely. In one single night. Mascha was kind enough to take pictures, so I think I can be proud of myself. The idiot tried to kiss my hand as I said hello. Dude! I was so trying to turn my way the right way around! How much of a hint do you need, eh? Even if I were a woman you should respect the wish not to be kissed on any part of my body.

So what’s to be had in this for myself? A lesson, quite simply. Never rely on the gifts of your blood too much. Just because you can read somebody else’s thoughts that doesn’t mean you understand him or how he works. So you saw I was thinking of the beach, the sun, Dee and the sea. Good for you. And you saw that she’s special to me in so many ways. Splendid! Doesn’t mean that she’s my secret refuge. Doesn’t mean I’m a heartbroken rose in desperate need of saving. In my case it means that I had to be distracted from the facts. Had as they are they mean that I finally have to live up to dad’s expectations. And I happen to not like that at all. Didn’t see that part coming, did you. So don’t pretend to know me when all you have is faint memories that a simple question could uncover just as easily.

Turns out I’m not the only one paranoid about Sanders’ behavior. Shiraz asked me why she had it in for him. Guess she’ll be pretty busy with her own clan now, no matter which animosities she might harbor against others. Ooopsy. While she’s at it she might as well potty-train Baumgartner and make less of a clown of him. Yeah, he can do some nice tricks. Doesn’t make him clever. Then again, I guess he’s still the lesser evil, considering…

Seems to me the right people are making a connection now. Shiraz has been talking to the good friar more often. They’re doing this thing for the poor. I gently pointed out something. They were both very receptive of what I had to say. I like! So, should anything happen to me, Shiraz will send in the hounds as well. Can’t hurt to be secured in that way. Multiple search parties makes for a better shot at actually being found. Good Raphael seemed to enjoy watching the Tremere hitting a wall. And while he does claim not to have a heart the conversations he and I have lead me to believe that, even without a heart, he still knows such things as loyalty.

As for Jean… It’s not easy being a martyr, I guess. I haven’t seen him just so beaten as I did last night. Not that he suffered any substantial defeat. I guess it’s more the burden of being a paragon weighing him down. Not sure if what I had to say really helped him. Perhaps it made him see a silver lining though. And those things can get you through the long night.

A shame Simon and the Doc weren’t there. Would have loved to see the look on their faces when Mascha started talking business. Whatever Alessandro’s (and that of JB) may have been before, she technically brought forth living evidence that both of them are socially done for. She basically said that Sparkle and I would be the next primogen of our respective clans. Nobody objected. Nobody even seemed to mind. As I keep saying: Reality also is what people make of it. By saying what she did Mascha created a new one. One in which neither JB nor Alessandro are still head of their clans. They would both be socially unacceptable. So reality, bitch that she is, forms itself to fit that view. Their combined absence didn’t help things much either.

Part of me is glad that von Lützow won’t be holding the reins of clan Brujah. He seems nice enough for the most part. But his understanding of pretty much everything I value only goes so far. He still keeps raging about the things we saw at Saarbrücken. Really, pal. Get over it. I know it is hard, but you’re a big boy. You can handle it.

Finally managed to say more than “hi” to Styx. Ok, so it wasn’t much more than that. He seems to share the odd humor of Mascha and Thomas. I won’t be lead to believe that makes him easy to deal with. Still. When he asked what was new up here fucking NOBODY gave him an answer. So, jerk that I am, I made some kind fun of the Brujah, only to be slapped on the wrist by that dumb-ass Tremere. I can’t say that? Watch me! Of course I can. I’m pretty sure all elders prefer some light humor to hitting a wall of silence wherever they go. What’d be the point of attending one such evening if the one thing they’d get out of it was silence? Right now I don’t have anything useful to say to the guy. Mainly because anything I could tell him is likely something his clan already told him weeks ago. I’m not going to bore him with what I think to be vital information on something that probably only comes to mind to him any given idle Tuesday.

Thomas seemed to be a bit absent-minded last night. No clue what’s going on in his little mind. But my guess is he’s not displeased with what is happening either. I’ll have to try and talk to him some time during the week.

Praise be to Jason for making it through one night without anyone seriously injuring the poor fellow. He had some interesting intel on matters in Kassel. Just to make sure I’ll have him write things down. It’s the best way to make him think hard on what exactly happened. Not that he’s not capable of that, but I need to start a habit of gathering reports, I guess. With him being my private James Bond. I think he’ll do very well at that. He also took it upon himself to volunteer and open the primogen discussion for the clan. I’m curious about his choice of words. With him one can never know. But I guess it’s for the best. He’s worried though that I might go crazy. Power does corrupt after all. Me though? I’m trying hard to stick to what I said. Watch out for your own. Keep them safe. And get even with anyone who raises a hand against them. As far as I’m concerned I don’t much care who’s responsible for them getting their dues. What I can say is that right now they’re looking down a barrel – and the shot is going to be fired some time soon. I’ve stopped feeling sorry about it. Jason should do his thing. It’s what he’s best at. Lord knows he’s needed around here with all the cute and utterly voluntary slips, the accent people seem to think of as an equivalent to being less harmful, the smiles that people are incapable of seeing through. If I were more into role-models of my clan I’d envy him. Oh well.

A little thin on the side… Turns out that not only are there still Brujah who are utterly ignorant of the traditions – better yet, it turns out that the same goes for the primogen of clan Gangrel. Shame, shame, shame. Explains the fight in the park though. No treat!

Für Eitelkeiten hatte man in Krankenhäusern wohl wenig Platz. Daher fehlte dem jungen Mann auf dem Bett auch seine sonst allgegenwärtige Augenklappe. Wäre er wach gewesen, hätte ihn das zweifelsohne gestört. So jedoch hörte man statt seiner Beschwerden jedoch nur ein stetiges Piepen, unterstrichen von einer grünen Anzeige eines kleinen Monitors.
Vor dem Fenster vom Gang in diesen Raum stand eine der Schwestern und notierte einige Werte, ein Klemmbrett haltend. Sie war wohl schon länger hier, denn sie wusste genau wie sie sich den Kopf verdrehen musste um lesen zu können, was für den Moment wichtig war. Und das ohne den Raum zu betreten. Es gab keinen Grund den Besuch zu stören.
Am Krankenbett standen drei Menschen. Zwei Männer, die beide der Vater des Patienten hätten sein können, und eine Frau, kaum jünger als der Kranke selbst. “Krank” traf es jedoch nicht ganz.
“Why did they bring him here?”, erkundigte sich der weniger stoische Mann der beiden.
Das Mädchen verlagerte unwohl das Gewicht. Sie war selbst ebenso bleich wie Nathaniel vor ihr. “He took some pills… Said they’d be a whole new experience. He must have…” Sie schluckte hart und brachte den Satz nicht zuende.
“Overdosed is the term, I think.”
Der erste Mann nickte. “Thank you, Gregory.” Alle drei standen sich in Sachen Besorgnis ihrer Blicke in nichts nach. “I do hope this will teach him a lesson.”
“I doubt it, sir.”
“Greg!”, protestierte die junge Frau. “He knows what he’s doing!”
“Obviously he does not.” Der Vater.
Eine Weile schwiegen alle drei. Ungewöhnlicherweise brach der Butler das Schweigen. “He does.”, gab er besorgt zu bedenken.