What is it with women and them never knowing when to quit? Especially in Marburg that seems to be the usual way to go for Toreador. So last night Alena steps in front of me and messes with my clothing. I, being the kind person I just so happen to be, let her do it – which turned out to be an utter mistake. Half an hour later she steps in front of me again, once more messes with my clothing and then speaks out loud – in front of the whole domain, no less – that I, as a senator, cannot walk around like that. Well, fuck I can! I can do whatever the hell I feel like! Why? Because I’m senator. Yours, by the way. So keep your pie-hole shut and stop yapping at me, bitch.

One upside of that night was that we managed to free our long lost sister. Go team! I guess people needed something good to happen. Though rumor has it that there are quite a few things that could be done better next time around. I’m somewhat glad Jason wasn’t in the team. He would have been way too annoyed. Hell, I’ll be pretty annoyed once I hear the real story. I’m very sure that there’s much and more to it than people originally let on last night. Fuck them. Meanwhile the lady stays at my place. Can’t think where else she’d be safer, so…

I feel I really have to work with Jean on his temper. Last night he was so very strained… And over what. People die. Those in particular milked us as best they could. They had to go, one way or another. So there’s no real point in being sad about it. And it’s bound to happen again. I can’t have him freak out every time something like this happens. Last night he broke my fucking shoulder as he pushed me against a wall. Fortunately I had Miriam close by and could drink from her, thereby undoing all the damage Jean had caused.

I hate to think what would have happened if Thomas had been there. Wartenburg was present, so things could have been messy. Even Jason realizes and admits that Thomas is spending way too much time with her. I have to do something about this. Only I don’t quite know what yet. I swear to god, should they give her one of the swords I’ll lay mine to rest, just to make sure.

As I’m trying to wade through the various reports that reach me these nights people are once more picking fights. And over what, I ask you. I know that we’re selfish creatures, each of us thinking him- or herself the pinnacle of kindred evolution. But being the best doesn’t equal being flawless. So why the fuck do they keep pretending that they’re the only ones getting it right while at the same time taking out big baseball bats to hammer the rest of us with our ill-perceived flaws? Besides, shouldn’t you all have better things to do? Obviously the answer to that is a big stinking “no”.

Very well then. Let them never forget the blood that runs through my veins when I push it. I’ll give them a show to remember.

“But you hate karaoke!” In einem letzten Versuch das Unvermeidliche von sich fern zu halten appellierte Nathaniel an den gesunden Menschenverstand seiner besseren Hälfte.
Der Versuch schlug fehl. Sie lächelte nur um so gewinnender zurück. “I know! And so do you. That’s why the idea is so great!” Der genervte Blick ihres Partners ließ sich ein ernsteres Gesicht aufsetzen. “Remember what you told me, love: Do one thing – every day – that scares you.”
“Karaoke doesn’t scare me. It annoys me.”
Und wieder dieses elende Lächeln, dem man einfach nicht auskam. “I know you. It does scare you.”

“Nate… You’re shaking…” Mit besorgtem Blick sah Dee auf den Toten, der sich gerade zur Ruhe gebettet hatte hinab.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Are you scared?”
“Of course not.”
Sie streckte die Hand aus, strich lächelnd mit den Fingerspitzen über seine Wange. Die Wange deren zugehöriges Auge die Finger nicht kommen sehen konnte. Folgerichtig zuckte er kurz zusammen. “Relax. You can be yourself around me.”
“That’s what scares me.”