People really don’t make much sense at all, most of the time. This place is once more drifting to chaos. By no means due to some alien influence, but rather through the stupidity and social blindness people display on such a regular basis that it keeps giving me the wrong kind of a headache.

Anyway. I’ll write in the order things come to mind. Which will be chaotic this time. Damn that curioustiy of mine. Damn!

I’m growing more and more weary of Jacques and his games. His good intentions be damned to hell. I still know when I’m being played. I don’t know when or how. But I know that he did. Besides, it really tells you a lot that Hope would approach me – of all people! – to do some research on something he gave her as a gift. What the fuck, man. A RING?! Do you have any idea what a ring means these days?! She’d have every right to assume you have a wish to marry her! And if you do, I will have to rip your balls off. Feel free to quote me on that. And don’t you dare think for a second that I will not do it. In fact, I’ll be so fast about it you won’t see it coming. At all. Point remains though. There’s something he’s not telling. Or rather: I get the impression there’s quite a lot he’s not telling. Things I should know. Things I need to know. But I’m sure he’s got very good reason not to share his wisdom. Getting us killed over wrong secrecy. Splendid. So much looking forward to that.

So Hope gave me that ring. And I will have a very close look at it as soon as my mouth stops babbling for a second and my fingers don’t betray half my thoughts. This should provide me with two vital things: 1st – a perfect weapon against Hope. 2nd – information about Jacques he’s unlikely to have me be aware of. And as a bonus I could make up random bullshit in what I actually tell Hope. Love the notion.

What ticked me off even more was Jacques’ undermining my orders. Why? Because he meant well. Of course. Road down to hell… Anyone? I sent a message out recently, informing everyone that the senate is very much aware of the situation with Hanau and that we would take care of it because it’s a matter of the traditions. So what’s the first thing Jacques does as soon as Williams walks up to us? “You’re of their blood. You handle it, next time they come here.” What. The. Fuck. Well, thanks for completely nullifying what I said in a heartbeat.

Speaking of Brujah and their brilliant planing… I’ve had a little glimpse inside Shepherd’s head that told me really all there is to know about their intelligence. Most of that clan with the occasional Gangrel sprinkled in seem to think that I have every intention of becoming the next prince. Just how stupid do you guys think I am? What kind of elder would tolerate this? My chances of survival would be about as high as that of a crippled karibu that mysteriously fell asleep next to a hungry wolf pack.

Doesn’t end there either. Someone’s had the guts to complain to Euler about the general evilness of the senate. And just why are we so evil, you ask? Because… We sign the guest book. And we do that too far up on the page. Now, if they’d have brains they would have noticed two things: 1st – The ruling body of the domain signs there usually. With the prince blissfully asleep that would be, you will have guessed, us guys. 2nd – The first person each night to sign there usually is me. I roughly use some spot in the upper third of the page. No idea where exactly that is – and I can’t read or even see the fucking headline that’s supposedly there somehwere. Why do I do that? So I won’t accidentally sign my name right through somebody else’s signature. Which means that all the other senators follow suit and sign somewhere close by. My guess is Jacques doesn’t put his name above mine, even though he outranks Thomas and I. Very polite of him. But his call. Not our fault. Either way: People. If that’s all the trouble you can think of right now or if you even have enough time to spare to waste your limited mental ressources on… Please. Move on. Because you obviously don’t have any priorities right. At all. If I were your elder, I’d reclaim my blood just for that.

Boy, did I have plenty of opportunity to spoil my reputation with Mascha. That girl has seen me in my finest states of disfunctionality ever since I got here. Dogpoo. Not very good. I do hope that she understands why I had to accept that request of Hope’s once I’m done analyzing the ring. Sometimes it’s worth the sacrifice. I hope that what I find out will help me deal with the friar as well as help protect those two… Otherwise I’ll have to come up with a plan to ruin Hope and toss her out. Unless she actually starts being useful to anyone but herself or her precious sister.

Von Stein was present as well. There was the usual bantering. He tried to get on my nerves, as usual. A matter of time till he’ll just… disappear. So why worry for now.

Curious. Euler is so busy interpreting and assuming in politics that he neglects the fact that there’s barely anyone except for him who will notice all those small implications. People are just too narrow minded to realize the things he points out so frequently. I feel sorry for him in that.

Meanwhile good Raphael is keeping to himself. Of course he can’t talk to me in public. But I thought he’d be smart enough to write a mail or two. Which he’s not. So I pointed it out. That, in turn, will provide me a very good idea of just how lazy that man can be. Writing is never that hard. A few kind words can make much of a difference. Yet, if he doesn’t put up the effort it tells me everything about his character I need to know. It means that I made a wrong investment. Need to know whether I did.

We accepted Mascha and Euler as official members of Marburg. Would have done the same with father Shepherd – only he turned the offer down. I guess I can follow his reasoning. I’m pretty sure though he doesn’t quite realize what he’s given up. Also he’ll most likely try to pull some strings anyway. But if he’s caught now it’ll cost him.

There was something very odd and confusing… When Jason approached us to greet us properly he went down on his knee, just as he always does. What he skipped this time, however, was the thing he does with the ring. After that he says that he needs to change habbits a lot, just so he remains unpredictable. Very, very odd. It just – irks me. There’s been so many of his smiles last night. Still. I heard him close by often, taking care that I was alright. I think he was close to staking Hope when she said I needed a moment on my own. After I’m done with that ring I might provide him with better reason to stake her.

I really need rest though… I can’t focus on anything for long. My mind keeps skipping a beat, all the time.

It was bad yesterday. So bad that I asked Rottenmeier to have a short talk with me. Who would have thought she actually managed to calm down a little. I still don’t trust her, but I think the feeling is mutual. And yet I respect her more than most of the kindred around this place. Strange mixture. Malkavian. Natural then.

All I know for sure tonight is this: It’s very hard to focus on a man when the last active memory you have of him is the sound of his moans in your ear. Doesn’t do much for the craving of his blood either. So no visitors any time soon.

Er wollte sie. Jede verdammte Faser seines Körpers wollte diese Frau, die er gerade mal gestern Nacht kennengelernt hatte. Und das ganze mit einer Intensität, die er so nie gekannt hatte. So stark, dass er es nicht zuordnen konnte. Trotzdem war er sich bewusst, dass es sich nicht um Liebe handelte. Nur was es sonst war, das hätte er beim besten Willen nicht sagen können.
Und sie? Sie wusste es. Die Art, wie sie hauchzart lächelte, so dass man es kaum sehen konnte. Hintergründig und wissend. Für sie war er ein Fisch an ihrem Haken. Einer, der nicht mehr entkommen würde und der auch ganz sicher nicht zurück ins Meer geworfen würde.
Ihre Lippen auf seinen waren heiß und einladend. Doch stets wenn seine Hände der Einladung folgen wollten und sie eher an Stellen berühren, die nicht mehr als freundliche Zuneigung zu rechtfertigen waren, kühlten ihre Küsse ab, bremste sie ihn aus.
Ohne sich von ihm zu entfernen hauchte sie ihre Worte gegen seine Lippen. “Are you fond of your parents much, Nathaniel?”
Und wer zum Donner wollte in so einer Situation wirklich nach seinen Eltern gefragt werden?! Aber… Sie hatte sicher einen Grund. Und sie roch so verdammt gut… “Not right now…”, war das meiste, was her herausbrachte, ehe er sie wieder küssen wollte.
Sie legte ihm einen Finger auf die Lippen, lächelte ihn an. “Very good.”
Es war die schlechteste Antwort, die er je gegeben hatte. Und es hatte bis zum nächsten Sonnenuntergang gedauert, bis er es realisiert hatte. Danach war ihm so schlecht gewesen, dass er sich unaufhörlich übergeben wollte. Wollte, aber nicht mehr konnte.