Im Gegensatz zu den sonst üblichen Einträgen sind diese Zeilen handschriftlich verfasst. Die Schrift ist groß, braucht unverhältnismäßig viel Platz und ist deutlich krakelig und unproportioniert. Auffällig ist jedoch, dass sich an keiner Stelle ein ausgestrichenes Wort oder Buchstabe findet.

It’s somewhat cute to see Mascha worried. Who would have thought that she’d send all of us a reminder to watch out for eachother. Right now that means she’s acting as some kind of glue that keeps the swords from shattering. I’m pretty sure she knows that this means a lot to either of us boys. Makes us just that more likely to work with her. Makes it a very good investment to behave like that. Still. Clever girl.

Last night was quite interesting. Rottenmeier held another of her parties. I hear there was another candle event. Sadly I didn’t have the time to actualy participate in that. It was fun to watch the Brujah being all scared though. Then again, they’re still ahead by the numbers compared to the Gangrel, who had only one representative. There we go. Bravery at it’s best. The people claim to be most courageous are those who are most hesitant to even show up, let alone actually dive into that which Rottenmeier had to over. The little lunatic scare you that much, guys? Boy… Seriously. I’m more daring than you are – and that really says a lot about your lack of a spine.

She also said that there’s be no status that night. Lovely theory. Only it never works when put to the test. However, it did give me the chance to talk to Raphael for short. I hope he picked up on that little hint I dropped him. According to his message he might have. Given the chance between Shepherd and him I still prefer him. At least with him I can glimpse humanity every now and then. Shepherd? Not so much.

And Gangrel. Amalia was there. Harkon’s little kid. Harkon’s toy. Harkon’s – I’m not going to keep thinking about this. Annoying little thing. Jason says he managed to make a connection. Yeah, you do that, bro. I simply don’t like her. The feeling is probably mutual. There’s some things to be said for a little good cop, bad cop action. Which makes me the bad cop. Fine then. And Jacques? Said he would ignore here – and then he’s got a little private conversation with her. Yeah, I guess there were reasons again. But a rule isn’t a rule anymore when you keep making exceptions and nobody actually gets to see the rule anymore. Besides, punishment only seems half as harsh then. Plus: How are people going to know that slapping you in the face is a bad idea when they don’t see her suffer in some form? Don’t give people ideas to do a thing just because they know they won’t have to feel any pain for it. It’ll make them do just that for the sake of entertainment and sports.

On to a woman who knows how to keep a guy good company: Anastacia. Last time she was here I wasn’t present. A shame, since people were so wonderfully intimidated by her oratory skills. Made her all the more interesting to me. And for all I know I think she enjoyed my company. I sure as hell enjoyed hers. Ah, the love. I’ll try and have her come over for the Titanic thing I’m planning later this year. Would be great to have her. Of course she’ll probably spend the whole night poking fun at me and pulling my leg – and that’s when she likes me. Still, never say I’m not enjoying a good challenge. Ah… That lady. Quite something.

Then there’s this annoying thing with the bounty on probably both the Adlati. Truth be told, I’d be surprised if there’s not some bounty on everyone’s head around here. So who really cares, honestly? However, this thing turns out to be pretty annoying. And people really don’t appreciate psychology enough. They forget. They misremember. It’s usually no bad intention at all. Next thing you know some Tremere is trying to pry open a mind and uncover the truth of the words in somebody’s statement. Someone will have to bleed… I know I sure as hell have my preference. This should be interesting to watch.

Let’s be honest: I still don’t like Hope much. But I do feel somewhat sorry for her on a very odd level. She’s struggling hard to help. Yet somehow she always ends up at the center of the wrong kind of attention. Not sure yet whether they’re going to want her head for all of this. I’d want somebody elses. But I’m not one to turn the opportunity down to get rid of her – or safe her neck and make some profit from it. Bad, Nate! No treat.

Speaking of that particular blood… I really have to get rid of von Stein. That man is nothing but annoying. Or I could just forbid him to speak in my presence. Uh, that would be fun… All I need is some fake excuse. Heh. Probably doesn’t do much to teach me that one lesson I’m trying to comprehend these nights. But the idea is very, very tempting…

And von Lützow? Yeah. Very good idea to not follow orders while being a guest. Still no appology. Bad move. Keep that up and I won’t ever have to let you re-enter this city again. Uh… If dreams would come true. Or, better yet, have him kneel. Though that’s not likely to happen. Either way. Something has to happen. Jacques keeps letting people off easy. Or if he doesn’t then he doesn’t show it. Which is, in truth, just as bad.

At least Mascha’s little idea worked and Thomas and I managed to do a couple of good things together. Let’s hope the trend is somewhat stable. I hate fighting that guy. Not because he’s that much of an opponent, but rather because he’s likeable. Jason likes him, Mascha likes him, hell, even I like him! If only he’d be better at listening to what I’m telling him. And me? I really should be better and making him do what I want. Again, no treat, Nate.

For now it appears that Jason finally fell in line again. Back on track. Once more in rythm with the rest of us. Better yet: With himself. I do hope he won’t trip any time soon. Should meet with him more often. Talking to him was good. For both of us. I missed him. This week will be hell without him.

He’s a question for you, world: Why, for crying out loud, is it so hard for most guys to just fucking swallow? I do know the answer to that one, sadly. The ties that bind us. He fears them as much as I do. He’s enough kindness left to hold me back whenever he thinks I run the risk of having too much. I on the other hand show no such politeness for him. Why? Because I’m a cold-hearted bastard? I actually considered the possibility. And part of me wishes I could just say it’s that. But it’s not. By now I feel that whenever he slips out I’m just a toy to him. Something to spend some time with. Nothing worth any real form of consideration. Easily ignored. And if there’s one thing I can’t stand then that’s being ignored for whatever the reason. Yes, I know that basically makes me a very ungrateful kid. Only… This is an emotion. And I don’t know just how to get rid of it.

Just as I don’t know of how to show real humility and actually feel it too. Also it turns out it’s very hard to find someone who is even willing to teach you. Up to now it seems that our grand supporters have no such wish to help me out. The prince is still out of action and can’t help with anything except maybe giving us hope that she may be back some day. So… It’s Jacques who came up with a plan.

As a result I took the three vows for one week. Poverty, obedience and abstinence. Not that I haven’t been through that at other times. I’ve seen much of the world, including various monestaries. Nothing new. I know I can do it. I also know that it won’t do anything for me except for frustrate me because I can’t pull my usual strings to keep politics going. And because it will put me on edge. By the time the week runs out there’s be the next gathering and it’ll take everything I have not to flat out jump people like Jacques, Jason or Dee, should she make the mistake of crossing my path by accident. Until then? There’s a trailer, my diary and – well – me. Lots of ink and too much time on my hand. Jacques did say I’d be having my hands full, but somehow I have my doubts that he can really keep my mind busy. My hands? Yeah, most likely. But he’s never had to put so much effort into my psyche. And I don’t think he can handle it. One the other hand… It’s worth a shot. So maybe I’ll be wrong for a chance. A nice change. An unlikely one too though.

“Sir. Mr. Albrecht to speak to you.”, verkündete Gregory in gewohnter Ruhe während sein Arbeitgeber auf dem Sofa saß und eher beiläufig auf einer Laptoptastatur herumhämmerte.
“I told you I don’t want to see anyone right now, Greg.”
Der Butler nickte. “Yes, Master Elyot. I told him so. Still he insists. I doubt he will let anyone tell him off, sir.”
Entnervt stellte Nathaniel den Laptop weg und sah seinen Bediensteten an. “Fine. Bring him in.” Als kleine Strafe an die Welt fügte er an: “No refreshments. And don’t you dare leading him by the arm.”
“Naturally, sir.”
Damit entfernte sich der Diener auch schon. Nur um wenige Augenblicke später die Tür für einen Mann zu öffnen, der etwa Nathaniels Alter hatte. Gutes Aussehen. Gut gekleidet. Und ebenso schlechtsichtig wie Nathaniel selbst. Während Nate allerdings völlig entspannt auf der Couch saß trat der andere Mann mit einem Blindenstock in der Hand näher, vorsichtig vor sich her tastend und paranoid auf das kleinste Geräusch lauschend, das der Stock verursachte. Er wirkte verspannt und sichtlich niedergeschlagen.
“Nate…?”, fragte der andere unsicher.
Die Frage an sich war schon nervtötend. “Who would you expect? Of course it’s me.”
Eine kalte Antwort die den anderen schlucken ließ. Bereits jetzt wirkte er so, als hätte er gern geweint. “I’ve come so we could – talk. Sort things out. And get -”
“Back together? No, Steven. Not going to happen.”
“Nate, please. You have to listen to me.”
Seiner Meinung nach musste er das nicht. Entsprechend genervt war der Gesichtsausdruck als er sich auf der Couch zurücklehnte. “Whether I listen to you or not won’t chance much as to what I think, Steven. You see, I do think a lot. Usually way ahead of people. Especially people like you.”
“Like… me?”
“All dependant. You need some therapy, man.”
Der andere schüttelte entschlossen den Kopf. “That’s not why I’m here. You see… I know that – what we had… that it was just a – a one time thing for you. A fling. But to me it’s…”
Alles Abwinken half nichts. Der Blinde sah es nicht und entschied sich wohl es schlicht nicht hören zu wollen. “Just drop it, Steven.”
“No, really. I have to say this.” Der Mann straffte sich und versuchte soetwas wie Haltung anzunehmen. Es blieb bei einem Versuch. “I love you.”
Von der Couch her kam ein Seufzen. “You don’t, Stevie.”
“How can you say that?!”
Nate stand auf und ging auf den anderen zu, baute sich vor ihm auf. “I can say that because I use my head for something more than giving the same. I can say that because I know that I’m right. You’re not in love with me, you’re in love with the idea of being independant. Of doing what I did. A life where you are responsible for yourself. Where you don’t need anyone to take care of you. Selfsuficient.”
Steven hob zitternd die Hand, griff aber ins Leere. Sein Gegenüber hatte den eigenen Kopf rechtzeitig zurückgezogen. Keine tastenden Finger auf warmer Haut. “I really love you, Nate…”
“Don’t believe for one second that I half qualms with beating up a blind guy. Seeing as I’m almost as blind as you are I can always claim it as an unfortunate accident.”