To write sober letters is one thing. It is quite another to actually act more responsible, for lack of a better term. To feel it appears next to impossible. I find it hard to keep my own tongue in check. Harder still not to say what I really think. I wonder how long I can do this. Or whether it will become habbit at all at some stage. It has to. Yet it feels like constalty pulling the reigns on myself, knowing that some night they will slip through my fingers just like that.

Again things are being very interesting. With the Setites in the city people are on edge. And two domains nearby under Sabbat siege really does not accomplish much to improve the situation or the sentiment.

Miss Pearse was out and about with one team. As it turns out she most likely never informed her people what they were getting themselves into. No information passed on to them about which party they were getting involved with. Next thing we hear is she stays behind, acting as a form of security to the Setites, rendering her their hostage. I cannot understand why she did that. And, as it turns out, neither can the countess. The Ventrue are concerned nonetheless. Naturally. Not sure if my information really helped to calm that.

It concerns me to be of the same opinion as the countess, for a change. She was wondering why people were still patrolling the streets. Yes, the Sabbat is a threat. But then, it always is. The Setites are already here. So why the extra precaution. But then, people feel better when they have something to do. So if anything, at least it keeps people occupied and therefore less likely to invest too much thoughts into other things at hand. She will be there tonight. Unsettling.

Amongst the concerned is Father Shepherd. Jacques warned me to work with him. Says his star is falling. Yet he receives special treatment by the countess. And for all I know he remains loyal. That is… He remains loyal to one of us. Dangerous? Yes, he is. A beast, like all of us. A clever one, nonetheless. Which sets him apart from most of the others. With him people assume that he is dangerous – and that’s why they do not like it much. They are too used to being liked and liking others in turn. Which is also why they have a hard time bearing with people like Jason and me. With Jason they now figured out that his liking of people is mostly fake. With me they assume that because of what I say I generally do not like anyone. Which is only half the truth.

Then there is Rottenmeier. Surprisingly helpful, her. Jason seems to be wary of her, if not afraid. But, much like him, she can be very useful. She will move against anyone she works with sooner or later. But with her that might literally take centuries. For a kindred, that makes her a pretty safe bet. As far as I can tell she made her call.

I hear more and more complaints about Jason… And that worries me. Sure, he is good at what he does. But he can’t do it against the resistance of a whole domain. Just like me, he will have to alter the way he interacts with people. There is no choice in the matter right now. Naturally he does not appreciate hearing that much. He most likely things I am bossing him around for no good reason at all. That I am backstabbing him just like I presumably did with so many others. And all I can do is to try and talk him into listening. The thought makes me want to cry… Because whenever it is important for others to listen, they out of a sudden decide that they have the better grasp on – everything. And then I end up loosing them eventually…

In an odd way Dee is the same. No matter what I do or say, she remains jealous. The blood gives her no say in the matter. She is turning more violent every night. And there is nothing I can do to stop her, except for turning or killing her. And I cannot turn her.

As for Jacques… He is very much caught between a rock and a hard place. The decisions he had to make will never be received well. People will consider him unpopular. Or worse. On top of that he looses his temper over and over again, thereby failing to instill the necessary calm in others, which is probably worst of all. Towards me he acts mostly neutral. His words are still chosen to communicate affection. But his voice barely does. So I find myself pushed and held against a wall in anger over everything he hates about his life – and I also find I appreciate the notion for the sake of making any physical contact at all. I am left to hope that I will adapt soon. Otherwise it will drive me mad, starving in yet another way.

By now the living room had been cleaned. Even Greg had needed days to bring it back to a state his master would consider worthy. The room, just like the man living there, was much more sterile these nights. Instead of the dozens of memorabilia and trinkets from various places all around the world there were now only a select few. Another tv had been set up. Another surround system. But no pictures on the wall.
Dee was sitting on the sofa – the new sofa – that lacked a proper table. She was staring at the tv while her master, friend, confidant, lover and the cause of all her recent problems was sitting next to her, staring at a spot on the ground that was really no different from any other spot down there.
“You’re staring, Natey…” This was her tenth attempt at making him talk. And he never did as much as utter a single word. By now she was getting desperate. “Please… Talk to me…”
Finally he raised his head and looked at her. His expression was blank, mostly. Like someone had wiped all emotion from it and he was only now just starting to reinvent himself and her in the process.
“I need to know what I’m supposed to do, Nate. I have no idea how to deal with this.”
It was easy to see that her words hit right home. A short stab of pain that shot through him, caused him to blink once and not move any other muscle.
“Tell me what to do, please…”
He simply kept staring. “I don’t know anymore.”
Her concern, self-doubt and regret immediately shifted into anger. “He did this to you! He broke you!”
“Get a hold of yourself. Anger is no good foundation to build on.”
“For god’s sake, say that you feel something! Anything! Tell me that you’re angry with me! That you miss me. That you want me. That you love me. Anything, Nate!”
His eye remained fixed on her. “Every second you continue to live should tell you exactly that.”