The evening was remarkably quiet, comparing it to what I had expected. But around here people rarely act like the beasts they should be. They are soft, sometimes even by human standards. And then the next moment they lash out without measure. It’s hard to predict the chaos in their mind.

Probably the most annoying person of the night was an ancilla of my blood by the name of Santiago. First of all he greeted me with “Nate” – which i consider an insult. He and I aren’t close. And I introduced myself as Lord Nathaniel Elyot, Senator of the domain last time we spoke. Why? Because I had to. Anyway. He talked to me on how von Stein had pretended to be Toreador on the night of the Brujah party. Went on and on about how he therefore had slipped clan secrets to the man and how those could hurt our clan now. I believe none of it. He would have had to slip those secrets in a room full of people. And von Stein might be a brat – but he’s not stupid enough to pretend to be Toreador in a room full of said people who could easily uncover his lie for what it is. Especially not if that event is meant to boost clan prestige of his very own blood. So I told Santiago I’d settle this. Which I did.

The countess was there as well. For now her focus of attention is on Jacques, which takes a lot of pressure from my shoulders. But we’re both senators, so I guess she’s also watching out for my mistakes and notes them down very diligently. She’s a harsh type of character. And I think what she says behind closed doors doesn’t help much to improve the standing of the senate. Which, in turn, isn’t very helpful. But then again, she is old enough to do such things. And whether the senate itself was a good idea or not isn’t my call. I serve until I’m called off. So right now I continue to serve.

Interestingly enough von Stein was a good partner in conversation that night. I told him what Santiago held against him. Also told him that I had no intention whatsoever to do anything about it, since I believed him when he said he did nothing of the sort. He also asked a couple of other interesting questions. For the first time I didn’t get the feeling that he talked to me just so he could watch me fall. It is still an option. Quite possibly so. But I find myself trapped in a corner. By now I have to take risks. He is one of them. I guess, however, I could have made worse calls.

The same goes for Rottenmeier. I think we are making progress. For now she seems to find me useful and therefore passes on useful information to me. She has the benefit of being able to see where I cannot see. Watching what goes wrong. Watching what doesn’t. She’s good at picking up on the most minute of details. One has to hand it to her.

Precious Pearse is back. Yes, she was rather detached and silent during her interrogation. Why? Because she knows she screwed up. And because honor will only get her this far. I think she’ll have a very hard time trying to cope with the pressure she’ll have to face. For now everyone seems to be glad that she’s back. And why wouldn’t they. Up to now she had to do nothing that would make her step on their toes. But that moment will come. Heat will build up. And then we’ll see just how good she is. Right now it’s easy to be loved for her. Let’s see just how well she can handle it when that luck of hers runs out. All I have to do is manage to still be around to watch. Not that I want to end up in a fight with her. But people kissing her ass is slowly starting to make me want to roll my eyes, constantly. They are so easily fooled by opportunity and circumstance…

Other people who give me a headache… Thomas. I walked in on a conversation Jason and he had. He asked me just who had cut me so deep that I would now bow to Jacques so easily. He of all people should know best. So I have no idea whether he was trying to provoke me, acting dumb – or actually being as dumb as not to realize it. Which is hard, considering that it was his elder who basically threw me to the ground, politically speaking. And for what? Well – nobody really seems to know. I keep asking around. But nobody has an answer for me. Tough part being that it’s not for lack of wanting to present one. The whole situation is very annoying. I don’t know what Thomas and his ilk say behind my back. But I hear their tone of voice a lot. And it’s not really heart-warming. For now I have to keep my feet still. However, that will change. One of these nights…

Jason… I have no idea why he would still be talking to Thomas these nights. I suspect it’s due to old loyalties. He’ll never know that he was betrayed. That, or he simply refuses to believe in it. Obviously the snarled truths of a man in rags are very important to him. On the other hand, he might be playing at being all comfy with the Nosferatu, just to squeeze some benefits from them. If so he will most likely be in for a nasty surprise once they notice. And they will, one of these nights. If Mascha ever gets back they’re bound to. She’s smart enough to figure it out. Smart enough to figure him out. But there’s nothing I can do in this respect. I offered my advice and he… Good lord, I hope he didn’t choose to ignore it.

As had been required Jacques delivered the speech that was expected. Tempers were boiling anyway. But for all their threats it seems to me that they’re just that. Empty threats. As for him… He appeared strangely worried. Taking into account that he’s putting up a very strong effort at being – well – sweet, I am left to worry about him. I will tell him to stop trying to protect me. His worries eat up too much of his energy. In turn that means that his feelings are costing him basically everything. Protection… A very hard thing to do.

All of us have changed. I would barely recognize us. And we are still changing. I hesitate to call it evolution. For now I would rather stick to change. Whether for the good or the bad is still to be found out.

And still I cannot shake this feeling of where all of this well get me.

“Ein Stück Licht und Wärme, Geborgenheit und ein Stück Halt. Freund wie Vertrauter und Begleiter. Teil von Zuversicht. Scharfkantig wie die Figuren aus Glas mit einer schimmernden Seele und unbeugsamen Willen. Und manches Mal der Schlange gleich. Doch vor Allem Die Geliebte Person um die zu kämpfen es Wert ist – immer. Das ist, was ich sehe und du mir bist.”

From what he had heard people could usually not remember the short time in between death and resurrection as kindred. He had asked around only on occasion, picking the few people he put the question to very carefully. And the idea that none of them remembered had been shocking at first. Then, the more he asked around, the feeling associated with it had become dull realization.
Physiologically the brain died. Just like the rest of the body. No neurons to fire their little electric sparks. And therefore: no thoughts. Without thoughts there was nothing anyone could remember.
So why did he?
Death, to him, had come peacefully. For all he could ever say about his siress, she had tried to make the transition as pleasant as possible, if such a thing existed. They had spent the better part of the night as lovers in the one-night-stand sense of the word. Then, later, she had kissed him again, eventually ending up at his throat and draining him of every drop of blood he had. In the years to come he found he strangely appreciated that feeling, wondering how other kindred felt about this. But then, most of them probably never had it as easy as he did.
His mind started fading at first. He remembered being lost in the dark, unable to move – the knowledge in his mind that his heart had just stopped. That he was dead, by all definitions of the term. And yet there he was, still thinking.
Within an instant his mind had reeled out of control, coming up with various visions of the future, one more mind-numding than the last. But all of them, no matter how long- or short-lived ended in final destruction. From the very beginning he had known that this hint of immortality was as fake as the affection he later learned to instill in people’s hearts.
But were they not tempting… So many opportunities to be had. So many things to experience. Love? Perhaps. But surely there was life! Life so excessively and at such a length that he would stand a chance to learn more than anyone living or dead ever had. If only he could keep himself alive for long enough. If only he remained in control.
That was when his eyes started to perceive something red. Red, even behind his closed eyes. When he first felt the beast roaring inside him for no other reason than being literally starved. He felt it rip through his soul, through the fragile strands of perspective that were starting to form. And just like all the others he was lost in the first hungered frenzy. Just like that his mind had been brushed aside for the basic need and desire to feed on something living, to kill something for the sake of killing.
Playing the part of the unknowing child he had always remembered, always known. And as time went by locked all of it away. Until the beast came crawling again. Or roaring. Or creeping. Or luring.