[ Been there, done that
]
Oct 22nd, 2009 5:28 pm
Checked the computer device today, saw the news. Its not surprising really, most wars end like that. One day there is bloody fighting in the trenches, the next its peacefully resolved, or the enemy just quits. There are no great ends to war, only great battles fought during them.
Whatever the case, maybe they'll all stop slumping around with glances over their shoulders. Guards will drop and that'll make my line of work a lot easier.
I'm a bit hungry. Maybe I'll grab some fast-food before I hit the town.
Mood: enraged
Comments: 245
[ Not this Time
]
Sep 20th, 2009 9:18 pm
It was cold that night. That's what they told me. I told them not to worry, the ship would be warm on the inside. I wrapped a blanket around a child. Her eyes were blue. There were so many of them when they came for us, their machine guns illuminating the darkness like bolts of lightning. I killed as many as I could, I cut deep, their blood like wasted meals soaking into the dirt. But there was a smart man amongst them, he took out a pistol, he held it to the child's head. He shot her. Her blue eyes closed slowly. He said, "Strike another one of my men, I shall strike another child."
They put me in a box, cold steel, no windows, just black. I was in there for three days, no blood to sustain me. All I heard was the screams, first terrified, then almost ghostly, weak and lifeless, then finally monstrous. I ripped the throat out of the first guard, make the other tear at his skin for the snakes crawling around inside him. They had knives, I carved out their eyes and drank them dry.
I feed the Beast more than I ever have, or ever will that night. But as I waited for the other guards to attack, deformed monsters charged from the cabins. There was nothing left of my family.
That day I slept in a barn, that night I decided to bare the shame and let fate take me where it would.
I still don't know why it took me so long to find her. Perhaps something awaits me here in St. John's, my redemption or my punishment. The only thing I am certain of is that I have staked my claim here, in this breathing city, with its sleeping evils, and this will be my last home.
Mood: contemplative
Comments: 49
[ The Way They Are.
]
Sep 7th, 2009 2:04 pm
Things are going well, Alexandra. Business has reared its head and I've been happy enough to capture it for myself. Still trying to decide what it is I want.
Maybe a house, one of those trailers. That will do.
The Camarilla are a strange bunch, very sensitive, very self-important. Its silly really, for all their haughty attitudes and 'civil' rules they have no control over a few cracked eggs. You'd think a group trying to hold on to humanity and maintain order would be more...humble? Stoic? Less snarky? Snarky, that's a good word. You have to treat them in a more sympathetic way, showing no hostility and presenting yourself with an attitude of kindness and civility. Both are inherit traits of mine and so it was rather easy.
As for the Sabbat, there is a certain way to deal with them. And truly, Alexandra, you would have had a hard time doing it. You have to be unperturbed by their bizarre attitudes and show a hint of caution so they know that you are no lamb. They seem like children, jumping up and down saying, "Hey, you! Hey, you! Look!" I wonder how long they think they could rule humanity before the sunrise.
I won't talk about the Anarchs, rebellion is born from those who want the benefits of government but none of the restrictions. I will say this; they make me glad to be a Rom.
"To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace."
I am Qoheleth.
Mood: sympathetic
Comments: 217
[ Its Turning
]
Jul 1st, 2009 12:38 pm
I borrowed a copy of Paradise Lost from the Masonic, gave it to Suzy. She paid me five dollars. A small trick but it reminded me how fun it is when these gaje give me that smile of gratitude when I take their money.
I'm developing a strange indifference to the events in this city. Still wish to know what's wrong with Dasha, something is in the air. Nerina made that clear with her child like confusion. I'll get to the bottom of it in time.
I fed from a beautiful woman, perhaps in her forties. She owned a bookstore it was almost fate. It was almost to perfect a night. The entire time I felt like something was watching me, even a glimpse of a coat going down a street made me nervous. Nothing was there. So I left, grateful the feeding went so well.
Perhaps I'm inventing danger, manifesting that feeling of excited peril just to entertain myself. We'll see.
Mood: indifferent
Comments: 89
[ Tedium
]
Jun 22nd, 2009 4:16 pm
[A newspaper clipping is stabled onto the page]
Haha, you idiotic piece of fecal matter.
This is another night. Filled with the tedium of a ticking clock. I'm growing tired and the bread is stale. Juggling knives on Water Street. Reading. Buying venison. Its like I'm not even dead. Its like I'm not even immortal. The Amazing Anton needs an adventure.
I think I'll steal something.
Mood: mischievous
Comments: 0
[ I am Anton
]
Jun 8th, 2009 8:49 pm
"Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved."
I am not Christ on the cedar. I am not Hercules and his labors. I am the Lord of Misrule, the liar, the fox, the trickster of myth. Two hundred year old mind and still I cannot understand women. The Amazing Anton indeed. In the end I am the King Arthur and she is an unfortunate Guinevere, her mind on a Lancelot, not a man no, an idea.
We'll see, Alexandra. Perhaps I am to join you soon.
Mood: awake
Comments: 0
[ A Journey
]
Jun 6th, 2009 2:28 pm
Latcho Drom, Alexandra
My journey is over and as much as I fight the wanderlust I do not fear its victory. St. John’s is vast in its oddity and its depths fall to the pits of Hell. This place is never the same place, every night is different. The books help, in a way. They allow my mind to be taken away and trick it into an adventure. There is a companionship in this place that I have not seen in any other territory.
The Gangrel have become an odd ally and I find my time is spent more in the city than the usual backwoods labyrinths where I once wandered. Where I found you, Alexandra, and where I spent much of the last seventy years. This has blinded me, I’m afraid, and more and more I see why you were such an outcast to the family. I have forgotten what I have in lue of the adventures I seek.
While I mourn the loss of a battle which could lead me to my Mordred, to my Achilles, to the great final charge with the light of the moon at my back as it gleams on the steel of my daggers. Sigh. For the Family, I will fight this Arthur in me and remember the Merlin that taught me so much. For the Family, Alexandra, latcho drom.
Mood: thoughtful
Comments: 0
[ A Wall
]
Jun 1st, 2009 12:00 pm
I've been feeling foolishly young. I am having doubts. They are so plentiful I wouldn’t know where to begin but to summarize I often wonder about the life I was born into. Fate has put me here, in this family, for a reason I just can’t see anymore. Perhaps it was to travel, to learn, and interact with all races of man. Or perhaps it was to bring me here, to St. John’s, where I might do something worthwhile. Neither of these is on the priority list of my heritage. I spent much time alone and seeking company, I read many books, saw many things, but never once did I feel like a Romani only a Ravnos. I did not like that; I did not wish to feel this way. And now that I am here in St. John’s I feel more like Romani than a Ravnos.
I always wish to be free to choose, to move back and forth the Romani for when I am alone the Ravnos for when I am contained. Contained is a vicious word, I truly hate it. The same scorn I feel radiating off ‘Ada’, as I have been demoted to call her, toward me. I never once assumed unlife would be easy, but I have made the best of it. So I will carry on, do as I please—as this is my way—and see where the road takes me. Hopefully to the Father, who I am told is Sabbat. I do not care.
Perhaps the reason werewolves hate us is because we constantly picker and fight, seek to destroy with little regard of the other more powerful races out there. It is our arrogance they scorn and for that I agree with them. Perhaps if…never mind now I am just thinking like an idealist. This is the way of this world, I suppose.
That was all very depressing to me. How about a joke?
A paratrooper was scared to jump.
His instructor told him, "If anything goes wrong, say, `Buddha oh Buddha' and you will be saved."
The paratrooper got so scared that he forgot to pull his rip cord. So he said, "Buddha oh Buddha," and a hand came out of the sky and saved him.
He said, "Thank God," and he was dropped.
Mood: disappointed
Comments: 59
[ Signs and Wonders
]
May 30th, 2009 2:44 pm
During World War II a fighter pilot was shot down over Germany, consequently he was captured by the Nazis. Hurt fairly bad the German doctor amputated his right arm. He requested that it be sent to his base in England.
So they did it.
The following week they amputated his other arm and he asked the same thing. So they did it.
The next week they amputated his leg and he again asked for them to drop it over his based in England.
The German doctor replied, “Nein, Ve do dis no more!” The pilot asked why not, and the German answered, “Ve tink you’re trying to escape!”
I miss killing Nazis.
Alexandra, you would not believe tonight if you had been there yourself. I met an interesting man; he was a priest of some kind. His claims were that we must free ourselves from the shackles that bind us, the controlling hands of our puppet masters. I wish him good luck. I’m told my desire to continue our conversation on religion v.s. fate is ‘stupid’. Or ‘foolish’ I think was the word used something about the Sabbat.
Is it strange I want to speak with this priest? I wish to know where he came from, what he saw that changed his opinion of our condition, why he does what he does. Madness, sometimes, can be quite interesting. The school girls seemed humorous at the time but there was something darkly meaningful to it. Innocence, purity, twisted to the howling Beast that lurks inside us all.
Perhaps I should go visit a friend at the Cathedral. I hope her dark, dank dwelling is helping her rest.
Mood: Interested
Comments: 0
[ Giraffes
]
May 25th, 2009 8:55 pm
A Zen master once said to me, “Do the opposite of whatever I tell you.”
So I didn’t.
All this time I’ve been trying to avoid your view of things. Dear Alexandra, you were so cynical. Remember that time you said, “If a gangrel is crushed by a tree and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?” It would have been harmless, if you hadn’t done that. Still don’t know the answer to that one, dear.
I saw the fire in my dreams again. Your wagon left to cinder and smoke. I don’t know why they burned it, perhaps they feared you. Perhaps it was to keep me away. All I know is that the latter proved true. Adeleide reminds me of you…sometimes. That would explain why I did it. I felt she could do great things, more than you or I ever accomplished. St. John’s has changed her though; I do not have the insight to determine if this is good or bad.
I’ve been thinking quite a lot about giraffes. Did you know when a child is born the mother giraffe will kick it till it stands up? Then when it stands she’ll knock it down? It’s to teach it how to do things on its own. I have a theory linking this to the Kindred. When you consider that we are all pieces on some cosmic chess board, you wonder what the point of it all is…right? Alexandra, you were the one who would always say that you’d be a bishop going straight—if only in spite of your player. Well what if all this strife is their way of kicking us till we learn to stand? It’s just a theory.
Mood: nostalgic
Comments: 0
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