Log from July 21st:
I’ve been trapped in a clusterfuck of crazy. That’s really the only way I have of describing it.
My Priestess almost died, when I showed up at her door – literally, nearly died. It was like I’d shown up with a knife, plunged it into the nearest artery, and invited myself in for tea and cookies. Like a summer-time sex Santa delivering death.
Incidentally, the amount of alliteration in that last sentence is something I’m rather proud of.
My logs from the past several weeks are disorganised, illegible, and not worth the effort of typing in here word-for-word. I’m not going to waste my own valuable time with that, so instead I’ll just tell the world what I’ve been up to in a lackadaisical fashion.
Since finding Jack, he’s been a little bit distant. He only seems to really come to life when I read him more of those bedtime stories. I ought to rephrase; he’s been more distant than usual. He’s already typically kind of cold.
I did kill that other Vessel. In a sense. I took what I had put in her back into myself; the consequence just happened to be that she became a withered, dried corpse. I didn’t like her attitude, so I’m actually pretty okay with this. There are better extensions of myself lurking around, and I don’t need another one in [REDACTED] – I’ve got this area well in hand. It’s the
I really ought to spread to. They’re a whole country of depravity and degradation; it’s like fucking Disney World. United States
Hell, and they have the actual Disney World. How could it get any better? I’d go myself, if I weren’t so perfectly set up in this place.
After that, I spent some time trying to get myself back on track. The collection of an army is an important part of any war-game. Still, now that so many of them seem to be doing the work for me, I refocused on hunting.
There was nothing really noteworthy about any of that, really, either. I had to slaughter Razzie again when he was under the impression that I’d asked him to play fetch with my face. I encountered a few more Timberwolves, but I let them destroy themselves; two of them were also Scarlet-marked, and once the blood started flowing they got violent and accusatory with each other. I threw a shard of the Dying Man off a building – which, I know, just seems petty at this point…and maybe a little immature…but I couldn’t seem to help myself.
It’s just my alternative to a time-out or docking of allowance or whatever else parents do to discipline their children, these days.
I’m crashing here until my Priestess returns from the hospital. Not sure when that’ll be, but to be honest, I’m hoping it’s later rather than sooner. It’ll be pleasant, not camping out in my car.