Log from August 14th:
I march along with my frozen brigade, but beneath the ice hides color of another shade.
On every finger lies a sign of my faith. Devotion like no other, none can replace.
As foreign the idea, I be none other. The first of the Scarlet, and Red is my mother.
For her I shall bleed a mile a day. For her Russ will die, there is no other way.
At last I had seen her, she left me her word. I pass it to you. Through me she is heard.
I leave you with these, with hopes She will see. Unlike no other, this Priestess we need.
On cold winds I fade, I shall find you soon. Thou life is short, you’ll hum to my tune.
Through Fear I may function, but Red is my eye. Hear me now, the Cold Boy’s cry.
I tried stabbing myself, out of curiosity. Don’t worry, I’m not depressed, or anything. Literally, I was just…curious.
Apparently, I can’t die. I don’t have blood anymore. Just the Red Cap, oozing around inside of me. That’s when it occurred to me; I don’t have a heartbeat.
So, what am I? A shell? Like a fucking Dying Man shard?
There comes a point where it’s just better to be me all the time. It was starting to feel like some kind of split-personality psycho-state. The kind that makes for great television.
It’s better for everyone if I stop being dormant and just come out and play all the time.
Jack noticed. Poor little guy seems a bit put off by me, now, but we still have fun. I don’t think he ultimately cares, so long as I let the Black Dog hang around and read him the occasional bedtime story. Oh, and give him some say in the murders.
We had a lot of fun with some Nameless. A lot of fun.
Jack isn’t on my side anymore.
He threw a bit of a tantrum when we encountered a couple of Children of the Cold – ones I recognized, incidentally. Pretty sure I saw them in a library, once, or something. The brats might have been following me.
Once their heads were a good few feet away from their bodies, he got cranky. He isn’t going to be lending a helping hand anymore, apparently. He scampered off, and now…I’m stuck on my own.
Well, I use ‘on my own’ loosely. Currently lying next to a Scarlet-marked who’s still passed out after round three. I’m writing this particular log on a bedside table in permanent marker. You know, just as a token of my love.
Either way, things can only get more interesting from this point on. I don’t know if this means Jack is now my enemy…but I’m not stupid.
I’ve made an enemy of the Cold Boy.
Eh, fuck it, we were already enemies. I stole this body before he could numb it…just like I stole it before Slender Man could properly get his stalk on. And from Sir-grins-a-lot before he could start doling out the flowers. Before the Mother of All could ‘gift’ her with fangs and scales.
Poor, precious little magnet just never stood a chance, huh? Good thing my last main Vessel was a total pedo.
…Also, maybe I’m using the term ‘enemy’ a little too loosely. Given the situation.
Here comes the crazy laughter again, and man, does it feel good.