sink your roots into the rock...

Back in London.

Indochina was... interesting, to say the least. A city full of vampires. Full. Of vampires. I wore high collars the entire wretched time. I will admit that Markhus Drake, the family undead, is quite a pleasant and charming fellow. This is probably because he is a Drake. They seem to come out of the womb devilishly charming, assuming their name is not Logan, in which case they take extremely inopportune moments to stare at your chest when they should be paying more attention to finding powerful artifacts and I'm rambling...

In any case. We all learned a great deal there -- I learned about vampires, history, and blocking off my mind. Kauton apparently learned how to take a more severe beating than before. I've taken up the staff as a weapon of choice; I must find myself a good artificer to make me a collapsible metal one. I have a few ideas in mind. Must run them past A and V Nosfertum for the reality check test, but it seems like a good idea. Possible transfiguration or sheathing for different materials -- pointy and wooden for your average vampire, for one. Collapsible stake.

So, the temple. "Don't take anything out" extended to "Don't touch anything either", predictably enough. I was unsurprised but... amused? Heartened? Darkly amused? Some vaguely positive emotion, anyway, to see Adelaide's protectiveness of her husband. I think it broke her heart when the curse was upon him. It did seem to briefly improve his mood, at least in that he was befuddled rather than cranky. Luckily, he remembered himself enough to snark at everyone within five minutes. It seems that this whole business has been a bit hard on Adelaide, though. Must have a chat with her. I'd planned on it when we returned from the temple, but everything exploded. I don't even remember much of what happened between leaving that place and getting thrown back into Drake Castle.

The men and Kauton are going to Siberia for more vampires. Less friendly ones than these. My calculated decision to stay back was preempted by Vincent's fingerpoint of you-will-get-vampired-and-raped-and-maybe-not-in-that-order. He's probably right, but calling me a liability is a bit much. We'd still be trying to get Daniel out of that room and Randy and Kauton out of the mist if it hadn't been for "some bloody civilian" who did NOT need to be a Seer to know that seeing your heart's desire in a temple halfway across the world is probably not a good sign.

So I went home and started a few potions brewing, performed a little light divination (death and destruction and tigers, so nothing new except tigers), did some gardening, consoled Daniel with his concerns (successfully? Who knows, but I may get some gardening out of it. Never let it be said I have NO Slytherin blood in my veins, but I sincerely believe the constructiveness of the activity will help him), decided to actually go out to the Three Broomsticks and have a drop of wine. I've met someone rather interesting there. An Auror, so he says, and he hasn't tried to kill me yet, so things must be going fairly well on that front. Who knows, I might add a drop of normalcy to my life.

Ha, ha, ha.

Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.

Well, that is perhaps an unkindness. Certainly Markhus Drake is very pleasant and hospitable. He is quite tolerant of my anxiety. His daughter -- well, one of his daughters, the one I have had any interaction with -- seems a winsome and kind creature.

It does not change the fact that they are vampires. Sweet and friendly as they are, I am not going to feel fully comfortable here. I am moderately safer walking these corridors than I am prancing gaily down Diagon Alley, though, so I suppose I have that going for me.

Daniel seems tempted by the majesty of this place. Certainly the notion of living forever has its temptations, but not under any circumstances. ANY circumstances, will I allow that to happen. He's a young man and full of possibilities, possibilites that do NOT include being transformed into an undead creature. Charming as Markhus Drake may be, winsome as his daughter may be, I do not trust vampires. I will never trust vampires. I certainly would not trust them to dissuade him from such a mad notion, though I hope it is only a flight of fancy and no more. And I do not trust that Vorenus fellow.

Hmm. I doubt these eastern vampires have the same allergy to wooden stakes in the heart. Must investigate that.

I wonder how Markhus gets his... sustenance. Do the Drakes volunteer? What a curious notion.

Hm. Regardless. The sooner we're out of here the happier I'll be.

I... cheated on my ex-sweetheart... with my uncle. (On the next Geraldo!)

*sound of brain breaking*

I got the urge to check the papers -- all the papers I could -- this morning, and what to my wondering eyes should appear but a pair of names I quite recognize.

I can't imagine what sort of trouble those men have sunk themselves into. Correction: I think I can. Probably they were going off to retrieve a piece of the flute, a task they thought would be ever so simple, and now they have become embroiled in some tangled and intricate conspiracy.

Things really never can be simple, can they? I don't know what possessed them to use their true identities -- then again, I should have done the same if I were less experienced with deception -- or what gave them the idea that they could simply swan off to Italy and pluck a flute piece from the ether. Not a single one has been easily taken, that I know of. Did they bring one of the Nosfertums? Any Auror at all? Anyone who could defend himself properly, who knew how to creep into places he should not be? A security expert? Anyone at all?

It's irrational of me to be so blessed angry with them, I know. I've done the same thing, made the same mistakes, but that doesn't make the mistakes any better. It doesn't make them any less wanted by the Italian MLE, either.

And just as irritating, I can't do anything about it. I was able to give Donelle some release from worry -- she seems to, for some reason, have quite forgotten any irritation she may have had at me. I will not ask how, as she seems not to wish to recall the event.

At least I was able to ascertain that they were alive and that help was coming for them. I was also able to prevent Donelle from chasing after them -- she knew she could do no good, but she didn't want to admit it to herself. Again, I can hardly blame her. She will not now, thankfully, be dragged into whatever horrible mess Ashton and Perry have gotten themselves into.

Once we have them out of Italy -- and they have recovered, if they must recover from anything -- I intend to set Daniel's and my plan into motion. Ashton is necessary. Perhaps Perry will want to come; I'm not inclined to invite him, merely because I have no idea what he's capable of apart from looking pretty and talking gently to the mentally befuddled. I don't want another liability.

(Good God, I need to stop spending time around the Nosfertums)

We're going to need someone at least who is capable of fighting on our little excursions. I have no bloody idea who to take. Nosfertum? Busy. Adelaide? Busy, and at Hogwarts. Cyrus? Cranky and recently married. Have we nobody else in the Order capable of keeping people alive? I shudder to think what will happen if we run across a dragon.

...Kauton?
Hiroshi? If only.
Raven? In the hospital. Not sure what can be done for him. Hopefully someone is damn well trying.
Zechariah? Haven't seen him in months.

Chase and/or Drake. That should work, though the more people I pull into this the more suspicious I may make them. If Ashton has not already begun to ask himself why Selene Sterling seems to have all these powerful contacts, Ministry and otherwise, it is out of intentional self-delusion. He shall see me acting quite differently from my usual self, using skills he had not expected.

Well. He may figure it out, he may not; at this moment, I don't much care. The Dark knows who and what I am, and their Lord has become intent on seeing me dead -- or better yet, I shouldn't wonder, kneeling before him. So my dreams say.

I shudder to think.

The cottage is very nice. Very peaceful. Hogsmeade is lovely this time of year, and it does my heart good to be so near to Hogwarts with Dumbledore and Adelaide there. It's quite a bit larger than my old flat, but very warm and cosy and homey. All new furniture, or at least all furniture I had to purchase or acquire from other places than my family. It should be possible for a Death Eater to wander from room to room and never have a clue who really lives here. It should be possible for one of my intimate friends to do the same.

The garden is coming along very nicely; at least, the flowers and herbs are. Vegetables may be started in the springtime.

I'm getting tired. I'm feeling... old. I'm not even thirty yet -- not far from it, but not there -- and I'm feeling old and impatient and cranky.

I should go to visit Dolph. That will clear my mind.

Well.

It's been a long time since I have written in this book anything other than star-charts and similar scrawls.

The girl who wrote the entries before this seems so very foreign now. So very young and silly and naive. I know the woman who writes now will seem naive and silly and young in another two years' time, but at the very least I have a bit of self-respect now and self-worth beyond another person's esteem.

What to write about. The new place is quite pleasant. Much larger than the flat, but cosier and with more walls. I am very pleased with the back garden. In sum total it is not, in fact, unlike the layout of Mayfair's house, but it is a good deal smaller. Still, neither me nor my alter-ego needs much space.

The curse on Mayfair and his family and friends... this is the major issue on my plate, though there is a great deal more amiss in this world. We must leap on it before it flies away entirely, but all things in their time, and this matter affects those I love.

It affects me as well, which is just icing on the proverbial cake.

I wonder why fate continues to throw me alongside poor Mr. Mayfair like a pair of straws in a whirlpool? I don't believe in coincidence. I don't think it means some idiot thing like 'you are meant to be together'. I just appreciate the opportunity to give the man a hand when he needs one.

Daniel is working on... well, I don't know exactly. A spell or a procedure or something of the like that will allow us to seek the flute pieces through the threads of the curse attached to Mr. Mayfair. I have the feeling it will involve the poor man perambulating about with us, though at least he shall be doing something to improve his lot. Far far better for the psyche than sitting around with nothing to do but wait for someone else to solve the problems plagueing him.

Signs are good that this will work. I have faith.

I wonder if there is some way I can make headway with Mr. Brown. Just to let him know I'm not the deranged ninny grabbing his arm in the street, or at least not any longer, and that I likewise have no designs on his roomma lov friend. From what I gather they are quite happy in one another's company, and I am pleased by that.

Daveforth is getting on well considering the trauma of this past holiday. So much tragedy to fall on those small shoulders (though he is getting taller every day, I think. Soon he will outstrip even me), yet he handles himself so well. Relatively speaking. He really ought to have someone teaching him a few things about manners and morals, but I am not his mother and I think he would resent it from me. Or just find it funny.

He knows my contact information now. Not where I live, nor yet the name under which I live, but he can contact me at any time. I could not simply depart from his life like a discarded toy, especially not when I saw the look in his eyes on hearing that I was going underground. I think it unlikely that the Dark will choose him for information retrieval, but they have never shrunk away from using children before.

Donelle is doing marvelously. Cursed she may be by this cruel circumstance, but she seems to keep her chin up. She played a remarkable game of Quidditch recently, and without any sign of anxiety or fear. I admire her resolve.

Dolph. Oh, Dolph. You have done so much, waited so long... you have made many mistakes in your life, and I think you are making another in me. I will bring nothing but grief to your life, but it is not in my heart to continue denying your affection. You know the danger and you will stay.

One day, perhaps you too will ask that I step away from my 'Ministry work' to make our lives safer.

Still, until then I will not throw away a chance at happiness for either of us. We deserve a little, both of us. I only hope it does not put you in danger... though already you must be.

I awoke last night with the image of those red eyes still in my mind, of a sibilant voice whispering my name. This does not bode well.

You scored as Simon, the Doctor. </td> Simon, the Doctor 94% RiVER 75% Inara, the "Companion" 63% First Mate Zoe 63% Captain Malcolm Reynolds 50% Shepherd Book 44% Jayne Cobb, resident bad-ass 44% Kaylee, the Mechanic 31% Wash, the Pilot 25% FiREFLY QUIZ created with QuizFarm.com

I am Selene's complete lack of surprise. XD

I will discover the truth. Even if it must be done slowly.

So much has been happening. These dreams, they are coming to everyone in London and they will not cease -- not unless they can be stopped. And I have learned much, but not all. I think I know how to stop them. I think I know what must be done. But I must work and work and seek the way to do it.

Cy'raen. Ka'riaen. Avaracus, and I am almost as afraid to write his name as say it. I remember him all too well.

Avaracus: seeking to gain control of both the land of the flesh and the land of dreams. It sounds like the sort of thing he'd do, really.

Cy'raen: the Black Dragon. Hiding from Avaracus. If he had them both it is likely he -- yes, she said he would power a machine with the two of them. That he would have the power to do what he wills. She hides in a place that disquiets me. Mirrors are known for capturing the soul, and legend says it is dangerous, very dangerous, to be caught between a pair of them. Black, rarely an auspicious color. She intends, I think, to send her sister away. And I think she will send Ashton away as well, my dear Mayfair. She will not 'hurt' them. No, I think she told the truth there. I think her truths were literal... and incomplete.

Ka'riaen: the Gold Dragon. Mayfair says she is the spirit of heroes, of destiny, whereas Cy'raen is the spirit of fate. Heroes' survival versus heroes' failure. Happy endings. Imprisoned by Avaracus. It is her heart broken into shards, and the collection of them will, it seems, confer power.

Yet Ka'riaen is imprisoned by Avaracus. If she is weakened, then can he not steal what shards she receives? Or will the receipt of them bring strength?

When I find a shard, will it be given immediately to Cy'raen? Or shall I hold it as her Avatar? She cannot act, I think, or she would do this herself.

Why did she choose me? Why did the other choose Ashton? Why the PAIR of us?

Two sides of the same coin. Light and dark. Good and evil? No. Both are necessary. Without the one, the other will fail. Light defines shadow. I must serve, but...

But both must continue. Both must live.

I cannot see Ashton until this is all over. I must not. He was in such pain from the moment we saw each other, he said 'she is dying', and I felt so...

Energized.

And when I tried to speak afterward to Cy'raen, she was... weakened, as though she had expended a great deal of power. Could she have been weakening her own sister? But that seems unlikely, if for no other reason than she did /not/ lie to me. She never did. Yet I do not know if she could not or merely told me so... so many questions.

Yet the Gold Dragon was distressed when Ashton was in my presence. She must be in such pain...

Things to do:

1) Ask more questions of Cy'raen.
2) Find out more about dream-lore. Oceania is trustworthy and bright, she can tell me more or at least point me in the right direction. Chances are she knows of this situation, Seer that she is.
3) Keep inside. Who knows what harm I can bring to others, if I have brought it to Ashton.
4) Find the heartshard I was told of. I will find her when I sleep. I will not even write her name here for fear...
5) Make certain I cannot be supplanted as Avatar, at least until this is all finished. Another person might know less, might be less driven, might feel special for being chosen, might act without thinking.
6) Be certain to push away my ego. Meditation, that's the thing. Keep mind clear. Keep my purpose in clear sight.
7) Survive. If it is possible. I have the feeling Cy'raen might do something rash. If Avaracus succeeds, that will be the end of me as well.

There is no evil in this. Misguidedness, yes... likely from all sides.

I pray that God may give me strength and insight. And luck, as well... hopefully that does not only come from the Gold Dragon, hmm?

( Read more... )

It is entirely possible I am going mad, though Nosfertum seems to think something is affecting people other than me.

Whatever the reason, I must cease to need others. And so I have, I do not. I need only my work. I do not need the respect or recognition of a job done well or done at all. I do not need my tasks to be interesting. I just need them to be possible to complete.

And I must do as much as I can before the end. It comes and I will not be able to stop it. Even if this is only a false alarm, it will not be long. I will fight it off as well as I may, but it is prophesied that I will fail. They say it is one of my generation that will break this curse, but it is not me.

Thank God I left Ashton now; the last thing he needs is a madwoman cluttering up the hall.

I cannot bear this.

It is empty even in this cramped flat. Empty no matter how much material I surround myself with, no matter how much work I do. The bed is cold and too big by half. I take up so little of it.

I wake up sometimes quite sharply because I cannot hear breathing. That is when I can sleep -- the nightmares return here in force, confusing reality and vision and mere dreamlogic.

Adelaide tells me to keep myself sane. I cannot explain to her fully what it is to need a sanity to come back to, a face and a mind rooted in the real world. I never knew how sorely I needed someone like my Ashton Mayfair until he came along, and now that I have left him I feel entirely lost and alone, half only of myself.

I did not WANT to leave him. I did not CHOOSE this. And I will make the people pay who made this happen.

He hasn't replied to my letter. Does he wish to? Has he received it? Does it matter to him at all? Does he love me yet? Is he trying to harden his heart to me, to forget I exist?

I think I left a bottle of rosewater on the bathroom sink.

He will find someone else, and the thought of someone else in his arms makes my stomach churn. No matter how worthy or kind or good they are, the thought makes me want to tear the world apart. He should do it, and yet... and yet.

The peacedraughts help me sleep, on the nights that I don't work myself into a stupor. That at least tends to handle my dreams. But I cannot bear this.

How quickly will it be that he forgets me?

( The Vision )

I have been racking my brain trying to figure out what I can do now.

Whatever this is... it is big. Bigger than New Years. Bigger than Christmas. And Zellah Redwater has her soft spots, but they do not tend to be that easy to touch.  She is not a zealot for the Dark Lord, I know that well enough. She has morals, twisted and dark though they are. But for something to be so terrible that she would not do it, this woman who has killed dozens, hundreds of people by her own hand...

And I cannot find what it is.  I am watching the stars and I see catastrophe. I dropped my cards and for a moment, each of them was the Tower.  Burning. Lightning. But it is as of one walking on the edge of the knife.  I feel the rush of wind, as though I am falling, I feel a sudden wave of terror, of anger, of fear, of despair. But it is as a shadow on the moon, inconclusive, there and gone in the glimmer of a blink from the corner of my eye, a whisper half-heard in the clamor of every day.

I look at my options.  I cannot send Nosfertum, they will only fight.  I cannot send Adelaide, Kauton, Elsbeth.  They are very fine in battle and they would still fall to her wand, to her guile.  Nobody else in the Order can be compromised, and she would wonder why I sent Lydia or Abigail or any of the rest. I have already compromised the Order too much by allowing that suspicion in her mind.  But all I have to tell her is the truth of what I have Seen.  If she truly wishes to stop this, at least she can tell me where to look.

There is of course that very real chance that she will kill me, so naturally I must take precautions.  My Ashton lies sweetly sleeping, unknowing.  I can hear the sound of his breath -- blameless. Innocent.  Thank God he does not know what I do.  I have made a Portkey and will use it without hesitation if Zellah even begins to attack me. I will have my wand. I will purchase a spare, even; Ollivander will be irritated at the prospect, but I need a backup.  If I have not returned in six hours, Gawain will deliver a letter to Nosfertum, and another shall appear on my desk. 

In the event of my demise
I do not own my own Pensieve.  That proves a problem.  Perhaps I can find some way to Oblivate myself... no, I must.. yes, I know how I will keep her from knowing anything of that. Something she will not expect. It will give something away, I fear, but better that it not come to that.  Perhaps she will remember how good I am with potions.

Dear God, let this work.

yay for lemming

( Questions OMG )

I was at a meeting with the others and I saw him being attacked, felt his terror, felt his life leeching away...I appeared on the scene and with a few spells Erika had been driven away. It has happened before. I keep swearing to myself that it will not happen again.

I was unable to sleep, pacing back and forth, and I saw Ashton -- captured, tortured, beaten, changed. I ran into his room and he was not there, and I was afraid. So very, very damned afraid. Yet he was downstairs when I went looking, and he...comforted me, made me feel safe as he always does. He swears he will be more careful. But I have seen what will happen, his skin flayed, his veins peeled away...

When I saw Kauton, I knew she was in trouble. I knew something was coming. She asked me to look and I did, eventually, divining with the help of a cup of tea with lemon and a few of her hairs. How very appropriate. I felt what it is to be tortured, to be kept awake for three days, to be tormented and beaten and burned and broken, all in the space of a few seconds. My reaction was not the most dignified, I fear, and it startled her. She promised she would be careful, though it did not overly concern her -- after all, she was the only one in danger. She is brave, a soldier, a strong person; she does not care for her own safety. They got her anyway. She was tied to a menhir for three days and tortured, even as I saw.

Today I saw Adelaide in darkness, searching, hunting, afraid and lost. I could see the worry in Nosfertum's eyes. I could also see the disgust when I...I did not mean to lose control that wya. He did not -- no, I am certain he /did/ intend to hurt me, and just as much as he did. I told him, I told her, I told them what I had seen. They promised to be careful.

Ashton promises to be careful every day. He even promises it straight before he is attacked, before he does something boneheadedly stupid like leaving the window open for Erika to crawl in. Kauton promised to be careful, but she did not care enough, was not careful enough. I think a part of her simply did not believe me, and Ashton, he seems to think he is immortal or that his life does not matter. I saw the looks in their eyes, in Adelaide's and Nosfertum's. Of course she is in danger, they thought. Adelaide is an Auror; she is always in danger. Nothing has changed, their eyes said. We will do nothing different, their eyes said.

I lost control. I cannot believe...well, at least no harm was done. I hardly think Mr. Nosfertum can think less of me than he did before; not that it matters, of course. When I am useful to him I will be used, and when I am not a tool he needs I will be set aside like a hammer. Yet at least I am useful, on occasion.

When I was a girl my friend had lost her dolly. I told her where it was, and she said she had looked there; I brought it to her, and she said I had stolen it. When I was a student at Hogwarts, I told a girl her boyfriend would be unfaithful, that she should not trust him; she accused me of being a liar and jealous, and when my sight was proven correct, she despised me all the more.

I have seen countless people die or be relegated to torture, to nightmares, to grievous fate. A thousand times I have seen events I can do nothing for. I have dreamt of the victims of the one they call the Dark Lord; a thousand deaths, that high laughter...and I can do nothing.

I can only report, I can only tell, I must not blame myself for the coming. It seems to me more and more the case that no man can change his fate, that what I see will come to pass. That there becomes less and less effective difference between what I see with my eyes and what I see with my mind.

I heard a word as I departed the room where Nosfertum and Adelaide were: 'nutjob'. Perhaps he is right, but the word stings far more deeply than I will ever allow him to know. I can do more now that I have the friends I do, but still and still I can do nothing, nothing at all.

Yet I must still hope, or all is lost.

It has been a little time since I wrote, and yet so very much...

Well. I am of my proper age and appearance again, and that at least is good. My beloved Ashton replied with his usual enthusiasm, to which I was pleasantly surprised -- yet he was and is always the eternal gentleman. He is so beloved to me, even though we do not always agree. The matter of Adelaide, for instance, and that of Erika...

The poor girl...creature, perhaps more appropriately...is on her way to a violent death, and though once I would have happily slain her out of hand I cannot now be so vicious, so easily able to mete out justice. It /is/ just, indeed, for her to answer such for her crimes -- but she was human once and there is still a shred of that humanity left. It is the part of her that adores Ashton, and that part I can empathize with all too well. Perhaps that is a part of my protectiveness, of my anger toward her? Can it possibly be jealousy?

But my greatest fear -- that she slays him or, worse, makes him what she is -- nearly came to pass. And I was, I fear, rather poor at handling myself -- the sunlight spell was well-cast, but my weeping, my breaking down afterward, my fear, that is not acceptable. I must not let it take me over again.

He believes it is a poverty that Aurors use the tools of the Dark to combat it -- and yet in my rational mind, I know that if they weaken themselves further against those who have no compunctions about killing streets-full of innocents to further their goals, we would be in a worse situation than we are now. But it is still a darkness they step into, and I fear...

Then again, I know the mettle of some of those at least who are in the Ministry. They will not fall, those I trust. I have faith in them, in my friends. I have faith that Adelaide will not let herself fall too far. I have faith that Mr. Nosfertum will remain honest. I have faith that Mr. Tanaka will show more gentleness to humanity than he shows to the once-alive. That Mrs. Brimblecombe will never let all she does get in the way of the simple joys of life.

The Castle looms. I wish I could do more, but I have done all I can do. I am due for a vacation, and I cannot wait until we may take that time at my family's estate. More and more I cannot keep my eyes off my Ashton...I worry for the day when I must choose between him and the Order, between safety for myself and my loved ones and safety for the rest of the world, wizarding and Muggle.

I am on a forced vacation for a few months until I have my license back...and until I have a home once more, I am guesting with Ashton. It is perhaps not the best of plans, but it certainly is pleasant...and playing housewife is remarkably soothing. I almost feel I could do it professionally. Perhaps one day.

For now I listen to him sleep, to that soft sweet silence of his breath, inhale and exhale. I can think of no better lullaby.

He knows me.

He knows and has seen me and expected me. I would like the vision I saw to be a mere conceit, and perhaps it was, perhaps it was simply the conceit of a technical adolescent doing more than she should dare. Perhaps it was a trick of the mind from a former mindhealer. Perhaps perhaps perhaps.

It was at the very least orchestrated by him, whether fallacy or no, and I must remember what I have told Adelaide, what I have told Natalie, what I have in fact told so many people. You must do what you can with what you see. You cannot control it. You cannot control everything that happens or prevent all the wickedness in this world, and to try and blame yourself when you fail is futile and self-defeating.

She looked just like me. And when I saw him at first I did not recognize what he was doing, and it was only on reflection that I can discern he killed her, or at the least he cut her throat to pour her lifesblood into chalices, six of them. Six. Who are the six, I may wonder. And the windows, large and strange, I would recognize them on seeing them again. Perhaps at the musem or something similar there is a book of London churchwindows. There is a coffee table book on everything else after all. I know these symbols. I cannot place them. Their identity hovers on the edge of my mind, the symbolism...

He knows me. I am a target. By default that means those around me are. Must be careful. Must. Not. Visit. Ashton. Must not visit the children, or Dolph, or anyone else, not until he is caught.

Dear God, I couldn't stop it. I couldn't save her. I couldn't have gotten there in time, I don't know where to go, I

I believe his paedophilic appearance is less of avocation and more of an attempt to shock and disgust his subjects; it is a subject distressing to all right-thinking folk and he takes advantage of this. It is not lust, it is power.

The youthening potion still has its grip on me. It seems rather unimportant now, in the grand scheme of things, and in fact it has proven useful in assisting Adelaide. Being a scowling teenager is oddly satisfying, and it keeps my mind off everything else.

Must find something to occupy my mind.

( Report to Mr. Nosfertum )