I hate having to start over. Fuckin sucks. But I knew what I was getting into when I sent Dakota to Hawaii to go after Amaris. Found out what real monsters are like. To go from being able to shift and revert without rest...to not even being able to partially shift at all is something I never thought possible. Damnit those fae fucked me over something fierce, bastards didn't even have the courtesy to use lube. No, they power raped me sandpaper dry.
...still trying to wrap my mind around why they let me go. Certainly wasn't boredom. At least they took out the piercings before hand, thankfully Dakota either hasn't noticed the line of dots where they gave me a Jacob's ladder, or she's just letting me build up to that explanation. No, someone or thing orchestrated my bonds being cut. (Almost typed 'release' there, but that's too close to a pun and I don't feel like being responsible for the death of a random bunny in the woods). Probably never know who since Trea didn't have any family she was on good terms with.
But I'm alive. For what that means. Weakened, shaken, nearly wussified but alive.
Christ, there's a long road ahead of me. Just have to start slow and let the momentum build on its own. Like makin' love. Start slow and build to the frenzied finish. Unless you're out to just fuck, then you just sink your teeth in and rut like a rabbit until you're out of fluids and neither one of you can walk. Started with simply jogging, doing little power exercises as I run. Focusing my thoughts and jabbing out with pin-prick tendrils rather than some sprawling wave. Even that amount of control's been hell on my system. Who knew an ethereal animal could atrophy? It's all just baby steps. Had it once, I will have it again.
Anywhore, lets keep this free-thought train rolling.
Four months in New Orleans and its suprising how many lycanthropes there are in comparison to the two vampires I've met and the three others I've smelled. Fuckin glorified leeches. Not that I hold it against them, really, I don't. Just like extreme cases of Lycanthropy where the victim takes the curse/gift to save their own life from some illness or injury, I know some with vampirism made the same choice. Every being has the right to survival.
What puckers my sphincter is when they do it because it's become the "cool" thing. Billy-bob-Jim-bo-Tom loves Fuck-me-running-Susan and they want to live with each other forever. No thought to the fact they're going to watch their friends and loved ones age and die, while they don't. And of course the whole children issue. That's a rant unto itself. Sitting in a Starbucks mooching wifi, they'd close before I was done. Sucks being a verbose bastard.
Anywhore.
Met the local Regina last night while out on my jog. Came across the Queen in the park as she enjoyed a smoke, another lion, this one male, accompanying her. The conversation was pleasant, yet I could sense something amiss with the two of them. Felt good to be network building again. Something tells me I'm gonna need a fuckton of allies down here in the bayou. Group of lions is a good place to start.
Got a Nimir-Ra who doesn't really want to lead, or so it seems, but she's bricked herself into a pidgeon hole. She's smart, but I have this itch that she knows she's taken on more than she wanted and is still working out a strategy. It's certainly a position I don't envy, she can have the headache. And the 3am phone calls. And the random cat/rat/or dog showing up on her doorstep bleeding. She's a doctor, think she has practice with that. Been there, done that, have a t-shirt from the gift shop. Gonna fork over my collection of personal journals to her, maybe they'll help the Leopard Queen tread unfamiliar waters a bit better.
Certainly not the first I've met dating the leader of another group. Cat and Rat, it really never ends well. Doesn't matter the species. The human heart tilts one way, but eventually the Beast angles another. Also the loyalty thing. Leaders have to choose which comes first, their heart, or their station. While I have yet to meet the man, and have nothing to base my thoughts on, I've felt his power enough to know that since he's stronger than the Nimir-Ra it could possibly undermine her authority, if it hasn't all ready, without realizing it. Just have to see how the two of them play their cards because if they're not 100% equals on all matters, it can shred both groups. Especially if both leaders don't have the full respect and support of the other team. Factionomics is fun to think about.
Fuck, battery getting low and I forgot the A/C cord at the house. Just gonna call it a day here.
I swear I'm turning into a whiney bitch. Not sure why, but I keep bringing up Detroit like some retired war hero retelling stories no one wants to hear. Did it when I first met Jess, like it had any bearing on the situation at hand. Then I did it again when she took me and Dakota to meet that Patsy chick. What the fuck is wrong with me? Was never like this, or was I? Fuuuuck. Need to get off this train before I give myself a .404 error.
Nevermind the weird vibe I got from the visiting Nimir-Ra and her boy-toy. They're up to something. Jess trusts her, to a point I think, but it didn't seem that Patsy gave a shit that the cat she brought with her just pissed Jess off. My instincts have never been wrong. If those two are sticking around, I'll have to watch them.
Having met real monsters, everything I've seen or met so far in New Orleans is like a Muppet in comparison. Sure, a number of them can kick my ass, but there's a liberation that comes with knowing no matter how much a person can hurt you, they don't stack up with what you've survived. I know that if any of those bastards from across the pond came here I'd probably dissolve into a gibbering pile of fecal matter.
I know for a fact that screaming "I don't believe in fairies" just makes them giggle as your beast is fed off of like a buffet. But for what's on this side? Let them do their worst, it might tickle. Unless someone cuts off my arms and legs, again....that would hurt. I'll probably have nightmares about that cage until I die.
Speaking of what survived, while on another jog I came across a gruesome scene. Two vamps had been butchered, no real loss there, but it was the scent of the one behind it that confused the hell out of me. Following a blood trail nearly eleven blocks brought me to some warehouse styled church. Go figure. Dead vamps and a red crumb trail to a church. A woman had just went in the front door when I came around the corner.
That door had been the only ground level entrance. But I like to think of myself as mentally independant (or batshit crazy if you ask Dakota) and scaled to the roof. Felt good to be sticking my nose where it didn't belong. On the roof I found an exit, or secondary entrance for the rogues out there. I'd found me a vampire hunter. Never met a half-breed before. She looked in her late 20s early 30s, but with that leech blood who knows how old she could've been. Didn't find out her name until a few weeks later when I ran into her at the mall with Georgia and some others after I hooked up with some Parkour punks. Free-Running. Best form of exercise out there.
