4bidden Social

[ TYPE: Blog Entry. | DATE: Week 17, Friday afternoon. ]

Master McCall gifted me a diary over the holidays that I have yet to make use of but admire all the same. It's a sturdy, well-made thing with many, many crisp white pages bound in black leather and silver-colored trim. There is a lock for which I am not foolish enough to believe could not be broken by a set of prying eyes and determined hands, but I like to think I am not so cagey as to merit such interest from others. It is the most thoughtful thing anyone has done for me in – well, for a very long time. My master is most kind.

I'm fairly confident my life thus far could fill the first hundred pages, and perhaps many more if I felt inclined to include the trivialities of my training, which I thankfully do not. Yet...

I turn twenty-three over the weekend. Perhaps I shall start there and work my way backward?

I want to go dancing...

Suck my mother fucking BASS!



God is a girl, wherever you are, do you believe it? Can you receive it?

Type: Blog
Who: Open
When: Sunday; Week 13

The lights are pretty, and I love the Trans-Siberian Orchestra. Lost Christmas Eve is my favorite Christmas album.

Snow makes me tired, though. So tired. Sleepy. I want to cuddle under blankets and listen to music while watching out a window.

[ TYPE: Blog Entry. | DATE: Week 9, Wednesday morning. ]
We live in a strange time where the wolves cannot howl and the vampires no longer abide by shadow. So accustomed to danger am I that the mediocrity of mankind is indeed a more frightening proposition than a predator in the dark. There are times – when the frustration is too much – that I wish everything would simply return to... Return to what? Return to normal? There are those who yearn for their notion of normalcy back, yet there are those who yearn for that normalcy to never return. I don't claim to know the correct answer.

I know only that my maker can no longer see me, nor I him, for we have both been deafened and blinded to each other. Selfishly, I search for his footsteps in the snow at night, that I might follow him into the ether... I can no longer decide which of the two is worst; the sound of the bells tolling, or the silence that followed after it...

I think of my master and wish only the best for him, but the price...

… The price sleeps next to me at night.

Type: Group Text
To: Scott, Alcuin, Chessa, Jamie, Kai
When: Week 7; Monday

( You have (1) new text. )

Text to Alcuin
Saturday afternoon // Week 3

( we good now )

[ TYPE: Blog Entry. | DATE: Week 2, Wednesday morning. ]
My master permitted me the use of this some time ago, yet...

Yet I do not know what to say, I'm afraid. I've little experience chronicling my life in such a way, after all, and Anafiel my master Master Anafiel Master Delaunay always said that it was best to remember rather than record. He jested once that when one got to be as old as he was there simply weren't enough post-it notes in the world to remind him of the things he'd forgotten, much less pages in a book.

Then again...

[ PRIVATE TO SCOTT ]

Master, it seems that you've left your key card on the coffee table again. Would you like me to fetch it for you?

[ /PRIVATE ]