Rio Rancho

I visited Rio Rancho this past Thursday. It was interesting to say the least. I received a warm welcome, which to this day is a topic for which I am torn. I am glad that the turmoil ceased between the Invictus of Rio Rancho and myself, yet there is still a looming sense of impending doom.
I went this week with Master Vincent Montoya, Prince Romero's new vassal. He wore a purple sash. Being, to some degree imitated, I was flattered but I wondered internally if there was any significance to the sash's qualities. Purple is the Florentine color of the lords, not the succubi. I will make a mental note to speak with him on the matter in private.
I was once asked by Javod Masoudi why I wore a red sash. I explained to him that it served as a warning, a visible slash stemming from where I draw my blade across the chest. His response was to ask me what a sash representing throwing grenades may look like.

We arrived at their new Elysium complex. Simply put, it was a monument to insanity, and a breach of the masquerade waiting to happen. We passed a series of 60 foot walls erected around a lone monolith of a building. It appeared as though they were preparing for a war of somekind. Men with firearms patrolled the grounds like mindless dogs. I bite my tounge and make no waves in favor of maintaining the peace with the owners of the edifice. In times past I have received quite my share of ill will for correcting them in any capacity.

Later i spoke to Prince Sullivan, and she relayed to me that she and Duke Castle had already spoken about my conversation with him in Wyndsor. I get the distinct impression that House Castle still sees me as a weakling, or perhaps that my speaking to Duke Sir Hector Castle was seen as an act of weakness. I have no idea how their mentalities function. It is my hope that with enough time and effort, I will get through to the man, and reveal a quality of character within my person that he was never made privy to.

Shortly after court... I became blind and wracked by intense head pains-multiple times while sitting quietly in their Elysium. Fortunes spent, so it seems, cannot build a perfect Elysium. After Prince Sullivan investigated the occurrences, she too was affected in an identical manner. Afterward things began to take a turn for the bizarre. Pictures that plagued individuals, unseen by others, and a general sense of chaos led me to politely take my leave for the evening. Perhaps another day, ladies and gentleman of the CDRR.

Home from Wyndsor

I walk the halls of my humble haven. Its warmth and familiarity instills a certain sense of of security. I hear the muffled clash of metal on metal in the neighboring room and my mind begins to wander. What unmoving foe must Sir Jonathan Finch be facing off against tonight? Hes growing incredibly potent. I am often amazed at how remarkable his progress with his craft has progressed.

Ive recently returned from my trip to Windsor Ontario. I must say it was a rather fruitful venture out into the unknown. I touched based with my muse... the cacophony of kindred society. I feel a sense of comfort to be around them all, observing the nuances of their requiem... the nervousness in their voice when they are introduced to a superior predator, the danse macabre.
Elena's return, albeit brief was surreal. I saw in her eyes the fury only a woman can muster. It was both frightening and disturbing. It was the first time I ever wanted to abandon her. She was not Elena. Elena was dead.
I observed a great deal of anxiety regarding the Straega, Strix, Stirge or however you choose to acknowledge them. I saw chaos envelop our gathering firsthand and felt the spark of many beasts simultaneously rise in more kindred than I have ever experienced. Powerful Kindred. Degenerate Kindred. My close friends and allies were not left unscathed. And yet, through it all I felt detached, as if the world for just one moment lost its luster, and the sounds of a thousand voices were suddenly impossibly mute. I fear for what Ive become. What Ive done to myself.
I feel within me the pangs of humanity, though what does it all serve me if I have become so numb to the ebbs and flows of fate that I no longer feel my own identity. I witnessed my dead Aunt Elena transform into my unliving Aunt Makenzie and spout off prophecy... and through it all my heart did not skip a beat.

I have returned home to find that the city has returned to bad habits. Father Cade, Master Santiago, and Sunshine decided to let thier whims rule over reason and impoded in upon themselves. I am ashamed of them all. My gut reaction is to humilate them. To make them regret ever daring to resort to these antics. I tempt myself by giving in to my inner demons, but I beleive this is a case where I do our collective a greater disservice in remaining controlled. I fear for them.