I Can't Hear You - the Blood's Drowning You Out.    00:31 3rd January, 2008   Memories (?) will resurface at the most unexpected of times. Given that kindred society is more rife with instances of "synchronicity" than most, I should pay attention to this. Concentration can be rather difficult, at times, given my current distractions. But if any of this nostalgia turns out to be more than that... I could be in some serious trouble. Or in for the time of my life. I'm not sure.        Play With The Razor   Dreaming?    12:32 3rd December, 2007   I don't dream very often. When I do, it's usually a portent of some kind - either a message through that strange connecton amongst my clan-mates, or some significant supernatural upheaval, such as the destruction of New Haven. Yesterday was full of dreams. Or they could be long-buried memories, which would be worse than a bunch of potential portents. There was nothing very coherent, unfortunately, but certain images stuck in my mind: - A cat-and-mouse dialogue with Gammon (was there ever any other kind?) but, for once, I had something he needed. His usual supercilioius smile had been wiped off his face - a mercy in itself - and he impressed me with his urgency, the importance of...whatever it was, as he followed me across town and harped and harped on the subject. - Lying on an old, battered bed - paint peeling from the metal frame - in an otherwise empty, dusty, room. Sprawled beside me is some acquaintance - flat, oval face, buzzcut red hair. We were talking about nothing in particular, occasionally spooning up against each other as lovers do - which we most certainly were not. It bothered me (at the time) that I couldn't remember how I knew him, or why I was willing to let him be so close to me. It's not something I usually allow, any more. The conversation became heated - he wanted to talk about something more important, something important to the both of us and I reluctantly agreed, but I've forgotten the details, now. - Leaving a hospital, looking behind me and being rather surprised to see that it's not a hospital but a large department store in downtown. A bit bothered by this, I decided to lock everyone inside, by flipping a small, inconspicuous latch on each door. The store was very large, encompassing an entire city block, so there are a lot of doors to find and lock. Even now, I remember the shape and patina on the bronze door-handles, although I can't really remember anything else about the place. I came to a door that didn't have a latch, and I wondered how I was going to stop everyone from pouring out that one door. Someone handed me a blank piece of graph paper and told me I could work it out that way. I sat down on the sidewalk and drew complicated geometric designs - all following the gridlines of the paper - but I can't reach the conclusion I need. - Back in the bedroom again, sitting on the floor this time, leaning against the peeling bedstead. There were several other vampires there, apparently a Sabbat pack. Their pack leader is dressed like a clown in blue and yellow and might as well have Attention Seeking Malkavian written across his chest. I should have been worried, but I couldn't be initimidated by someone who looked so ridiculous and, besides, I was high as a kite (which, in a distant way, worried me far more than the Sabbat did) and I was hard pressed to focus on the scene, let alone worry about it. The pack leader was giving me some sort of recruitment speech, although it didn't have quite the hard edge of other recruitment schpiels I've heard - in the waking world - from the Sabbat. I wasn't impressed, particularly as his own pack didn't seem too impressed by him, either, and they interrupted and heckled him frequently. I had a vague idea that I'd survive the encounter - probably - but couldn't resist needling the 'leader' about the respect (and lack thereof) of his peers. So much for the vaunted pack loyalty of that sect... I wondered if perhaps they weren't Sabbat, after all, but were trying to convince me that they were, and why they would do that. I haven't thought of Gammon in years. Last I heard, he'd joined the Serpents of Light, or been eaten by a werewolf, or pissed off back to Egypt - depending on who you asked. In fact, I haven't seen him since that damned strange evening in San Francisco and, even then, I can't be sure if that actually happened. The hospital... well, there's been some ups and downs at the clinic, lately. Perhaps I should pay closer attention to them. The "sabbat" pack might well have just been my brain reinterpreting my time at New Haven - with me as the clown. It's the sort of nasty jibe we like to pull on ourselves, isn't it? Indeed, the only fragment that really worries me is the red-headed man. If I could just remember what we talked about! I'll speak to my childer. Maybe they've been dreaming, too. ( OOC )        Play With The Razor       21:32 15th October, 2007   I can still taste him.        Play With The Razor   OOC Post.    15:16 11th May, 2007   ( OOC )        Play With The Razor   ...And Off To London I Go.    14:36 20th November, 2006   He thinks I'm giving him what he wants, but that's only because that's how he chooses to interpret it. He wants a competition, something he can win, and so he sees it that way. I'm not out to win, I'm out to change. We'll both be changed by the end of it all, or we'll die trying.        Play With The Razor   (OOC) Thoughts On Various Flavors of Insanity    15:00 10th October, 2006   ( An OOC post - talkin' about Trish )        Play With The Razor   For the 3 People Who Are (Maybe) Still Reading This Thing    21:40 12th August, 2006   A Trish-relevant post has been made at jugglingmercury. And if you're feeling masochistic: Paul's POV of the same incident. Patricia's side of it will wait until I've roughed out the next vignette. Assuming I can get two Certain Visages to quit making naughty (and, honestly unproductive) suggestions in my head.        Play With The Razor   OOC    15:10 8th August, 2006   ( Entirely OOC )        Play With The Razor   Berlin - Initial Thoughts and Recollections    12:46 8th August, 2006   Initial communication and most of it at the court was via one of the Primogen - Eberhart's golden childe, I'm told. Paul Viersan occupies a strange position in the territory, one that the harpies politely sneer about - although not too loudly. Primus Inter Pares is the best description of it. He comes and goes as he pleases, and retains his Primogency and even his status, regardless - as long as his Sire remains Prince, of course. Naturally, he's fiercely loyal, and enjoying a crest of popularity at the moment, being credited with foiling the recent attempt at Praxis. His are the usual polished looks of the Ventrue, combined with satorial taste so exquisite as to make the Toreador occasionally lose track of their thoughts in his vicinity. A clever approach, if one can pull it off, and he does. And yet... Viersan learned his manners at his father's knee, but the show is only skin deep. Eberhart's aura is as calm as his visage, but his childe on the other hand... fascinating. He's so correct in court procedure, so very charming to equal and inferior alike - not for him the high-handed brusqueness that alienates so many Ventrue from their cohorts - but it's a lie. Beneath the surface, he is seething. Something is on the verge of tearing him apart and I want to know what it is. Given that he's my assigned guide/minder for the trip to the Brandenburg Gate, I might have a chance to find out... *** Ahren Eberhart is a hard-faced man with the mouth of an aesthete - an interesting combination. I couldn't help thinking of Ozymandias at first sight. Then again, that poem comes to mind a lot in our society: whose frown And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command ... Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things. Indeed. The conversation followed predictable lines. "We don't expect you to 'deal with it', madam. My court is not as strapped for resources as those you're used to. Merely observe it and share your observations based on your experience, and I will be grateful." And that settled that. There's nothing like doing a favor for one of the more powerful Princes in Europe to make one feel important, even if he couldn't resist a snide remark about my former court. It's possible he might even honor the favor, and even a trivial boon from one like Eberhart is worth quite a lot. *** The Primogen of Berlin have suffered a recent attrition. A failed coup has left the city with only three Primogen when there used to be five, and the court officers are, apparently, still scrambling to demonstrate their loyalty and find out how the failed conspiracy had gone so far without being detected. The Assamites and the mercenaries have, I hear, been making a fortune. If I knew how to contact Bishop, I'd tell him there's easy money to be made here, but I don't know how to reach him and, besides, I still don't know if he'd be all that pleased to hear from me. Why invite a hungry wolf into the parlour? ( The visit to Brandenburg - long )        Play With The Razor   Packing My Bags    22:29 7th August, 2006   In light of recent information, I have told the Prince of Berlin that of course I'd be delighted to respond to his summons. There is a faint yet perceptible chance that what I find there is connected with Zoe's recent fears. I hope that she talks to Zach and keeps in touch over the next few nights...        Play With The Razor   Early Morning Thoughts.    09:43 7th August, 2006   I'm in what must be one of the world capitals of self-justified hedonism and noncomformity, and yet I'm still bound by habits. Even my childer felt the need to comment on it, although I believe that their notion of what passes as acceptable behavior is a little unconventional - even by my standards. My childer are, I think, looking for opportunities to push boundaries - mostly mine. I'm a target of convenience, I suppose, as well as the obligatory parent figure against which all children must rebel. Although why they should want to rebel now, given recent events. They're playing a game of keep-away-closer, like any insecure teenager. I'm at arm's length, but not much further than that. What a strange relationship we have. I'll wait, I can be very patient. But the Prince of Berlin is not patient, and I must decide if I'm going to reply to his missive or risk offending one of the most powerful vampires in Europe. It's not much of a choice. However, I must continue to exercise patience, as any meeting will be on his schedule, not mine. I mustn't try to anticipate too much. I mustn't become addicted to risk. Opportunities for change abound. I need to broaden my horizons or, at the very least, acquire a new hobby. Why is it so difficult to decide? Of course, I can almost hear Michael's voice offering to make the changes for me. A shame I can't carve it out of my head. Those memories are, however, a vital part of me and I've had too much done to my mind already. I will consider this another opportunity to be patient, to remain still. Is it remain still and survive, or stay frozen and die? I suppose that depends on the predator. Am I someone's prey? Who's? ( OOC )        Play With The Razor   Amsterdam - 4th Night    11:42 19th July, 2006   The lady protested too much, oh yes. The thug wants to be an artist? That, I can understand. That she really believes that she's found her true love in a kindred who is probably some sort of Tremere-controlled time bomb? Well, not everyone can be rational in their insanity. If she has any sense, she would be scared. But the Brujah - even ones playing at being Toreador - often lack sufficient imagination to be scared when the threat isn't something they can immediately deal with via percussive force. There is no such thing as a "good deal" from the Tremere, and if Green believes that, then I'm disappointed by his naivete. It is more likely, I think, that he has convinced her that he successfully made an advantageous deal and, whatever price was paid, he kept to himself. Assuming that he's aware of it, that is. So much has been done to his mind that I'm surprised that there's anything left. I suppose his apparent insanity is quite unsurprising, given what I know of his history. I would love to know what the Tremere gained from letting him live. So much easier to Destroy one who had become so high maintenance and knew so many things that should remain within their ranks. I'm still not entirely satisifed that he's not Tremere. If a Brujah can successfully play-act as a Toreador, then why not a Tremere? The question is, as ever, qui bono? I will have to think about that. *** Maybe I should put a camera in my haven when I go home. It's a damned dangerous thing to do, but I'm not sure what else I can do. I thought that I was on top of things. The holes in my memory had been resolved, and as for those incidents in New Haven... I don't care what Atticus said he discovered in his so-called investigations, I'm sure he was behind the incidents, one way or another. His command of Obfuscate could plausibly exceed my ability to pierce a disguise, or he could have even hired a Ravnos. Atticus had the resources, and the illusions of the Ravnos are especially pernicious. There's a clan I would cheerfully wipe out just for the pleasure of doing so, but I digress. The first thing that must be done: determine if Michael actually exists. Hence the thought of wiring my haven. That's an idea - I could just wire it for sound. I'd rather there not be a video record of my comings and goings. Yes, I think that's a better approach. If Michael exists, then I can deal with him by myself. If I'm hallucinating, then I must determine if the visions have an internal or an external source. Given the timing, I can't exclude Green or Annie - pardon me, Zoe and Zach - from suspicion. If it's an internal issue, then I'll have to do something - but what? It's not like Prozac and electroshock are viable options. I can't talk to anyone about this, no matter how anxious it makes me.         2 Cuts - Play With The Razor       09:26 18th July, 2006   Slumming in Amsterdam is overrated - at least, it is for those who want to stay off smack. Dropping a thousand dollars on a single purchase was perversely enjoyable, though. It's been quite some time since I went clothes shopping - particularly for those sort of clothes - and I'm sure they'll see further use during my stay. If nothing else, they'll irritate the hell out of my childer and goodness knows, I've let them get a little complacent. Obvious disappointments of Amsterdam aside, finding - or being found, I should say - by Dr. Green was quite a surprise. Given that he and Ms. Greenbriar have gone to such trouble to disguise themselves, surely introducing themselves was counterproductive. It's a hell of a risk for them, and for what sort of payoff? I will have to find the answer to that question, soon. Green couldn't articulate any sort of coherent or plausible reason for his actions. I wasn't surprised by that, though, as he is - and I say this as one who knows - mad as a hatter. So is Ms. Greenbriar. An insane Brujah is one thing, an insane Tremere is something else entirely. Once again, I must conclude that Dr. Green has someone - probably several, powerful someones - by the balls in order to continue existing. I wonder who? I'm extremely curious to hear more of their story and besides, we have something else in common - we're all ex-Princes of the same turbulent-yet-forgettable territory. In fact, if their auras were an accurate gauge, I think we have quite a lot in common. This could get interesting. And besides, I want to find out who performed fleshcraft upon them and break their fingers. The practioner may have known anatomy, but they didn't know a damn thing about aesthetics. ( OOC )         1 Cut - Play With The Razor   Realization    17:58 17th July, 2006   I have to go. I have to run. "An agent of change." he said. I don't want change like that. Or maybe I do. And that's why I have to run. The boys are going to Europe. I just volunteered to be their "advance guard", so to speak. I'm going to owe that Ventrue travel service a fortune. If he's not real, then I won't be able to outrun him. I don't know what I'll do in that case. Change? Into what? (OOC edit: the skinny)        Play With The Razor       09:40 19th April, 2006   I suppose I owe my continued existence to my boys. Not that they're mine. Or boys. Or of any gender. The haven's littered with blood bags and hypodermics. I think Eli's going to be "sleeping" it off for at least another day, but Bev surprised me by bouncing back quite quickly. It's easy to underestimate Beverly. I have to keep reminding myself of that. People assume that Eli wears the pants in that relationship, but that's not the case... My mouth tastes like packing tape and I'm still angry at my childer, no matter how justified their actions were - although that's offset somewhat by my amusement at their lack of foresight - but I'm the celebrity of the hour and I can't let an opportunity pass by and so I must paste on my most diplomatic smile and play raconteuse for an evening or two, despite feeling like shit. Being high was terrible and lovely and I don't want to think about it too much. Not right now, at least. One of the "elder" Toreador has taken a shine to me - they fell for the pain-brings-enlightenment line - and I've got to build on that as much as possible. I want to go back to Europe, but none of the cities there will have me on a long-term basis without some gilt-edged letters of introduction. Being the former Prince of a non-existent territory doesn't get one terribly far, no matter how many times I've been recognized by the Camarilla for my services.        Play With The Razor       11:27 17th April, 2006   Something happened at S's party. I don't remember - haha - but E and B got me home. Bastards. Can't think straight. For my own good. Right. Amazed I didn't kill more than I did in surgery. They've taken away my money and my keys and even my clothes and locked me in the apartment. I heard Bev say he'd stake me if I didn't stay put. Fuck him - like he knows what's going on. My freakish children don't understand. I don't either. So much for the kids keeping me on the wagon, huh? I can barely hold on to the floor the room keeps moving nice dosage control there boys. I'm going to ask Bev to stake me Eli would enjoy it too much because the call's still going and I know it's suicide and hateful as it is I like "living" but god it's getting noisy and I don't want to hurt them again but I will if I don't get stopped and I can't stop. Can't stop.        Play With The Razor       22:20 12th April, 2006   Something is calling me.        Play With The Razor       22:24 26th December, 2005   Everything is so much better when doubt has been removed. It's better than smack. I'd forgotten how bearable it was. Existence like this, I mean. I'm terrified and elated and probably the greatest fool that ever walked the earth but, damn it, I haven't felt this happy in years. Not since Michael, I suppose. I think, however, that my boys got more than they bargained for. I'll write about that, soon.        Play With The Razor       02:10 23rd October, 2005   Oh god, why should I even care any more? No, really. Remind me.        Play With The Razor       16:45 14th October, 2005   ( semi-annual lyrics post )        Play With The Razor

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