Path of the Vampire forum

One page was stapled to the first free page in the journal. It had been written and then torn out, only to be reattached nearly a month later.

December 27th 2013

Dear Willy,

Today, I baked some more, but this time, there was a method to my madness. I got out my cake pans and got creative. I made a cat-shaped cake and mushed it together with icing until it was perfect and cat-shaped. When I was satisfied that it looked like a cat, I got out the icing and decorated it - it was beautiful! Once I was done with it, I let it cool - I admired the **** out of the beautiful cake I’d baked. I’m a talented little ginger - apparently I sold my soul for mad baking skills, because that was a beautiful cat cake. And guess what I did with it, Willy? I didn't give this one to the homeless people like I usually do with most of my baking.

Oh no, I baked this ******* cat cake for a special someone. For a special purpose. As soon as I finished admiring my handiwork, I took a fork and stabbed the little ******’s eyes out. And then kept stabbing until all that was left was a pile of mush. You see, this beautiful ******* cake had a nice, creamy strawberry filling center, so I stood there for a good 20 minutes mutilating this cake. And it bled so good.

But I wasn't done there. After I stabbed it, I set that ***** cat cake on fire. Which set off the smoke detectors, so I had to put it out. Not that there was much left at this point, but I knew it was still my beautiful voodoo cat cake.

Even then, though, I wasn't done with the burned hunks of charred, yet still kind of gooey cake bits. Cat cake was ruined, but she needed a more fitting end than to be tossed in the trash. That was too much dignity for that silly little waste to retain. So… I brought her outside and set her on the road. It didn't take long for the charred remains of the silly slut-cake to get run over half a dozen times. I left when I couldn't tell where the cake ended and the road slush began.

Moral of the story? ****. That. *****.

Seriously.

She’s either too dense to realize how badly she fucked up or she knows it and is clinging to the public perception that he still gives half a **** about her. Which he doesn't. Else he’d be spending time with her instead of with me.

I don’t know why she pisses me off so much - probably because she thinks she’s got some kind of one-up on me. She thinks I slept with her boyfriend, when in reality my boyfriend just didn't really know how to dump the excess baggage. Ultimately, that’s sad and funny at the same time, and I probably should have some kind of sympathy, but I don’t. You don’t try to make me look like a skank in front of people I respect, then get warm mushy feelings from me. That is not how that works.

You know how it does work though, Willy? After the cake was obliterated, I went back upstairs, got changed into my favorite strapless little black dress, a nice pair of black strappy high heels and otherwise got myself all dolled up. And then I went to visit my partner. We had fun.

Je t’aime,
Nix xox

February 14th 2014

Dear Willy,

I found this - I wrote it on a napkin the moment I got back from the realm in December - I think it was the 19th. I just found it tucked in a drawer and figured it should be in here for posterity

• December 19th 2014
  
  Of all the places I've been and things I've seen, nothing compares to the darkness and desolation of the fade. It's like walking through the set of a black and white post apocalyptic horror movie, except nothing is in focus. It's like s sandstorm came through and blurred everything to hell. No matter how hard you try, your eyes just won't focus. But that's kind of the funny bit... You don't even have eyes. You're a shadow, a living shadow vaguely shaped like yourself.
  
  Every time I go there, I know what to expect. It's different when you can't leave, though. I don't know why I put myself through this or why I thought it was peaceful enough to want to return. But somehow I know exactly why going there gives me a strange kind of inner peace. On a certain level, the deafening silence and the horror of having your whole world shattered, beaten and broken puts things into perspective. My life may not be what I want it to be - it may not be roses and white picket fences. Hell, it's not even stable - I'm not stable - but it's my life and it's better than the the fade. Everyone always talks about the calm before the storm, and then the ravages of the storm itself. But what about the silence afterwards? The past few months have been nothing but storm after storm, and I admit I got lost in the driving rain.
  
  This is my silence after the storm has passed, where everyone waits with baited breath just a bit longer. Just so they don't get their hopes up until they're sure it's over. I have done so many things of which I'm not proud, so many things I wish I could take back or erase. The truth is, not many people are willing to forgive, let alone forget. I learned a long time ago that I'm a rare kind of person. I'll forgive anyone who comes to me and acknowledges that they've hurt me and then asks for my forgiveness. Most people will not do that; they'll make you beg and scrape and grovel, and even then they won't give you the chance to prove you're truly repentant. I didn't really want forgiveness, though, not yet - I wanted a chance to prove I deserved forgiveness.
  
  Which is why I'm here. New beginnings are hard to come by, but I wanted one. I wanted my own tabula rasa from which to rise up and remake myself from the ash and dust of the sad creature I was. And I got it. It won't be enough for the people who want to see me burn, but I'm a phoenix - I have always been a phoenix and from the ashes I shall rise. Ultimately, I did this for me. It is good enough for me - that's all that matters.
  
  Nix

I'm strangely eloquent when I'm feeling all tormented... Hmm...

Nix

February 15th 2014

Hi again!

I found a magical cloaky thing stuffed in a wall cranny at High Noon Saloon last night. I love it when people stuff magical cloaks in walls and I pull them out. Hah.

I forgot to give Axel his gift because we were... busy... Maybe I'll do that today, even if it's a day late... Better late than never? Besides, it's cute. Well, the card is cute. The gift is gifty. And he got me a necklace that's super pretty. I looove it.

I had some bitching to do, but I'm not in a bitching mood. I'm in a curling up with the puppies and snuggling mood. Peanut's getting really big... I'm worried she's going to eat Dirty Cottonball if I forget to feed her one day.

Nix

September 26th, 2014

Dear Willy,

I've ignored you for far too long, but I've been scared of what I'd write if I actually sat down and hashed it all out. I've been in therapy since May... it's helping. I feel a lot more stable, and far less strung out, but no less sad. I think I'm just lonely - I imagine it's how the last wild member of an endangered species feels as slowly, one by one, each conspecific is snapped up by biologists keen to keep the species alive behind glass walls and metal bars. What's the point of being free if you're alone? I don't want to be alone anymore, but I have as much control over that as does the last animal of its kind; it's out of my hands.

At least I have a job to keep me occupied. Doc trusted me enough to let me hold down the fort, so to speak, while he's gone for a week. And I'm over Axel's abusive ********, I think, even though I'm still disgusted with myself for ever thinking he was worthy of anything more than a cursory glance and abject dismissal. He's like the selfish gene of a slime mold - too ******* stupid to realize it's screwing itself and everything it could have over, just to be a selfish, arrogant prick. Oh well - his loss, my gain.

And maybe, just maybe, something better is lurking around the corner. I shouldn't hope, but this time, I do.

Love,
Nix

February 2nd, 2015

Dear Severely Neglected Bookman,

I only pull you out when I'm conflicted*, so you should be happy about not being whipped out too often. The past few months have been some of the best of my life, I think. I'm happy. I'm also aware that this stupid diary journal thing reads like an anthology of bipolar ********, but I'm just going to say I'm happy with there I'm at, and who I'm with.

But the thing is, I flipped through these pages before I started writing, and one thing - one person - that keeps popping up is Micah. The fact that he's hurt me so many times and I'm still willing to forgive him says a lot about him, but more about me. He's been a 'friend' for a long time, and that seems to be why I keep letting him hurt me over and over again - like length of time as a 'friend' means I should forgive him. It's quite the exact opposite, though... as long as he's known me, he should have started showing an ounce of consideration a long time ago. Even now, I can hear him trying to justify it - something like "You know how I get when I'm angry" and "I don't really mean it." But that only goes so far when he keeps lashing out at me over... I don't even know what. How much hurt does he expect me to take? How much lack of consideration? Rudeness? Based on the past, on how I always forgive him, I guess he expects me to take it in stride and move along like I always do. But this time is different. I've been a positive person. I've been non-confrontational. I haven't snapped or tossed out any snide comments. So the fact that that's the immediate conclusion he came to and acted accordingly hurt. A lot. I deserved better than that - he could have asked and cleared it up in a second, but he didn't - he chose to react and blow up.

I think it's the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. As much as it hurts, I've put up with far too much ill treatment from him. I can count on one finger the number of times he's come to me and sincerely apologized or seemed to regret either words or actions that have cut me deeply. I've tried so hard to be on his side and support him when he needed it, and this is the thanks I get. That's just not good enough. Not from a friend and certainly not from a faction leader.

If he wants to be a little ***** about the one person who's actually stood by me, good for him. Blake's been supportive of me and has stood by me while Micah's been nothing but a jerk to him and about him. Blake's held me while I cried because of the cruel, thoughtless, unnecessary and hurtful things Micah's spewed just because he's 'mad' and 'that's how he is'. I'm not angry this time. I'm sad, because he broke something and I don't think he'll ever realize it. Even if he noticed, I doubt he'd care. If he did care, I doubt he'd try to make amends. Because that's 'just how he is' - how he is isn't good enough.

Nix

*May not be 100% accurate. Shh.

February 2nd, 2015

Dear Willy,

Twice in one night... lucky you. Or unlucky me.

Is cancelling a handfasting ceremony rude? I'm not really planning on cancelling the ceremony, I just really don't want to be near anyone other than Blake and maybe a few others. At this point I don't want more than a handful of people there anymore anyway.

I feel like dirt. Worse than dirt. I can think of a lot of things worse than dirt, but none of them fit properly. Really, it just feels like someone dug out my heart and filled the hole with jagged pieces of glass vaguely shaped like a heart. Moving too quickly hurts... Moving at all hurts. Curling up in a ball for a few weeks sounds like a great idea, but I can't even do that because I have to force myself to be excited for a ceremony. My ceremony.

It's completely unfair for me to feel so... down. Blake deserves better than that, but tonight I think I need to curl up around my glass heart and hope it doesn't stab me to death in my sleep. Maybe tomorrow will be better. I hope.

Nix

February 3rd, 2015

Updated: No, I don't feel any better.

February 4th, 2015

Dear Willy,

Chatting with the paternal unit made me feel quite a bit better. Not that he's expressly affectionate or all that warm and fuzzy - actually, he's about as warm and fuzzy as a frozen cactus - but it... works for him.

By the way, I have a paternal unit. Long story short, I started working for Genesis Solutions, and they're affiliated with Genesis Laboratories, so I brought pre-turning hairs in to see if Doc could find me a match. Six months and a few criminal databases later, there was a match - an unknown match. Then there was some frantic searching/verification, then surprise! On Christmas Eve he went all

"No... I... am your father!"

Except with less Darth Vader and more Doc. But I can't even remember how that went down. I think shock ate the memory. He calls me Boo... it's kinda cute because it makes me think of the Super Mario ghostie, but it's short for Boudicca, which is epic, but far less adorable.

Anyway, Doc and I hashed things out and I decided that my level of commitment to Ty is unnecessary. If I'm going to be taken for granted, treated like **** and woefully unappreciated by the leadership, then I'm fine taking a step back and just... not bothering with things as much. I'll stick with the basic requirements like half the faction - answer roll calls, show up to hunts, respond when directly called on, but I'm not going to go out of my way and bust my *** anymore. I equipped most of the faction with epic guns, gave one to Vel for Micah, and then another was given to her as a potential prize. After all that, I got no thanks. Then Nishaa decided to take over weapons crafting, and all of a sudden there's a competition drive for weapons parts. So forget it - they clearly neither need me nor want me. I'm just going to go back to looking out for myself [and Blake] and if they need me, they can come ask me for something. Otherwise, I'm going to play Boo (the ghostie, not the Celtic badass).

Nix-Boo

February 18th, 2015

Dear Willy,

I've never claimed to be a beacon of propriety or a bastion of well-being, but I've calmed over the years. I might even actually be turning into a respectable citizen - the horror. I operate within a certain set of boundaries and they make sense to me; I think it's pretty logical to not murder someone who's attacked you once. Especially if you can brush off the wound. Especially if the attacker is a fledgling whose gun probably just went off because they don't know the barrel from a hole in the ground.

So Mortll killing that little fledge over one attack? That was wrong. Now she's dead - I hope she stumbles on the fledge and apologizes while she's down there. My shoulder hurts, but I feel... justice. For once.

Nix

March 18th, 2015

Dear Willy,

Look! I've only ignored you for one month! Nothing major happened today. I just flopped down on the couch and decided that I felt good. Not manic, not delirious, not anything extreme, just content. Contentment isn't something I've felt in a long time... I can't remember the last time I sat back and couldn't think of one thing I wanted to change about my life.

In no particular order, my husband is amazing, my childer are supportive, my faction has accepted me and I feel like I'm contributing, and I have my best friend back. So I guess something did happen today - Micah and I talked - but that's not why I decided to fish you out. Is it weird that I'm not sure how to deal with being content? Change has been something I've been striving for for almost two years; how do I just stop, sit back and decide I'm good for a while? I'm far from perfect, but I'm happy with the way things are. I'm happy with the people I've surrounded myself with. I'm happy with myself. I'm happy, and it's perfect.

Love,
Nix