January 3rd, 1946
The holidays have been such a blur. I never really expected to celebrate
considering we’ve been wandering the desert for months. I was pleasantly surprised, but then when am
I not pleasantly surprised when it
comes to Cyrus?
This year I took it upon myself to get my vampire traveling
companion a gift. It was not an easy
task, considering we move at night and he is almost always with
me. I managed to flit about at a market
early one afternoon just before the others of our caravan started to stir. I bartered some fine alcohol away and in
exchange purchased a pair of boots in Cyrus’ size.
The vampire oddly takes pride in his appearance and
considering we travel as much as we do, our footwear tends to end up absolutely
in shambles. They are nice boots,
obviously made for traveling but comfortable and attractive as
well. I felt silly and yet accomplished
for having found something to give him.
I figured that gifting a man a pair of sensible shoes did
not really give much away. Though I
longed to give him something far more sentimental, I dared not.
Our Christmas celebration included the entire caravan cooking
over a large fire and then singing and dancing under the moon light. It was not exactly a traditional Christmas,
but people exchanged gifts and moods were high.
When I gave Cyrus his gift, his eyes grew far brighter than any lit
tree. We were happy.
Of course he gifted me more than I could have ever
asked. I do not understand where he
comes up with ideas nor where he gets the time to shop. How does he slip away from me and purchase things
without my knowledge? His thoughtfulness
knows no bounds. I am kept always in
sweets, in pens and good paper, in fresh lab coats, and this year a fine pocket
watch that plays a tinkling tune when you open it.
His friendship spoils me.
Yes, friendship. I must remind
myself at all times that this is a friendship.
Or something akin to it. I am
still partially a prisoner that he refuses to let depart him. It is not as if I have anywhere to go, but I
romanticize our relationship when the truth is that I am addicted to his blood,
and I am not certain he would let me leave with my life, if I tried.
The New Year was as Christmas. The caravan built a bonfire and danced about
it, drinking spirits and being joyful. I
was happy for most of the evening. Even
Cyrus took to sipping alcohol and indulging in japery.
As the chiming of midnight approached, I spied Cyrus out on
a dune by his lonesome, nursing a bottle.
I approached him cautiously, turning my eyes towards the stars in the
same way that he was doing. I was
silent, waiting to see if he wished to speak.
After what seemed like an eternity, he turned his attentions to me. He looked up at me, eyes shimmering like the
stars above.
It always takes my breath away, when he stares up at me with
such intensity. I find it hard to put
into words what it is like to have someone so beautiful and powerful, looking ‘up’
at you. I find it incredibly erotic and
have always wished he would up on his toes to kiss me. But that is neither here nor there.
What happened next threatened to cause me to faint. He reached up and placed a warm palm against
my cheek. I froze in place, becoming
stiff. I held my breath and my eyes must
have been wide and round with shock. He
said nothing at first, leaning up and bringing his face towards mine. I could smell the strong alcohol on his
breath. I thought that the moment had finally
come; I thought he was actually going to kiss me. However, his own eyes became wide and he
seemed startled, frightened, perhaps even horrified at what he was doing.
He drew back quickly and instead reached for my hand. He gave it a tender squeeze, brought it to
his lips and kissed my knuckles before stating ‘Happy New Year Lorenz.’ Then with that, he turned away, not meeting
my gaze.
My heart shattered into so many pieces that night it surely
must have turned to sand and been committed to the desert winds. I know not what he was thinking when he realized
his drunken folly, but the look upon his face twists in my gut.
I have to rid myself of my need for his
blood. I have to get away from him. I simply cannot live like this forever. I do not care if this is my punishment for
all the wrongs I have committed. Some
days I believe I would rather die than have my heart broken over and over
again.
I do not just desire Cyrus the Elder Vampire. I am completely and madly in love with him
and I do not know how to make it stop, but somehow, some way…I will.
Goodbye for now Journal.
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