May 21st, 1946
We have been steadily traveling northeast for quite a
while. Cyrus informs me that we will be
crossing into ‘old country’ and might even traverse some of China,
eventually. I must say that I’m rather
fascinated at the prospect. Traveling
with supernatural creatures is far more than I could have imagined. Obstacles that would halt a normal caravan
are no real problem for the likes of our band, and in fact seem more like team
building exorcises. But I digress.
Our ‘relationship’ is in a holding pattern, I suppose. I am cautiously happy. I still get nervous and do not know how to
act at times. It is not as if I have
ever ‘cohabitated’ with anyone before.
Sometimes Cyrus’ disregard for orderliness annoys me. Even in tents, I like for there to be a manner
of cleanliness and order. My lover on
the other hand tends to toss his belongings in whatever direction he pleases. It was endearing at first, but now
not-so-much.
I can admit that in the throws of passion, to have my
clothes torn from my body and cast aside might be sexy, but I would appreciate
them picked up later. Cyrus is content
to let dirty clothes, boots, books, generally anything, just lie about. I have to follow him around like a mother
hen. Indeed he gets chuckles out of my ‘clucking’
about his bad habits.
Those are our only real ‘fights’ as of late that I can
recall. Before we gave in to our
feelings there was a lot of push and pull.
I had begun verbally and physically attacking him in my desire to make
him hate me and kill me or send me away.
We don’t really do that anymore.
When he offers his blood to me, I drink it, and if we are on a
supernatural case we work closely without much fuss. I wish I could have known how much better things
would be with us as a couple. Then
again, perhaps it would not be this way were it not for the trials and
tribulations we faced before.
I am still quite shy with bedroom activities. Cyrus remains patient with me and I both
appreciate it and loathe it. I wish he
would ravage me on a daily basis without warning, but he is painstakingly slow
with every motion. It’s maddening. Sometimes his touches are so tender I feel as
if they will destroy me. Maybe one day I
will become confident enough to ask for more deep, dark and depraved acts. Until then, it is not as if I am unhappy with
our sex life. I have the most beautiful,
kind, thoughtful, wise and loving vampire in the world to touch and hold me
every day. What is there to complain
about?
At any rate, I suppose that’s enough gushing. I really should mention that Cyrus received a
missive today. It came attached to a
lovely bird, species of which I cannot say.
The parchment looked old and worn, and the writing was also something I
was not familiar. He said it was from a
village that is not normally visible to humans.
We are to break camp when it is cool enough to travel and make there
with great haste. He did not say what
the problem was; only that it was ‘our kind of case.’
He seemed gravely serious about the whole ordeal. I suppose I shall write more when I know
more, Journal.
I am going to curl myself
against a broad chocolaty chest and catch a bit of rest before we leave. Or perhaps catch a bit of ‘something else.’ Either way, until later.
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