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.