Would it change us, for me to let her know?
Would it end this depression, this hurt and loathing
that I have inflicted on myself of late?
Would it drive her away, make her so nervous and
uncomfortable that she’d never want to see me again?
Would I lose her forever?
I doubt that there’s even a question.
It always pushes itself out of me.
It always demands to be known.
And I’m leaving her for a better job.
I’m leaving everyone that I know.
I’m leaving her.
This makes me nauseous.
Bloody wankers, the lot of them. No more than twenty minutes in this new city, and already he was being dragged into their life and death struggle with the oh-so-evil enemy. None of the idiots understood where the true enemy lay. No one REALLY read any of his poetry. No one except his sister. And that bloody wench was here too. And they were both ridiculously rich. Again.
“Look, sister, you’re not listening to me.” Well, she wasn’t, not completely. “I don’t give a bloody rat’s ass how much money we’ve got; why did you drag me to this bloody hellhole and get me involved in their moronic politics again?!” Ok, so they’d never been THAT rich before, and he did care about the money just a little bit. It didn’t help that she was giving him her “Oh, Joshua, how could you be so stupid” look. Joshua sighed, then rested his head on the table. Cleveland. It made perfect sense, really. Here, the shit had already hit the fan. Here, they could conduct their business without too many prying gazes. If this had been a peaceful city, like London was, there would be no end of neonates with open gazes and high hopes meddling in the affairs of a couple of ancillae. Especially when those ancillae shared a sire. Especially when that sire had just been made an Archon. Bloody git.
“Joshua, despite your insistence upon ridiculous strings of profanity, you do have a point. Don’t worry your pretty little head.” Oh, that condescending bitch! “I have everything under control. If my plan works, you won’t have to suffer, at least not much, for more than a couple of months.” Joshua just glared. It was really the only thing he could do. His sister was already caught in another conversation about how the locals could use her influence with the Giovanni family to secure Cleveland’s dock area from their enemies. Ha! Good bloody luck. They should know that the Giovanni always sold weapons, and, hell, loyalty, to both sides in this war. Moneylenders, the lot of them.
He only paid slight attention to those around him. There was a gnat of a clanmate that needed to be taught the proper respect. There was a meeting to plan the next phase of the war here, and it was being held on a boat, of all places. Perfectly secure. Wankers. After the first few assaults, they’d learn. Public places. Places with many exits and entrances. Escape and survival, not Custer’s last stand. Bah. Half-drifting through social interactions, Joshua began to notice a disturbing trend in the crew. No exits. The crew seemed to be almost too comfortable around his compatriots. There was always that unnatural suspicion and creepiness that servants like these felt around them. And this was completely absent.
The typical local drama surfaced. The new acting Prince, past Seneschal, revealed himself to actually be the old Prince in disguise, yadda yadda yadda. Joshua ignored this and pondered over a map of Cleveland. There was something contrived about these battle plans. Unlike the frantic, yet effective, planning that had gone no in Lansing, every detail was brought up and squabbled over. Like those in power already knew how the battle was going to go. They were all acting out pre-written parts in an undead soap-opera, and none of them had a bloody inkling. Not a goddamn clue. Perhaps his sister’s plan would work. Not that he’d admit it to her face, but he just might go along with it.
 |
If I was a work of art, I would be Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa. I am extremely popular and widely known. Although unassuming and unpretentious, my enigmatic smile has charmed millions. I am a mystery, able to be appreciated from afar, but ultimately unknowable and thus intriguing. Which work of art would you be? The Art Test |
Hrm, a mystery, eh? Erf. Yoinked from
I’ve been told I’m whining about how good my life is.
Sometimes, you just need to hear the words “don’t go”.
Now I’ve heard them said with meaning and feeling
Yes, I’m fragile and human enough to need that.
Visions of a loft apartment above a warehouse in
downtown Detroit beckon me to uncertainty.
And next to me, she says, “bring me my salad,
or I’ll kill you,” and I can’t help but grin.
I’ve had my interview, geek-talked for two
hours, and they still haven’t decided.
She asked me not to leave today, and it pushed
its way out of her like when I told Red that I loved her.
Of all the promises I’ve made to come up
on a regular basis, the one to her means the most.
God damn, I need a clove.
All my ties to this city have been neatly
cut
and tied off in bows.
My anger and rage bubble forth unctrollably
as I snap at people that I will
leave
without a second concern or moment’s thought.
It’s finally putting a name and a
finish
on the creeping alienation that I never knew I’d
started, let alone fed scraps to like a stray dog.
Money
and too much humiliation bring my fists to balls
and hasten my step out the door into the
city
that I never really knew I lived in.
There’s only one person that will keep a part of
me
in this place, and now she holds the title “friend”,
because it’s best for both of us.
I’ll cry before I leave.