lørdag 14. april 2018

Standing with slippery underpants.

It’s no fun, I can tell you that much. You KNOW your knickers aren’t falling off due to you wearing stockings over, but the sensation never the less makes one mentally grasp for one’s underwear and pull it up once more.

I guess one could argue that I don’t have phat fat a$$ or big booty. Which is perfectly fine, to be honest, as I’m rather satisfied with my small tushy already. No, I’m not going to shake it for you.

Speaking of behinds and other quarters, did you know that a friend of mine and I are doing space adventures together? In not your so average game of strategy and empire management I can safely say that I’m very glad I’ve got a whole bunch of unconditionally allied beings that can come to my emotional rescue should one of my neighbors choose to invade me (of which statistics hold a high probability, possible). Link? Sure, why not? Fair warning, it’s only at the beginning stages being out for public viewing so far, though more to come.

Why such a strange post this day? Because comic relief from a world mess is exactly what’s needed sometimes, and this certainly qualifies.

torsdag 5. april 2018

VtM:B - a story. A plane ride.

We hitch a ride on a plane from Smila Grimsson, the Prince of Iceland. I'm certain that beyond a doubt that this is to our shared bloodline, and that any other operative stuck in Russia would not experience the same curtsy.

Rhys is displeased with me, despite the mission being a success. At one time, he even arrived at my seat, sitting next to me, looking rather neutral as he casually ordered everybody out of my section of the plane. I should not fault him for doing his job. In the most English of manner he then leans forward and lower his voice, making his words for me alone.

"If you ever endanger the mission once more, I will kill you."

I neglect any form of response, as m
y thoughts are circulating our fugitive, 

Lev Parlov, our contact over the last months sits in the back, cuffed and gagged. I can smell the dark and beautiful man from my seat, and his curse of Diablerie: his black aura seems to be affecting even those close to him, be they Kine or Kindred. A master stroke, playing the underhand supplicant until he was secure in my team and my convictions - having lowered his generation by two, Prince Nikolai would offer no small a reward for his ashes. Alas, he was my mission and objective.

What I am curious about is how he was able to hide the fact until he was ready to defect.

The voice of Rhys brings be back to the present.

"You're not listening, Ravna."

I turn to him, my eyes glaring.

"You know what? I wasn't. Want to know why? Because I'm busy trying to determine the future of this region, an how I'm going to pay back Prince Nikolai for his services. Now, unless you plan to end me right here, right now, get back to your station and keep an eye on Lev for me. Can you do that, BODYGUARD?"

I mock him with intent, trying to rise his fury. Having stayed in the game this long, I know that he would adhere to his duty, even if that made it far worse for me in the long run. And I am his assigned commander for this mission until we touch ground in Denmark.


Rhys looks at me. I meet his gaze, unafraid.

"You're lucky the Prince finds you useful."

And with that, he leaves me be, sitting with my thoughts and plans.