Journal Source Evaluation (Angelique Journal)

[Angelique Richter]

November 18, 2015

The therapist said I should write things down. I don’t know if that’ll do anything to get my son back to me or not, I’m at the point where I’ll try anything. I miss Brandon. To get him back, then lose him again ripped me apart. To lose Klaus, then get him back under ‘conditions’ tears at me every day inside. To be lectured of consequences when I feel my body crying out to have another child enrages me to the point of weeping futilely by the water’s edge.


No one’s here at the park this afternoon. It’s too cold and it’s getting dark already. The wind’s picked up. My coffee's cold now. I don’t want to go home. It’s not a very safe place. No where I go is safe. Nothing is really mine and no one will do anything to remind me that this world is full of life because it’s not. It’s dead and dying. Entropy wins a little more each day and apathy takes the place of goodwill or kindness.


If I knew I could die, I would consider throwing myself in the river. The first time I died hurt like hell, but I learned that it was pointless to wallow in suffering for too long. Find your strength inside your own person. Stick to what you know makes you strong. For me, it was my duty. I reminded myself every day to not fall down that path again. All it takes is a look in the mirror. Or in this case the water. Brown and fetid though it is, I can still see my tattoo.


I don’t think I’ll ever have the privilege of bringing a life in this world again. The prospect of Klaus having a son or daughter fills me with delight, however. I envision seeing him terrified at first, but then as those tiny eyes look up to him in wonder, he would smile back in happiness at the wonderment of something that was his own creation. Someone. Someone that would look up to him, learn from him and become great like him.


He is great when he allows himself to remember who he is. He is also his own worst enemy. His fears and insecurities imprison him more effectively than those that tossed him into Arkham. The medicines are helping. I’m coming to believe even our patron of the harvest is helping, in her own strange way. But there are too many demands upon us, too many chains. We are not free bees. There’s still too much to do.


Yes, I still want to die. No, it won’t happen. Yes, I still want a child. No, it also will not happen. Or so I believe. What would they do to me if it did? I honestly don’t know. For now I’ll have to redouble my efforts to fight the world’s darknesses with all of the destructive powers blessed upon me.


My only loves will be held close and guarded as best I can. At least until they are removed from me again. Then I pray that they put me away forever, because I will lose any last vestiges of noble virtue to which I currently cling. Everything will die and rot and I will control a kingdom of the dead.

 

[Angelique Richter]

Brandon is safely returned to the academy. He told me no tears, that a soldier shouldn’t cry, but I told him that he’s wrong. There is room in our hearts for compassion when it is appropriate. A mother and son’s parting is always appropriate. I cried and it was healthy. I think.

It was a pleasant week of him visiting. He absolutely loved the loft. He spent a lot of time up there playing his DS when not poking around at whatever Klaus was playing with at the moment. They still get along well, though I think there is some complaining by my ever grumbly kitty husband.

He told me about his classes, and his training. It sounds like a typical military academy on the surface, but there are classes in the occult that go further in depth than you’d find outside of our little world. They teach them what he’d learn from us if he were at home. I’m glad at least. They don’t lie to him and tell him it’s all an illusion or fake. That the world is stranger than it seems, and that there are those of us who hold the line for humanity’s sake. We do good work. It’s good to know the future generations will help protect our way of life.

Klaus was extra supportive this week. He may grumble a lot, but it’s clear he has some affection for the boy. They talked about how important studying was and he extolled the virtues of science and chemistry in particular. Brandon eats it up! I really believe that he’ll do well in his classes in hopes to be a scientist like his stepfather. It made me so happy to see them playing games and talking together.

For now I’m back to work. Break is over and there are assignments hanging out to accomplish. They’re sending me to Japan today. Quarantine zone again to check on our safe houses there and build a restock list for us to bring come next trip. Terminate any Filth with extreme prejudice, avoid Orochi patrols, more of the same.

I’m still curious as to the origin of the anima draining bullets that one patrol shot me with a few months ago. The investigation has so far been fruitless. No leads, nothing. Several are keeping an eye out. So far, we think it’s just a live fire test on bees, and I was the unlucky sap that encountered them first. I’m hoping it was just a single test, and nothing further comes of it. Bee killer bullets/bee maiming bullets are far too dangerous for anyone to possess at this time.

 

[Angelique Richter]

I wanted to take Klaus’ mind off sad thoughts, so I thought it’d cheer him up if I took him to shoot his guns at the range. He is a terrible shot. Bless him, but I am thankful he didn’t accidentally shoot himself nor me nor any innocent bystanders. As it was, it distracted him from sadness, but replaced it with fear and anxiety. My presence probably made it not a total disaster. He only set fire to the target a few times, and we’re not banned from the range yet.

My own nerves were shot by the end of the practice. I asked him if we could just go out that night. I really needed some wine time. Plus there was some place we needed to be.

Last night we went to Lia’s inaugural Eye of the Storm show. It was beautiful. Lia is amazing. If only I were even slightly that talented when I was that young. I’m told I won’t age, but I don’t always trust what I’m told. It was a nice evening, but left me with some self doubt. I don’t like to ruminate much, but I need to process my concerns.

I spoke with Miss DeValora. A very psychological creature. Strong personality. Cunning. Her words were somewhat predictable, but in the end I find her similar to myself, were I as bold as she. These thoughts trouble me greatly. My inhibitions and fears hold me back from the freedom she experiences, but I wish her happiness in her experiences.

Am I happy with my own experiences? Mostly. Not entirely. Complacency with my work has been waning. The jobs directed my way have been coming less and less. With active Agents such as Blake, my expertise is less called for in the field. As a mage, I am mostly a failure. Elemental magic continues to elude me, whereas my aptitude with Blood, Life and Death is on scale with many others I have met. I am not uniquely talented, but I am talented nonetheless.

Our handlers call the path necromancy. It’s comfortable for me to work with flesh, both living and dead and those states in between. The name, however still carries many stigmata when dealing with others. I’m uncomfortable however when my discussions on the topic make others less comfortable. It even frightens Klaus sometimes. It’s still such a joy to me, physically, to release my power. Smiting the abominable forms of hostile undead or rending the tethers that bind a ghost gives a certain pleasure I cannot compare. It is joy and spurs me to learn more.

On a social note, Klaus still intrigues me. I am happy with him, but there is concern. Is he still happy with me? During the show, some things came up that spurred me to wonder if I am right for him. Is our love strong enough to work through our differences? My flaws?

We spoke with the wolf spirit fae known as Willow. She seems friendly enough, but there is something off putting about her. Something wholly unnatural despite being a nature fae. She casually spoke of discarding human mates because she could not give them what they needed.

I asked what human mates need and she responded with physical touch and copulation. I know so little about her but I was under the impression that most fae emulated their spirit animals more accurately than this little spirit does. Wolves are social animals, and touch is an important facet of biology. And natural. It’s...more akin to something in the realm of undead to find one so averse to touching.

I understand and respect asexuality. My husband is one such being. Our touching is something I worry about often. I don’t want to upset him, or be too needy in affection. I don’t want him uncomfortable. He does so much already to make me happy, and I can only hope I do enough for him to make him happy in return.

We spoke about it after the show. I told him my worries. I fear I am not the right one for him, that I’m no good for him. He told me that he loves me and that he doesn’t know why I’d feel the way I do. I don’t want to hurt him. Nor stress him. He made me feel a little better.

Her words, however, made me uncomfortable. Then a quip about being frightened by Americans. I know it was the song, a favorite of mine, but I felt the words sting across my back like a whip. Like they were directed at me. They probably weren’t. The chances are too slim, but I cannot help but feel that way. She is a good spirit, but so foreign. Like a ghost with only certain ties and foci.

I’ve been feeling very untethered to this world and this life. I’m awaiting things to fall down on top of us again. We’re about due for a collapse. What else can they take away from me but him? Yes, I am happy, but it wouldn’t take much to make me crumble again. This time, would I simply fall into myself and become unreachable?

I was so detached before, unfeeling. I need another glass of wine tonight.