(OOC warning: this story has light sexual overtones, please read no further if you are offended by such.)

Hyacinth’s E-journal
(encrypted files)

March 31, 2008

Last night I arrived at my newly decorated cottage in Manchester. I suppose I should have checked in at the Elysium or at least have notified the kindred that I was back in town, but I am enjoying the solitude and quiet of the country far too much to be disturbed by politics and posturing.

The house is beautiful, everything I requested. From the outside, I retained the traditional colonial style, with gleaming white columns and solemn black shutters. The front lawn is delightful in its tidy New England fashion. To the rear I have a grand view of rolling hills and the back side of the local cemetery, which I’m sure will be a marvelous sight in the moonlight. The moon is new tonight so the full effect remains to be seen.

Inside, I have emulated Lord Leighton’s house in London, since the Pre-Raphaelites have recently recaptured my fancy. The exotic styling shall do well at relaxing me and reminding me that I am a world away from anything that may trouble me.

I cannot wait to entertain in this house and present plays in the petit theater downstairs. The theater decor is quite charming, I have designed it to look like the entire room is a single theater set from an enchanted forest.

It is blissful having the quiet countryside around me. I think I shall have plenty of time to focus and plan here, and perhaps do a bit more writing. Who knows, maybe this is the year I actually stick to journal-writing. Goddess knows how many times I have tried.

I need to firm up my goals for my time in Manchester. I know that I am needed to bring corps d’esprit to the clan, but I do not yet know how to bring everyone together. I think I shall start by making friends with them each individually, before teaching them to work together as a clan. I am in no rush, there certainly are enough nights ahead and the situation is not desperate. I shall begin by getting to know Clayton. He seems very familiar to me, I am surprised I have not encountered him before....perhaps I have but either he or I were too busy to notice.

I have been floating around my abode in the thinnest of silks, and the sweet caress of the fabric has been positively blissful. Last night I arrived in from New York quite late, and barely had the house in order before dawn brought sleep upon me. Perhaps it was the new surroundings or the silks acting upon my mind, but I had a most delicious dream. I tried to scribble down the pieces upon awakening, but the elements were fading as quickly as I could write. This is a verbatim copy of those early evening scribbles...

"Warm water..bathing, swimming. Free movement, must be free of clothes, of weeds. A hand upon my flesh...startling with its presence. Cannot see the owner, sense a male. Bright colors explode before me, I am transfixed. Cold..cold lips upon my skin...a cold cold tongue dances upon my breasts...pain, then ruby red sweetness in my mouth, eyes and skin...yet still I cannot see, my eyes enrapt upon a dancing...floating....being....I awake, and my cold lover has vanished, leaving me warm."

Again, strange dreams seem to haunt me in this town. Perhaps this dream is some sort of message of a transformation, perhaps a warning against being blinded by beauty. But whatever the message in the dream, one message is clear.

I shall take a new lover in Manchester.

(signed)
M.J.P. 31/3/08