xxxvi λ winter

[assassino]

-------- Private -------

January 28th.

In some ways, I feel as though I am a ship adrift at sea, or at least a boat lost in a maze of canals. I do not know how to navigate a relationship with a woman from the future. The customs that are difficult enough in friendship prove even more complicated now. I know how a man might dictate a relationship in my time, but Lana is entirely different. If I commanded her, she would likely just be angry with me, so I am letting her make all of the decisions… it is strange, to say the least, but there is little I can do, even if I feel I am being emasculated.

Put like that, it all sounds very dramatic, but it feels as though that is the only way I can express it. It is one thing to be friends with women from the future, that I enjoy very much, but it is somehow different to call one your "girlfriend." I am just not used to being at one woman's beck and call.

I want to be prepared for this, yet I still feel lost… but I am still determined to prove to Molotov and the rest of them that I can be with a single woman and respect her wishes.

(It would be easier, though, if I were not always consumed with... frustrations. She will not even allow me to taste her.)

And what else plagues my mind? The Borgia, of course, as always… I fear Lucrezia will sabotage my relationships, and am concerned about that Cesare has been planning. I dare not place too many thoughts to the page, lest I bring bad luck upon myself.

Then there is Tim, who is Stephanie's "ex-boyfriend" –– I have yet to meet him, but I look forward to it. A bit of sporting fun would do me good.


x






----- Cesare Borgia -----


[written]

Salute.

I'd like to invite you to dinner. Just men –– no fair ladies this time.

E. Auditore.


-------------





Is it time for the snow to vanish into the ground yet? I hate snow. It is miserable to have to bundle oneself up like a Rossian just to go outdoors, and even more miserable to be indoors and wet in such heavy clothing.

Fuck winter, that is what I say.

Comments

[assassino]

I could spend ten years building a pile of horse dung, but that wouldn't make it admirable or enjoyable.

That took longer than I thought

[sugarwaffo]

[Wow, CRUDE. Who taught this guy how to talk to kids?

His specific wording goes right over her head, but the harsh tone does not. The journal goes quiet for a moment. Then she makes a mournful quibbling noise like the beginnings of a sniffle.]

ahahahahah oh god i'm sorry

[assassino]

[Awkward pause.]

Hello?

sorry for what? now I get to use all my new sad icons

[sugarwaffo]

[The crying picks up, annnnnd now she's bawling.

Good job, Ezio.]

HAHAH alrighty B)

[assassino]

[pause.

Oh shit.

What does he even do...]

Ah... is your mother here, by any chance?

[sugarwaffo]

[Bringing up her mother won't help stop the waterworks. But she manages to get a choked-out reply through her tears.]

Nuh uh.

[assassino]

Then who cares for you, girl?

Sugar took that question a different way

[sugarwaffo]

[Sniffle]

Mr. Bunny does. So do Asuna and Colette and... [Her list is cut off by a hiccup-like sob.]

[assassino]

[Pause. He has no idea who they are.]

Then go to them to cry.

[sugarwaffo]

But I don't know where they are!

[assassino]

Then write to them, so that one can answer and calm you!

[sugarwaffo]

[More sobbing, and tiny little teardrops wet the page. But eventually, words written shakily in crayon appear further down the page.

...Let's hope Sugar's friends can actually understand her writing.]