Vlad Journal | Prologue
"At the start of the night, he was as far as he could be without blatantly sitting elsewhere. But as we went on, it was as if we were pulled together, unconsciously. A force that we did little to fight against. The rest of the night…I’m not sure I could pen it here properly. (And perhaps should not?)"
This will be an in-character journal entry summarizing Vlad's thoughts from the latest episode of The Sanguine Society. You can find the public copy of this journal here, if you prefer google docs. This particular post is a bit longer than is usually to be expected, as it contains several entries; it is also mildly NSFW, though not all entries will be. If you like to listen to music while reading, I would recommend Elegie, Op. 24 for today's entry. I Hope you enjoy 🖤
Wednesday, April the 28th, 2023
I had kaffe und kuchen with Elenor today. She found me sitting in the greenhouse again, practicing for the show. She has been such a dear since I took residence here; accommodating my 'odd' hours and habits, with hardly a question. We chatted a bit, but my German is barely conversational these days. Shame I did not pick it up more, and leaving already. But it is nice to sit quietly as well. She says she enjoys my playing, and I enjoy her company. 3 decades has gone impossibly fast.
Friday, April the 30th, 2023
Louis Roederer Cristal Brut (2008) 1.5L
Colour: Amber, Sunlight
Fragrance: wonderfully golden fruit
Savour: Opens bright and fruity; pear and apple. A bit bitter on the end; floral, but pollen
Paired with Crème Brûlée: slightly too much fruit for the dish, but lovely to sip afterwards
Transcribe to wine notes⤴️
Sunday, April the 1st, 2023
Performance with the company has been going well; we will have our final show tomorrow. And my final altogether. I will greatly miss living here. The town is quiet. This apartment is quaint, but has only gotten finer over my stay. The people have been kind and allow me to keep to myself. I think I could stay here for quite a while longer without being bothered. But it is time. Adăpost Manor cannot sit absent and idle, it is a waste. I will be meeting with Reya after the show tomorrow, and perhaps get some updates on the community while catching up. It really will be so good to see her, it has been too long. Too long since many things. When I left Adăpost, I thought I might put it up for sale before returning, but I have found myself longing more and more. To perform in the music room and to have the smell of good food in the kitchens. To sit and read in the library and to tend to the arboretum. The place has had many lifetimes already, and it will be good to get back and find footing in a new cycle. It is not a home only for I, after all. 30 years of selfishness is enough.
Monday, April the 2nd, 2023
Aurelio was at the show tonight. Aurelio.
It was no accident of course, Reya must have planned this. Though I am not sure why. I had no words, and am still in lack. After 60 years, suddenly, Aurelio walks through my place of work. I don’t know that I ever gave much thought on what I would say, if he were to return. I would not have allowed myself to dwell there. And yet, here he is. And here am I, at a loss. He was polite, as always; asking about my colleagues and the city. Feigning interest, at the least. But he was nervous too, if I am not mistaken. In some ways it was just like we used to speak; joking, laughing, touching. And in other ways, he was more frightened than I have ever seen him. He has been traveling around Europe; backpacking and visiting family. He spoke often of loneliness, and longing for the familiar, so I offered to accompany him while he is in town. He surprised me with his enthusiasm, and then even more, with an invitation to the opera. A bold proposition, coming from him. But his excitement showed genuine, and after all this time, a night out could be refreshing. A date?
My coworkers invited us to a drink and we spent most of the night at Schlenkerla, and before I knew it, it was nearly sunrise. The rest of the lot turned in after the bar stopped serving, but I was not yet ready to watch him go. So I invited him to join me, and he agreed, even without knowing where I would take him. I showed him to the greenhouse.
His delight was apparent as soon as he saw the greenery and life growing over it.
"It's like a part of the old world reclaiming what has become modern" he says.
I had forgotten what it's like to see the world through his eyes. I feel I have been missing much. We sat and talked and waited for the sun to rise. He told me more about his family; how he has been tracing his blood lines and finding the ends. How he's gotten close to some of the younger ones, despite his eccentricities. And now he is unsure of where to go next. It seems like he has grown; the travel must be good for him. As the sky grew lighter, his face glowed with joy in telling me about the different generations he's met. His love has always made him beautiful. The sun coming through the leaves and on his skin and filling the colour of his eyes…I could almost let him burn to see his beauty in direct light. But he lives in chiaroscuro, and my heart aches all the more in the limbo. I feel that the opera will be difficult, I am not entirely sure what he expects from me. But I cannot let nerves stop me. I cannot miss this.
Friday, April the 5th, 2023
Yesterday was beyond words, but I will do my best. The opera was lovely. The champagne was delicious. And Aurelio, a beacon of light in all of it. He sent me a letter, penned in his own hand, though I did not receive it until nearly too late. I hardly had time to put together something to wear. He still dresses in his classic fine things, and wears them just as well as ever. I worried at first that I had overdressed, and that I would look quite the fool showing up at his place of stay in a tuxedo. But he knows me well, and suited for the occasion just as we used to. It was as if I had taken a step back through time, and this persisted for a good portion of the night. We shared looks, we laughed, we walked arm in arm and talked and talked. About the show and technology and travel and Vienna. I admitted to him that I will be returning. He seemed a bit excited at the concept, and said that he would like to visit. Apparently he has been searching for his sire, and thought he might be able to find more information at the Manor’s library. Perhaps he could have more casual visits, along with the research.
He apologized as well, for leaving all that time ago. Though I wish he hadn't. To see the pain I had caused him etched on his face and then take the blame for it all. I can hardly stand it. But he would not hear of my reasoning, and seemed nearly desperate to explain himself. The least I can do for him is listen and accept an apology. He said he couldn't imagine being enough; that he had never stopped to ask how I had felt. It never felt like we needed to. The fact that he suited me in a fashion that no other could, always felt so obvious. Until it was too late, I suppose. It was a bit of a relief though, to finally know. He says he was afraid, and so certain he would lose me, that he somehow ended up making sure of it.
“I had not felt the way that I felt with you for any one before, and that certainly frightened me”
My heart aches at the words, but I do not dare ask if he still feels this way. The reassurance of what once was, is enough. I brought him to the townhouse after the opera, to show him the stereo system and have some more conversation. Sat on the couch next to me, sipping wine and talking music, it was almost as if he had never left. At the start of the night, he was as far as he could be without blatantly sitting elsewhere. But as we went on, it was as if we were pulled together, unconsciously. A force that we did little to fight against. The rest of the night…I’m not sure I could pen it properly here. (And perhaps should not?)
“I don't want to waste anymore time”
My hand went to his cheek, without a thought. And our lips, meeting in a second. I am shocked for a moment, and look to his eyes to find a familiar fervor. He pulls at me, and the nostalgia washes over. The touch of cold marble, the smell of orange blossom. The look of his eyes, that of dark woods at dusk. My teeth at his neck, a taste of bitter iron; and a moan rising from his chest and vibrating in his throat under my lips. A groan that laments all the wasted time, and every second lost now between touches.
Waste no time.
My hands move faster than my thoughts, strict, leading; his fingers are gentle, pleading as ever. As always. On neck, on shoulders, on chest. Our movements and his song flowing and sliding ever down and down.
I can still hear it. And this letter he wrote, I trace the characters over and over to see the movement of his hand in the starts and stops of the ink. This letter that he penned and touched and surely fretted over, I can almost smell the orange blossom on it still. Perhaps I shall write him back; it would be my move at this point, no? I would not want him to think this was a single affair to me.
Saturday, April the 7th, 2023
He is not here. I had hoped to catch him for some coffee before I departed, but that may have been asking too much too soon. It was a fine evening, and we talked of many things, but perhaps that is all that he needed. A chat, a date, some closure. I was a fool for expecting more, really. One night with him again…It will have to be enough. I have so much to attended to at the Manor in any matter, it is long time tha
He’s here.
He came to me at the train station. He is coming with me to Vienna. He will stay in the Manor with me. I can hardly believe the words as I scribble them with him getting settled into the train car.
We're going back to Vienna.