Donovan's Journal

Donavan's Journal #1 My undead life was a passive one at first, a decade or two spent under the careful eye of Bronwyn, and in the cushioned walls of the Blue Velvet. I was taught about the kindred world through casual conversation and the occasional errand, neither loyal nor disloyal to my Mawla, who found my honesty equally useful, entertaining, and annoying. Deep down, I'm not sure what Bronwyn thinks of me truly. I wonder if she admires me, pities me, or worse, is indifferent. Still, for whatever reason, and I doubt she was ordered to, she became my adoptive sire. I wonder to this night in what ways such a mentor affected my outlook, but I am certain at least that it afforded me a certain freedom in the manicured walls and soft lights of her club. Banished from important meetings and seen as young and unimportant, I earned little currency in the form of boons or secrets. Perhaps this simultaneous exclusion and low risk lifestyle was what encouraged my candidness, and perhaps that is why I felt more at home with the Kine at her club than any of my new kin.
Donavan's Journal #2 I was embraced, within a few days abandoned, and then taken in by Bronwyn. I remember I was fed by the charity of the Blue Velvet at first. In those first few nights of unadulterated frenzy, I can only be thankful I never killed, even though some nights I fearfully wonder if I simply do not remember. I do recall the first night I had control, in one of the feeding rooms with a confused, restrained man. I was hungry, so close to that edge I had been trapped past, but for the first time I held back. I stood there, staring at him, the Beast in my ear. Eventually, I left. Over time, I fed less and less from victims, and eventually, I began to talk to and trust the first of my friends. Once they understood, at least as much as I dare risk telling them, they gave me comfort. However, although I no longer took victims, I was and still am bound by the blood, the need, the Beast. I spoke in veiled terms to other Kindred, hoping to learn insight from the experiences of others, and I learned how some felt pure indifference towards Kine, some hatred, others an objectifying delight. And there was one thing they all seemed to take for granted: that *we* are not *them*. Of course we have different needs, abilities, weaknesses, strengths, etc. Of course we are different. Perhaps not even human. But more than this, the Kindred I knew all felt, in some way, that they were no longer "people", no longer bound by the same morals or the same rules. "We hurt people," they said, though not often in so many words. "We are monsters" they told me. Our rules enforce this, our society facilitates this, and our culture confirms this. But. When I had fully embraced my lifestyle, I was proof that it did not have to be that way.