The Journal of Johnathan Casanova
Paris, August 21st, 1789.
It’s strange how much those amongst the living take things for granted. I use to love snuggling by the fire to keep from being cold. I use to love the warmth of heavy blanket or the embrace of warm woman. Now these things do nothing to please me. In fact, I loathe it. I know not why. I cannot derive any comfort from being wrapped up in the arms of female. However, I still pursue the opposite sex with greater vigor. It is not for the sinful pleasures that I do so, but out of necessity. Knowing that I need that red liquid that flows in their veins to survive.
I have seen Solanna at work. I have always admired her strength and her conviction,… but as a woman? I always thought of her to be very beautiful, but she is as hard as nails and colder than the English Channel on a November night. Still, she is my benefactor and savior. Sometimes I wonder how she could go on living, if indeed the word "living" can apply to vampires.
I do not mean the medical definition of "living" but of the metaphoric one.
I am dead.
So what do I do now?
I have asked myself this question many times now. I have looked to other vampires for examples, but they are so old and so wrapped up in their twisted intrigues that they do not seem to give any thought to mortal pastimes like; working, loving, raising a familly, travelling, enjoying the company of friends or pursuing those pleasures that my dear departed mother warned me against.
Solanna lives her unlife as if it was a challenge. Perhaps I should do the same. Although it gives me no pleasure to bed with a woman, perhaps the challenge of "convincing" them to lay with me would keep my thoughts occupied?
Paris, September 1st, 1789.
A strange occurrence happened today. The king and queen held a small reception for their closest noble friends and confidants. I myself was on the guest list of course on account of that one time I strode up to the queen's house by the lake and I…well, that's another story entirely. Anyway, those that gathered around the royals pledged their undying support for them in this trying time. Then, one nobelman, tore off his tri-colored cockade and stomped on it "Plus de Tricolors!" He said. "Down with the revolution! Long live the King and Queen!" This received a glorious applause from the rest of the invited guests who proceed to rip off their revolutionary colors and sat the same thing. I observed the reaction of the king and queen closely, They seemed saddened and worried at the same time. The king naturally thanked everyone for their support, but he said that these are changing time sand that we all must learn to cope and change along with it. The nobles continued to plead their love for their king and I myself felt drawn by his composure and his sincerity. That is when I realized that I was falling under the effects of Presence. Could it be that the kind was kindred? I raced over to Solanna to report this, but she said that his majesty was a ghoul perhaps having been given blood by the legendary Hippocrates or Falco.
Solanna looks different now. She keeps her face cowled and she rarely goes out in public. I keep telling her that she shouldn't keep a beautiful face like hers all covered up, but Solanna responded that her appearance might be considered a breach of the Masquerade. Oh well, my Sire has always been a little eccentric, but I am proud to be her childer. One day, I fantasize myself rescuing her from certain peril and that she will shower me with praise and admiration. Oh well, I suppose I suppose I will just have to resign myself to being just a poor simple Casanova.