Still Too Lazy to Think of a Title

I was told that I had to write an entry soon -- and no, I'm not one to take orders (anymore) but, I had to agree, the last thread was getting pretty ridiculous with the friggin comments being bunched up and no longer easily read. I'm going to have to write an email to the LJ team and rip them a new asshole about it. You'd think someone would be bright enough to figure out that no one wants to be bothered looking at comments like that. Stupid bastards.

Well, I finally came back home. Finally. Crawled into bed with Astrid tonight and then woke up -- which is why I'm on here -- due to a (bad ~Surprise!~) dream. I wish the skoti came a little more. Yeah, they screw shit up, but at least I feel a little less burdened when I wake up. They can steal fury whenever they goddamn please. Calling all skoti: buffet of emotion -- take as much as you can and leave before you go as crazy as I am.

While I was gone: I cut my hair -- Astrid's going to be pissed. And I grew my goatee back --- doubly pissed? Who knows. All I can say is that I needed a change again. You know, living forever, things sort of get monotonous. And my face felt naked.

Also: Ash still hasn't acknowledged that I exist. His Supremely Exalted Majesty needs to get his nose out of the air and get his ass in gear. No, it wouldn't be the friggin end of the world if he takes his sweet ass time about it, which he's been taking, but gods, I'm not in exile anymore. So just get over your goddamn pride, and suck it up, Ash. Look, it's better than Savitar comandeering your LJ. See? I followed the rules for once, and I'm still being ignored. Lots of encouragement there to continue on in the same fashion, eh, Fearless Leader?

Really, it's time to sleep. Just looking at what I wrote, gods, I get soft when I'm tired. I'm surprised I didn't say Valerius was a tolerable son of a bitch -- because, for the record, he isn't. He's a whimpering simpering little shit if ever I saw one, "Oh my immortal life is a mess, whaaaaa whaaaaaa. I killed people. I'm a terrible terrible person." You know what, General? Get the fuck over it. We all killed people. We kill Daimons every night. And I'm damned proud about slaughtering my worthless sperm-donour. Hear that? I'm GLAD. And if I had to do it all over again? I'd have cut off his hands and feet and tongue and let him live. And you know what else? Pick up the pieces, and throw them away. I don't give a crap for your imaginary suffering. You succeeded in your pathetic lifetime, and then you were torn off your pedestal. Ooo, I have so much sympathy. Maybe if you had bothered looking a goddamn inch further than your ugly Roman nose, you would realise that life isn't all rainbows and unicorns, you git. Get your head out of your ass and behave like a functioning member of society. I'm sick and tired of your complaining. Take it like a man. Oops, my mistake. You'd need balls to be a man.

My warmest regards to all

~Z

Can't Say

So, I can't talk about it, not yet. You'd think that once I found out I was a faux-dark-hunter -- you know, not the real-deal, more than, exempt from, etc etc etc -- I'd be relieved of my obligations to Ash or his dominating huntress. But no, of course not. It's worse than being tied to a post. At least you know what's coming, even if it is a lash from a whip. So, I have officially been separated from Astrid for.... forever. It feels like it. And there's no middle-of-the-night comfort for me. I can't breathe her in. I can't hold her to me. I can't tell myself that everything isn't just a dream. It feels like I've never left the dark-hunter life. Bora Bora was a dream. Astrid in Alaska was a dream. Dark-hunter business never stopped, only suddenly I wasn't alone in frozen wasteland anymore. But I feel alone, now more than ever. Because then, then I had no one, and I knew I had no one, and I didn't think about it. I just survived. But now, I know what it's like to have someone there for me -- a strange frightening relationship that still baffles me -- and being without it makes me feel.... empty, incomplete, worse than having no one. Gods, you , Hephaestus, God of Cripples, help me, heal me. I am so broken.