So Much for Language Skills

So my beloved is better, it seems. Turns out he was never not okay. I thought he was dealing with haunting hallucinations of Sam and people from his past but it seems I may have made a lot of leaps of logic when I came to that conclusion.

Maybe I've spent too much time babysitting Moth. Hes actually going through some of that... granted Moth is being haunted by far more than his past.

But I digress, David was out on some R&R with what I keep insisting was not actually Sam and trying to figure out how to keep that phantom without taking a knee. Something I could have helped with if David wasn't a brick wall to my uh... unnatural...ess...ness.

Unnaturallessness, I got that shit.

I have such a way with words.

I'm gonna be honest, I'd sad David made the choice he did. I won't spoil it. Its not my place to say. But to suffice to say to his commenters, he already did whatever it was he did. Now that hes got that sorted out, my trial run taking care of Em is coming to a close.

I'll miss her. I'm sure Jack will to. He's only recently realized what a shit he was being. Such a thick headed little shit. David assures me I can come visit her, and him, anytime. And I will visit him. But it feels weird spending time with her out there.

I can feel eyes on me. A burning accusation. A searing hatred over my shoulder. That lingering in the air before an argument breaks out, just as soon as someone breaks the tension. I haven't felt that here. But something out there, something hovering over Em or David that can't quite reach her here, doesn't want me around her.

I suspect that's why Father is keeping her with David. Because it's safe there. She has a well sought after soul. The child burns with potential. And as the filth in this world piles on to dampen her light, the clamor in to try to pluck it. Its heart breaking in its own way. I know the feeling. I was there once.

I wish I could remember what color my hair is supposed to be. I think I would dye it like that, just so I could see what I could have been. I guess the real question is, would I be any less of an asshole as a ginger.

Where would I even get freckles though? I'm not drawing them on. Fuck that. Too tacky. I'd have to do blonde. At that point, I might as well just let it stay white.

But I've been making the most of what little time I have with Em. Shes excited to see her grandpa again and I can hardly blame her. I am too. There aren't a lot of people out there that are happy to see me.

And in the meantime I've been teaching her to craft... talking to her about some of the filth that's flooded her life. You know, when she feels like opening up. I don't push. I can see its hard for her. But I also know talking through it can help. Better than the alternative by a long shot. When people don't work these kind of things out, they tend to act them out. Thus the abuse spiral is born.

Speaking of an abuse spiral, Jack apparently also gave Em a little crafting lesson. Some rather advanced stuff for someone who 'doesn't know how to craft'. I'm watching you boy-o.

I've been drilling her on what he taught her, just to be safe so she doesn't accidentally hurt herself with it. Jack certainly didn't teach her any of the tentative safety precautions and soon she won't have the safety net of this look to protect her so we have to make sure she has everything she learned while she was here absolutely nailed down.

I couldn't live with myself if my trying to help her accidentally got her killed.

A final congratulations to Sloth for subduing the Fire Cult in the most assholish way possible. Good job. I certainly hold your rash actions don't have any unforeseen consequences.

And a congratulations for April and Slicer. Have fun living the the dream you to. Or a the closest available proximity to it there of.

Fracture out!

Dog's Life: Got a scent I can't follow

Boring. If I had to pick a word to describe this March, it'd be boring. And that's not to say that I haven't made any progress. No, I've been working my ass off, to an extent. But the work itself is boring, no two ways about it.

Thanks to Vallus, I know the Doll Ralph and I are looking for is someone within Black Lake's mask-wearing police force. Gotta be one of 'em, or at least I hope, else I'm barking up the wrong tree. (Bad fucking joke, so sue me.) Let me tell you something: if you have never seen a cop wearing a mask like some fucking proxy, count yourself lucky. That shit is creepy as hell, and I spend a lot of time around proxies these days. Somehow it's more unsettling to see them wear a uniform.

So I've been following a bunch of these fuckers around, and trying to nail down their routines on and off the clock. That last part is difficult, since they're all wearing masks, and there's no telling who's who once they disappear into their station and reappear without the masks on. Fortunately I've got a pretty keen eye, and after a while, managed to pin down one of the guys by the way he walks. Not before I'd spent several fucking weeks staring out of my car window at the bastards in agonized boredom. But I pinned him, all the same.

Now, this particular guy I started tracking on a hunch. And apparently my intuition for this kind of shit is pretty good, because it turns out he's got an odd routine some days.

That hotel Vallus is staying at, the one Ralph and I had to duck out of when we first arrived in Black Lake? Yeah, this guy visits it at least three days a week, once before his shift, and once right after he's off. That right there is one helluva red flag. I don't see any other cops with a similar routine, visiting some place like that or even that hotel in particular.

This kind of suspicious behavior gets me wondering, so I leave off my stake-out of the rest of the force and track this guy a little while. Standard routine, by the looks of things, except for that one consistent deviation from the norm. Weird shit, y'know?

So I went to the hotel once ahead of when I knew he'd be there, and I hung around fiddling with my cell phone like I was waiting for someone. Eventually, my guy came in, and made a bee-line for a door marked 'employee's only'. He got in no problem, without so much as a flash of his badge or ID. I don't think I have to point out how fucking suspicious that is. I tried to follow him through the door, but the guy at the desk caught me almost immediately, like he'd been watching for that kind of thing. Doesn't make me feel terribly confident, but it is what it is. I played it off cool like a simple mistake, and the guy seemed like he bought it so I left.

And that's where I'm at now. That door is not budging for me, I'm pretty goddamn sure. I'm out of options, so, knowing what I know...

Vallus. You've got the in here. As a guest at that hotel, you have the best look at what's going on behind closed doors, and the most opportunities to figure out if this fucker is our guy. I know we ain't exactly friends, and I haven't done much to change that, but this is something slipping around right under both our noses. Any help you can lend is much appreciated. Since I know you read this fucking thing, I figured this was the best way to get in contact with ya. Just...comment or whatever letting me know you'll help out. If you don't want to, at least I'll know I'm on my own with this one.

So there it is. The whole of my adventure this past month, it would seem. Fucking Black Lake. There's something eerie about this place. Or something is off with me, maybe? I don't know. The TV stations from the Loop in Fracture's compound followed me here. Can't get a damn thing but fucked up horror shows on the scummy hotel TV. Oh well.

-Cerebrus