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Posted on September 04, 2008 @ 7:36 pm
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mood |
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Tristan was bored. He haded being bored. And besides the encounter with Victory the other night (something that was very fuzzy)he had not really had an encounter to write home about. Well ok he did, but good sex he was used to, and in this moment he was looking for something a little....more. Weird. Yeah, totally weird. But there it was for you. He scribbled down an adress at the top of his entry before writing.
[An address to a coffee shop in a Plaka district]
Look all this behind the curtain stuff is kinda boring me. I will be at the location above tomorrow about 5pm, I would like to meet one or two of you perhaps get a chance at seeing why these gears are spinning. besides the coffee there is excellent.
I promise to be a fun host.
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Posted on August 20, 2008 @ 10:55 pm
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The flight from New York had been hell. Tristan had been surprised to make it to his hotel room, throwing his carry on on the bed with little care so he could stretch and yawn. Looking at the bed he cursed under his breath, all the contents had fallen out of his bag. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair and went over to his bed and began shoving things back into his bag. But his hand slowed as he picked up the last item, a leather bound book he couldn't remember packing, in fact he couldn't remember owning anything of the sort. How the hell had this gotten in his bag? flipping it over he found that his name was on the cover under some sort of other lettering. hummmmm. flipping it open he read the first page and almost groaned audibly. Amaryllis. It had to be. His damn little sister had gone all new Age on him and now she was trying to infect him! great! She was the only person he ever had told about those dreams and now she was using it against him, trying to get him to discover himself or some shit like that. Just great. He should of never told her he was leaving, she most likely saw this trip as a time from him to 'grow up' or 'discover himself'. Shutting the book he thew it into the corner. He would call her later and tell her exactly she could put her good intentions. But now it was time for bed, and he fell on to the soft hotel bed not even taking the time to turn down the covers and was out before the count of five.
Almost a day later he awoke, his head was fuzzy and it was dark out, through squinty eyes he looked at the clock. Damn. Jet lag sucked. rolling over his eyes fell on the journal in the corner and he sat up. maybe he would give his sisters new age idea a little credit. Maybe he could figure out what those dreams meant. After all it couldn't hurt could it?
Opening the book he found that it was more filled out then the last time he had opened it. What in the hell? Quickly his eyes scanned the words. Most of them as confused as he felt and then another writing by the woman who was obviously not his sister. What in the hell was going on here?
Look, I have no clue who in the hell you people are or what you are doing in my journal but I must admit my interest is peeked. This is some sort of trippy little trick. At first I thought this book a gift from my sister, apparently I was wrong.
And we all have strange dreams? Curiouser and curiouser. But I shan't dwell, currently my head is throbbing from a curious mixture of jet lag and soberness. but I plan to remedy that, at lest the sober part of the equation. I may not know a lot about local customs but there should be a bar open at this time of night. or at the very least a liquor store.
un-till later my new ... well I can't call you friends since I don't know you all. So we should change that. Look me up, Tristan Theodore Cudahy. I am in the Plaka district.
Tristan closed the book with a smirk. If there was something Tristan adored it was tricks and adventure. He chuckled pulling off his shirt and pulling on a new one. It seemed that this was just the thing he needed, he knew this vacation was a good idea.
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