Desmond Cusick's Diary

Goddamned wolves.

Can't protect Ilse. Ruin everything.

Go hunting.

Broke a chair.

Not a monster.

( 'And what would you do if I told you? You'd go in and be noble and then really fuck things up for us. You think your kittens are our only problems? At least they're predictable.' [Ilse] )

Ilse comes home with a bruise on her face, and Desmond is Not Pleased. So Not Pleased that he savages a kitchen chair and gets drunk. He then tries to piece the chair back together. With duct tape.
This is a platonic log.

We are more or less moved into the new house now. There remains some unpacking and rearranging of furniture, but at least it's all here. I might bring some things out of storage to decorate. I love her dearly, but Ilse's tastes are sadly rather plain, and what is art if not to be displayed? I will move the more valuable pieces to my office in Headquarters to keep them out of the reach of the children.

It is nice to hear the chatter of birds instead of the bustle of the Lower Level.

Dear God.

( Desmond's Nightmare. )

Earl Alistair Sharpe is not such a terrible man, I suppose. He seems willing to listen--willing to help our kind instead of enslave them. I still do not agree with his practices, but we at least share common enemies.

Those words about Gretchen were said so easily, yet I am not sure I believe them entirely. Has she truly become a lackey of Guild Hall? One would almost think so. She has taken up with Babenkov, gone to great lengths to protect him, and now it seems that she and this Caleb Ward are working to drive stakes into alliances that would bring the Blood Meridian further into power. Is she trying to become my enemy? What did I do to her to deserve such loathing? Or was it Babenkov? Did the rat poison her mind?

I am uncertain.

This alliance might prove fruitful. If Alistair Sharpe does decide to purchase and rehabilitate slaves instead of squirreling them away in his basement, the Meridian will have more to supplement our numbers. More shifters with an ingrained loathing for slavers and hunters. We will not have to spend the time and energy working with them, as I did with Amy. We can focus our sights on action instead of building. We can tap into a vein of recruitment that will never run dry.

The oppressors will stand no chance.

( 'You, good sir, seem to be a central piece in every one of my problematic puzzles, these days. By God.' [Alistair, Ilse, NPCed Aaron] )

Desmond, Ilse, and Aaron meet with Alistair Sharpe, and a tentative, if not unlikely alliance is forged.

It was odd, coming home to Ilse and the children. Is this what having a family is like? I do not feel like a father. I have never actively participated in putting a child to bed. It was frightening comforting heartwarming pleasant strange.

"Strange" is a word that can describe the entire evening. "Strange" is not always a bad thing. Locks ensure that things can still proceed as normal, as far as Ilse and I are concerned. Or relatively normal, at any rate.

Very strange.

( 'I /share/ Aaron Ma'aroni.' [Ilse, Raven; NPCed Aaron] )

Dinnertime at the Braun/Cusick residence involves macaroni and cheese, barbecue chicken, and green beans. It also involves sharing--read: flinging of food--and bedtime.

( WARNING: HEAVY MAKEOUTS FOLLOW AS DOES AN IMPLIED SEX-ACT. THERE IS NOTHING EXPLICIT, BUT ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK. THERE IS NOTHING PLOT-IMPORTANT IN THIS PART OF THE LOG. )