A. H. Wong

To the Tune of My Own Drum

 

Ugh. I wish I could dance. It would make blending in at social events a good deal easier. Last time I was at one, I was so close to getting caught that I almost failed my mission!

 

All because of the fact that, for an *extremely* graceful Bladesman, I am beyond clumsy. Humiliating clumsy.

 

Do you know what I did, the last time I tried to dance?

 

I tripped.

 

Over.

 

My own.

 

Feet.

 

Am I proud of that fact? Not at all. I should be so much better at this. I've received dance tutoring. I've practiced for months on end. I've done classes, I've done EVERYTHING. I just. Can't. Dance.

 

I suppose you're wondering why I'm ranting so much about dancing. I suppose I should talk about that.

 

You see, I think I might be in love again. It's been over a week since I've updated you on my situation, and I've spent about four or five days of that in the company of a certain young woman.

 

It takes a lot to catch my eye. I've been around the block far more than I can say, and with far more lovely waifs than I'd care to admit. A gentleman never kisses and tells, though....

 

It's fascinating, isn't it? How a woman's arousal is so linked to her longing for danger?

 

And, of course, what's more dangerous than a murderer?

 

Daniella is not like that, though. She couldn't be more of a pacifist if she tried. She hates even the mere TOPIC of death, so her being attracted to me is simply mind-boggling.

 

She views me as a challenge, I believe. A lot of ladies do--they want to fix me, wrench me out of my cabin in the woods, wipe the blood off my hands. They want to show me the kindness present in an unkind world.

 

None have quite caught me like Daniella, though....

 

You see, I met her when I was out drinking. I do that a lot. There's this certain little place, on a certain little street, that I frequent most nights. It's peaceful, largely because it's quite secret. It's an establishment ran by an acquaintance of mine, however, so I'm allowed in regularly.

 

Picture me, lonely and shirtless from a sincere lack of unbloodied clothing, padding into an isolated--and apparently deserted--building....Only to find a beautiful woman there.

 

She was sitting at the bar, in a noblewoman's dress, with a hand drum between her knees. While my brain instantly went to what I would like to put between her knees; my legs, feet, and mouth took me to her and introduced myself. She took my hand, and kissed it of her own free will. I almost flushed.

 

I've been caught by her ever since.

 

She loves me, loves me, loves me....I think I love her, too. I really, really think I do.

 

Now, if only she would let me leave.

 

It would be wonderful to see the sun again.

 

Still, she keeps talking about dancing with me. That's why I was talking about my failures at dancing earlier--her wanting to dance with me makes me feel so ashamed. I just know I would disappoint her. Maybe, if I dance with her, she'll let me go?

 

She says she doesn't want me to go until I'm better, though. She wants me to stop killing, to have a normal life. I wish I could tell her how impossible that was--the initiated don't get released.

 

I must end this update here--she's coming back to check on me, and I can't wait to kiss her again.