A bit more of BA-4...

Leonides is looking for Gabrielle to discuss exchanging Dmitriy for Franz...but she isn't there.

-----

Dmitriy sighed and said, "You know, Gabrielle already was visited by two of the Oiym." 

“After Hamburg, yes...” 

“No, six months past.” 

That, I had not known. "Which two?" 

"Nethys and...what the male's name? Anileh! So attractive. And so completely uninterested." 

I shrugged in agreement. 

"They met with...with Gabrielle...to warn her of perhaps turning another Blood Angel without their authorization.” 

I frowned. The Oiym having to restate the police? "Due to the slaughter of the Sosenthen clan..." 

He chuckled and said, "This, we are told. There are many who think you the reason for this edict." 

Oh. Well. That was not unexpected, but all I could think to say was, "I pay no attention to gossip." 

"You should. It is much better than that found in today's newspapers..." 

“No doubt,” I murmured, caressing his belly. 

“I tell you this because...oh, Léon, you may be too late.” 

“How so?” 

“The Oiym met her in New York. Before she sent me here.” 

Then it hit me. "She sensed another Blood Angel." 

He sighed and nodded. 

I sat up and asked, "Is she still there?" 

"No. She is now gone to Korea." 

"Korea?! But...but that's a closed society. They even told the French to get lost." 

"This time the Americans it will be." 

"Is the man military?" 

He nodded. "Passing through New York, we were, when we felt his presence. A fine young naval officer in a deep blue coat. Very attractive. The moment she saw him, she dismissed me." 

Which angered me. She turned Dmitriy without thought and now treats him as though he was an irritant, only? Before I could even think to stop myself, I said, "I wish it had been me who found you, first." 

"As do I." He kissed me. "Then I would not be the one to police idiots. And keep the Oiym satisfied. Demand, over and over, to feed on those none will miss and not the monied class." 

The expression I gave him must have been priceless, for he chuckled and continued, "One idiot fed on a girl at a debutante ball because she was hearty and hale. Causing much concern with those of her class. The Oiym know and agree to let Gabrielle deal with him when she returns. Which is soon, I hope. Scotland Yard gets on the case. They do not stop until they find her body. Which will be never...but still, we may have to relocate. Gossip in the local pub is very strong." 

I caressed his face. His eyes so sad, again. "When does she arrive in Korea?" 

"No idea. In New York, events would interfere with her taking him before he departed on his ship. The Colorado." 

“The Oiym warned her and she tried for him, anyway?” 

He nodded and shrugged. 

I sighed. "When did his ship depart?" 

"Two months since. For him, I believe the journey is three months. Perhaps four. Depends on which cape they travel past. It is a three-master but with the turnscrew, so I know not how fast those things go." 

"I hear they can make the Atlantic crossing in fewer than two weeks." 

"No matter, Gabrielle will be in position to take him when he arrives. Do you know America has built a transcontinental railroad from east to west? She has travelled it. Her ship left San Francisco perhaps a month, six-weeks past. Also a steamer." 

I chuckled. "She didn’t just stow away?" 

He patted my belly. "On a naval vessel? With so many ripe and ruddy sailors and marines and their lovely, lovely blood?" 

I laughed. "The Colorado...drifting into harbor without a crew." 

"Or all like me. Hundreds of men. Alone in the middle of the ocean for months. None but themselves and their asses and their dicks and their mouths..." 

We rolled about with laughter for a full minute before I was able to say, "She left from San Francisco?" 

"Yes." 

"Then I'd best head along. I want to get to her before she finds the man." 

"You cannot stay a day or two? To go east through the Suez? A bit faster, perhaps. We could make a visit to Ireland. The silly British have much trouble, over there. And I know of a nice Army garrison near Cork. The idiot Sergeant-Major in charge has provided me with sustenance, thanks to his hate and arrogance. And I assure you, the soldiers treat the locals abominably." 

"Well...it will take me some time to arrange my passage..." 

His eyes grew bright, again. "I will help."

Universe 25 (1968-73)

For some reason, what's going on in Israel, Gaza, the West Bank, and Lebanon reminded me of this experiment conducted by ethologist John B. Calhoun in Poolesville, Maryland. It was when a mouse utopia was designed to test the effects of overpopulation in a resource-rich environment. 

It was set in a 9-square-foot metal pen designed for 3,840 mice . They were provided unlimited food, water, and nesting material. 

Four pairs of mice were introduced, leading to rapid reproduction, with the population peaking at just 2,200 mice. 

As population density increased, social structure collapsed. Violent cliques were formed. Females stopped caring for young, abandoning or attacking them, leading to a 90% infant mortality. Many males became passive, focusing only on eating and grooming, abandoning mating and social interaction.  Reproduction ceased entirely. 

Despite having abundant food and no predators, the population collapsed due to severe behavioral dysfunction—the behavioral sink.

The population, while physically safe and still effectively with room to grow, experienced total social death, resulting in complete extinction.

Calhoun concluded that when almost all available space is filled and social roles are broken, the spirit (or social capacity) dies before the body. The experiment is often cited as a cautionary tale on the dangers of overpopulation and the loss of social purpose in a world without struggle.

The one difference is, the mice were in a confined space. Israel was basically a confined space for Jews to live in, freely withing borders set by other countries, but they have almost outgrown it and are now pushing to increase the space they have by stealing the arable land around them...and killing anyone who gets in their way. They are doing what they claimed should never again happen.

This sort of combines with the parable Brendan tells at the end of A Place of Safety-Home Not Home, about the seven tribes and how the Hebrews drove them out of their land and took it over. That was about three-thousand years ago...and today's actions prove not only that nothing changes, but even though we now have a good idea as to why it needs to change, we still do nothing about it.

I don't know if this makes any sense, but that's where my mind was, today...

Whiplashing...

Well, next week's job was off until five minutes after I canceled everything...and then it was back on. Just bumped a day. This is one I really do want to handle because of whose archives it is. Can't reveal, but I'm totally fan-boy over this one.

Being stuck on the first chapter of Blood Angel-4 A Long Journey is proving to be irritating. I'm not sure what it is I'm missing, but I can't get past this part till I find it. So I'll keep at it. Thus far, I've expanded it to 12 pages then but it back to 10 and now it may be down to 9...unless I add a couple more pages of memory between Léon and Gabrielle.

I don't know if anybody else writes this way. I mean, Hemingway would sit at this typewriter and stare at a blank page trying to find the right word to follow in what he'd already written...and would not let himself up till he'd put down over 500 of them. But he also did a lot of rewriting.

Of course, he also had a really fine editor...Maxwell Perkins...

His four rules of writing well?

1. USE SHORT SENTENCES Short sentences are easier to digest. They make it easier to follow each point of an argument or story. Your job as a writer — or editor — is to make life easy for your audience. Forcing the reader to navigate through a bunch of long, complex sentences is like forcing him/her to hack through the jungle with a machete. Create a nice, tidy path with plenty of short sentences. 

2. USE SHORT FIRST PARAGRAPHS See opening of this post.

3. USE VIGOROUS ENGLISH Copywriter David Garfinkel describes it like this: “It’s muscular, forceful (writing). Vigorous English comes from passion, focus and intention.” This rule is really a reminder to do your homework and fully understand what you are writing about. It is impossible to write with “passion, focus and intention” without having a real grasp of the subject. In most cases, if you’ve done your homework, you will write with authority and vigor. 

4. BE POSITIVE, NOT NEGATIVE Basically, “be positive” means you should say what something is rather than what it isn’t – Instead of saying something is “inexpensive,” say it is “affordable.” – Instead of describing something as “unclear,” say it is “confusing.” This might seem like a small point, but it’s actually quite important. Being “positive” makes your writing more direct. Whether they realize it or not, readers are turned off by “roundabout writing.”

Of course, I violate every one of these rules...and yet Hemingway is one of my favorite writers. Go figure...

My usual rewriting...

The is the opening of Book 4...so far...

------

I had last bothered to have contact with Gabrielle, when she tried to steal Reyndahl from me. It was twelve years earlier, after nearly dying in Hamburg. One of those ministers who froth at the mouth over witches and demons and immorality and evil in the world had led a number of his flock to break into her flat near the docks, one morning. Killed two of her retinue before the rest could escape, and burned the building down...nearly with her in it. 

She had seen to it neither that minister nor any of his followers had escaped the flames. It was quite the talk of the town. 

Of course, she had a townhouse in Stockholm and had been planning to purchase a manor house near Hampton Court, outside London. So she and her retinue had a place to go. She’d had to sell some of her jewels to finance the journey since their money had also been destroyed. 

Of course, word got back to the Oiym and they met with her to discuss upgrading her security measures. Which was why she asked...and asked very nicely, I might add...if Reyndahl could come look both residences over. Make certain they were as secure as could be. 

I left it up to him, and he chose to assist her. I expected him to be gone for a month, maybe six weeks. He remained with her almost half a year. 

I finally travelled to Stockholm to bring him back but discovered Gabrielle and her retinue had transferred to the manor house, so went there, next. 

To find Reyndahl happily ensnared in Gabrielle’s bed. I had long known he was not solely invested in relations with men, but I also knew my sister did not share anything. Toys. Food. Lovers. 

One of her group was very unhappy with this new arrangement. Bergeron. A blond beauty of a man she had turned in the late Twelfth Century. He had long guarded his place in her bed, jealously. It was he who had taken me to her chambers. Where she was lounging in her bed. 

Naked. 

While I have no interest in females, sexually, I had to admit she presented a very beautiful image. Physically. 

 Reyndahl was lying on his side, next to her, just as naked...and erect. And casting me the same mocking smile as she. 

That would not do... 

“I can see your security concerns are well-handled,” I’d said, not even trying to keep the sneer from my voice. 

“Very much so,” she’d responded. 

"Then it is time he returned home."

He’d shifted to where he was lying face down but propped up on his elbows so that his very pleasant face could watch me and his very fine ass was very visible. She smacked it and continued with, “I’d like to keep him.” 

Bergeron was right behind me, and I could sense he was not pleased with that suggestion. What had been truly interesting, however, was a flash of irritation crossing Reyndahl’s eyes. I had a feeling him remaining as her boy-toy had not been discussed. 

So just to be cruel, I’d said, “If you give me Dmitriy...” 

“Trade a simple vampire for a Blood Angel?” she’d sneered. 

That had made Reyndahl look back at her, insulted. “Simple vampire?” he’d snapped. “After all the times I’ve pleased you?” 

Now one thing I will always give to my sister is she is no hypocrite. She’d looked him straight in the eye and said, “The exchange of Blood Angels must always be equal. And being good in bed does not make you so.” 

So...he had had huffed and puffed...and returned to France with me. Bergeron was happy to see us go. But Reyndahl's rejection had angered Gabrielle, and she had let me know I was no longer welcome for any form of visit. 

All Reyndahl would say about their time together was, “I enjoyed her bed. She enjoyed me in her bed. What more is important?” Except being there I realized one serious issue was, she'd had no doùlos in the retinue, who would serve as early warning for attacks. When I’d mentioned it to him, his sole response had been, “She will, now.” 

And that is where the discussion ended.

Freak out...

I need to be more careful in what I eat. I've got Type 2 Diabetes and handle it with Metformin. I've also done better on what I eat. That's probably why I dropped from 245 lbs to 220 over the course of six months. More salads. Half portions.

But every now and then I let loose, and last night...I hate to admit it, but I ate 2 6-packs of Oreos. Loved 'em. Had them with tea. Felt very happy.

Then I woke up at 4:30am, nauseated. I came very close to vomiting...and I do not vomit. The last time I did was 20+ years ago. But diabetes can bring that on.

I found that by just standing up and remaining still, I was fine...and eventually the sensations went away. So I went back to bed. Got up at 10:15, still feeling a bit ragged, and tested my blood sugar. It was 227. Should be a hundred points less.

I drank a can of Perrier...tested it again, half an hour later, and it was up to 266. I waited an hour and tested it, again, and it was 285. I was close to hitting Urgent Care but I was also in the middle of working up an estimate for a library pack and ship, so waited till 2pm to check it, again. And it was down to 223.

I ran some errands, got the paperwork I needed for next week's job, bought salad makings and fixed up a decent one. Then checked it at 8pm...and it was 125. So panic over.

I've never been good at self-denial unless I absolutely had to...like when I was between jobs in LA and had to live on eggs, cheese, and just enough milk for hot tea for a few weeks because I had no money. But now I need to lay off the sweets completely...and it's not easy. I already drink DPZ and my hot tea is half as sweet as it used to be. But it's zero out or I'm doing a crash and burn, and I'm not ready for that, yet.

Getting spooked was good, I guess.

Continuation...

More of Léon's talk with Gabrielle about Dmitry and Franz...

-----

She finally looked straight at me. “I’ve heard the gossip about you and your German."

“Probably heightened to a ridiculous degree,” I said. 

“Not in our world, Léon. We’re not affected by that human need to justify ourselves or make our actions look better. We can be nothing but truthful." 

I hesitated then asked, "Are you willing to house-train another puppy for life in your world?" 

I waited as she crossed to the barrel of water and washed her hands, using a bar of scented soap. I eyed it then her. She smiled. "Orange blossom." 

"Very nice," I said, "but also strong." 

"Not to humans," she chuckled as she removed her riding habit...and I saw she wore trousers and a waistcoat under it! 

"Gabrielle," I said, in awe, "you don't like bustles?” 

She sneered, "Have you seen the new ones? They make you look like a bloody camel. Women are fools to tolerate the things men make them wear. All right, so swap Franz for Dmitriy? But I hear you have yet to turn him, so why should I bother with you? I could take him..."

I took a deep breath. “You still need the Oyim’s permission, and they will...” 

She was back to casting me her usual condescending stare. “You may fear them, but I do not. My retinue, they can order about...but not me. Not when a Blood Angel is my target.” She stood at a narrow window and looked down at the river, then said, “Still you think you can barter...” 

“I have to. His blood calls to me because...because of something I did, and it cannot be denied for long. If you take him, first, he will be yours. And a worthy companion. He knows the rules of court." 

"Then what is wrong with him?" 

"He prefers women to men. That is not what I seek."

Her look turned to near pity. "You are so different from me," she finally said. "You want your mate to love you. To be yours, but this man cannot be. Your mistake was based on wishes, as well." 

“Almost a mistake.” 

“You have decided his future, Léon.” 

"There...there was more to it than that." And I must admit, my tone was petulant. 

"Oh. Of course. I beg your pardon." So mocking a response, I had to grunt with irritation.

Her eyes drilled into me, like they had even when I was a child as she added, “You know, aside from that small issue you would have made a fine mate, for me.” 

Which took me by surprise. “Brother and sister?” 

“We’re Blood Angels. We are all related to one extent or another. Such middle class concerns are immaterial.” 

“Another reason for me to be glad I am who I am."

"I warned you, once. Never let lust determine your partner." 

"Yes, and you chose Dmitriy for his intellect." 

She laughed. "He proves the rule. Do you still want him?" 

"Yes. Why? Is he still being troublesome?" 

"You should be around him, for a while. Get a better sense of who and what he is. I grant you his beauty, but he is very expensive to keep. And his appetite? Difficult to quench." 

I smiled, remembering our nights together. "I know. I saw him, in London." 

"And now he is now at the barricades in Paris, rabble rousing with the communards. The young and the restless. They did not fare well. But Dmitriy did." 

She shook her head then added, "You may not yet have him." 

"My offer is to swap..." 

"I know. But I will need him to help train your Franz. Give me a month, maybe two, and I will let you know if I will keep him or agree to your plan." 

I made myself chuckle. "You are too good to me." But inside I was seething. I half-suspected she would keep them both. 

She sensed my thoughts and smiled. "You don't trust me."

"I have seen too much to trust too much. I'm only willing to allow this because you're my older sister." 

"Where is Franz?" 

"Alexandria." 

"So there is where I will journey. But be warned; he may soon be begging you to be yours." 

"Would you allow him?" 

She let that damned inscrutable smile of hers cross her lips as she said, "We'll see how he pleases me, first."

And that made me trust her even less.

Revelation...maybe...

Here is some of what Léon's sister is revealing...

----

I finally sensed Gabrielle was in the Gwangseong Garrison area, so rushed there as quickly as I could. I did not feel the presence of any other Blood Angel in the lower peninsula, so that was promising. 

I traced her to a Hanok that appeared to have been long abandoned. The exterior of its plain rectangular structure was cracked and dirty, and tiles were missing from its roof. Overgrowth covered a courtyard and threatened to return its walls to nature. It actually shocked me, considering how particular Gabrielle could be about a residence. 

But inside was another story. It might be only two rooms, one for cooking and eating, with the other for sleeping, but it was whitewashed into brilliance and the packed earth floor was surprisingly cared for. There was a sturdy, dynasty-style, four-poster bed in the back room; the cooking area had stools and utensils, a barrel of water sat beside the hearth, and four ring-necked pheasants hanging by the fire.

I knew at once she had prepared all of this for her chosen mate...to help in her seduction of him. But he was nowhere nearby and...

And then I saw Gabrielle.

She was seated in a corner by the bed, dressed in an elegant black riding habit. Looking remarkably beautiful. And for the first time in my life, she did not cast me a glare of derision when I appeared at her door. In fact, she did not even look at me. 

In her hands was a book, nicely bound in black leather with the form of a raven cut into the front, red and white bits fitted in to highlight its eyes and parts of its feathers. She held it in a way that seemed almost tender. Never before had she appeared  to be so vulnerable. 

I remained silent, from respect. She would speak to me when she was ready. 

For several minutes we were motionless before she sighed and said, “I despise humans and their stupidity. Sometimes I wonder if it might be best to round them up and keep them fenced in compounds, as they do cattle, rather than let them roam free.” 

I could not argue the point. I’d seen enough of man’s vile behavior to man. 

She let her eyes shift to me. “You know why I am here.” 

As it was not a question, I merely gave her the smallest of nods. 

She continued with, “My arrival was delayed. The Korean navy refused my ship berth. Both in Inchon and Pyongyang. Nor was I close enough to land to transport myself ashore. I was forced to port at Tangshan and enter through China. By that time...it was too late.”

Too late? Had I been lucky?

She opened the book. I moved close to see an elegant sketch of a man’s face, in profile. Flowing hair. Strong features. Good chin under a light beard. Strength and beauty radiated from it. 

“Gabrielle, this is glorious.” 

“It’s but a representation. I look. I draw what I see. Let others determine what it means.” 

"Have you tried this new thing called photography?" I said, as tenderly as I could. 

She nodded. "Since the Daguerreotypes. But the technology is too limited, still. Perhaps when they advance." 

"I've heard some say it will take the place of art." 

Now she snorted with derision. "More evidence there are far too many stupid people in the world." 

"No disagreement, here." 

She hesitated...to my shock; I had never seen her hesitate on anything, before...then turned the page to another sketch, this one of the same American officer collapsed against some rubble, clutching his groin, covered in blood, his uniform and shirt torn open to reveal his chest, lost in death. A Korean soldier stood over him, seen from behind, ancient rifle smoking, triumphant. 

“Did you see this?” I asked. "You gave me the impression he was already dead."

“He had been killed the day before I crossed the frontier. I did not really understand until yesterday. I found the man who fired the shot. Saw it all...” 

“So rifles provide stories the same as swords and daggers?” 

She nodded. “This is my recreation of...of how he died."

"I’ve made many sketches like this," she murmured. "Representations of men I have fed upon. This is the first of one whose death I had nothing to do with."

She caressed the sketch then continued with, "Did you know that while assisting with the Bayeux Tapestry, I was criticized for not working my thread in the same manner as the other ladies? I used it in ways to make each character come more alive and suitable. Our sister made great sport of me, for it. Thinking she was hurting me. When she realized I didn’t care, she saw to it I was dismissed. I didn’t mind. I prefered to sketch and paint.” 

“Do you love it, still?” 

She was silent for another minute, her hand resting on the sketch, then shrugged. “For me, it is a record...a log of my history. A reminder of all that I have done...and of how angry I can be. And I did grow angry. So very angry. More than I have been in...oh, in centuries."

Her expression grew cruel. "I destroyed that man's entire regiment...or whatever it’s called. Did not feed. Would not debase myself. Only slaughtered them like so many cattle. In ways as creative as I could be."

Which almost made me cringe. "And now you are sad."

She finally looked straight at me, her eyes cold and black as she said, "No...now my anger is quiet..."

Gabrielle speaks...

To my surprise, digging deeper into Léon's feelings as he sets off to find his sister and try to broker a trade for Dmitriy, Gabrielle has also opened up to me. Mainly because she was angry...something she rarely allows herself to be.

She got to Korea too late. The young naval office she wanted had already been killed in a skirmish with the Korean army. Her plan was thwarted so she made the Korean garrison pay, dearly.

When Léon locates her, he finds her almost melancholy. Upset with herself for giving way to anger. The last time she'd felt such fury was in the 12th Century, when her husband pledged their wealth and two-hundred serfs to the fourth crusade.

He was a baron, so she could do nothing to stop him. Instead, she made his steward a vampire, and while he was off to assist in the great campaign, they absconded with the remains of his treasury. He's still one of her retinue...Berenger.

"I will cut him loose, when I return," she told me. "He warned the Oyim of my plan."

"Did they need warning?" I asked. "They always seem to know what is happening as it happens."

"Not with me. And I will have no traitor in my midst."

"You would foist him on me, instead."

She shrugged. "He despises Dmitriy's proclivities. Being one of your retinue would be a most delicious punishment."

She also shows him sketches she made of the officer and talks of why she was dismissed from assisting in the making of the Bayeux Tapestry.

"My manner of sewing was different from the others. And our sister made great sport of me for it, calling me self-indulgent. Which I have no issue with. I see it as making my mark. Leaving a trail of what I have done, as with these sketches I made of him. He was very handsome. He would have made me a wonderful mate."

And this leads into her agreeing to take Franz...on the rebound, as it were.

Slash and burn...

I'm going through BA-4 cutting chit-chat over nothing. I had a long bit where Léon and Gregory discuss how to make their business better by using rail to Calais instead of Marseilles...and it added nothing to story except a vague bit of history.

Seems Marseilles was a hotbed of Republican fervor who were anti-Prussia and also anti-Napolean III. Nice to know, but so what? There went more than 500 words.

I'm up to the point where Léon is heading for Korea, via the Suez route. Gabrielle is en route there. to waylay a young American naval officer, who has the same blood as them. If that happens, any deal with her about Franz is off the table. Meaning Léon will not be able to trade for Dmitriy, whom he very much wants as his mate.

But even though the Oyim have forbidden any vampire to turn one of their victims without their permission, she intends to do whatever she damn well wants and dares them to punish her. She knows if she turns that officer into a fellow Blood Angel, the Oyim can do nothing to control her.

Overall, I'm trying to pump up the drive of the story, instead of letting it meander about in the fields of history. And also make sure my timeline is correct with historical facts. Can't be too ignorant of reality.

Unless I mean to...

Remembrances past...

I was chatting online with someone who had purchased a fine copy of Tom of Finland's work, published by Taschen, and it was nice conversation. Discussing what Tom's drawings  meant in the history of the LGBTQ+ community. Other gay artists we appreciated...and writers.

He had a huge influence on the look of gay men in the 70s and 80s. There's a foundation dedicated to his work in LA, in Echo Park, that has a lot of his materials on display.

Turns out the person was based in Germany, which where Taschen is headquartered. They've done a number of lovely books, but you cannot rely on them for accurate information. I bought three of their books on film...Noir, Horror, and 100 Great Films...and I've found occasionally the descriptions are just plain wrong.

Turns out they've just reprinted reviews written back when the films either came out or were in retrospectives, pre-1980, for the most part. So some of the writers were relying on memory, which is not reliable. But still...the mistakes could have been corrected.

For example, in Jörn Hetebrügge's discussion of Francois Truffaut's Les Quatre Cents Coups he claims Antoine's father catches him stealing a typewriter then it's actually the night guard who catches him as he's returning the typewriter he and a friend had stolen. Not because they felt guilty but because they couldn't sell it. 

A small point, but still raises questions about the accuracy of everything they publish.

BA-4 is working in my head, again. And Gabrielle came up with a comment I find quite awkward and yet honest. If Léonidès hadn't been gay, he'd have made a perfect mate for her. Never mind them being brother and sister. 

"We're Blood Angels," she tells him. "That's immaterial. We're all related to an extent."

His response is, "I'm glad to be who I am." And means it.