Thoughts Not To Be Shared
Well, now I’m not only saddled with newbies, I’m also the next
sheriff? I suppose that’s what will happen. I didn’t really want to
be sheriff not right now anyway. Sheriffs have a way of winding up
like Midnight; personally I’d rather not have to try to avoid a fiery
death for the second time in my life. I was perfectly content to just
carry out Midnight’s orders and go about my business but that is no
longer an option now if something gets screwed up it’ll be my head on
a platter. For all of the inconvenient things, Midnight’s death
right now I just know will be one of the most inconvenient things of
all.
Don’t get me wrong, I actually miss the big guy, well as much as I
suppose I’d miss anyone. I certainly am not exactly morning his death
but aren’t happy about it either and for slightly more reasons than
mentioned above. I had worked under him for years, after all, it will
be a little strange not having him tell me to “Burn it down” or (in
one of the ways he had) to “Get rid of ‘em”. Now, I suppose those
decisions are left to me.
I wonder if that group that I’ve been associating with thinks in the
back of their mind some place that maybe I’ll be less nasty than
Midnight. Problem is that I can’t be nor would I want to. Being soft
when dealing with what I might have to, some of which I’m sure I don’t
even know, could wind me up as burnt toast or the sun’s plaything.
They don’t get it, except maybe that Gangrel, there isn’t a place for
protecting those that could potentially do you harm. Those children
were a prime example as witnesses are never a good thing.
Cotton…loyalty to Cotton… I swore it and for as long as he remains in
power that will be the case….unless it suddenly is not any longer.
The reason can be many but loyalty in this society is such a removable
and changing thing. I just hope I survive long enough to switch
loyalties if I need to and if I don’t survive…well, I’d rather not
think about that right now but at least I wouldn’t be left to make
that decision.
Francine put down her pen and looked over her thoughts; which had now
been put to paper. The woman shook her head and after reading it once
more, torn it into a little pieces and made sure it couldn't be ever
read again. She believed every word of it but didn't need anyone else
to find it, even accidentally, especially the last part. This was a
common practice for the woman who didn't truly trust anyone.
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