Lucas is resting

We found him... I don't even know how to feel about it, but he's home.

They abandoned him, with a grab bag of "presents," practically on our doorstep... just outside the wards. I am so angry right now, I can barely speak. Good thing I'm typing...

I am so sick of these people messing with us, all of us. My new family here and people I have yet to meet, people I have only conversed with through comments and people who haven't yet had the courage to tell their stories. If my attack on Prosper wasn't a clear enough message, if you people come here to do MY people harm, you had better kill me first. I'm not going to put up with this any more.

Trust me. I am not someone you want to make mad. I have kept myself in check for years because my dad was a raging psycho. Because my dad was a raging psycho, you should be very afraid of me snapping and doing very terrible things to you.

If you can't be a good example, you can be a horrible warning.







Lucas is resting. I'm not going to question him about what happened. He's been beaten within an inch of his life. I'm fairly sure he has some cracked ribs, maybe broken. He'll heal. It's the things that were left with him that piss me off. I buried the bag of... parts. The knife I left with him along with the sealed envelope. A knife is a knife; I think it's some kind of Asian blade, but I don't know enough about weapons to give it a name.

And it's not my place to open the envelope that was left with him. I'm sure he'll tell us what's in it if he feels it's pertinent.

For now, he's home, he's resting, and I don't think any of his injuries are life threatening. I've asked the little fae that were seeing to my injuries to look after him. So he shouldn't suffer with them too long. I just hope he's learned his lesson about running off alone. None of us leave the mansion alone any more, and all of us are armed.