I do not, in any way, regret my actions with Augustine. I have always behaved; I have always done what is required of me—why am I not permitted to have a fling every now and again? They constrict us out of fear. We are different, closer to their enemy in mind and they know it. I have spent my entire life being told I am less than redeemable; I am marked because of my father—because of myself. Who I am. What I've chosen, perhaps been forced, to do. What I was born to do.

And yet Levi does not seem convinced of such things.

He would scold me for putting these thoughts on paper. They are dangerous and I should keep them tucked away in my heart rather than pen them here, but today I am in a reflective mood. I often do not know what I believe until I have written it, so today I will write. I shall burn this when I am finished, just as I will burn the letters sent to me by the son of Berith and by Levi himself. Perhaps they are not entirely condemning on their own, but as a whole they show a girl who is less than the faithful daughter I had hoped to masquerade as. Appearances, at all cost, should remain well maintained.

I should begin by saying, I have written to Levi in earnest before, admitting the feelings I harbor towards him. It is not love, or at least I do not believe it to be love. I have never loved, not truly. I have used love as justification on more than one occasion, but never have I truly experienced it. I have been told that the emotion is outside of my realm of understanding. This is yet another point on which my father and Levi differ. No one, save me, really understands how Leviathan feels on such things. There is much they do not know of Leviathan Desmott.

Perhaps there is much I do not know of him.

Nevertheless, he has never returned my feelings or even acknowledged they exist. He kisses me and often I feel he might do more, but I believe he does so out of angst rather than true attraction. It is stiff and practiced, hundreds of years worth of holding back from people. I do not understand what troubles him or why he has stopped attending the shows and clubs. I worry he will raise suspicions against himself if he does not take care. People are asking after him. He has grown increasingly close to Lucius—perhaps it is this friendship with our master that will keep him safe from the others.

Still, I dread what is to come if my friend does not change his course. Levi cannot remain like this; if I have taken notice of him then surely others have as well. Augustine had, it was for this reason that I bedded him. He was asking too many questions, wondering too much about Levi. Why was he never at shows? When was the last time he brought in a new girl? Why does he have no children of his own? How is he still Lucius' right-hand man if he is not actively working? I thought if I could keep the son of Berith distracted he might refrain from taking his questions elsewhere, to someone who would investigate the claims. I suppose Augustine will never ask questions again. I should be thankful for some small mercies.

Mercies are so few and far between; they are as rare and undeserving as forgiveness—as fleeting as second chances. My father's letter did not go unnoticed by me. He seldom writes and when he does he takes care to put me in my place. Gressil has little to fear from me, I am dedicated to my job and quite skilled in it as well. In fact, I am already working. Levi has permitted me to attend the shows even if I am not performing in them as of yet. Being at the parties and in the dressing rooms has been enough for me to already begin to influence the other girls. Actresses are easy to sway, especially where vanity and money are concerned. Those are two commodities we are always working to increase.

Father need not worry about me. I am as loyal as we come.