Peter leans back in his chair, propping his feet up on his desk and running a hand through his hair. God this was tedious. He had notes from Cristobal on how to help hold onto blood when he woke up in the evening... except trial and error was a fickle thing. And he could only try once... if it didn't work, he couldn't try again till the next night's awakening.

Standing up, Peter wanders outside. Going to the live traps he had hidden in the area, he collects them and goes back in, feeding -- unpleasant as it was, feeding from vermin -- then re-baiting the traps and putting them back in place for next time.

Heading inside again, he heads to the bathroom to brush his teeth and use some mouthwash. A quick shower -- just because he didn't sweat anymore, it didn't mean he didn't get dirty and end up stinking -- and changing out a load of laundry all serve as needed distractions before sitting back down to go over the notes again. Always again.

"Crap, if he recorded this as a book on tape I could listen to it while I slept every damned day... maybe that twould work. Except, with my luck he'd use an old cassette tape and I'd wake up the next morning with Milli Vanilli or Air Supply stuck in my head, and I'd STILL be spending my vitae to wake up. God, I'd have to kill myself."

And so, with a shudder, he redoubles his efforts to pour over the information his mentor had given him... he had notes and scrawl on sheet of paper after sheet or paper -- covering all the Coils of Blood, not just the first -- on his desk, trying to see if there was a linking theme -- beyond the blood -- that might serve as the key to understanding how to make it work. They key he was missing. He'd have to figure out the blood thing, because it seemed he could alter his own blood, and spirits liked it. Spirits.

Wyrm's Nest.

No, coil. The past week has been hunting for a Wyrm's Nest to no avail. More coils.

The key had to be here somewhere...