Grigory Yefimovich Rasputin (Status: Ongoing, MrWhysper)

16, December, 1916 22:59 (Julian Calendar)

Felix himself answers the door for me as I stand outside the gates of Moika Palace. I’ve always liked Felix even if he strikes me as something of a catamite. He’s dressed in his Ducal finery, all gold braid and pigeon droppings on his shoulders. I’ve been here many times in the past; gazed in contemplation at his art collection, admiring the works of Rembrandt and David. I’ve also fucked his wife and all of his female servants.

Yvgeny is waiting for us along with the former Brother Makary and Grand Duke Pavlovich. Yvgeny Botkin is a pathetic pudding of a man, standing no more than five and a half feet tall. He acts friendly in public but his pudgy face and watery eyes turn into frowns when he thinks I’m not looking. I’m always looking. He was too soft to keep a woman and his wife left him for the arms of a teacher. That was six years ago. I fucked his wife too.

Makary is my oldest friend, and even though he no longer wears his cassock and chains, he is still the giant I remember, although he has since passed the age of fifty. He still looks like he could pull a cart after the ox dies. He never had a wife. I did fuck his daughter though.

Dimitri is young, a pretty boy. I’m pretty sure Felix is buggering him. Or the other way around. Altogether he is mostly inoffensive and boring, but has always been kind to me.

I’m lead to a beautifully appointed basement apartment, and sit at the head of the table. The others greet me cheerfully if with a touch of nervousness. Makary deals out the first hand of cards and we set to playing. One of Felix’s servants, Lila, brings wine and cakes. I thank her with a twinkle in my eye and watch as she blushes.

The wine is of course poisoned as are the cakes.

These are my best friends in the world save three.

Tonight they will me.