To be a Dragon means many things, but most and foremost, it means to change. To make new experiences, to find flaws and reduce them. The former two Jeremy could deal with easily. The latter, not so much.
He was a Gangrel.
That was a problem.
Because being Gangrel meant his mind was dulled, and his mind had always been his most valuable tool. The animalistic instincts that came with his new existance were something he could not apply properly. It was a strange, illogic kind of thinking that ran contrary to his own. The fact that most Gangrel he met were rather... simplistic in outlook did not help his opinion. With time, he grew to revile this part of his being, especially when he could feel how his mind worked against a barrier, when he felt like he was so close to an answer, but failed to grasp it in the end. He began hating being Gangrel. However, against his expectations, the Dragons didn't seem to mind. In fact, the Gangrel speciality of Protean was seen as helpful in getting started in the Coils of the Dragon, seeing how it meant metamorphosis, controlled change of the body. Other than Savages, the Gangrel were also seen as strangely wise. The conflicting information confused Jeremy to a degree. The Gangrel he met in New York also seemed a lot more likeable. Still, he did not like being Gangrel. Alas, he could not change it, at least not now, so he would have to arrange himself with it, at least for now. And so, he set out to find out what it means being Gangrel. Which is why Jeremy started to list both positive and negative aspects of his clan in his lab log. The negative he had dwelt on for years now, but some of the positive aspects surprised him and were utterly new. In the end, he tried to summarize. If one took everything said about Gangrel and condensed it, one would end up with something akin to "survivors that fight well".
"Well, that certainly is not me." Survivor he could identify with, but he never was a good fighter. This, more than anything else, seemed to prod at his mind. "Maybe this is part of why I feel wrong. I do not fight." You could say he had been embraced into the wrong clan.
But maybe, he had to change himself to fit into the clan.
"To survive is to adapt. To adapt is to change. To become a Gangrel, one must fight. So fight!" he told himself. If nothing else, it would be a new experience.
Of course, he did not want to emberass himself. So he waited for the Fighting Study to be empty.
At first, he felt awkward striking at a punching bag. Stiff. Ineffectual. The second night was not much different. This much was expected, learning to fight, or rather, at least to strike properly, would take a while, after all. Soon, however, his sensations changed. He felt more fluid. Something deep inside of him stirred. He felt a strange sensation of satisfaction. Whether it was due to simply getting better, the physical activity, the beast or some sort of Clan-consciousness, he did not know.
What he knew, however, was that he felt better.
He was still not happy being Gangrel. Mekhet would have been a better fit for him, he was convinced of it.
But he felt a lot less unhappy about it. He might not be the best kind of Kindred Jeremy Theim could be, but he sure as hell would be the best Gangrel Jeremy Theim could be.
With that quiet resolution, he kept going for some time, thinking about how this activity had wrought a change inside of him as his punches occasionally shook the bag.
While he could not put it into exact words, this was what it meant to be Gangrel to him.