merciful-death:

You are asking if I would have loved him if he’d been mortal when I’d met him, I am assuming?

It would be strange to think of such a scenario.  At the time in which he came to me, I’d become bitter and cynical about life in itself.  I loathed myself with a fierce absoluteness, and I loathed all those that surrounded me because it was easier many nights to experience a sorrow-tinged-fury than it was to just become despondent.  I hated those cowards around me that would not put me down and sweep me away from the misery I could not remove myself from.  I did not traverse the worst venues in New Orleans because I wanted camaraderie.  I wanted to die.

I didn’t have lengthy conversations with many.  I cheated and brought on fights.  What would Lestat have done, if he’d not been a vampire?  Would he have visited me as I drank an ocean of liquor?  Would he have met me outside the door?  Regardless, I can only fathom that I would have initially ignored him.  He wouldn’t have seemed the kind that I wanted.  I would not have looked at him and seen my own demise reflected in his eyes.

I’m sure he would have struck a conversation with me, and I would have become angry and ranted in my drunkenness.  But then, there presents the question of whether he would have found me interesting enough to keep badgering, if he had not been a vampire?  Because it is who he is to not rid himself of the presence of someone he’s become fascinated with.  And if that had been the case, I’m sure he would have continued presenting himself as an irritation, day after day, night after night.  He would have flirted about in the way only Lestat can.  Speaking hypothetically, of course.

It would have infuriated me that he’d felt enough of an attraction to me to not let me be.  It would have challenged me, I suppose, to make him hate me, as so many did.  I have an immense amount of pride, and even in my darkest moments, that’s never vanished.  He would have revived a strange sort of competitiveness in me that I’d not experienced in months.  He’d become my norm.  I’d find enjoyment in bantering with him, rather than the misery I felt in the bars.  He’d be kind to me, and I would think I’d give up my fight eventually, and we would somehow come together.  Most likely in a night of high emotion, because that is how the two of us have operated in immortality.

And that’s that.  In this strange scenario where we’d both be mortals, I’m sure he would have refueled a fire in me, and I can only imagine that I’d be unable to avoid him.  Lestat is inevitable.  A reality in which I’d meet him and not love him seems incomprehensible.  If there are alternate universes as portrayed in science fiction, I’m positive that I love him in every one of them.