The ending of this novel is beyond dumb. It makes you wonder how these Vampires even lived to be as old as they are. They decide they need a ruler so they adopt a Vampire monarchy complete with Lestat as ruler based solely on everyone knowing who he is. Mind you, this is the same Vampire who hates rules, the same Vampire who was dumb enough to turn his powerful body over to a human he just met, the same Vampire who turned his body over to a lab ran by Vampires he just met, allowed them to take DNA samples from him and inject him with drugs, and was just suicidal at the beginning of the book and has shown suicidal tendencies in the past. THIS is who every last Vampire is trusting their very existence to, this suicidal hamburger brained moron called Lestat.
[This is a ficlet thing requested by i-want-my-iwtv based on my post here. It got a little longer than I expected. It’s Daniel and Armand fighting over giving him the blood. It’s about 1,200 words.]
By my thirtieth birthday, Night Island had started to feel more like a tomb than a palace. Thirty isn’t old, but you have to remember, I was living with a vampire who didn’t age. He’d died at seventeen and could pass, maybe, for twenty-three on a good night when he was dressed in sharp clothes and cut his hair short.
And yet I was spending more time in front of the mirror, plucking tiny gray hairs from my head. I was losing my stamina: staying up all night started to cost me in ways Armand could never have understood. My body ached in strange places. Recovery from whirlwind travel or a massive drunk took longer and longer. Tiny lines etched themselves across my face. The gap between our appearances widened.
That first one, though. That is amazing. Louis is like “he’s not getting it.” And Daniel is smoking and thinking “JFC I HEAR YOU OKAY. I’m just thinking maybe you’re wrong.”
//Dear lovely person, whom I unfortunately cannot address by name due to the obvious,
Today in particular, it is I who find myself grateful for you. I don’t know what prompted words this kind, or what I did to deserve them, but thank you. What you have given me in sending this is no small gift.
I hope that your days are bright and your nights ripe with the scintillating taste of possibility. I hope that you laugh like the colours of sunset and spill words like ripples of ocean water. Most of all, I hope that you believe yourself capable of extraordinary things, because you are.
