Claudia smiled at the compliment, weighing her head to the side slightly. “Merci beacoup, cheri. I wont wear just anything you know.” Thinking to her wardrobe, for a moment she glanced off into space. “My favorite color is royal blue. All those deep colors are really beautiful. Red, purple, even gold although I like gold more for accessorize than a clothing color.”
“Of course I adore lace. You can’t go wrong with floral patterns…..then again it depends on the floral. I don’t like to over do it.” Which was funny because Claudia was the queen of ‘over doing it’, next to Lestat of course. “There are so many crazy prints out there…” She had a look on her face that was a mixture of confusion and disgust as she shook her head. “Je ne sais pas…”
“Satin, silk, cotton, velvet, cashmere.” She listed. “Wool is good for warm but I hate that rough texture.”
“I’d like to think my taste has changed at least a little bit with time. Fashion has changed so much and new things come out all the time. The things people wear now is very different from what we use to wear. Less layers, then more layers again, then less material. I can’t wear my big thick gowns in 2018, I would stand out. You have to adapt and learn to accept change. Childrens clothes are one thing…” Claudia rolled her eyes. “It’s becoming worse and worse in my opinion but I have a personal seamstress, thank god.”
♛”Dearest, it’s more about people throwing themselves at my bone(s),” *scoffs and ruffles her hair* “And, yes, believe it or not, I do politely decline plenty of offers, I have some measure of taste.”
A bitter sweet smile found her lips as she glanced out the window, imagining the sun light. “I don’t really remember a lot of when I was human….sometimes a have dreams about it though…like old memories…laughing in the sun, playing hop scotch, and skipping rocks into the swamps. Eating icecream, brownies, I loved sweets….I think I did….going to the French quarter and shopping during the day was so different than at night….crêpes were my favorite.” Resting her head on her hand she sighed. “I use to have dreams of picking flowers in the sun…fading memories….playing with my dolls in the grass…rolling down hills…I miss it all and I wish I could have experienced it with them…Lestat and Louis..”
Here’s some (modern world?) Claudia headcanons no one asked for:
-very materialistic
-despises dubstep
-still prefers dresses, but makes an effort to dress as adult as she can
-prefers floral scents with the exception of champagne and cashmere
-wishes she could drive
-thinks Lestat is an idiot but doesn’t want him dead anymore
-hates Armand
-only wears real jewels or pearls
-loves rose gold
-still prefers books to any other media but pictures fascinate her and she has an active instagram account
-not an animal person, doesn’t like Mojo
-enjoys killing pedophiles
-Marius fascinated her immensely and she will ask him question after question about anything. Marius answers them all
-people watching makes her sad but she still does it
-politics fascinate her
-Louis is still her everything
-she was initially extremely overwhelmed by the modern world but became fiercely determined to understand everything
-the only laps she’ll sit on are Louis and Marius
-despises the color black
-when she decided to purchase her own house Lestat suggested a Mini Home (bc he’s still a jerk) instead she bought a mansion with one more bedroom than Lestat and Louis’ home
Feel free to add if you want
-listens to lana del rey and florence + the machine
“Mon cher, Lestat.” Claudia sighed with a sweet smile. “I may have left the nest but my home is with you.” Biting her lower lips she shook her head only to continue smiling. “I think of you too often and I miss you more than you think. You may be a Brat Prince now but you were mine before you were many of theirs….”
Of course, he gave me a doll as usual, the replica of me, which as always wears a duplicate of my newest
dress. To France he sends for these dolls, he wants me to know. And what should I do with it? Play with it
as if I were really a child?
“Is there a message here, my beloved father?” I asked him this evening. “That I shall be a doll forever
myself?” He has given me thirty such dolls over the years if recollection serves me. And recollection never
does anything else. Each doll has been exactly like the rest. They would crowd me out of my bedroom if I
kept them. But I do not keep them. I burn them, sooner or later. I smash their china faces with the poker. I
watch the fire eat their hair. I can’t say that I like doing this. After all, the dolls are beautiful. And they do
resemble me. Yet, it becomes the appropriate gesture. The doll expects it. So do I.
I-want-my-IWTV 