First of all, do not tell me what is true and not true.
I feel as though I have answered this question a dozen times as if you all expect my answer to change somehow.
Romantic feelings? That sounds very trite. I do not think she would ever appreciate the…bond, shall we say, that we have with one another to be described as such. It is much more profound than that, always has been.So when can I say it first started? Well, at my birth, I suppose.
To see this question continuously asked is infuriating.
Both Lestat and I have, as he said, answered it time and time again.
“Romantic” is a terribly pedantic way of describing how I feel towards my son. Romance is a box in which you can easily place us and point fingers, isn’t it? How easy for you, how slow and simple your lives must be. How utterly boring.
I have described my life in the Auvergne to those who have cared to listen. I have described how it changed when Lestat was born. I have explained how it was to be trapped, to be beaten, to be raped and treated like a mare whose very spirit must be broken at all costs. To have one small life come into that hell hole, one person who I knew immediately was a part of me in every way, who was not the strangely-wrought men I’d birthed before—this was a revolution and a revelation for which words fail to describe.
Lestat was not only my child, not merely the only colour and breath that existed in that godforsaken corner of the earth. Lestat was and is a part of myself.
This has been made abundantly clear on several instances. To continue to ask is to attempt to assign some paltry and sordid meaning to our relationship that it does not have.
Tag Archives: gabrielle de lioncourt
“These boots are made for walking, and that’s just what they’ll do
one of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.”
(“☺ —— A headcanon about my character’s feet.” <— this is sort of a lame question on its own so let me enhance it) Being that you're such an adventurer of unbeaten trails, do you prefer to go barefoot in the jungles, is there a brand of boot you prefer, or do you make your own footwear?
I do not travel the jungle barefoot, though I have done in the past.
The last two centuries have provided amazing advancements in footwear that is meant purely for hiking, climbing, and difficult terrain. I tend to veer towards using boots like these, typically brown ones (though black is fine, too).
I’m pleased to say that, after many Christmases of receiving gowns and jewelry from my son, he seems to have finally caught on (thank you, Louis) and has begun to gift me items I can actually use in the wilds—backpacks, wool socks, coats, durable outer wear, and boots.
I actually tend to enjoy military issue, as they tend to hold up longer under stress than any commercial brand.
☼ —— A headcanon about my character’s smile.
ooc; I’m answering this in third person b/c it’s easier on my psyche. =)
Gabrielle’s smile is a rare thing. Unlike many people, it cannot be brought on by children or baby animals. She isn’t known for smiling, as has been well-documented, and often leads to many in the coven seeing her as a cold, inhuman creature who (as Armand has put it) cannot even remember what it was to be human.
But, as Lestat can tell you, she does smile. And while it is rare, when one can make her smile, or even laugh, it’s as dazzling as her son’s. One might even note (and even fewer are aware of this, though I’d guess that Louis knows it, and possibly David) that Lestat inherited his smile from her.
What makes her smile?
Wit—the more dry or acerbic, the better.
Irony.
Exceptionally well-timed cruelty towards someone she despises.
Lestat.
‘“I want to know, for example, why beauty exists,” she said, “why nature continues to contrive it, and what is the link between the life of a tree and its beauty, and what connects the mere existence of the sea or a lightning storm with the feeling these things inspire in us? If God does not exist, if these things are not unified into one metaphorical system, then why do they retain for us such symbolic power? Lestat calls it the Savage Garden, but for me that is not enough. And I must confess that this, this maniacal curiosity or call it what you will, leads me away from my human victims. It leads me into the open countryside, away from human creation. And maybe it will lead me away from my son, who is under the spell of all things human.”’ -Gabrielle de Lioncourt, The Vampire Lestat
Italian, Dream
When he was very small, too small to be more than a warm bundle in her arms, she had begun to whisper to him in Italian. With this child she had refused to have a wet nurse—this was the first and the only to sleep and suckle sweetly at her breast, his little milky mouth grasping at her, his hands caressing her absently, patting her gently before his eyes closed into a world of soft infant dreams. And so it was that she held him to her, softly murmuring the language of her thoughts to his small pink ears, creating within him a keeping place for her memories and her precious lost Naples.
When he grew older, too old to be held or petted, she could not help but wonder what, if anything, he had retained of her lyrical secrets. Occasionally she’d catch a slipped word in another language from his child-speak, his syntax already questionable at an early age. He seemed confused sometimes, not sure if there was a difference between sognare and rêver, mixing his tongues into an amalgamation which only she seemed to comprehend.
Already she knew: they would never understand him, no matter how good his French.
In Blackwood Farm, Lestat says his name is “compounded of the first letter of each of my six older brothers’ names.” Is that true? Whose brilliant idea was that? Were you that disinterested in choosing an actual name for him?
-sighs-
This is a falsehood.
When he was very young, his brothers (not known for their kindness), told him this story. They made it quite clear to him that his parents, having no love left for him after six children, took the laziest route possible in naming him.
This is, of course, an utter lie. I’ve already told the story here of Lestat’s naming—and I’ve also explained this to him many times (he tends to accept this story as a part of his own mythology, unfortunately).
He does, from time to time, need reminding that his name, just like my love for him, was not accidental in nature. He is, and ever will be, my Lestat. Thus I named him, and thus I keep him.
And his brothers are dead. So there’s that.
(he tends to accept this story as a part of his own mythology, unfortunately).He picks and chooses his own mythology, for SURE.
Gabrielle de Lioncourt by Agasang
I-want-my-IWTV 