No, this is a rumour, one that even I have perpetuated from time to time.
I wish he was. I wish he did not have the blood of my husband running through his veins.
But he does. And this is evident when he falls prey to his passions, his rages, his uncontrollable temper. All of the horrors my son is capable of come almost completely from the cruelties he learned and inherited at the feet of his father.
This is not to say that I myself am not capable of great cruelty, merely that my cruelties do not live in the spotlight of Lestat’s memory in quite the same way that his father’s do.
Tag Archives: guess whos headcanon tag i am stalking
Gabrielle has mentioned that the eighth de Lioncourt child was a girl. Do you have any memories of her?
Yes…but nothing concrete. Vague glimpses of golden wispy hair and precious smiles.
There is, however, one memory I call to mind, but I do not know it is real or a fabrication of my own making. Gabrielle was called away for some reason or another, and very suddenly thrust the small bundle of my sister into my arms. I remember nothing except that I sat very still, afraid I might somehow hurt her. I could not have been more than four or five.
☆ – happy headcanon
Lestat came earlier than he should have, born in November, a full month and a half before he’d come to term. Her body, exhausted after so many fully realised and failed births, simply could not carry him any longer.
Convinced that the babe would not survive, like so many others, the Marquis left the castle on what he loosely termed ‘business,’ leaving her alone with the priest, the midwife, and the pain.
He was born at night. Tiny, wailing, the priest advised they baptize him immediately, in case he did not make it until morning.
For the first time, she found herself in a unique position: this child would be named by her, claimed by her, perfectly clean of her husband’s touch or thought.
She named him Lestat. It seemed to suit him—his birth had been urgent, and so then might his name.
Later, the Marquis, furious that the child, both male and living, had not been named by him, went to the village priest and had the names “Christophe” and “Marie” added to the birth record.
But it didn’t matter. Lestat she had named him, and Lestat he remained. Hers.
And that had never changed.
What is your favorite type of animal to kill and why?
Bears. And jungle cats.
With creatures like that (especially the former), the struggle is formidable, not to mention that the process of stalking with the latter is quite enjoyable.
Cats know when they are being hunted, and they do not like it.
I-want-my-IWTV 