There were too many stories to count. They all had belonged to my mother or my grandmother, those jewels, and, as Lestat accounted, each one had a story, yes. But they are gone. And their stories with them.
Favourite possessions? This changes from time to time. Currently, I am enjoying the camera that Lestat gave me for Christmas two years ago. I carry very few possessions with me (I carry nothing but one canvas sack as I travel), so they are few. And most of the ones I have come from my son.
I do, however, have a small anklet with a pearl on it. I’ll let you guess who that is a gift from. -small smile- I do not wear it often, as it would get destroyed in most of the places where I travel.
Tag Archives: headcanon
I want the K
3: Nose KissHe’d fallen asleep while they’d been watching a film—sprawled across the divan, his head in her lap, one leg throw half off the piece of furniture. Like any parent, when he slept she could see the face of babyhood still somewhere in the man he was now, her heart aching just a little as she stroked his hair absently. No, she would never deliver such affection were he awake—it cost her too much to do so—but in the safety of slumber she might treat him as she would have in the smallness of mortal babyhood.
She leaned over his face, gently pressing her lips to the tip of his nose. She loved him—unconditionally, irrevocably—this much would always be true.
Is it true that Lestat is actually the child of your lover?
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.
✦ :Fatal flaw (can you even admit to any? ha!)
Love.
Especially for Lestat. How he must glow to read that.
But, truly, had it not been for his arrival, I could have easily slipped into the monotony and everyday horrors that were life in the Auvergne, dying young and despising everything around me, the world painted grey.
You’ve seen that film, The Wizard of Oz? When Dorothy walks from Kansas into Oz? It’s incredibly trite, but Lestat’s entry into my world was like that walk from the broken, tornado-wracked house onto the golden-paved streets of Oz.
Ah, but he comes by hyperbole honestly, doesn’t he?
It wasn’t that my entire life had been grey up until him—but merely that the greyness cast upon it was so consuming as to kill me sooner rather than later.
If it weren’t for Lestat, I could walk through my immortality without a care, without a thought, without another spoken word to another creature—yet he placed an ember in my heart when I thought it was ice, worked his way in when I wasn’t looking and settled himself there nicely.
Hate me for his upbringing, the times I ignored him, the times I shut my door against him. Hate me for the times I’ve come too late to his pleas for help.
But know that I love him. And he is what breaks me down when I might remain strong.
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.
IGUANA
“Tell us a funny story!”
…
I do not know any funny stories.
Oh. Perhaps this?
Lestat’s first word was “Lolo.” It is baby talk in french, but basically translates to “breast.”
NSFW Headcanon: Just because Gabrielle was a woman and often times treated poorly by The Marquis did not mean she was without power in the household. In fact, she would often use her body to her advantage when it came to swaying her husband’s decision on some of the more important matters their family had to deal with – (reluctantly, of course, but for the greater good overall.)
//A fascinating headcanon, but it unfortunately doesn’t jive with my vision of Gabrielle—but that doesn’t make it wrong, just not for me! =)
I’m of the opinion (and, again, just my headcanon) that Gabrielle would have done as much as possible to avoid sexual congress with the Marquis. As a man, he both disgusted her and was an object of pity and derision. This doesn’t mean she wasn’t the “proper wife” when the moment called for it—she was raised to be such—but that she lived her role out to the extent of her duties and rather little else.
And, since my personal headcanon runs along with one created by the amazing Brat Queen—that the Marquis sexually molested Lestat, I’m of the opinion that Gabrielle would have had as little to do with him as possible.
I’d also hazard to guess that, after she’d given him a handful of sons, she pretty much washed her hands of everything that came with being the Marquise d’Auvergne—she’d done her duty, hadn’t she?
I think that, as she grew older, she was more and more withdrawn and more indifferent to anyone besides Lestat. Some of this occurred early on, but the final hammer would have been the death of her daughter, the last de Lioncourt child (as insinuated by Mater in TVL).
Thank you SO much for this lovely headcanon!
Sometime last autumn I read a post where one of the Lestat role-players of the site answered a question/prompt about crossdressing with L’s fond reminiscence of a lady with whom they sometimes swapped clothes. So I sketched this on my 14 min morning train to school. Found the sketch yesterday and finished it, but now can’t find the original post or remember who was the writer. Anyway Lestat enjoying a corset (and yes that corset has a weird double lacing or smth)
Anon: What was the most arousing moment you’ve ever experienced Lestat?
Mortcharmant: “My— What an intrusive question, étranger gris. But I shall humour you none the less… I would have to say it was the night I allowed a delightful mademoiselle to put her corset on me. How it tightened and constricted was glorious and suffocating. I looked like ‘pure sex’ according to her as she added more to my “ensemble”. By the end of it I was dressed up more like a tart than she and it was exhilarating. I let her live after that moment and frequented her regularly for those games of ours. It’s a pity she died three months later at the hands of a violent pick pocket.”
[X]
You’ve been around tons of animals, which is your favorite to snuggle and breathe in the scent of? Also did you ever wear perfume when you were mortal?
Since memories triggered by scent are the strongest... Send my muse a scent and see how they’ll react to it.I do not “snuggle” animals.
But I enjoy the scent of dogs, actually. Dogs smell like they understand you.
And yes, I wore perfume. Santa Maria Novella, from the Officina Profumo Farmaceutica di Santa Maria Novella. You can still buy it today in the original store in Firenze, Italia.
Once, on a ‘vacation’ of sorts after his time on the chapel floor, I took Lestat there and told him to smell the signature scent. I was quite shocked at his reaction—he broke down weeping at the smell.
Why did you cut off Nicolas’ hands, really?
Nicolas could not contain what was occurring within him, and often his deterioration became destructive and difficult to conceal from mortals. Despite the fact that I did not directly claim leadership in an official capacity, I had a position to maintain and I had already protected him on numerous occasions, whether he realised such or not, as had Eleni. I had to prove that the threats that I made were not just threats if someone stepped out of line, or be seen as ineffective and suffer further challenges. I could not exclude Nicolas from that.
On the occasion where I took his hands, it was take his hands or take his life; based on the transgressions involved, it could have seriously compromised our position in Paris had it not been corrected swiftly. He was so far gone that others began to talk of precisely that, and I could not allow it. Taking his hands limited him in a way that imprisonment could not possibly have achieved; he had escaped imprisonment before when it was imposed upon him. Imprisonment meant nothing to him because the true oubliette existed in his mind, and that was inescapable. It gave me control over him enough that he could not possibly leave and potentially worsen the situation. It also proved that I was willing to back up my threats and that I would not respond with inaction if I was questioned.
The choice that I made meant that he lived. It does not necessarily follow that it was a choice I made gladly, regardless.
I-want-my-IWTV 