♛ The Joker said it, but the fact that he’s fictional doesn’t make it any less true for many reasons.
For example, if I were to start performing for my adoring public for free, well, you would cry out for concerts in every city! The prep for the tour and travel would take up an enormous amount of time, it would cut into my hunting time, I could become malnourished… tours take time, energy, money… there’s little chance I could persuade Louis into coming along so there would be separation anxiety… from him more than from me, of course.
For now, I’ll sing whenever the mood strikes me, unplanned, improvised, to random people on the street or shared with coven members of the highest taste. If you really must hear me, wander around Rue Royale in New Orleans at night, late, after I’ve fed, and you just might hear my beautiful voice *blows you a kiss*.
♛ It’s no secret that I sowed more than my share of wild oats by the time I was fifteen. He is a beautiful creature and you are not the first to make the comparison, Martin very well could be a de Lioncourt. I’ll need to visit him in person and inspect those facial features a little closer, just to be sure… And I try not to turn family members but I admit that my willpower on that policy is weak…
♠ “I haven’t had the vast experience that Lestat has had,” Louis says as he types. A distant “Hey!” is heard in the background, somewhat muffled by the TV. “I heard that!”
Louis turns back to the screen and continues: “I have, however, had more long-term relationship experience than he has. I can tell you that you do not want to be with anyone who openly despises you, or plays at doing so as if it was a game.” He looks up, considering, before resuming: “There have been times when I thought Lestat truly despised me, but if that were so, he would have left me long ago. His anger was due to his frustration with the invisible wall between us, the forced secrecy, and the relative slowness of my adaptation to my nature, whereas he had been all alone and taken to it so easily. Long after that, there were other times that I needn’t mention.”
“We began poorly. We know. What has kept us together is the kernel we each saw in the other of a similar tenacity for life. Despite anything I said or did, he knew I had a will that refused to surrender to Death, even to him. We were also powerfully intrigued by each other.”
“You needn’t choose one of these suitors immediately. Do not place the entirety of the responsibility of your happiness in someone else’s hands. Your lover should support you in your own pursuits, should be altogether intrigued by you, and you should be supportive and intrigued by him.” Lestat approaches, and slumps beside Louis on the couch, reading over the response.
“Don’t tell the person ‘should,’ don’t make it into dull requirements.” Lestat huffs, snaking an arm around his shoulders and drawing him close.
“Those are important elements, no?”
“It will happen naturally, if they are with someone who loves them.” Lestat says, drawing Louis in tighter.
“That’s so.”
“See, I have excellent advice. They should have asked me! Such ‘vast experience.’ A model lover.” Lestat plants a chaste kiss on his temple.
“When you follow your own advice, yes, you are.” Louis smirks.
“Am I not supporting you right now?” Lestat has managed to bring Louis entirely into his lap, gesturing at their position.
“You are indeed. Are you also intrigued by me?”
“I’m – squished.”
“I’ll have to find some way to intrigue you.”
“Putting away that laptop would be a step in the right direction, mon cher.”
♛Some might describe my default disposition as “immature,” when it’s really more that I’m just easily amused. “Immature.” What a little word. So limiting. Considering the avalanche of shit I’ve hacked my way through, I hardly think “immature” describes me.
[X] My sense of humor? It’s detailed in my first book. Anything can set me off. All still true. Something I didn’t have then: short internet videos, Vines, these things are amazing and the coven all send me links to the best.
Who’s easily amused? Daniel, David, Marius, Jesse. In that order. Jesse and I have inside jokes that are facial expressions only.
I put the “fun” in “funeral,” and the “laughter” in “slaughter,” but I make every attempt to stifle it when it’s truly inappropriate. It can sometimes improve a situation. Intimate moments where I’m trying my best to be sensual and attentive, something about the language of seduction, verbal or physical, might strike me as overly serious and I can’t help but giggle at the pretentiousness of it all. I’ll get playful criticism from the object of my affection, and then we may give up on the seriousness of it all, opting instead to come up with taunting terms of endearment for each other, and having less control entirely.
My favorite of all types of humor? Nobody makes me laugh like I do. My own sense of humor is my favorite. What’s my sense of humor? Something pointed and sharp at times, soft and generous at other times. Everything in between. Children’s jokes can slay me.
Armand makes me laugh harder than anyone else. Even when he’s being cruel to me. Probably the same principle as mentioned already, that in his seriousness, he almost seems to be playing a role, and I can’t help but see it as a caricature. If it were real emotion, real care, it could fracture something inside me, something buried deep.
I-want-my-IWTV 