♛As Louis once said, as much as your offer might appeal to me, I must regretfully decline.
I’m only interested in surrendering myself to our own in-house scientists, anyway. Viktor is proof enough of that.
♛*ragged sigh* Scientists die in pursuit of many things, being murdered by the dozens doesn’t seem like an especially high number to me. They choose to risk their lives, who am I to stop them from running into the fangs of death? Tigers, snakes, payara, and yes, vampires. What a beautiful variety of fangs in the savage garden!
I have no need to “chat with” anyone about the death rate of scientists. They choose their destiny. I stand in no mortal’s way if and when they seek death. In fact, I guide them to it if they deserve it. Who says a scientist cannot also be an evildoer of the highest degree? Some have access to poisons and have used them to climb the corporate ladder, or rid themselves of a pesky spouse or even their own flesh and blood. Is that a mortal soul deserving protected status? I think not.
What are you getting at? What’s your point? If you’re trying to provoke me into some kind of tear-filled apology or revelation, you’re barking up at the wrong vampire, mon papillon.
The only revelation I’ll give is what I’ve already given. We’re real. We’re dangerous. We are unfathomably higher on the food chain than you so show some real respect.
♛Alright, accepted. It was unintentional on your part, but when you invoke him, well… it’s still prodding at sensitive scar tissue. I had a complicated relationship with that man. And anyway, he was stripped of that title during the French Revolution. Neither he nor I ever told Louis to address him that way.
What do I prefer? The title I’ve earned started out as something Marius had to use in order not to beat me to a pulp, then it was gentle derision, and has gradually become a job title *sigh* People seem to expect me to be equal parts “Brat” and “Prince” at this point.
Monsieur is sufficient if you address me by title.
♛Do NOT address me with that title. It died with my father.
Before you go pointing it out, yes, I own the castle. I don’t own the people around it the way that that title did. And I wouldn’t want to.
There is obviously a reason that the scientists’ pursuit of vampires is worth their effort, otherwise I wouldn’t mention it in the first place in my books. And worth the risk of their reputations. Obviously my own concept of what we are has changed as I’ve learned more about what we are.
One reason I mention it is to remind our own kind to be careful about who they reveal themselves to, so as not to become imprisoned in such a manner.
I don’t know what the scientists’ reasons to pursue us would be, but the first thing that comes to mind would be the possibility that they might have an authentic specimen to display and finally prove everyone wrong who scoffed at them! That’s one kind of motivation. That would probably be my own reason, if I were a mortal scientist.
I’ve described our blood as having curative properties. What might that mean to the human race? Distilling out whatever gives it this healing ability could save countless lives from some of the most lethal causes of mortal death. Cancer, for one. AIDS. Other degenerative diseases like Multiple Sclerosis.
The fact of the matter is that mortal scientists die in pursuit of all kinds of study. They die in pursuit of the cure for cancer. They die in pursuit of the Loch Ness monster. Witches. Bigfoot. Fairies. Sirens. The supernatural is just one area of study, and within it are many subsets, some of which even overlap.
I was told many times to many questions throughout my life that there were no answers. I found answers. Answers which delighted me, deeply disturbed me, answers that I do not necessarily believe. It’s part of this journey that we call life, asking questions, seeking answers, considering them, choosing what we want to keep and what we must discard, and sharing that knowledge with others. That’s why I bother to write my books at all, a record for myself and my loved ones. Hopefully someone can learn from my experiences and not have to suffer as much as I have.
♛You’re anonymous! How am I meant to receive this offering?? Do you have a post office box I can write to? An 800 number? Some kind of intermediary?
Little practicalities…
♛I think they are very real and they cause suffering for those who carry them.
Depression is a familiar emotion for me. I saw it in my Nicolas and ignored the signs, thinking I could fill the void he carried within him because he meant absolutely everything to me. He might have even led me to believe I was helping him, but when he could no longer play along, well… that was the end of us.
I’ve known depression. I wouldn’t know if it’s the “normal” amount we’re meant to experience as opposed to the deeper kind Science has discovered; more to do with brain chemistry than anything else… but mine was a sludge that seeped out to greet me whenever I returned home as a mortal boy, to a family that ignored me at best, and physically beat me on a regular basis at worst. A terrible, sinking feeling.
I felt it when I found out about Nicolas’ death.
I felt it when my mother, my only companion, disappeared one night without leaving any way to contact her again.
I felt it when I looked into my daughter’s crystal blue eyes and no longer recognized her.
I felt it when I had been essentially murdered and left for dead. More than once. Physically and psychologically broken, cocooned in a derelict old shelter, barely able to feed, embracing the dust and the moldy floorboards for months at a time. Self-imposed solitary confinement. Prisoners at least have their meals delivered to them.
The road to recovery from all those and more has not been easy. I am still drawn back down that spiral by a phantom Vaudeville hook, always hovering just off-stage for me. Being alone, well, no one can hurt you, no one can leave you. So I understand those who choose to suffer alone.
I’m doing well now. Others in the coven tease me for my materialistic ways, and yes, this is a new pair of sunglasses. It’s less about the ownership of things and more about the ease in going out and interacting with the salespeople, the moving men, the accountants. Being out there amongst people.
Being there when Louis wants to curl up on the Italian silk couch with me under a cashmere throw. The flat screen showing us so much detail that it’s as though we truly are outside in a gondola at the magic hour, when the sunlight slants in diagonally. The waters are blue.
Life, in almost any form, is worth living, as bad as it can seem. It’s worth the effort.
♛Yes in fact I have more than considered it; and I may or may not be in progress on a new album. I’ve been doing time in a remote location with a little band, doing reworked covers of 80′s and 90′s music. So the new material will have that flavor.
//Ewan McGregor from Velvet Goldmine as Lestat [X]
*These are the actual lyrics from the novel, Queen of the Damned, btw.
♛Sweet little Anon! I’m so very touched that you think I’m marriage material!
It’s no secret that I have difficulty with monogamy. I like the idea of marriage, I like the concept of the ceremony that goes along with it, and all of the accompanying elements. Flowers! The fashion! Bridesmaids! Groomsmen! Vows!
Ah, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t sidestep the question so much. It’s a serious one.
I would have to love you so much that the chance of losing you would be too much to bear. Thinking about it now, that was the reason I brought over each of my fledglings. Well, most of them. Going to leave out naming those it didn’t apply to, I think you can figure that list out yourself.
Alas, Anon, I’m not truly suited for marriage. But thank you again, I am touched, deeply, that you would have chosen me.
♛You want fun facts? Fun facts… mon dieu, what haven’t I told you about myself in all these books? Minutiae I suppose. Or what I consider to be so.
1. I have a coffee-colored birthmark on my lower abs, on the left, near my Adonis muscle, which can be seen just above the waistline of low-rise jeans. My mother has an identical mark on the opposite side, a mirror reflection of mine. It was something she and I had some kind of inside joke about when I was a small child, but I can’t for the life of me remember the punchline. It would send us both into the kind of laughter that makes your face hurt.
2. Oh! This is worth telling: I discovered sometime in the 90’s that we can be tattooed, but that the tattoo will fade away entirely during the Deathsleep. Daniel may have been involved. Of course we decided that I absolutely had to get a large tattoo across my chest that read, “Property of Louis” in huge black calligraphic lettering, just to see Louis’ reaction. When I spread open my shirt to reveal the work of art, every drop of blood drained from his face!
He was frozen in that special moment before the judgment begins. It was a sight to behold. Instead of lay in with the judgment as usual, he actually shifted into damage control, terrified it would last forever, and immediately started looking into laser-removal treatments! He fell asleep at the computer that morning and had to be carried safely to bed.
How relieved was he when my branding had disappeared by the following night? After some heavy physical punishment to my person, he treated me very well for the entire night. How so? Read between the lines, mes petits.
3. I do have taste preferences with blood. For the appetizer, as you know, I like it young and fresh, and I like to get the victim fairly emotionally stimulated because it adds spice. Women especially, for the more delicate package, too, and all the softness. For the main course, older is better, and angry, preferably. A touch of fear is good. Adrenaline makes older blood that much richer. Men, usually, the struggling muscles feels so very soothing.
4. When I’m not devising a scheme to drive him crazy, I leave Louis post-it love notes hidden in various places where he’s sure to find them. Yes, I do that! I am sickeningly romantic. Tactically romantic; those notes tend to plead my case better than I can when we’re deeply embroiled in a fight.
5. I may have ordered custom-made fangs for a special precious friend of mine, molded off of my own. And I might tell you more about that another time… if you beg properly.
♛Well that is a blast from the past, as they say.
I don’t eat those, must watch my figure. That, and they’re completely inedible to me.
It’s depressing that there is so much food and drink I never had the chance to try when I was mortal, many of which didn’t exist where I lived, not even by trade *sigh* And I barely had any appetite for any of it during my… little misadventure.
I have experimentally prodded and tongued at some of these things, the textures, scent, and colors of things are so intriguing! But it all ends up being repulsive.
I-want-my-IWTV 