Letters. Letters from everyone I have loved, of course, and I have many of them stored in a metal strongbox under the bed: Gabrielle, David, Armand, Marius, etc. Words scratched onto paper where no one can take them back, no one can accuse me of making them up or exaggerating the words uttered.
-pause-
But the real objet d’obsession?
There is a box that is…hidden from me, tucked under a floorboard in the office (remember, that room once was Louis’ bedroom). In it are letters to me from Louis. Written over a century ago, on parchment that might crumple in your hand had it not been sealed in a box for so long. His beautiful copperplate hand, neat as his tutors intended it to be, writing words meant for me. Letters never sent, if you will, letters I’m not meant to know exist. Love letters, letters written in a blind rage, sensual confessions, everyday observations.
I’m waiting for the night he chooses to share them with me, but I know it might never come. Does he even remember that they are there? It may be that he thinks them burned long ago–though if Claudia’s diary might survive, why not these?
When we’ve had a particularly cruel argument, when we’ve crawled our way to Hell and back again, when we’ve clawed each other down to the quick, I go and dig them out again. His centuries-old innocence is a balm to my heart.
-shrugs-
It’s stupid, and he’d be furious if he knew. He’d not speak to me for months, frankly, and I’d deserve it.
…But I do treasure them, especially when his voice feels far away to me, or when we are separated. There, contained in parchment, is the person Louis once was: a young man who was furious and confused and sometimes in love. And I’m so happy that he still exists, even if it’s only in a box under the floorboards.
SHIP AESTHETIC@deorleans – louis/armand from Interview With The Vampire
`I wanted love and goodness in this which is living death,’ I said. `[…] And yet I would not accept it, could not accept it, because like all creatures I don’t wish to die! […] And when I came to Paris I thought you were powerful and beautiful and without regret, and I wanted that desperately. But you were a destroyer just as I was a destroyer, more ruthless and cunning even than I. You showed me the only thing that I could really hope to become, what depth of evil, what degree of coldness I would have to attain to end my pain. And I accepted that. And so that passion, that love you saw in me, was extinguished. And you see now simply a mirror of yourself.’ IMAGES NOT MINE.
it’s been awesome hanging out with @yureiyume ! tonight we went to a café and she drew vampires while i wrote drabbles. it was so cool flipping through her book and seeing all her fanart with my own eyeballs. 😀 😀 I DIDN’T REALIZE THAT THESE PICTURES OF MARIUS AND ARMAND WERE ACROSS FROM EACH OTHER AND IT BROKE MY HEART A LITTLE.
I just came up with my design for Claudia and I needed to draw this two together!
Poor thing Louis and his love for Claudia and I kind of finally get Claudia a little bit better (I think, don’t know)
I wanna draw Armand next, like in the vampire Lestat, when he reads all Lestat’s and Nicolas books :B
I think today is a good day to let in a little sorrow, to allow myself to feel the world to fall in parts around me, because as it does, once again, i am forced to stand still as it happens, and there is no where to look to find solace.
The world is changing, ending for some, and we remain, outlive creatures we never imagine would have existed, things we would think humans would come to grow out from and evolution for the best, but then again, the world ends at different scales, from global, to my own little world and it makes me wonder, Will there be a future where I’ll be able to attend a party? Fill my house with the happiness I cannot hold inside, enchant mortals to feel the love I cannot longer reciprocate? Once I was sure it would never end, now I doubt.
Sometimes they cannot see what I have is envy when their lives end in my hands, can’t you see? with every year I am more condemned to see what’s coming, and as much the loneliness would throw me to the sun, the doubt keeps me on the edge of twilight, awaiting to see what could come next, perhaps deep inside hoping I am wrong about my assumptions, but my smile shall never fade, as much as I’ll remain standing, wondering, feeling, I just thought today would be a good day to remember what’s hidden behind the mask, holding it in my hands and realize how broken it is, running my fingers over the kisses that were once placed in adoration and the longing for the lips that placed them there, at least I know if the world ends, or my world ends, they were once there and that cannot be changed.
What a strange mix of feelings, perhaps its that balance what keeps me standing,
Scene from “The Vampire Lestat” where he visited theatre once again but this time as a vampire. And met Nicolas de Lenfent.
*Sob* Everything about this character is rather depressively sad but yet so little words about his thoughts. I’ll never get through my grief about Nicolas. Why in the hell am I reading this book again? Why it ended up this bad for Nicolas? May be this time I’ll be able to find the real answer. (but I suspect life of Nicolas could be… less doomed if Lestat wasn’t both selfish and good-hearted)
I-want-my-IWTV 
