viaticumforthemarquise:

Her favourite gift that Lestat had given her was not, as he might hope, the cellular mobile phone with which she might communicate with him. She carried that little device purely so that he would not rail at her upon her infrequent returns to him. 

No, it was instead the gift he’d give to her for her birthday (or was it Christmas?) in 2012: the Olympus OM-D camera. 

With this she had begun to document her travels, to capture images of parts of the world no mortal had ever seen. She took photo after photo, enchanted by the way in which the camera could capture light, even in darkness, and by its ability to also capture her own visage and form at play within her locales. 

Perhaps it was a boon to Lestat, too—she sent him emails and books filled with photos now—not often, no, but enough that her communication with him became what he might even call constant.

Sometimes she might send a photograph of herself behind the curtain of a waterfall, taken carefully at night with the use of the quick shutter and the artful little timer. Sometimes it was the animals she encountered in the canopies of trees. 

But her favourite way to tease him was to send images taken with the camera in hand, turned towards herself, whatever location she’d found herself in behind her. She might, if he was lucky, offer a small smile. He had told her that these were called “selfies,” in this modern day, a type of self-portrait. Though she failed to see the allure, she knew it tickled him to receive them.