Doesn’t he go by Armand le Russe in Prince Lestat?

Following through the comments on my post, there is the idea that “le Russe” is an epithet, that it’s not what Armand goes by, but something Rhoshamandes calls him. It’s only mentioned once in the book, IIRC, by Rhosh. I’d believe that.

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^Kitty by @berrym [X


@bloodyvampchrons wrote:

Anne APPARENTLY made up “le Russe” in PL. Which I had totally forgotten until I was reminded a little while ago. As far as obviously made up surnames go it’s even worse than de Romanus lol. ETA: I need to do a closeread before I speak lol, it sounds like that’s an epithet rather than a name.

@monstersinthecosmos wrote:

SO LIKE I MEAN, the only part (to my recollection? plz correct me???) where it mentions “Armand Le Russe” is in a Rhosh chapter and that guy is such a salty fuckin tool and I got the impression that he was calling Armand that to be petty and sarcastic? Cause then she started listing the vampires at the end of the books and she still just refers to him as “Armand” without a last name.

“Only the clever ones like Gregory Duff Collingsworth and Armand Le Russe–who could thrive right in the midst of mortals–were undisturbed by the shrinking of the planet.”

@bloodyvampchrons wrote:

YEP that’s what @laurasking pointed out to me too. That’s totally plausible. Also since Rhosh’s experience with Armand relates to coven era BS in Paris (idk if I’m even remembering this correctly but isn’t he pissed that allessandra ++ were forced into the covens) it might possibly be a thing left over from that era as well??


laurasking said: Well, Rhoshamandes calls him that, but no one else.

moral-cipher said: Laurasking – ohhh i forgot that. So it’s probably an epithet, possibly left over from the Bad Old Days. That makes a lot more sense. Thanks!

laurasking said: I thought fanon was that he assumed de Romanus.

@i-want-my-iwtv: ^Re: de Romanus, I assumed that was the name Armand used when he was with Marius, but after he was taken by the Children of Darkness, they changed his first name and I would assume he never used “de Romanus” again, either ;A;

Thanks to everyone who had discussion on this! 

hedonistbyheart:

Messy sketch of this:

Louis wrapped her up in the white cover of the bed, cradling her, rocking her, kissing her until she went quiet.

Still not really a fan of Rose, but Louis is a good momma.

Louis knows that kissing ppl can be a very effective shushing method ;*

Lestat, how do you feel about Viktor?

[Note: Mun & muse do not accept the entirety of PL as canon, definitely not Viktor, but Lestat said he’d play along for the sake of this Ask.]

♛Honestly, I try not to feel anything about Viktor.

 

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I barely know him and he has shown little interest in me. I assume he’s read my books but I have no idea. He seems to prefer thinking he burst forth riding a giant gilded petri dish like Venus on her scallop shell. Fine. That’s probably how I’d act in his position.

[Spoiler Alert]

Here’s the thing, anonymous person, how would you feel if someone told you you had a son, and before you could hardly even entertain the idea, they tell you he’s practically an adult, he was raised in a lab full of scientist-vampires, and that what he wants more than anything in the world, more than anything money can buy or any experience, even a relationship with you, is to become a vampire, too? Just another mortal who finds us beautiful, magical, has little idea of the grotesque nightly payment required? Killing is not always fun. Often it’s repulsive. This is a true customer service job, closer to butchery than the refined elegance people love to romanticize it as being. 

Before you start with me on that, yes, I’m sure his “parents” told him about that part of it, too, but please *waves his hand* I met him when he was mortal and had all the starry-eyed wonder of someone who idealizes what we are, ignoring whatever they find remotely distasteful.

It’s been years now and I’m still livid about it. Surely there would have been a way to reach me about him sooner? What’s been stolen from me is priceless. His first words, his first steps, all the joy of sharing my son’s childhood. Earning his trust. He acts like I abandoned him all those years! I am a “deadbeat dad” by his creator’s design.

Did they think I would confuse him?

Did they think I would hurt him? Kill him? They’ve done so much damage keeping us apart that there may be no healing of that wound, even with vampiric blood. 

I’m livid about all of that, and that’s only the second chapter beyond the fact that his very creation was not my choice, either. I didn’t sign any waivers giving them permission to make a child from my little experiment. What of possible failures they made before him? Potentially: other children who were biologically unstable, never made it to adulthood, suffering in their short lives. It horrifies and disgusts me.

Are you starting to get the picture? Do you have the faintest idea? I’m livid. I’m a father to him in the biological sense of the word only. It even seems that he actively tries to suppress anything of me in him, and isn’t that part of the thrill of having a child? Seeing yourself reflected in them? He reflects nothing back to me, only that we share an uncanny physical resemblance. He should dye his hair if he hates me so very much.

I try not to feel anything about Viktor. It takes me down a road that leads nowhere.

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v-e-l-v-e-t-g-o-l-d-m-i-n-e:

“I’m Lestat,” I said in a low voice. “Your Lestat. I’m the same Lestat you’ve always known, and no matter how I’m changed, I’m still that same being.”

“I know,” he said warmly. 

I kissed him. I pressed my lips to his and I held this kiss for a long silent moment. And then I gave in to a silent wave of feeling, and I took him in my arms. I held him tight against me. I felt his unmistakable silken skin, his soft shining black hair. I heard the blood throbbing in him, and time dissolved, and it seemed I was in some old and secret place, some warm tropical grotto we’d once shared, ours alone in some way, with the scent of sweet olive blossoms and the whisper of moist breeze. “I love you,” I whispered.

In a low intimate voice, he answered: “My heart is yours.” (Lestat and Louis in Prince Lestat, by

Anne Rice)

sheepskeleton:

”(…) “No, for your blood,” I said, pushing him backwards against the slender but frm trunk of a tree.

“You damnable brat,” he seethed.

“Oh, yes, despise me, please,” I said as I closed in. I pushed his face to one side, kissing his throat frst, and then sinking my fangs very slowly, my tongue ready for those frst radiant drops.”

Lestat and David, “Prince Lestat”