

IM SURE I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT U ARE TALKING ABOUT SHHH…
Message me off-anon and I might tell you what I know. But I’m not under any obligation or contract to share certain info!
I won’t answer asks publicly about this thing.


IM SURE I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT U ARE TALKING ABOUT SHHH…
Message me off-anon and I might tell you what I know. But I’m not under any obligation or contract to share certain info!
I won’t answer asks publicly about this thing.

Larger view (and my usual spiel) on DeviantArt.
Man, the quality on this is just horrible. I’m going to try to fix it later.
In any case, here’s Christine in her fifties or sixties rockin’ some Edwardian jewelry and perennially awesome hair.
vagabonddaniel-recordedarchives:
Marius’?
It’s not as if it was discussed and planned in advance. I was falling apart. He found me and took me in.
It was the idea that made the most sense.
I fear what the alternative could be if you had been left, broken and maddened, wandering without any destination or consideration for your own well-being. Bringing you into my home, under my care, was the right thing to do. I refuse to believe otherwise.
Plus, at the time, I firmly believed in my heart that it was what he would have wanted. That in his absence you wouldn’t face the rest of an eternity (or as little as a year, destructive as you were) alone. I was happy to do it. In your company, in your adopted mannerisms, it allowed me to see bits of him again peeking through. (Deny what you will of your commonalities. You are both too deep in the skin of the other for there not to be shared traits anymore.)
It patched a void in my own aching heart. I would do it again without hesitation.
Did I know?
That is the question, isn’t it?
Without addressing precisely which abuse you are curious about, I will simply make an assumption.
For a long time—no, I did not know.
For years I had no idea what was happening.
Once I knew…well. So much was clear, wasn’t it? The panic attacks, the anxiety, the irrational fears and night terrors. But there was little I could do to stop what was happening. Lestat’s age compounded with my total lack of power in that house made sure of that.
What do you want from me?
Tears?
Apologies?
I can offer neither. The past has past. The Marquis is dead. The damage is done.
Leave my son’s childhood, what tattered pieces remain of it, to those who can keep it.
Louis is dubious about the upcoming novel and expresses his irritation.
#shhhh #go read this
The Irritation of Projection – Gairid – Vampire Chronicles – All Media Types [Archive of Our Own]