| Ramblings |
[30 May 2002|05:01am] |
22nd May 2002
How can such a thing happen to me again? He is gone from me, why I do not know. Thoughts of my maker run rampant throughout my mind. I am confused and alone and growing more bitter with each passing night. His words haunt me like none ever have before. Will I yet sink into a dark slumber, for how long would I sleep? Like that of Marius for nearly a century. And in that time who else will abandon me to my own sorrows, unspoken though they may be.
What am I to do with myself when those I cherish have perished of their own want and will?
Avicus, where are you? Are you still with her?
I need, no I demand answers!
You must explain to me what happened that long ago night when you departed with that child, that beguiling young thing who stole you from me. Tell me for I fear I will go mad without explanation.
No, I know you can’t hear me; we bear the curse between that of maker and fledgling. How I hate it!!
I am growing stale with waiting. Soon none will recognize me. And as I sink further into my own terrible wants, I will grow embittered and angry and those close to me will feel the brunt of it. I do not envy them when I finally unleash all my pent up sorrow and rage.
How could you have done such a thing?
I know that is was perhaps my own fault that you left me for her. It doesn’t change how utterly empty and deprived I feel.
Does she still have you…spellbound…my maker?
22nd April 2002
I understand now why I was reluctant to leave my blessed solitude and be among others so like me. Cold, dead pale beings whose flaws are strangely human, though they cannot recognize that in themselves only each other. Why then am I surprised when a simple discussion about the happiness and well-being of two members of my immortal family turns rancid?
Louis, did ask and Marius and I were as honest as we could be and then some. Our concern was genuine. Our arguments were dashed upon the rocks; they choose what to hear and discarded the rest. Maybe that’s’ why to the very pit of my soul that it hurt me so deeply. Its’ disenchanting I know, to think that two so young could possibly care what the elders among them have to say. I can dwell on it all I like. Like Marius I think, I brood, I want to make a difference. Nevertheless, when words of concern and care fall upon deaf ears, I have to wonder about the validity of such statements.
I do fear for Louis. I saw him the night after Lestat’s rage consumed him. I was outraged and still am but the forgiveness was not mine to neither give nor accept. It had to be from our gentle loving Louis, who takes so much and gives ten fold back in return, his love and devotion.
They may understand after millennium has passed them by like so many brilliant colors of the ancient mural I now look at in awe and wonder.
Then a realization a realization that you have to experience these things and learn from them. Yes, they too would have to learn from this. Paper and mortal marriage cannot compare to the situation and Louis tried, the comparison was false in my eyes, mind, and still is no matter what anyone else thinks. If he seeks that as a validation of their love then I will happily supply them with a piece of paper in the most elegant script I know and on the finest parchment, I will seek Marius and ask him to paint a lovely backing for it then frame it, gifting it to them.
Katrina and Ora had my heart in my throat, my chest seized thinking something would have gone dreadfully wrong. Luckily nothing did, for Ora’s sake. I blame them both for this, Katrina for her mass of stubbornness and Ora for not thinking when it came to this beguiling mortal child. Let us not forget that she is in fact a child. Moreover, I, Mael, last of the ancient Order of the Druids, pulled her into our world in utter selfishness.
She is hot against me, it brings sensations to me that I had forgotten since I held my beloved Jesse against me that long ago night on the balcony of Maharet’s Sonoma compound. She was drunk on the wine and beauty of the place, dazzled by us as we were of her that night. I held her in my arms and knew that I loved her. Kissing her neck, her hot salty skin with cold lips that held no warmth. Then, I dared, one small taste. My teeth pierced the flesh of her breast but barely, her succulent blood beaded against the wound I made then I drew it into me.
Katrina made me think of those nights when I loved Jesse and would do nothing to put her life in jeopardy. I get the distinct impression that Katrina does not care for Marius, it is a knife in my heart for I love them both very much but in very different ways. Marius’s jealousy touches me and makes me feel wanted and loved and I adore him for it.
My explanation of my relationship with Katrina seems to have quieted his mind from worry, well too much at any rate. They way she looks at me, as if I am a wondrous sight to behold, a pale being who steals life with each greedy mouthful. Who is tasteless, carries no scent unless applied to the marble like skin. The only true colors I hold in me are my eyes of blue and my hair like that of an early morning sun. She tantalizes me, this mortal child who snuggles with dead things. Can I truly offer my cherub anything but death and despair?
I have seen myself reflected in her eyes, but what am I? A god, which they tried to make of me those long lost years ago. I was a pretender I am a pretender, locked forever inside a human shell and in my selfishness and fear of dying after so long that I cannot even comprehend ending my existence. Do I now drag the girl who has so much life to live with me into the cold reality that is the darkness that consumes me nightly? The very same pit of darkness I have come to rely on like a child who clings to her stuffed animals in the darkness of her room, too afraid to slip out of bed and flick the light switch that will brighten the room, banishing the darkness.
When I looked into his eyes and saw that he wanted to stay as much s I wanted him too my heart skipped a beat. His breath washed over my face, odourless and cool as he told me that he would stay. I needed him and still do my separation from him burns brightly in the back of my mind, I am constantly thinking of him. His body responded to mine in the same heated fashion. I could feel the blood in him peak warming him as mine did.
His kisses were hungry and passionate and I felt my heart ache in that moment of lust that passed between us. Are we supposed to feel these base urges, this carnal lust and want for another being? A shudder ran the length of my spine down then came rushing back again causing the hair on the back of my neck and over my head to tingle like a thousand tiny shocks. I felt alive and wanted and he, my lover, my friend, my companion from ancient nights long past, had brought me to the very threshold of desire and love. The night will never end; I will replay it out in my mind a thousand times. The way the light reflected off his hair, the way his eyes reflected every colour in the room, shades of violet and dark blues seemed to be the prevalent.
Knowing he has been hurt in the past and knowing that his own stubbornness and damnded roman pride had kept him from the one who held his heart in her stark white hands with a wry twist of a grin painted across her palest pink mouth. My willingness to make every effort to remind him of my love and devotion drives me on.
Its’ not hopeless, or a fallacy that befuddles my mind at the sight of him, or that makes my breath catch when I feel his simple touch. The silkiness of his colourless lips, the passion his tasteless mouth and body inspire. I want him to know all of it and more, and that I love him not only for those unspoken of passions, but that I adore him for his straight-forwardness, his unbridled honesty and clarity, a clarity that only Marius could bring to any given situation.
These nights will be long indeed as I try to sort things out and try to explain things to Katrina. I will tell her how much I love him, and that I love her and that she must understand if she can. I do not like the thought of them disliking the other. Marius adores her I know it, but perhaps only, because I do. I will never know until I ask, the nights will be slow and long indeed.
21st April, 2002
Since my arrival in Florence I can’t say my evenings have been dull. Passion, sorrow, anger and more have filled my nights. They have been anything but predictable. The warm air surrounding Santino’s villa has a certain magic about it, it compels those within to search their hearts and minds and speak what they would normally…keep silent about.
By nature I am a solitary creature, seeking the silence and solitude my own private home can and does offer me. As of late I have felt drawn here and to them. Which at first, made me analyze why now I just relax in their company. I am changing I suppose, either that or I am coming to terms with my own want and desire.
Early, every evening I stalk the night searching for those who have committed the most grievous sins. Though I am not a man of god and never will be. I will strike down the one who has murdered or revelled in some other crime thinking that he had gotten away from it. The fight, their struggle against me fills me with a surge of feeling I only know when I kill. When I was but newly made and traveling abroad killing weakened me. For a time I wondered what it was doing to the vital spirit within me. The one I nurtured for so long as a mortal man.
Surely the Gods would strike out at me for taking life by the mouthful.
No, a god had made me what I was. A magnificent being held me tightly and drained my body of blood to the last drop. Much like he had done to my dear Marius, giving and taking, brining him to the height of ecstasy only to leave him crying in the floor, time and again I suffered that to become what I am now.
Florence is filled with mortals. I love their passion, their fights. The soft curve of their arms, their warmth and smiles all of it draws me to them. I met a young woman recently who drives me to distraction. She’s young and full of life and as stubborn as Armand. She refuses to leave here I fear she is in danger. Those wonderful odd pink curls and the way she dresses astonishes me. I have often wondered, since meeting her, what she would look like if her clothing were different, if her hair were of a normal shade. But I suppose she would see that as someone trying to change her and I couldn’t do that to her either. She belongs to the Talamasca, darling Katrina, who snuggles with monsters refusing to leave them, and who in turn no doubt wants to keep her. She has an uncanny telekinetic ability, mine I have through my powerful blood. She was born with the gift to move objects and the like. I am utterly lost as to what I will do with her now.
If she were to become seriously injured or linger near death, would I...make her one of us? That would be breaking one of the strict rules we devised and all must follow. No more Blood drinkers. I am at a loss.
And Marius, my dear sweet controlled Marius. What a swim that turned out to be. I can recall every detail, which I will not put on paper. Some things are best left to those lucky enough to experience it. I will say that for the first time in so very long, I let myself go and gave into the moment. I lived in it and did something quite beyond me. It thrilled me like nothing has in so very long, even now I feel a heat rise in my body as I relive that night in my mind. For his love and personal desire for privacy I will not put it here, it could be found by anyone and read then what would I do.
Mekare has been visiting her children often as of late. It’s good to see her spending time with the younger ones. They could learn so much from her. I have enjoyed the time I spent with her, when verbal communication wasn’t needed. In her I see a young fragile woman who needs to be comforted from time to time. I see so much of Maharet in her and yet at the same time I don’t. They look alike and sound alike but have so many differences in their personalities. My time with her however brief is wonderful she fills me with a sense of awe and reverence. Had we both been mortal I would have done my Damndest to woo her and win her.
My concern for Louis and Lestat turned bitterly wrong last night when Marius and I spoke to them about their upcoming marriage. We urged caution and told them to not forget the past. I failed to get my point across and was hurt by Louis’s inability to see that we only want his happiness, even Lestat couldn’t see it. They are young and blinded by want and desire and love. That I can understand. Maybe I am too old to see that they are doing this for their own reasons. I don’t know. All I know is that if Lestat hurts Louis again either by doing something potentially dangerous or otherwise, I will do something about it.
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