((apologies, the image content apparently tops out at 10 images so here they all are on photobucket : Twitter Garbage ))

(download)

Click here to download:

OOC_Are_you_not_entertained.zip (767 KB)

As you all know, Victor Madden is a Charlaine Harris book character that I adopted in order to RP here on twitter. I created his account on March 9, precisely 6 months ago, and so much has happened to him since then that he is essentially his own individual character, which I am actually rather proud of. Beyond even what has been going on on the Tweet stream I've put a quite a bit of work into his back story, filling in where he's been and where he's going, as well a giving him a few more quirks and other details that really make him his own person. While most of what I've added to him is simply icing on the cake in regard to him being the character from the books, I think it's time to finally really cut him loose.

As of today, the character you all know as Victor Madden will now be known as Victor Mason and can be found on a new account with the handle @eternal_maestro. I am doing this rather than simply changing the name of @VictorMadden because I am not entirely certain how many of my followers have found me through recognizing the character from the books or have simply added me because the stories have been interesting. He has a new posterous as well as a WordPress blog and a new facebook account, so anyone who uses those services and is still interested in following what Victor will be up to, please don't hesitate to add me.

The bulk of the reason behind this change is that Peter and I have quite a few interesting story ideas sitting on the back burners waiting for the right time to be trotted out, but that we were having a difficult time corresponding to Victor Madden's ties to vampire politics and his position in the hierarchy of Nevada, Louisiana, and Arkansas. Also, I realize that for any of Victor's new followers, if they were book-ies, there was quite a bit of disconnect to sort through. This course of action seemed to make the most sense all around.

To close, Victor Madden will still be around if he's ever needed for any twitter plots but considering that the TrueBlood seasons are firmly putting us in the realm of the 'past' in regard to when we first meet Mr. Madden, I will be leaving him in Vegas, plotting, planning, looking towards his own advancement, and otherwise preparing for the eventual take-over of the state of Louisiana and his all-too apropos opening line of "It is I, the vampire Victor Madden."

*grins* It's been a blast, ladies and gentlemen. I hope you've found it intriguing enough to keep on watching.

It has come to my attention in recent days that there is a heady amount of gossip in the "underbelly" of the twitter community surrounding a few things that involve me, personally. Normally I take a long step back and keep my nose out of things, but in this case I feel something needs to be addressed.

Before I begin into the reason behind this message, I would like to preface it by saying this: I have made quite a few friends during my time on twitter, both on the stream and off.  There are a select few that I speak with rather often behind the scenes, people I share things with about myself, from what brought me to twitter, why I created "Victor", where he's been, where he's going, and occasionally a tidbit about a storyline that I am working on, or some upcoming event that I have heard about from my fellow role-players. As I'm certain most of you have guessed, I am a rather private person behind the scenes, so I hope you appreciate my previous statement with that fact in mind.

I put quite a bit of value on those friendships, honestly. And I am thankful to have met such amazing people. I'm certain there are many of you that can name someone or several someones that you feel the same way about. For the most part I think the role player group we have here on twitter are people who simply enjoy being able to put on the face of a character that others love to watch. I am also well aware that we all have different comfort levels with what we share with other people, and I myself rarely speak my opinions or thoughts except when directly asked for. When I do share things, I make every effort to be very clear that I speak for myself and not with the intention to start gossip or rumors.

While I realize that I might be seen as a bit intimidating or even stand-offish, this, but this is simply because it is how I choose to portray my character. I enjoy the interaction with people here and it is not that I’m not a social person, but most of the time I am happy in my own little corner of the world so I don’t reach out beyond it all that often.

When I do reach out, it is done with a great deal of trust, so these things I am hearing through the grape-vine are felt very keenly as a betrayal of that trust. The sources of these rumors, these insinuations, are people who have very obviously written me off both as a character and as a person and the things they are saying are clearly being stated with a malicious intent.

I don’t expect everyone to like me. This is not a popularity contest. I do expect everyone to have some basic respect for the role-play community and trust everyone involved in it to be able to form their own opinions without inserting vindictive ascertations into the rumor-mill.

What bothers me is not even that there are rumors being circulated that call my character (and I mean that as the type of person that I am, not the person I portray on twitter) into question. That I can take with a grain of salt because there are always hard feelings when people part ways and if that is how the other person chooses to express their hurt that is up to them. No, it is the callous nature of what is being repeated as though it were fact that bothers me. If someone has a problem with me I would expect them to confront me directly like a rational, adult human being, not drag others into the cross-fire in an attempt to slander my reputation.

It boils down to this, ladies and gentlemen: ask yourself who is making these public and private attacks, and take them with a grain of salt.

I also promise you this: if I was truly flinging daggers there would be no question in your mind that the daggers found their mark. I am not the type to conduct underhanded or indirect attacks against people so if I was going to consider taking that type of action, it would be very, very clear.

Private matters should remain private between the aggrieved parties. There is no reason to take things to this level over a personal dispute. I trust that most people would agree with that whole-heartedly.

Pt. 1 : A Fixed Point in the Cosmos | Pt. 2 : My Life for Yours | Pt. 3 : Forgive Me | Pt. 4 : Robin's Journal, July 21 | Pt. 5 : Embracing Nature | Pt. 6 : Enjoy the Silence

Bounds of Love

He nodded and circled his arms around me. "I know we did. But now I simply do not know what to make of anything. I do not know what to do, lover. I simply do not."

Silence stretched between us for a long moment as I considered my reply.  "I can't tell you, lover. I am...trying to see any arguments against this, besides her love for him and I keep coming up blank. In the future, integrating makes more sense than continuing the dual existence. Now is the first time you have felt ready to consider it, but holding off on it for her sake won't change how you feel about it. I'm at a loss."

Peter nodded. "I am not reconsidering this. It is what makes the most sense to me as well. And I shall not change anything about my decision. I am certain this is the right thing with every measure of my soul, lover."

"If it brings you peace, then it is most certainly the right thing to do. Ignore me, ignore Celeste, and if you feel this is what you should do, what you want to do, then it is that simple."

Peter's arms wrapped tighter around me. "She asked only for the estate and the children..."

That wasn't what I'd expect him to say, but I suppose I should have. My voice was quiet as I spoke. "In a way this would be simpler, if she does not make an issue of me. And I would be lying if I told you that it does not sting, a bit...but then again, she never really understood me."

He sighed and nodded. "I know, maestro."

Looking up at him, I smiled. "It's alright, lover. There is less at stake for me to lose in regard to her now. She can't hurt me like she did a few weeks ago. I haven't let her back in that deep, not by a long measure."

"I do not blame you, but still..." Peter hung his head slightly and avoided my eyes. "Maestro...I am so very sorry. I am. In some regards...I wish she would have fought. I..." He shook his head. "Gods, I feel terrible, maestro. I do. I am sorry, my lover."

I pulled back slightly to reach out and touch his cheek, directing his gaze back to mine. "Stop. Do not apologize." My eyes looked into his intently. "I have never lied to you, Peter, and I do not intend to start doing so now. When I tell you it stings, yes, it stings, but I have no regrets. I would have been content letting things try to mend between Celeste and I, but I was being cautious in it. Right or wrong, I know what I feel in my heart. And, yes, I will miss her, in a way, but I will not mourn her."

Peter nodded and leaned close, his lips pressing gently against mine in a kiss that lingered for a few tentative seconds. His eyes regarded me carefully as he pulled away. "I have absolutely no regrets either, my lover. I do not think upon what was lost with any heartache, merely a sorrow that others have been hurt throughout all of this." He sighed, looking away for a moment but turning his gaze back to stare deeply into my eyes as though he could communicate in a way other than simple words. "This man right here, who stands before me right now, is everything I have ever wanted and everything I need." His has reached out and touched my cheek. "Please tell me right here and now what I can do to deserve the love you possess for me and I would do it. I would present it right here before you, my lover, and love you for all eternity."

The focus of my eyes shifted between each of his as I regarded him carefully for a moment, but then a smile slid onto my expression. "All I would ask is that you be true to yourself, Peter, in all things from now into eternity, and stand by my side along the way as we share our lives together."

He smiled back at me, all traces of tears gone. "I am quite looking forward to being myself with you, my maestro. And I shall stand by you throughout anything, no matter what." One of his hands found mine and twined our fingers together as his expression sobered slightly. "My eternal maestro, this is all I have desired. Not that I did not try to work things out. I swear to you on everything I am, I have been trying as hard as I could. Being with you, though, is hardly a consolation prize. You have always been a dream come true to me and I promise to treasure you for who you are." He smiled again. "I intend to make you deliriously happy for the rest of eternity."

I had to grin. "I have absolutely no objections to that, lover."
___________

I woke the next morning, the bed almost unfamiliar for how long it had been since I'd last slept in it and currently empty save for me. But Peter's scent seemed to be everywhere, wrapped around me, and I couldn't help but smile.

My smile faltered when my thoughts suddenly turned to Celeste and the last words I exchanged with her. I had wanted to chase after her, to say something, to talk to her on my own and tell her precisely how I felt.

But I hadn't.

I can't really explain it, why I hadn't, other than the fact that my sentiments were wounded by what I interpreted as her essentially ignoring me, what my feelings might have been towards her, aside from my thoughts regarding Peter merging himself with Flynn.  I wondered if she had even bothered to stop to think: "If Victor does love me..."

Sitting up, I ran my hand over my face and then settled onto the edge of the bed as I considered yesterday's events, her words, all over again. Even looking back on it with a measure of rationale, with my initial reaction of hurt done and over, no matter how I considered it nothing she had done, or said, suggested that my love for her was even a thought in the periphery. Which meant, in my mind, that all the times I proclaimed it...that the day prior when I shared her bed and her blood and told her I wondered what I had done to deserve the love she had for me and how much I loved her back...that it might as well have never happened.

"Ich liebe dich, mein Sirene. Ewig."

And I meant it.

"I love you, my siren. Eternal."

Was I expecting too much? I stared into the distance of the darkened room, unseeing, my mind's eye going over the scene and looking at it through all the angles. Celeste had been wounded, this I knew. She loved all three of us, Peter, Flynn, and I. There was no denying that what we had told her had been a very large blow. Peter coming to the decision to merge himself with Flynn... Not loving her any longer...

Thinking through it, I was still uncertain where Celeste's thoughts might have been. What I knew was that she had left me there, in the room with Peter, not even caring to look at me beyond a glance before she walked away. I bridled my tongue, yes, and did not give chase, but I have always been sincere when I express my sentiments. There should have been no doubt that I loved her, regardless of everything else. But her departure seemed to say that she either doubted my love for her, or thought that I would write her off to be only with Peter.

The truth was, that had never been a question.  My mind flashed back to the conversation I'd had with my lover, when I had confronted him about his feelings toward Celeste...
____

Peter had all but collapsed onto the floor, and sat with his back to the wall while I kneeled beside him.  My eyes closed as I hesitated one final moment before asking. But I had to know for certain. "Do you still love her, my poet?"

His eyes clenched shut and he hugged his knees to his chest, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. "No, maestro... I do not." A shudder visibly passed through him as he answered. "I felt for her and thought my care for her meant I yet loved her, but with her back, I have been..." He shook his head. "I keep thinking about the simplicity of those few days and nearly mourn over them. I try to reach out to her, but find myself falling short. I try to feel her in my heart, but I do not feel her there. God, I am sorry, maestro. I am sorry." Peter buried his face in his hands.

_____

I sighed, then shook my head, pulling myself out of the melancholy. I knew part of the reason this wasn't simple was the very real, and ever-present blood bond I had with Celeste. Her life, humming in the background of my consciousness...eternally. This was why my kind rarely took vampire lovers. The power it gave them over us. But I well remembered why I had done it. Celeste and I had loved each other.

There was a sound that came from down the hall and I lifted my eyes to the doorway. My thoughts turned to the other blood bond, the one that was an almost constant source of wonder. Even with Peter at my side until the end of time, I doubted I would ever be able to fully map the depths of my feelings for him. It was as though he was a part of me, that he was in my very soul. Thinking back to when I first met Peter...Poet...I had to chuckle. Who would have guessed the winding road would have led here? To us loving one another? I had first counted him as a friend despite some rocky exchanges between us. Then brother as my relationship with Celeste developed and they welcomed me into their family. I had never expected, when this all began, that there might be a chance for something more. I have had male lovers so it is not as though the concept was foreign to me, but Peter was young and still very much clinging to a large portion of his mortality.

But I hadn't questioned it at all as things developed between us. And I still remember his nervousness, that first time he'd kissed me.

How quickly things can change...

Another burst of sound echoed down the hall and prompted me fully out of bed. Walking to the closet, I dressed quickly, leaving my tie draped around my neck as I left the room and headed into the main part of the house. And there he was, looking over my stereo system and flipping through the playlists I had arranged for it. He hadn't noticed me yet and I took a moment to let my eyes drink in the sight of him as my fingers finished threading my tie and pressed my collar down into place.

I stepped up behind him and slid my arms around his waist, placing a kiss on his shoulder in the process. "Good morning, my poet. I trust you rested well."  He leaned back into my embrace and I had to smile as I listened to his reply.

However I had ended up here I know, beyond the shadow of any doubt, this is where I want to be.

Now and always, Peter. I am yours. I love you.

Pt. 1 : A Fixed Point in the Cosmos

My Life for Yours

For the past few days I have been overly...distant. At first I attempted to shrug it off but the longer my melancholy persisted, the more I seemed forced to acknowledge that the explanation for it may not be all that simple.

Today I woke and dressed, thinking to head downstairs and see who was up and about. Peter would probably be lurking in the study, working on his own pieces or editing his brother's journals. Celeste could usually be found on the sun-proofed veranda, painting or lost in her thoughts. But after adjusting my tie and looking towards the bedroom door I realized that I was not in the mood for company. Frowning to myself, I turned inward for a few moments to see if I could figure out why.

When there was no answer easily forthcoming I decided to head to my wing of the estate. I hardly ever had a reason to retreat there but it was a habit to do so for occasions such as this, when I needed to sift through my thoughts.

The walk was not all that long and my movement through the house seemed not to attract any attention. Closing the door to my personal room, I leaned back against it and stared into the dimly lit interior.

First things first. In my mind, I began assessing why I would not want to share my thoughts with Peter or Celeste. I looked at it through every angle I could, testing my thoughts, my feelings, and finally breathed a small sigh of relief. Nothing dire had happened, I still loved them both. Everything was as it should be. So I still had to wonder at the reason for needing silence, especially regarding Peter. Each of us had always commented that we were a source of peace to each other, that we could speak openly and freely about anything. But I knew there would be no tranquil comfort found today. My frown returned as I began assessing why. What had happened that the man I loved would not be able to soothe away?

Something in that question triggered the memory and I heard the conversation all over again... Flynn and his role in everything. The possibility that Peter had more influence over the assassin that he had previously thought. We began discussing the fight that had started on the veranda, the blows that had been exchanged, my perspective of the fight, knowing I was hitting Peter as well as Flynn. And then...

_________________

"Celeste asked to speak to Flynn again late last night and I am still processing what she asked the assassin."

I frowned at Peter in response. "What did she ask?"

He shrugged. "If he was disappointed in the way things turned out. Questions centered around his contentment in his existence, more or less. She seemed both glad Flynn could find something to do and melancholy over the way of things, even when he assured her he knew how things needed to be and accepted them. She said something rather strange in response...but she insinuated Flynn was not behaving like himself."

"Does she think you are influencing him, I suppose?"

He raised an eyebrow. "She may suspect as such although, to be perfectly honest, I am not. Flynn is simply subdued at the moment."

Nodding slowly, I said, "But you have admitted that your affections tend to have an effect on him." I raised an eyebrow back at him. "Actually, at one point I remember you telling me I may have the same ability to bridle Flynn as Celeste does."

Peter nodded. "You can summon him. The matter of my influence over him, however, has been called into question by me after his actions of late. I have never seen another instance when he has contradicted the matters of my heart with such stubbornness."

I winced. "Lover..." Looking at him carefully for a long moment, I averted my gaze to speak, knowing that this was far from a cheerful subject. "Do you forget the timing of it? The night when Flynn was out, when he and I came to blows, was the very next day after I had walked away from you and Celeste to attend to idiotic other matters rather than go out on our hunt. I even told you, after the fact, that I would have expected you to slug me across the jaw for making you feel insignificant." I hesitated a moment before continuing. "The next day, Flynn raged at me. And even after he calmed down a small measure due to the concern with Celeste, his very first blow against me was to slug me across the jaw." I finally looked back to him, my gaze even. "You have more influence over him than you think."

A frown settled onto his face. "Lover, I would never wish to hurt you. My feelings had been wounded, yes. You know as much. but..." His expression turned pained. "Never would I wish any harm to you."

I smiled softly in reassurance. "I know, lover. And I was not trying to accuse you of such a thing. But the point is valid. You were upset with me. Flynn was more unhinged in regard to me when he came out. I am not saying you gave him license to act the way he did. Merely supposing that there was a common root behind it that stretched back to how you were feeling."

Peter looked thoughtful for a long moment before saying, "It simply does not sit right with me thinking any residual hurt I might have harbored could have inspired such a reaction with him."

"I can see why it wouldn't," I said, nodding. "Still, consider it in recent days. You and I have been very happy and content, and Flynn has been...different. Not out of character, but more pensive, I suppose, than he normally is."

His brow furrowed. "I had not paused to consider this, truth be known." Peter frowned again and while I didn't specifically know his thoughts they were obviously troubling him. His eyes closed and clenched shut as he managed his next words. "Better I find a way to separate us, then, instead of risking something dire transpiring."

I frowned and moved closer to him, taking his hands in mine. This was an old topic, finding a way to detach Flynn from Peter in a physical sense beyond the psychological and minor physiological separation they currently existed with. Peter knew most of my concerns about such a course of action, but the mention using it as a solution to the current dilemma raised the need to repeat the larger ones. "Lover, you don't even know that such a thing would work or what it would do to you. If you and Flynn are linked through your feelings that way it might not even be related to you occupying the same body. But..." I considered Peter's last words carefully. "What would you be afraid of happening?"

He sighed and clutched my hands. "I do not know, lover. Anything. If he could hit you like that..." Peter shook his head as though to chase away the thought, then looked away from me. "Lover, you are all that matters to me. I cannot stand the thought of my hands being the ones inflicting any harm to you."

I tugged on his hands to get him to look back at me. Peter's head turned, the frown on his face clearly defined. I said, "Lover, you did not hit me. He did. Flynn did. Even if there was a root behind it, Flynn is not you. I know that." I sighed. "Truth be told my larger issue with all of that was hitting Flynn back, knowing that it was your body that I was inflicting the damage to. I felt each and every blow I delivered like it was visited back on me. Seeing you fall to the ground..." The memory flashed through my mind and I swallowed hard.  "So you are not the only one with such concerns, my poet. I know them well. But I am still not convinced that letting Flynn free is a wise idea, regardless of the motivation."

Peter nodded reluctantly. "I hold no grievance to you about that. This is why I told you to defend yourself when you spoke to the assassin last. Regardless of whose body this is, if he intends you any harm, then you do whatever you must... Please promise me this, Victor. Regardless of what that means."

In my mind I began wording a reassuring reply that I would never let the assassin harm me just to avoid inflicting pain on the body they share. But something in that train of thought my my blood freeze. Whatever you must...regardless of what that means... A horrifying notion occurred to me and I am not usually one given to bouts of paranoia. What if, by some god-forsaken turn of events... What if I was faced with the choice of killing the assassin as the only way to defend my own life?

I couldn't do it. I prayed my years of practice in keeping my thoughts from being revealed in my expression was enough to not alert Peter to the sudden shift in my demeanor. How could I tell him this? That I could not bear to kill Flynn even to save my own life because it would also mean the death of my lover?

And then the thought that followed. When had Peter's life become more important than my own? In four centuries no one, not my King, not my Child, not any of my mortal lovers, not even Celeste had ever meant such a thing to me. Certainly, in some of those cases I knew I could make the decision to lay down my life for them and would do so willingly. But it was always a choice that I had to consciously make. Here, now, I was faced with the reality that there was no decision to be made. My love for him had taken that away from me. I would rather die than even consider the possibility of taking his life. And that...bothered me.

Is he worth it?

A quick assessment and I answered the question.

He is worth everything.

As my thoughts came around to that realization, I prayed again that I had not revealed anything in my expression. How could I tell him? How could I explain that even though I knew my death at Flynn's hands would devastate him, that I couldn't bear to trade his life for mine?

But I had to respond.

I nodded slowly, considered my words carefully, and took a moment to assure that my voice would be steady as I spoke them.  "I promise you I will defend myself, lover."

Peter looked relieved as he gazed into my eyes. His hand reached up and touched my cheek. "Thank you, my lover. You are what matters most to me."

His words caused my mask to break and a pained expression flickered across my face as I echoed the sentiment. "And you are what matters most to me."

Did he hear the subtext beneath that statement? Did he know I had purposely avoiding promising more than defending myself? Did he know that I had just been rocked to my very core from coming face to face with the remnants of my mortality? We moved on to speak of other things and I breathed a sigh of relief. I would visit the topic again when I had the chance, to sort out my reaction...
___________________________

And so here I was. Visiting the topic and finding that nothing had changed. The only way I could even bring myself to consider killing Flynn while he was still in Peter's body was to spare my lover the torment of knowing that it was his hand that killed me.

But what of my torment? My anguish? Could I put myself through it, to spare him?

Heavens help me, I didn't think I could.

Walking away from the door, I sat down on the edge of my bed. My head sank into my hands as I propped my elbows on my knees and it was all I could do just to maintain my composure. What was wrong with me? My mind was completely absorbed in impossible fantasies of dueling with Flynn, coming to the point of no return, each of us was poised, blade over each other's hearts. Our eyes would lock and I would know that it was the end. They would be Flynn's eyes...mirror images of Peter's but with more than a hint of arrogance in them. And I would hesitate, knowing that to plunge the sword in would kill Peter just as surely as it would kill Flynn.

I could almost feel his blade enter my chest and pierce my heart. My eyes closed, trying to block out the horrifying scene, but my mind seemed determined to finish it out. I watched my fingers begin to crumble to dust, the blade dropping from my slackened grip, my eyes still locked on Flynn's as I tried to get through to Peter to say goodbye. My last words would be inadequate, I knew, but what else could I say? "I love you, always. Forgive me."

Images flashed through my mind. Memories of passion, whispered words of love and devotion, the simple happiness we shared... and then they turned into pictures of things that had never gotten a chance to happen. Trips around the world, hunts in strange countries, poems written, songs composed, everything that I knew we would have done except for the fluke turn of events that caused this scene to come to pass. And that was how I would die. Crumbling to dust at the hands of the assassin. Desperately sending all the hope and love and strength I could manage through our blood bond to reach out to Peter. Begging. Forgive me. Forgive me.

"Forgive me." My voice cracked as I spoke the words aloud. There was a dampness on my cheeks that I knew had to be tears but I couldn't recall when I had started crying.

What is wrong with me?

I bit the inside of my cheek so hard that it bled. I didn't care and bit down harder. I stood suddenly, needing to jar myself out of the depression, to stop myself from the self-loathing, the pity, cursing my weakness, and to get my mind back to itself. Walking across the room, I unfastened the cuff buttons on my right arm and rolled up the sleeve as I stood before the window. Knowing what it would do to me, I didn't care, welcomed it. I stepped to one side of the curtains, shoved them aside, and held my arm out in the direct sunlight.

To say it hurt would be an understatement. I felt the hairs on my arm singe, the upper layer of skin begin to peel, and then the tips of my fingers began to flake. I watched my flesh char and turn black and still I kept my arm in the rays of light. Finally, just as the bones from my knuckles began to show through, I yanked my arm back and let the curtains fall shut again.

The pain hit me full force then. My knees went weak and I suddenly found myself holding onto the wall with my good hand. Panting, hissing, growling, I cradled my seared arm against my chest and ignored the ash flaking off. Clenching my eyes shut, I embraced the agony, focusing on it to the loss of everything else. I tried to get back to the bed but I could only manage one staggering step before realizing I was going to collapse. I turned and leaned my back against the wall, injured arm still held tight against my body, and let my knees go out from under me. I slid down and sat, fighting a wave of blackness that was creeping up on my vision.

My last thought before I passed out was that I was going to have to come up with an explanation for my hand...

Shifting Sands - Pt. 3 : Forgive Me

Life is often compared to an open book, ending unwritten. I will attest to the validity of that in regard to writers by mentioning that when they sit down at their desks oftentimes there is no ending in mind, just a story that somehow needs to be told. Sometimes, though, they will know precisely where one chapter is at an end.

It’s been quite some time since I posted a tale, I know, but it hasn’t been due to a lack of things to tell. Quite the contrary. Four centuries of memories does add up to quite a lot to be placed down in text and I could very well spend the next few years practically chained down in such an endeavor.  And I do so enjoy the chance to show you all a small part of myself, what has made me the vampire I am today. But you all know I’m an exhibitionist by nature.

These last few weeks are what I’m keenest to relate. The impact that has been made on my life is, quite frankly, astounding, even to me, so I have been doing what I often do when I find myself on a path not entirely anticipated.

I wondered just how I got here.

But unlike the other times that I may have asked myself that question, this journey into my memory has been an exercise in appreciation. Looking back, I see how many times a precarious balance was struck between what has made my current status possible and losing the chance entirely, and I have to wonder if Poet’s belief in fate might actually have some foundation. *chuckles* If I must find something outside of myself to thank for what I’ve come to find, it is the two beings that I share such happiness with. My Lady, Celeste, and my brother, Poet, thank you.

Still, moving forward as we are does not mean that I’ve forgotten those rocky, tumultuous days that we traveled through and reminding myself of them only helps me appreciate this new reality I find myself in all the more. And I think it is about time to share the story with those of you inclined to read it.

Star to finish, this will not be a short composition.  The pieces that I’ve already put to words, the night of my first hunt with Celeste and then the time she shared with me the call of an innocent’s blood were really two scenes to a much larger production. One that needs to be viewed in its entirety to appreciate just what it is that has been wrought.

I’ve considered this question of where precisely to begin many times since deciding that this story needed to be written, but each time I sat down and placed my fingers on the keys I found myself at a bit of a loss. Suffice to say this might not be entirely what you were expecting, but try not to worry yourselves. All the curtains will come down eventually. *smirks* But be prepared for a bumpy ride.

____________________

OOC:  A quick recap, since I don’t plan to tell this story in a strictly linear fashion:

My hunt with Celeste took place on the evening of April 28 into the morning of the 29th. The shared memory was given on May 6-7. I’m sharing the dates because appreciating the flow of time that led up to the end events is important, at least to me. And, yes, the dates that I actually posted those pieces are also different. The dates listed above are the ones that matter.

____________________

[May 11 1:09 AM]

The night was only half over but its promise had been all but extinguished. I stood on the patio outside of the home of Poet and Celeste, staring into the distance and questioning everything that had been said and done in the past few hours. Knowing that I had hurt her was killing a part of me. But it had been necessary.

Hadn’t it?

It did. I know it did. Everything that I know tells me that this was the only road that my conscience would allow me to travel.

More is the pity, then, that I felt as though I’d torn my heart from my chest. My suffering was a product of my guilt and sadly I knew without any doubt in my mind that the only one I had to thank for my current state of affairs was me.

A sudden presence startled me out of my thoughts though I gave no outward sign of being caught entirely by surprise. My eyes flicked over to him though I held back from greeting Poet as he entered fully into view.

I realized that this visit must have been prompted by Celeste speaking to him of what had transpired tonight. What I wasn’t certain of was what his response would be, and my thoughts drifted again wondering just what he might be getting ready to say. If I had been paying closer attention I might have noticed the liquid grace to his steps, the slight glint in his eyes as he regarded me, and the subtlety different way he held himself as he settled next to me on the patio.

He lifted an eyebrow and chose not to mince words in greeting. “I heard the sound of my goddess crying. And although I care precious little for the laments of the boy-scout, yet I know there is something awry. So do tell me, Mr. Madden…what the devil has transpired tonight?”

Even the voice was Poet’s, from the lilting flow of his speech to the inflections of the words. But I heard the tone beneath the message and there was no hint of Poet at all. It was almost enough to give me pause.

“Flynn,” I spoke the assassin’s name to acknowledge that I noted his presence as I nodded in greeting. This would be interesting to say the least. “She is upset. It will sort itself out in time.”

“Oh? It shall, shall it? And whom might I inquire is responsible for this?”

My black mood lent my choice of response to be a trifle more reckless than it might have been otherwise. But in truth, while I respected Poet’s alter for who and what he was, I wasn’t inclined to let him carry the conversation entirely. “Would you like the full litany going all the way back to God and His infinite wisdom? Or just the short list?”

He snickered. “As though you might have been there for such a thing. Do tell me, when God formed the heaven and the earth, were you involved in the decision?” Flynn grinned, Poet’s grin, but with so much more behind the expression. “How about we keep it simple as I am a man of limited patience. The short list, if you please.”

I had to chuckle as I considered my next reply. The last thing I wanted to do was cast blame in front of Flynn, considering I would have to lay it either at Celeste’s feet or my own. “You already named them all, I’m afraid. There is little else to add to it.”

The assassin began to pace and my eyes tracked along with his restless movement. It reminded me of a predator stalking within a cage, though I was keenly aware that there was no actual barrier between us.  “Did I? Do tell me when this transpired, Mr. Madden, as I seem to be unaware of when I enumerated any such list. All I see is calamity before me. And I do not take kindly to the sight of calamity. I am an assassin. We prefer order. And those who disrupt our order find themselves on the sharp edge of a blade.”

“As much as I respect order I’m afraid it took a second seat to truth tonight. What you see is the result.” I chose not to acknowledge the threat.

“Truth, I have discovered, is in the hands of he who pens the history books,” he said, his steps coming to a halt. “Were you responsible for this so-called truth? And if so, tell me…you made certain to include all of the facts...did you not?”

“In point of fact, yes I did.”

Flynn nodded as he made a show of looking thoughtful. “Including the blood on your own hands, sir?”

I smiled in response. “I made no effort to conceal it.”

We stood in silence together for a few minutes as Flynn seemed to wrestle with the question of whether or not it was worth the trouble for him to kill me. I knew it must have been wonderfully tempting to him, but I remained aloof and resumed my inner dialogue as I waited for his final decision. The fact was that the deck had been stacked in favor of prudence over vicious impulse even for a creature like him, and I only felt marginally unsafe in trusting in his self-control until he came around to that simple truth.

He nodded and my eyes flicked back to his as I was prompted out of my reverie once again. When he spoke his tone was calculated. “Well. I give you one warning…and one warning only. You of bloody hands…should you transgress my vixen you shall find yourself staring eyeball to eyeball with the devil himself. And I promise you not one drop of your blood shall make it to my hands, but plenty shall stain the sheen of my sword.”

I allowed myself a chuckle and despite appreciating the sincerity of his statement. Truthfully, I doubted Celeste would ever speak to me again after tonight, and that made the bulk of Flynn’s posturing moot. “A flair for the dramatic. Consider your warning heard and understood, assassin. It won’t be forgotten.”

His grin returned. “Good. Because I only say that once.”

“And for that, I will thank you,” I grinned back. “Once was plenty.”

“That, Mr. Madden, is yet to be determined. But we shall certainly see, now…won’t we?”

I should say that this first time is likely the last time he would ever have occasion to talk to me. “Yes, I suppose we shall.”

Flynn sneered. “And thus is the gauntlet thrown. Now which of us shall blink first?”

“That depends on how close it is to sunrise.”

“Oh,” he chuckled, “I have dared the sunlight to claim me and it never does. I am neither heaven nor hell’s child. None shall see fit to claim me. So I believe, if I were you, I would fear the sunrise much more than I should.”

“Perhaps. But with the sunrise, so do my eyes close. Such is a fact of my life.”

In an instant he was practically on top of me, his face mere inches from my own. “Then, sir,” he spoke through gritted teeth, his eyes burning a hole in my gaze, “I would learn to sleep with eyes open if I were you.”

My still present grin widened as I stared back, unmoving and unblinking. “I will take that under consideration.”

Flynn’s jaw unclenched to resume his own grin. “You do that now. Because hell comes for its recompense when you least expect it.” He stepped back and bowed, our gazes locked for the duration of the action as I bowed to him in return, matching the depth he'd set precisely. After a few more tense moments, the assassin straightened first. “Until next time.”

“Indeed,” I replied, but I was already speaking to the air.

Nodding to no one in particular, a slight sigh escaped my lips as I turned to reenter the house. It was clear I had officially worn out my welcome but I wanted to say goodbye before I left.

Celeste stood framed in the doorway, the glow from the lights shimmering in her raven hair. I froze mid step to consider her.

“So, tell me Victor, have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?”

I had to laugh. “That depends entirely on your definition of devil, my Lady.”

“As far as I’m aware, Master Madden, there is only one devil in my world. Yours?”

“I think I just met my first and only.”

She gave me a questioning look before making a show of looking for Flynn. “You met the devil?”

Had she really not known he was out? “Gone, I’m afraid. Just a moment ago.”

“Funny, I must have missed it since I felt no shiver coming from you. He was on his best behavior I take it?”

Rubbing my nose in our blood exchange and insinuating that I would feel cowed by the assassin was an overly cutting remark, in my opinion, but I let it pass and chuckled. “If you count threatening me with his blade only once his best behavior, than yes, he was.”

Celeste raised an eyebrow. “Threaten you? Whatever would you have done to get noticed by Diablo himself and a threat no less?”

I was in no mood to figure out if she was being serious or not. “Merely a warning, Lady. I misspoke when I said threat. Taunt would have been more appropriate. As to the why?” I held her gaze and let my expression convey the explanation.

She stared back. “And you look to me why? I believe we’ve already established I was in the wrong. Why would Diablo come to you?”

“To make certain the boundaries were clear.”

Her shoulders rose and fell in a heavy sigh as her expression turned apologetic. “Well it would seem that even wrong I inspire loyalty. Though I do apologize to you, Master Madden. I will take care of it, or try. Freight trains are not easy to slow down or get to come to a stop when going full speed ahead.”

I nodded. “I believe he left it partly in your hands, Lady. He said that I was not to transgress you.”

A delicate eyebrow lifted again in response. “What? Has the world lost its collective minds?”

“I am merely repeating the phrase,” I replied, smiling ruefully. “It is entirely possible that he meant the more simple interpretation.”

“Which would be what, pray tell? This is Diablo we’re talking about.”

“My initial thought was that he was telling me to ‘keep off’ but the conversation was prompted by the fact that he had found you crying.”

Celeste looked at me with concern. “Victor, if the Devil visited you then he wouldn’t have merely meant not to make me cry again but to ‘keep off’ as you put it. But that is not a concern for you anymore, as I will make sure he knows that it was I and I alone who bares the guilt of this and will stay the distance so there is no more threats, realized or not. And again, I truly am sorry.”

“As cliché as it is, it takes two to tango. You have nothing to apologize to me for, Celeste.”

“I too am my own freight train and the dance was quick and precise like a blade to the throat. Let it be my burden to take care of. You really did not do anything.”

I nodded once. “I will let the assassin decide for himself. But for my part, I will give him no further reason to look my way.”

Hearing that, Celeste moved to sit on one of the deck chairs, her expression changing too swiftly for me to make out what she might have been feeling. “It will come to an end. I never meant for this to happen.” Her eyes brimmed with tears.

Closing my own eyes for a moment, I stayed myself from the impulse to wrap her in my arms and offer comfort. “None of us did.”

“I wish you could have been in my head and heart over the last week so that you would know precisely where I was coming from.”

I know more than you think, Lady. “As do I. I knew you didn’t intend to hurt Poet, and that you love him. But everything beyond that is a haze.”

“Want and desire resided in my body. Friendship resided in my heart. I enjoyed the tension of doing all that can be done to stay away from temptation. The cauldron of emotions that swirl when two people who know they shouldn’t cross a line are quickly rushing toward it. The anger, the divided sides of ones heart speaking like a conscience to the soul. Clear the haze, Master Madden, and know that is how I felt. And that I’m sorry for putting you through that. Having already told Poet how I felt, and asking for his forgiveness.”

I nodded in acknowledgment. “I was a willing participant, Celeste. Don’t forget that.”

She rose to her feet. “I will take my leave now. I have work yet to do and I believe I’ve worn out my welcome. Good night, Victor. Rest well…”

Her voice trailed to a whisper as she moved back to the door, a single backward glance conveying regret and sadness.

“Good night, Celeste. Take care.”

If you had asked me at that moment as I watched her leave I would have told you that those were surely the last words we would ever say to one another. Shutting out the ache in my chest, I turned away from the house without sparing a look back.

OOC - Taking a short trip that will leave me with limited interest access for a few days.  Just wanted to drop a line in case my presence was unduly missed *winks* Should be back to say hello, at least, by Sunday evening but I'm not due home until late Tuesday night.

Be safe, everyone.

-Victor

The world seems to keep getting smaller.  This isn’t a bad thing, I suppose, except that it means dealing with even more things that aren’t the simplest to incorporate into our lives. We can always choose to ignore the new, the untested, but in the long run it only adds to our own complacency on a path leading to destruction.  We either adapt or we die, it's that simple.

I have always been one to adapt. Seeking knowledge outside of myself and considering the new possibilities it brings to the table is a pastime I greatly enjoy. That isn't to say that change should be the end-goal of all the knowledge-gathering. No, sometimes it's wise just to step back and watch things pass by. But the key is maintaining an awareness of the shifting grains of sand and being ready to make a change if it becomes necessary.

Sometimes, though, we will simply choose change because we find something fascinating. A recent shift in my own life has opened up possibilities that I'd never before dreamed of in my life as a vampire. I'm certain some of you caught the beginning whiffs of it on the tweet-stream not too long ago. For those of you who didn't, or if you're wondering just what I'm referring to, I recently sat down with Poet and Celeste to discuss the differences between our vampire gifts and habits. It was an enlightening conversation that seemed far too short to sate my desire to know more, once the topic had been broached. Suffice to say I felt like someone had just revealed the little-man hiding behind the curtain.

Starting with what I know would be the simplest, I suppose, so please indulge me as I sum up what constitutes the bare facts of my existence as a vampire.

Harris vampires are relatively simplistic creatures. We drink blood to survive, no surprise there, but also can't consume any foods or liquids that aren't bodily fluids. Since we can lick away human tears logically we have some tolerance to water, or at least salt-water, but to what extent is pure speculation. Our daytime rest is a coma-like state that can only be interrupted by dire need or urgency (I have broken that rule a few times but usually only for comedic effect so I will simply have to beg forgiveness *grins*). Presumably we can sense the approach of dawn, as evidenced by Eric's comments in Dead to the World, but what this entails is again up for speculation.  Our age is a factor in how early we wake or how wakeful we can be during the day should we have the need, and some vampires seem to have a little more talent in that area than others - for instance, Bill is awake during the day, at least partially, during Club Dead and again in Altogether Dead, but Pam (who is a comparable age to Bill) doesn't wake at all. This could, however, be due to the bond he has with Sookie. Which is also something that is never explained, in regards to whether that bond has faded or not. It's known that the effects of vampire blood fade over a few weeks time, such as Sookie's hair being lighter and her body being stronger, healthier, and feeling more attractive, but the connection itself is possibly still there. In the HBO show, Bill says something to the effect of "I'll always be able to feel you" when he explains what his blood will do to Sookie. The use of the word "always" is a bit telling but there's no support of it in the books, at least not directly. Even Eric dodges the question about whether it would fade or not when Sookie asks him directly, though it is probably a safe bet that in their case the bond is very permanent (especially after the additional happenings in Dead and Gone...)

Beyond that, Harris vampires rarely kill and instead take a "sip here, and a sip there" approach to our feeding habits. TruBlood (yes, I prefer using the show spelling) is a viable supplement, but only the real thing can truly sate our thirst as evidenced by Bill's reaction to the temptation of human blood in Dead Until Dark when Malcom offers it to him in the form of Jerry.  How long Bill had been existing solely on the synthetic stuff is, again, a question for speculation but it's interesting to note that even he says it is disgusting, in the books. Young vampires are hungrier than older ones (supported by Bill's discussion about his own vampire youth and the comment that Eric rarely kills any more so for a vampire he's a "good guy"). Our glamour is obviously our best gift for securing unsuspecting prey, but we can accidentally kill someone if we're not careful or get caught up in the moment. Presumably we feed without killing in most cases, once we're experienced enough, though we can be pushed beyond our restraint to a point of pure need that causes our instincts to overwhelm our rational minds much as Bill experienced during Club Dead in the trunk, and the few moments in Living Dead in Dallas when he leaves Sookie in favor of hunting down the FotS shooters. Clearly that also means there is some base enjoyment of the hunt itself, then, but to what extent is not discussed.

The problem with knowing all this, of course, is that it's from a purely human perspective. Listing out the facts of what it means to be vampire is entirely different from, well, NOT living and breathing it. It is not a difficult supposition that most of us learn to enjoy our existence because of the pleasure that we can find in being what we are, taking what we need to survive. But in the Sookie books you never get to see the world from the vampire perspective, through vampire eyes, and so you're left to wonder. It leaves something distinctly lacking, honestly, in conveying any sort of understanding of what motivates creatures like myself to continue waking, sunset after sunset, and walking through the night year after year. Which leaves the biggest question for speculation of all.

What is it that makes our existence worth living?

*slow, sly grin* Oh, my friends, if only I could explain it in words.

As Bill has been quoted, we are not human. Only the most mentally deficient vampire would suggest otherwise. Waking up for the first time with the hunger, the thirst... No, there is no doubt in any of our minds in that regard. But the lack of vampire insight from the Sookieverse leaves much to the human imagination.

Which is most of the reason I wanted to sit down with Poet and Celeste to discuss this very thing. I know what my existence entails and the pleasure I derive from being a hunter, a wolf in sheep's clothing if you will. Looking like you and being able to love you, as Eric pointed out to Sookie, is the foundation of our continued existence. There may be myths that we are the spawn of Satan or the decedents of Cain or nothing more than demons inhabiting a human body, but that speaks more to human fears and less to what it actually means to be vampire. We have no way of knowing if we've lost our souls or any such thing, and eventually most of us stop caring to question it too much. Some of you may call us Damned but that doesn't make it so, or change what we are. One thing to consider, though, is this: are we nothing more than predators picking off random sheep from the flock or is there a greater purpose to our existence?

It's that issue that is the crux of the difference between Harris vampires and Ricean ones.

(A short OOC note : some of Poet and Celeste's vampire lore is based from various role-playing communities adaptations to Ricean vampires, as well as a few of their own personal additions. I've never actually read the Vampire Chronicles myself - just Interview with a Vampire - so that means my understanding of how Poet and Celeste operate their characters is purely from what they've relayed to me and what I've observed. For those of you in the know, please take the differences with a grain of salt. Saying that they're Ricean vampires is really just a way of starting off on the right branch of the tree, but that doesn't mean it can't fork.)

In all the Sookie books, there is no mention of just how Harris vampires choose their prey except for a short statement by Bill in Dead Until Dark. He says "...I tried to be civilized about it, select bad people as my victims, never feed on children." The word "select" is the telling one. Apparently we have no way of sorting through our potential victims except by our own individual moral, or perhaps amoral, selection process. Our entire existence is based on taking life's blood from humans but, unless we put the effort into viewing them through the eyes of our once humanity, they all look the same. Blood sacks. McPeople. Nothing more.

Oh, yes, some of you have rarer blood than others. Part fae, psychics, they taste very different. But those are rare treats, not determining factors for how we hunt. You're fortunate we don't have to kill when we feed, since our glamour can make you forget about us when we're done. But even then, don't you wonder, how often would we really bother using it unless we choose to do so out of the desire to remain hidden? Our continued existence is the only goal in all this, after all. We take so that we can continue taking, and give nothing back except perhaps a few moments of pleasure to those individuals that cross our paths when we're in need. And that's the best case scenario. There are just as many times that we leave behind nothing but unapologetic death.

Have you gotten chills yet?

Ricean vampires, though, hunt in an entirely different manner. It is here that the genres differ drastically. In ours, we make no justification for our existence and presumably out hunts are only pleasurable in the purest sense of a predator overcoming their prey. In theirs, a justification is at least attempted, though it is the human perspective that actually bothers making it, and their method of hunting is much more...sensual than ours. Obviously the justification angle isn't what intrigued me. Oh no, I have no qualms about what I am or with taking what I need to survive. I'm not concerned about my supposed right to be here. No, what caught my interest, when I was told this tantalizing bit of information, was that I was missing out on a pleasure I knew nothing about and had no way to conceptualize, but that has been unrelentingly teasing my conscience since I first learned what I was missing out on.

Did you know that Poet and Celeste's kind can "hear" the sins of humans? When they hunt, feed, the greater the sin the more intoxicating the blood. When they kill, they can turn the sins of their victims back on them so they suffer for the wrongs they committed during their life. This is why their kind kill most of the time when they feed, since they get pleasure from it beyond the simple quenching of their thirst. I imagine, explaining this, it might even seem comforting for you all to think that this brand of death will most likely pass you over in favor of consuming greater sin than what you probably have committed, and that those who die deserve what they get in some small way. This is the human justification I referred to.

But did you also know that the taste of an innocent is even more intoxicating to them than the taste of a sinner? *wicked grin* Oh yes, even I got chills when I learned that fact. Blood of an innocent. Ambrosia as it's often described. Nectar of the Gods. Nothing to compare.

Don't worry too much, though. The prudent choice of the Ricean vampires is to take the sinners over the innocents, although I'm still learning all the details as to exactly why. The vampires themselves might not feel guilty, per-say, indulging occasionally in innocent blood, but they will choose to exercise restraint when it comes to this. I suppose it's reassuring for them that they serve as a small measure of justice, or vengeance as it might be, in taking what they need to survive.

This is why Flynn is so dangerous, because he is typically less than concerned with practicing restraint. But perhaps you should ask Poet himself about that. *a pause, chuckles* On second thought, don't ask him. You wouldn't want to tempt the assassin to break out of his mental bindings.

It was here my discussion with Poet and Celeste began to wane, mostly out of my need to take some time to process what I'd learned. I returned home to do just that, only to find that I managed to create even more questions and a greater curiosity. It wasn't that late yet, dawn was still several hours off, so I made my way back to Poet and Celeste's to beg their indulgence in my questions yet again.

Poet was out hunting with their daughter, Lydia, when I arrived, but Celeste was kind enough to spare some more of her time speaking to me on this topic. As the questions kept coming, I learned yet another difference between our kinds. But I shall let it speak for itself. You might also find it amusing that I took my time to bring the discussion back around to the topic of innocents, but I was trying to downplay my eagerness to know.

_______________
OOC / Content Warning : I know you all love these *winks* but in this case I'm not stressing the caution too much. But there is death and blood-lust, even if it's not quite as spectacular as last time, so please read at your own discretion.  As an added note to some of my earlier comments during the piece: It's unclear, for the Harris vampires, what exactly blood-exchanges between vampires do. Eric tells Sookie in Club Dead that "...vampires almost never mate with other vampires, for any longer than a rare one-night affair. We don't do this because it gives us power over each other forever, the mating and sharing of blood." That's a pretty big thing, the word "forever" dropped in there. But it's a bit frustrating to try and interpret because "power" could mean any number of things. In either case, that is Victor's reality, as a Harris vampire, so please bear it in mind when reading this next part.

One last thing. There is also a lot of speculation regarding just how blood exchanges work, and which way they tip the balance of power. Some of Eric's comments in Dead and Gone cleared up some of the confusion, at least as I read them, so I'd like to reiterate the assumption I'm operating on. A vampire can sense a human's emotions and even take control of a human without giving them their blood. Logically the "taking control" must only happen after repeated feedings, but Sookie herself says on several occasions that a vampire who has had her blood can sense more about her than one who hasn't. This means, to me, the bulk of the "power" goes to the vampire consuming the blood, not the one giving it. When blood is both given and received, in Eric and Sookie's case (and Bill and Sookie's case) the connection is two-way. What exactly that entails is again up for speculation, but the point is that I'm making the leap that vampire-vampire blood exchanges have a similar two-way street. We'll just leave the details in a state of haze.

Edited note, clarification: Clearly there is an advantage to a vampire giving their blood to a human, or else Eric wouldn't have tried to trick Sookie into taking his and Adre wouldn't have tried to get her to drink from him. In that sense vampire blood itself is a 2-way street but I'm assuming because humans aren't "equiped" to handle the power from it that the advantage still goes to the vampire. In a vampire-vampire sense the balance of power would be tipped toward the one drinking the blood, but obviously it would also forge a connection between the two that would give the donating vampire some leverage in the relationship.

________________

"Good evening again, Lady Celeste." I smiled at her as I entered their home for the second time that night. Too many questions were ping-ponging in my thoughts to resist coming back for more answers, but my renewed presence spoke enough to my eagerness without diving right back into the conversation. I know she knew that was why I had returned, but I could be the polite guest for a while longer and work back into the topic.

"Good to see you again, Mister Madden," she returned with a knowing, but distracted smile as we headed back to the study. "Poet is out hunting with Lydia. It looks like my daughter is going to be a force all her own."

Nodding my understanding, I asked, "And how is your daughter, Lady?"

"In a hurry to spread her wings as a vampiress. Our closed door conversation consisted of her being in a hurry to seduce a mortal. Now, let me just say this; the vampire in me tingles from the past experiences of such a conversation." She crossed her legs as she sat on one of the chairs in the room. "The mother in me winces. I mean, we didn't exactly turn her at a normal age. But she was dying and I couldn't let that happen. I had lost her once..." She shook her head. "Not again."

"Mistakes are one thing, but when it's you own child? She's very much her father's daughter, conscience and all. I worry."

"Ah. I see." Evaluating that piece of information for a moment, I continued, "As to that, I suppose the best thing you can do is guide her to define her own limits. If she knows there are "rules" so to speak, it may ease her mind somewhat."

Here she chuckled. "Ah Victor, has it been so very long that you do not remember how the pull of an innocent used to taunt you to do your worst? Experience everything?"

Laughing, I shook my head. "Perhaps I am showing my years. No, I confess, my kind do not "hear" the call of people's sins quite as you do. I am still trying to grasp the concept."

Celeste tilted her head to consider me, since I hadn't admitted that fact earlier in the night. "How very alike and yet, so different. I could explain it to you. I could even convey it through me to you. I'm not sure if you'd like that or not. Or like it too much, come to think of it."

Chuckling, I agreed, "Probably the latter."

"That aside, now I must turn it into a question." She looked at me expectantly.

Not understanding, I replied benignly, "I'm all ears."

"Well the question is would you like to know what it's like? What the pull, the draw is like? Why we feel the way we do about it?"

To know? "I confess, I am mighty curious. So different from what I'm used to. Yes, I would like to know."

Celeste stood slowly, her eyes never leaving mine. "Victor, be very sure. You've never experienced this before. I may not stop your reaction. Not because I'm not strong enough, but because once started I'm not sure I can stop it. Be sure, we may end up in a very different situation than the one we are standing in right now. Then again, it might not effect you as strong as I think."

I considered that a moment, running through the possibilities in my mind. "I will deal with my reaction, whatever it may be. If you are willing to show me I am willing to experience it."

She took a deep, albeit unnecessary breath. "The pull of an innocent..." Her eyes lost focus for a moment as she drifted into her memories and I found myself unable to tear my eyes from her. She spoke again, softly, almost more to herself than to me, "Everyone has their sins.... but for some it was different. The one I remember was of innocence over sin. If that's at all possible." The tone of her voice had changed and her eyes seemed to have deepened in color, a subtle glow emanating from within them as she focused on me again. "Listen to my words, Victor and the rest will come. One last chance to tell me how you feel and if you are sure.... "

Moving to stand, my eyes remained locked on hers as the words of caution washed over me. "I'm sure, Lady. Please. Show me."

If I could have sparred a moment to gasp I would have. The craving was overwhelming even though I'd thought myself prepared. As Celeste's blood continued to flow down my throat in steady swallows, I saw her even more clearly. The call to take her was not entirely unlike scenting a fairy, but far more intense, more primal. With a fairy it was the draw of their magic, the supernatural. This was something rooted in human nature, a call straight to the predator within.

Time seemed to become relative. I relived Celeste's stalking like I was there in her place, watching the innocent's coming and going with my own eyes as she went about her business, unaware of what lurked nearby. Her clothes and the rest of her last hour alive blurred together as the memory shifted into the moments before Celeste first sank her own fangs into soft and scented flesh. 'We' had enthralled her with thoughts of things she was too innocent to think about and too shy to confess too. Wrapping her in 'our' arms, the soft slip of a girl, roses the scent that lifted to 'our' nose as 'we' breathed in deeply. Her skin was as soft as the finest silk and 'we' couldn't help but run 'our' hands up and down her arms. Nuzzling her neck and taking one last deep breath 'we' whispered, "I'm sorry ma petite but I am a damned soul and you are the nourishment I need to continue." 'Our' fangs sunk in swiftly and from there... Her blood was that of the purest spices, the finest fabrics in the farthest corners of the world. The painter splayed the crimson red of her blood across the canvas in broad strokes and a moan escaped 'us'.

Hearing moans with own ears, not in the memory, my mind seemed to split. As deep as I was within Celeste's thoughts, in her mind, I couldn't help but be aware that the memory of girl's blood, drawn from her, and my very real bite, all had blurred and driven memory and madness into one.

Celeste's projected voice seemed to be from a distance, at first, but slowly it gathered up pieces of my wit, my sanity, and I started hearing the words within the sounds. I pulled back from her neck slowly, almost panting with the effort of reeling myself in. My eyes, though, were exultant as I came out of the haze enough to speak. "Intoxicating doesn't even begin to describe it. I feel as though I've been cheated, all these years, never hearing a call of blood like that. I wonder if it is because I didn't know it could exist."

She shook her head, her hair tickling my fingers where they still rested on her arms, and I caught the thought that she could have pushed me to take in much more but at the last minute had eased off from the memories enough to remain in control. "I do not know amour. I can tell you I feel cheated for all your kind who do not heed this call or even know about it."