The Savage Garden

I saw Gabrielle behind Lestat. She stood so still in the shadows that she appeared a statue. Only her hands betrayed her, clutching at her temples.

I felt from her a sensation: a great vibration that began in the pit of her stomach. It was as if she were an animal caught in the snare of my sound, my music was a taut wire at her throat that might consume all she knew herself to be.

‘Too much feeling.’ The thought echoed in her mind, alongside fear.

Was her fear for herself, or for her son?

She sensed I had caught hold of her thoughts, and in her mind I saw her hands dig deep, clawing down into the barren dirt, where she buried her bloody, beating heart.

I thought - She, too, is repelled by this - by me. Not because I am false, but because I am true. Because I express what cannot be endured.

Her eyes flashed fiercely at me. She appeared calm now, as if no danger could touch her. But her voice rose in my mind - agitated, panicked, belying her usual poise.

‘Let him go, Nicolas. Let him live.’ She gasped. She strained now to keep her face impassive, to not let me see my music affected her too. But I already knew. ‘This is too much for him. You will destroy him. He will be tied to you as if you are a great anchor, sinking him to the depths of the ocean. Would you have one who cannot endure the sight of you shackled to you - to torture each other for eternity?’

My music faltered, just slightly… but I did not stop playing.

And Gabrielle swept more fully into my mind. Her voice became ice - clear and sharp as she said, ‘Do you believe he loves you? I do not need to tell you the truth of what Lestat feels for you. Witness it for yourself. There it is laid bare before you.’

She turned away, her long hair swirling around her, but her thoughts pulsed like ice, freezing the blood in my veins. ‘Untether him. And yourself. You have never known love. Free the both of you from this symbiotic hate.’

I felt as though her cold hands were around my throat, choking our music, and for an instant, my sound was severed. I looked again at Lestat, still cowering where he sat. He could not bear my music. He could not endure me.

—

I would prove my love!  

Not with tenderness. Because love is not tender.

I would brand him with the blade of my malice. I would sever him from me with a sword laced with poisonous words.

But I would set him free.

—

It’s funny by the way: I edited this down to fit it in an instagram caption, but in doing so, I realised it really did need editing itself. Not this extremely. But it needed it. I won’t change my original chapter though. That’s what I wrote then, and so - there it is. I really am a baby writer. I only wrote my first story in April/May last year. But it’s interesting. Here, I had to hold onto my every thought and feeling, and couldn’t let anything go.

The failures.

Why am I improvising for Raglan James, of all people?

Armand didn’t come out with me on Monday, so I made him his eye patch.  The only thing is, what do I play for him?  It’s hard to play for this episode, because WHAT DOES ANYTHING MEAN YET?  I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO FEEL!

So, I’m thinking, for the lack of anything else to think about about Memnoch The Devil.  I was going to use a quite from it… but nothing feels as though it fits.  Because Memnoch has Lestat’s eye, not Armand, and Armand has his own - I won’t spoil *that* - but it isn’t quite as this… and perhaps Armand’s eye is nothing to do with Memnoch.

“Blood… and breath…

Blood… and breath…

Steady rush of blood through veins of sentient flesh,

This body around me was now merely my nest…

And I, at last, have found some form of rest,

Away from feeling, and worry, in the hollow of his chest…

My claws embedded deep in his heart, at his breast.

He opened his eyes, but he did not see, he did not hear.

Those eyes had once been mine, but now I was merely the rhythm of him - gone from that inanimate mind.

I was not really any thing at all.

I was small enough that I could reside in an infinitesimal space.

But perhaps I could expand as vast as the universe entire, were I not shackled to him.

For I had no material self anymore, not beyond this beak I controlled.

But I was tied to him.

Though we were disconnected, we were still somehow part of the same being, locked within the same flesh.

Our flesh…

Blood… and breath…

I drove my coffin-nail beak unstoppably, inevitably on and on.

Tap, tap, tap - into his heart,

Rap, rap, rap - no end and no start.

He was mere flesh now.

His awareness, or lack thereof, was entirely separate to mine.

And everything was dark.

The world was gone.

There was no day or night.

There were no trees or skies or breathing things - except for him.

The only ocean was his blood.

The only moon was his mind.

The only sounds were the music of his body, and when she – the other - spoke in his mind.

The only meaning was his heart, and The Blood that it pumped.

I was tethered to his heart, my claws tightly embedded in the malleable flesh, such that I could not let go.

I knew only his hammering heart, and whatever I could conjure in my metallic mind.

I made sure that heart beat on.

Peck his pulse into the soft flesh, keep the tempo.

Peck the pain in a steady throb.

That was now my only job.

Tap, tap, tap…

Blood… and breath…

Blood… and breath…

Rap, rap, rap…

Into the heart…

He breathed and he ate and he slept the death sleep.

He went on.

Blood… and breath…

And so did I.”

Can I unnerve you?

Tried it on a real piano

Hit The Lights

On your way out, on your way out.

I should have listened when you told me how you felt.

I tried to make it better,

I wrote a hundred letters,

When your melody runs through my mind oh how I melt.

I wrote a hundred songs, I tried to bring you along,

But you disappeared and now I’m left here feeling sorry for myself,

With my mind and nothing else,

Feeling sorry for myself;

I really love you soo good damn (?) much,

Breaks my heart to see you losing touch

With all the things that you used to care about,

I guess just hit the light on your way out

Hit the light on your way out.

On your way out.

Hit the Lights - words with credit to willefroggie on X.

Lolll… this is so terrible & ain’t gonna resemble the eventual song at all (it’s just musescore playing it from the notes I put in!) but The Beautiful Unwell tried to read a blurry half-complete screengrab, because we may not be beautiful, but we make up for that in unwell, oh YEAH! Sorry I don’t sing the whole thing.. I mean… what’s the point. 

I couldn’t make out of the chords are supposed to somehow go in the un-chorded bit… and even the chords I wrote, I mean, some of them are blurry fuzzes… and some of the notes it was hard to read… and then I had to add an odd note here and there to fit the words. BUT THIS HAPPENED! It’s your daily curse from me! 🔥😭🌊💀

Ok…

Hit The Lights On your way out, on your way out. I should have listened when you told me how you felt. I tried to make it better, I wrote a hundred letters,  When your melody runs through my mind oh how I melt. I wrote a hundred songs, I tried to bring you along, But you disappeared and now I’m left here feeling sorry for myself, With my mind and nothing else, Feeling sorry for myself;  I really love you soo good damn (?) much, Breaks my heart to see you losing touch  With all the things that you used to care about,  I guess just hit the light on your way out Hit the light on your way out. On your way out.

Apologies to Daniel Hart, as I’m sure this bears zero resemblance to the eventual song.

I dunno about haunting Lestat, but I am HAUNTED by this moment... I have to write about it to try to expel it a bit.

It’s uncanny, unhinged: like Nicki is gone, and it terrifies me!

How does Joe do that? What is happening?!

Nicolas! Come back! Where are you? You are not there! I am so unnerved I want to cry. HELP!

It’s like there is no-one behind the eyes. You can understand why Lestat couldn’t bear to look. But my heart. Help!

This is only a fragment. I have no context. I can see exactly why Lestat would look & see the absolute absence of the person he once loved.

But surely he’s still in there? 😭 I don’t know what the show will do. But isn’t he in there? Just dissociated, shrunk into himself? Or perhaps he chose it intentionally. Or is he trapped somewhere deep inside? Is he just so far away he’s almost unreachable? Or is he gone? Oh God. That’s what Lestat must feel/fear?

The thing is, I don’t know! From this fragment, I cannot tell! And that’s terrifying! Where’s the rope to cling to?????

This is from a fraction of a second. What will the whole thing do?

HELP.

It very much looks as though both parties have vampire nails?!

Is it Lestat & Nicki & maybe Lestat somehow trying to draw him from the post-turn stupor? If we get that ever?