#about lestat

Still find it surprising that he has written about us for several chapters in a book and, going by the questions I have been asked, there are no explicit scenes to clarify these matters. If there were, maybe it'd be worth reading.

Anyway. Of course he made me climax. Although I was in my early twenties, unless I'd drunk to excess, climax was never that far off.

There are too many, aren’t there? I’ve been alive for a very long time, after all...

Rhoshamandes, who has started me off on this journey and without whom my life would have ended long ago and, likely, in a whimper.

Benedict, whose soul is somehow pure and tainted at once, but whose sweet smile never fails to touch upon my heart.

Everard, in whose arms I could find comfort and warmth when there was none to find anywhere else and whom I hope to have given the same.

Lestat, who tore off the shrouded, dirty veil of restraint the cult had wrapped around all of us.

Gabrielle, who was there to aid him, who taught me more about independence with a glance from her fierce eyes than I’d ever learned in all the centuries before them.

Nicolas, who’s made me dance and whose music I carry around within my soul, to set me aflame every time I move to it.

That’s a good question. Yes and no.

Lestat, to me, is often a figure bigger than life. That’s how it has been since I was first introduced to him through Louis’ words. That fiend, who somehow still seemed to be impossible to resist. Some things are hard to put down in writing and the way Louis sounds when he talks about Lestat, that look in his eyes? Nothing could capture that. But it certainly captured my imagination. There’s a reason why I went to seek him out, waited for him in that house in New Orleans. Then, later on, when I first saw him in the music videos, when I heard him sing? He was just as I imagined. Vibrant. Terrifying. Magnificent.

When I actually saw him live on stage, I probably didn’t feel that differently about him than any of the teenagers who stared at him, all mesmerised. With my newly immortal eyes, perhaps I just saw even more reason to swoon.

There are still so many of those moments when Lestat is The Vampire Lestat and it brings me back to that feeling every time.

However, I’ve since come to know Lestat the man and he isn’t some far off figure that can only be looked up to and that sweeps you up with grand gestures and rakish charms. He is flawed and his flaws bring him down to Earth or even below it just as often as they make him soar above us. I don’t crush on this Lestat, the real Lestat, but I love him as a friend and I am lucky to have gotten to know him this well.

For the most part, nothing that was his intention or under his control. Nothing anyone could change.

Making me realise I need love. Proving me right in being unable to handle. Wanting me destroyed. Cloaking in ignorance when convenient. Getting to choose when to think deeply. Warping who I am or was and using that to justify whatever he wants to project onto others.

I haven’t even read his side.

Why would I give a damn what anyone else thinks, when I don’t care what he thinks?

As if the dark shroud that had been suffocating us for so long had been cut through in a fell swoop, letting in a light that was brighter and colder than the sun.

They were beautiful. The way I’d have imagined angels, it hurt to look at them, but I didn’t want to look away. They let me breathe, they gave me freedom. It was like Heaven and Hell ceased existing, because there would be no need for them if such creatures walk the Earth.

I thought that he’s the coolest guy I ever laid eyes on. No wonder he became a rockstar in no time.