#vamilypride

A moment of solace with the Malkavian girlfriends.

"I had a collection of addictions. I worked too much and slept too little. But it was the cigarettes that did the trick. Apparently smoking two packs a day isn't good for you. I was pretty much dead already.

One night I received a call from Ennio asking for help, desperate. I found him covered in blood. I'm a skeptical man, so I didn't buy the whole 'I was turned into a monster' act. Somehow, it didn't matter to me then. I took him home and took care of him, drying his red bloody tears, getting rid of that body he had drained. He asked me, why wasn’t I afraid? Or better yet, why didn't I turn him to the cops? He'd killed someone. But all I could think of was that I wanted another cigarette. I'd found an answer.

It wasn’t exactly all sunshine and roses afterwards; we had a great time before those fuckers from the Camarilla got him. Long story short, I’m an Anarch, and Ennio is being forced to join the Ivory Tower. It gets bloody sometimes, being on the opposite sides. But you know what? You might burn the whole fucking world to the ground, and we would find our way back to each other through the ashes. Nothing can keep me from him."

Well... the Seduction of Goratrix is a book that exists in-universe, so at least one person does or took a joke too far. And I'm sure it's been a topic of gossip amongst many apprentices...

"I worked in Mr. Swanson's shop for a few years. Helping with cleaning up and the refreshments for the customers at first, before I was given more serious tasks, like taking the measurements or pattern cutting. One day, I was staying after hours, just chilling in the back, working on my makeup skills. Then, I heard the front door opening, even though the sign said we're closed. This guy came in and said that his work doesn’t allow him to come in earlier. He wanted a custom-designed 3 piece suit... Listen, I know that I wasn’t supposed to, but no one else was there, so I just showed him some of the designs I made in my spare time. He rejected them. It stung, but I wasn't going to let that go so easily. I offered to make him something new, he agreed - and then, he kept coming back. He must've really liked the results, because eventually, I became his personal tailor.

After he Embraced me, it took some time before he opened up to me again. But soon later, aside from the “sire time” when he was tutoring me, we would just hang out and talk. It was hard not to fall in love with someone so caring. Sure, the "childe" thing gave me major weird vibes at first, but I learnt it's just nomenclature. He also told me once that "Kindred aren't made to love", and that everything I felt for him was only dictated by the blood I drank during the Embrace. It didn't explain how much he cared for me. We got together because we both made each other happy, and it took him time to accept that. Even if he still wouldn't admit it out loud!

We've heard it so many times. "Dating his childe? How long until he gets bored of that one?”, as it's apparently quite typical for Toreadors. He didn’t allow anyone to question his choices. I thought he would hide it from others, but no. If I wanted to dance, he would just grab my hand and lead me.

Would I decline the Embrace if I could go back in time? No. If I knew that we would get so close, I would ask him to do it much, much sooner."

"I don’t think people these nights can even understand what it was like for people like me in the 50s, not unless they were there too. I have words now, all the pretty words the young people made up for us. Queer is a good one, I’m that. Pansexual, or panromantic I guess, since sex isn’t really, you know, a thing so much. Polyam. GNC. Good words. I never really needed them, but it’s so copacetic kids have them now.

I do regret that I never got to go back to Riccardo, though. That man, yeah. I left him behind when I went to San Fran. He was the first one who ever really got under my skin. Eyes like the heart of a poppy and a heart like a poppy’s fiery petals… I couldn’t love him hard enough when I was 18 years old, struggling to be who I was. We hurt each other bad. But I was going to find him, and find a way love him like he always deserved. But then somehow, ten years had passed, and my sire had found me, and made me something else. I never went back. How could I? I never looked, either, to see what his life had been like. I hope he found a way to be happy.

How do I deal with loss - the question everyone needs answered, isn't it? Mortal and kindred alike, no one ever gets to go backward. Only forward. I deal with it as imperfectly as anyone else does, is the short answer. The long one … grief is just love with nowhere left to go. It's love interrupted, backed up inside until it fills your chest and aches in your throat. It helps sometimes to know everyone feels that same thing, that it’s not new under sun or moon. It helps to know that however much you loved the one you lost, there are other people out there just as deserving of your love, just waiting to be found. Love has seasons, like anything else. Everyone out there has something beautiful inside them, something worth loving. It hurts, it never ever stops hurting, when that love gets interrupted. But you have to let it, feel it, respect its lessons, and never fear it. Then you find the next person, and you give them your love again. While you still can, at least."