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somevagrantchild · 10 months

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Things Lestat wanted to do, but didn't

In his own words.

I wanted to drop down in the snow, and yet I was walking away from the dead wolves toward the dying horse.

I wanted to take [Gabrielle's] hands, but I knew she'd never allow it.

I wanted to ask [Gabrielle] how she was, if her cough was very bad that day. But I couldn't broach the subject to her.

Nicki started playing again, telling me to dance and to forget everything. Yes, that's what it could make you do, I wanted to say. Is that a sin? How can it be evil?

I wanted to tell [Gabrielle] what she had given to me, how it was to hear the choir in Notre Dame, to push into the jam-packed cafes with Nicolas, talk with his old student cronies over English coffee, what it was like to get dressed up in Nicolas's fine clothes--he made me do it--and stand below the footlights at the Comedie-Francaise gazing up in adoration at the actors on the stage. But all I wrote in this letter was perhaps the very best of it, the address of the garret rooms we called our home in the Ile de la Cite...

I wanted to embrace everybody I saw in the streets.

I wanted to say God protect me, I wanted to say it with every particle of me but I couldn't say it

Love you, I wanted to say, Magnus, my unearthly master, ghastly thing that you are, love you, love you, this was what I had always so wanted, wanted, and could never have, this, and you've given it to me!

Yes I wanted so to touch [Nicolas]--his hands, his arms, his face. I wanted to feel his flesh with these new immortal fingers.

I wanted to tell [Roget] to leave with Nicki. But something was happening to me.

Stupid little details embedded themselves in my consciousness: nymphs playing on the painted ceiling, the high gilt door handles and the melted wax in brittle stalactites on the white candles that I wanted to break off and crumple in my hand.

I wanted to force [Gabrielle] away, but I would not do it

Something in me rebelled against the charm of it, [Gabrielle] standing so boldly in these new garments with all her hair still full over her shoulders looking more the lion's mane now than the lovely mass of women's tresses it had been moments before. Then I wanted to ravage her. I closed my eyes.

And so we stand in this dungeon crypt, I wanted to say, and we prepare to lie down on stone beds, with only rats to keep us company. But it's infinitely better than that, isn't it? It has its dark splendor, to walk the nightmare terrain forever.

I wanted to say Nicki sat by your bed when you were dying, does that mean nothing? But how sentimental, how mortal that sounded, how positively foolish.

"In time [Nicki] will forget about us..." I wanted to say "about our conversation."

"I don't think they've killed [Nicki], Lestat," [Gabrielle] said. Again I tried to speak. I wanted to ask, Why do you say that, but I couldn't.

What do you want of me, [Armand], I wanted to say again. How can there be this forgiveness when there was such rancor only a short while ago? Your coven destroyed. Horrors I don't want to imagine ... I wanted to say it all again. But I couldn't shape the words now any more than I could before.

I wanted to talk about Nicki. I wanted to ask [Gabrielle] what lay behind his silence, what could she divine? But the words dried up in my throat.

I wanted to be with [Armand], what he was, and all the things he had said were true. Yet it could never be as he wished it to be.

I wanted to ask Armand, wasn't it possible [that Marius was alive]? Marius must have been so very strong... But it seemed disrespectful of him to ask.

I think I wanted to say something mean to [Gabrielle after reading the news of Nicki's death], to wound her and drive her away. But when she came up beside me and walked with me, I didn't say anything. I merely gave the letter to her so that we didn't have to talk.

I wanted to say something about [Gabrielle] promising, about the agents in Rome, that she would write. I wanted to say... "Keep your promise," she said. And quite suddenly I knew this was our last moment. I knew it and I could do nothing to change it.

Slowly, [Marius] turned and came up to me and took my right hand. The blood had rushed to my face. I wanted to say something but I couldn't. I kept staring at [Akasha and Enkil].

There were a thousand questions I wanted to ask [Marius]. But more significant perhaps there were a thousand statements of his I wanted to reiterate, as if I had to say them aloud to grasp them. If I talked, I wouldn't make very good sense.

"Lestat, we should have no more than two or three nights," he said sadly. "Marius!" I whispered. I bit down on the words that wanted to spill out.

I wanted to call to [Armand], to tell him that it was a lie I'd spoken to him, that I did love him. I did. But it was my time to be at peace with all things. It was my time to starve and to go down into the earth finally, and maybe at least to dream the god's dreams. And how could I tell Armand about the god's dreams?

I wanted to put my arms around [Louis] again but I didn't.

I took a deep breath and looked away from [Louis], wishing I could say what I really wanted to say. That I loved him. But I couldn't do that. The feeling was too strong.

I wanted to throw my arms around [Gabrielle], to crush her with kisses, to press my heart against her heart and forget absolutely everything else. The hell with these idiot fledglings. But the Porsche almost went over again as she made the sharp right out of the gate and into the busy street.

Oh, please, my darling, my beautiful one, please! I wanted to say. But my eyes were closing! My lips wouldn't move. I was losing consciousness. The sun had risen above.

I wanted to say something in apology [to Akasha], but I was staring at her throat again, hungry for the blood.

"Akasha," I whispered. I was looking beyond the open terrace at the stars. I wanted to say something, something crucial that would sweep away all arguments; but the meaning escaped me.

"You see, I cannot be other than what I would be. This is what you waked with your singing; this is what I am!" I wanted to protest, to deny it; I wanted again to begin the argument that would divide us and hurt [Akasha]. But I couldn't find the words as I looked into her eyes.

[Akasha] opened her arms. I wanted to move away; I wanted to rail against her again, against her threats; but I didn't move as she came closer.

Marius stared at me. He waited for me to answer, to take my stand with him. I wanted to make arguments; to reach for the threads he'd given me and take it further. But my mind went blank.

I wanted to take Gabrielle into my arms. I wanted to say all the things I knew I should say--that it was over and we had survived it, and it was finished--but I couldn't.

There was so much I wanted to say to [Louis], to ask him. Yet I couldn't find the words really, or a way to begin. He had always had so many questions; and now he had his answers, more answers perhaps than he could ever have wanted; and what had this done to his soul? Stupidly I stared at him. How perfect he seemed to me as he stood there waiting with such kindness and such patience And then, like a fool, I came out with it. "Do you love me now?" I asked.

How tragic [David's] words! I wanted to say I was sorry, sorry for all of it. But it was too late now for that. And besides, I think he knew.

A little sadness came over me as I spoke these words [to David.] I wanted to say, if I cannot have you as my vampire companion, then let me know you as a mortal.

I wanted to say more--to tell [David] how much I loved him, that I'd sought shelter under his roof and he'd protected me and that I would never forget this, and that I would do anything he wished of me, anything at all. But it seemed pointless to say so. I don't know whether he would have believed it, or what the value would have been.

[Louis] knelt down and looked up at me, resting his hand lightly on my shoulder. Lovely intimacy, but I wasn't going to admit it. I remained composed in the chair.

[Louis] grew reflective again and very sad. It almost hurt me to look at him. I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, but that would only have made him furious.

[Louis] couldn't bear to speak [Claudia's] name. I knew I could hurt him if I said it, like flinging a curse in his face. I wanted to say, You had a hand in it! You were there when I made her, and there when she lifted the knife!

The rooms were cozy and warm. I wanted to sink down into the clean bed, but I was too soiled for that, and insisted that I be allowed to bathe

I wanted to kiss [Gretchen] again, but I hadn't the strength.

I wanted to say more, how perfectly impossible it was to even consider [redemptions], but I was sliding away, into a dream.

I realized that [David's] hand was resting gently on my neck. I wanted to say something angry--Take your hand away, don't torment me--but I didn't speak.

I wanted to say something to [David]--something fine and important, and indicative of the deep love I felt. My heart seemed to be breaking with it suddenly, and I turned slowly to him, and laid my left hand upon his right, which held the rail.

I was so thrilled to feel the old physical lightness, the sense of dexterity and grace, that I wanted to start dancing. Indeed, it would be lovely to do a little tap dance up one side of the ship and down the other, snapping my fingers and singing songs all the while. But there was no time for all this.

"Think of India," I whispered. "Think of the mangrove forest, and when you were most happy..." I wanted to say more [to David], I wanted to say, no, not that, but I didn't know why!

I wanted to kiss her, she was beautiful again to me. But I dared not risk it. It wasn't only that I would have frightened her, it was that the desire to kill her was almost overpowering. Some fierce purely male instinct in me wanted to claim her now simply because I had claimed her in another way before. I was gone from the New World within hours

"Only you could have gone there," [Louis] said. "And come back." I wanted to say this wasn't true. But who else would have been fool enough to trust the Body Thief?

I suddenly realized that what I wanted to do most in the world was to turn to [Louis] and put my arms around him and weep on his shoulder as I'd never done. How shameful. How predictable! How insipid. And how sweet. I didn't do it.

[Louis] leant forward, closing the distance between us, and pressed his smooth silken lips against the side of my face. I meant to pull away, but he used all his strength to hold me still, and I allowed it, this cold, passionless kiss, and he was the one who finally drew back like a collection of shadows collapsing into one another, with only his hand still on my shoulder, as I sat with my eyes on the altar still.

I wanted to say something to [Claudia's memory] as I held the locket; I wanted to say something to the being she had been, and to my own weakness, and to the greedy wicked being in me who had once again triumphed. For I had. I had won. Yes, I wanted to say something so terribly much! And would that it were full of poetry, and deep meaning, and would ransom my greed and my evil, and my lusty little heart. For I was going to Rio, wasn't I, and with David, and with Louis, and a new era was beginning... Yes, say something--for the love of heaven and the love of Claudia--to darken it and show it for what it is! Dear God, to lance it and show the horror at the core. But I could not. What more is there to say, really? The tale is told.

I wanted to pick [Roger] up, tear open his wrist, drink anything that was left, but that was so ugly, and the truth was, I had no intention of touching him again!

I said nothing [to David]. I wanted to protest, but it was not an honest thing to do. I wanted to say that I would never, never treat humans like puppets. All I had done was watch Roger, damn it all, and Gretchen in the jungles. I had pulled no strings. Honesty had undone her and me together. But then [David] wasn't speaking of me with these words. He was talking about himself, the distance he felt now from the human.

I wanted to polish [Armand] with kisses, clean him up, make him even more radiant than he was.

I wanted to give [Mona my blood]. But it wasn't the right way to go about things. She needed her appetite for the hunt. I was flustered suddenly.

I got clear of Rowan and Michael tonight rather than disturb them, rather than create doubts that would harm them. It was hard. I wanted to ask them questions. But I had to give it up.

For one moment I wanted to put my arm around [Mona] just to stake my claim. My fledgling now, my baby. Shameful.

Rowan remained turned to the side, as though away from all that she'd said, her eyes closed, her hands limp on the table. I wanted to enfold her in my arms. I did nothing.

Mona's heart was broken. ... I wanted to wrap Mona in my arms. But we had yet to enter the main body of the villa. And I could hear shouting now.

I wanted to move through the jungles. The jungles I had not searched, and they were thick. Only this was not the time.

I wanted to see [dead] Ashler's eyes. I wanted to know if that was possible, to lift the eyelid and see an eye. But I didn't want to speak, or to ask for anything.

The walls [of Rowan's conference room] were a cool lavender and there were wonderful paintings on them, paintings by expressionists, full of rich and throbbing color. I wanted to steal them for my flat.

I didn't need blood but I wanted it. I craved it unbearably at times. Especially on these walks. I dreamt of the prowl and of the murder. I dreamt of the soiled intimacy--the needle of my huger plunged into heated hatefulness. But I didn't have the stamina for it just now.

"This can't happen," I said. [Making Rowan a vampire] "Never have I wanted anything so much, but it can't happen. You know that it can't."

What I wanted to do now again, of course, was drain every drop of blood out of [Flannery's] precious, adorable, curvaceous, hot little body. But I settled for kissing her, snuggling up to her, and pressing my lips against her warm throat, listening to that thunder of blood in the artery.

I wanted to embrace [Sevraine]. The table stood between us. I had half a mind to crawl over it. Instead I squeezed her hands ever more tightly.

I sat there at the end of the table, one knee up, the other leg dangling over the edge, the ax still in my right hand, and contemplated whether or not I wanted to go on chopping up this creature [Rhoshamandes]--well, just a little so that Benedict might hear him scream. I couldn't quite make up my mind.

"I love you," I whispered. In a low intimate voice, [Louis] answered: "My heart is yours." I wanted to weep. But there was no time.

I wanted to protest, to say [to Amel] "How the Hell do you know?" but I had the strong sense that he did know and he was right.

I wanted innocent blood, not minds and hearts like sewers, but innocent blood. Well, I wasn't going to drink innocent blood. Not while preaching to so many others that they couldn't drink innocent blood. No. I could not.

I wanted to talk to Louis forever, share with Louis what had been happening to me, and Louis was attentive, appreciative. This meant the world to me. But I knew Thorne and Cyril would never have approached if there hadn't been a good reason.

I wanted to say [to Armand] we all love one another. We all have to love one another. If you and I and Louis don't love one another after all we've been through, well, then all our powers mean nothing, and our dreams mean nothing, and so we have to love one another. And maybe I did say this silently and he heard it, but I doubted it.

I looked up at Fareed, and then to Louis. "Well, you two will survive, whatever happens," I said. I wanted to weep with relief.

I had a lot more to say to [Kapetria] but I didn't know what it was. I wanted to say that Amel was silent, Amel wasn't urging me to come with her, and that alone was reason for me to delay. Then for the first time it occurred to me: what would I do when Amel did say go to her?

I wanted to say [to Rhoshamandes] Amel was flesh of our flesh and blood of our blood, but I said nothing. If you really want peace in any world you have to learn to say nothing.

Scent of blood, delicious blood inside [Amel]. There was so much I wanted to say that I said nothing.

There was a great deal I wanted to tell [Mitka] about Louis suddenly, Louis who was immersed in the novels of Tolstoy, and had myriad questions about them which no one cared to answer, and how much Louis would love him right off. But I came back to the moment.

I wanted to ask if the girl had known [Mitka planned to bring her into the Blood], but why cause him more misery?

I wanted to ask all sorts of questions and, first and foremost, why Amel and Kapetria were here, but as I was glad to see them and Marius began to speak at once, I listened to him.

I wanted to talk further, to tell [Pandora] of all my recent reflections, that we had to love one another, respect one another, stop using our own loathsome nature as blood drinkers to justify the cruel treatment of one another, that I was in love with the world just now, and yes, as Marius had told me, not allowing for our true nature perhaps, having to ignore it. And I wondered what Cyril and Thorne thought of all this, traveling with me every night, being at my side, rarely speaking except in the more practical way. But I merely kissed her, and was thankful with all my soul that she wasn't suffering over the loss of Arjun.

I heard [Barbara] fasten the steel shutters over the blowing snow. I wanted to rouse myself, say No, please let the soft snow drift into the room with its tiny flakes, its white flakes that melted as soon as they touched the carpet or the damask of the chair, or the velvet of the coverlet beneath me.

There was more I wanted to say on this question of a trial. The rebel didn't recognize our authority to put him on trial. But I couldn't think for the sickness.

Words, I wanted to say, words and words. But I didn't want to offend Gregory, not for the world.

I wanted to say, "But what if [Gabrielle] is still alive?" But I said nothing.

I wanted to show [Rose, Viktor, Benji and Sybelle] a face of comfort and reassurance, but I couldn't move or speak.

There was a sketch pad on [Armand's] small table in front of the couch, and I saw a striking face on the page that appeared to be emerging out of a dark charcoal cloud. It was such a vivid fragment that I wanted to say something about it, but I knew it was not the time.

[Armand] heard me out when I told him what he already knew of Rhoshamandes's death, and how Marius's vision of the constitution and laws would be put into practice. I explained that newcomers were arriving even as we spoke. I think what I wanted to say was that no matter what we'd lost we would persevere, and the Court had not only recovered from Rhosh's assault but it had taken on a new strength.

"That is one of Lestat's many charms, that for all his mischief and ready wit, he is self-effacing. He doesn't quite understand what is happening around him." But I do understand, I wanted to say, and suddenly there came that quickening, that deep threat of an insight so powerful it would carry me to recesses of my heart I'd never explored before, and most certainly take me out of this moment. And I didn't want to be taken out of it.

Bonus IWTV (He's been at it from the very beginning): 'I wanted to talk to you so much. That night I came home to the Rue Royale I only wanted to talk to you!' 'What was it you wanted to tell me?' [Louis] asked. 'What was it you wanted to talk about?' [Lestat] only smiled, an insipid, near apologetic smile. And shook his head.

Lestat: I had to have [Louis], had to. Just the way I had to have everything I wanted; or had to do everything I'd ever wanted to do. That was the problem, and nothing [Akasha had] given me--not suffering, or power, or terror finally--had changed it one bit.

Also Lestat: I wanted to, but I didn't, 94 times

#vampire chronicles #interview with the vampire #the vampire lestat #favorite quotes #loustat #queen of the damned #tale of the body thief #memnoch the devil #blood canticle #prince lestat #prince lestat and the realms of atlantis #blood communion #I'm sure I'm missing some. Reblog to add your favorites!

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nalyra-dreaming · 11 months

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A criticism I see of TVC is that Lestat's too 'easily forgiven' through the series. What are your thoughts? IMO most of the vamps get forgiven quite easily for their shit, but maybe it's more notable with Lestat, plus his screw-ups can be so spectacular? I think Anne was aware of this trend tho - in TotBT when David forgave Lestat at the end, it felt like Lestat barely wanted him to? As if he was almost disappointed by the lack of consequences for his actions? I found that pretty interesting.

Hmmm, forgiven.... By whom?

Who is supposed to forgive him/them?

You bring David on here as an example, and yes, Lestat's reaction is interesting, but... what was David supposed to do? Lock himself away for years, evading Lestat, especially in the phase where he needed his maker and by extension Louis the most? David is too clever for that, and that is one of the things why I say that I like their dynamic in the later books, because... there is resentment, anger, and a sharpness there, with the force feeding (from both!) for example, which echoes that bringing over, and which colors their relationship.

But, I mean, even generally... who is supposed to forgive them...?

They cannot - and I would argue do not - forgive themselves (at least for long stretches of those books). They just, at some point, learn to live with themselves, and accept themselves. But forgiveness?

Lestat literally tries to kill himself, tries to be mortal again, and then has a run in with the Devil and God on his quest to find that forgiveness. He gets tortured by Angels in what can easily be called purgatory imho, and imprisoned and shackled by Maharet kept in that church for years...

And then... then he roams again, most of the time alone, still on the quest to forgive himself. Claudia and her ghost is an ever present presence, too.

I have seen that take before and it always left me a bit bewildered, because, again, in-universe... who is supposed to forgive him/them?

The other immortals? The other killers? Their victims? God?

Or the reader.

But the Vampire Chronicles are not seeking redemption from the reader, they are very clearly not apologizing like that. Lestat is an anti hero, they all are. They are killers, and none of them are the "good guys".

So yes, they "get forgiven" by the others, and in-story, because, let's face it - all the others there are killers, too, how exactly are they to judge another, and also... a lot of the books are written by Lestat?

Anne was "aware" of that trend, because it is an ever-evolving overall arc over the books. Even "Blood Canticle", flawed as it was, has Lestat wishing to be something he is not. It continues on, and "Blood Communion" is actually a try to allow these vampires the forgiveness they seek by allowing them their own rites, their own... church. In the adapted, almost literal version of the catholic one: "My body, my blood."

These vampires (and Lestat) are actually not forgiven easily, imho, because they cannot be forgiven by anyone... the only thing that begs their respective forgiveness is based in the relationship they have with each other.

These relationships go through a lot of ups and downs because of that. But ultimately even then... you cannot really hold out against someone forever (especially with the knowledge of the later books I'd argue), because they are the only ones you can hold onto? Their world is very limited, and they are eternal. Most of them know very well that they would hurt themselves worst if they burnt the bridges behind them completely.

And so there's grudges, little jealousies, a bit pettiness, but ultimately, they all know they cannot live without the other(s).

And so forgiveness has to happen, in a way, especially since they all know that they are... just as bad.

So for me... there's always the question of what is behind that statement of "Lestat's being too 'easily forgiven' through the series." as you put it here (not directed directly at you): What did the readers who think Lestat got off easily expect to happen, in-universe? What did they expect to read from the one telling the story? What did they expect from vampires, who kill for fun and hunger?

What is forgiveness here? What was expected? What did they think would have needed to happen? (And, I mean, we have suicide, purgatory, and redemption arc and finally communion, what exactly is expected??)

I'd love to hear your thoughts, if you like to, but to me... this isn't about "me" forgiving Lestat.

And I think... in-universe only he can do that.

#Anonymous #asks #iwtv #lestat de lioncourt #the brat prince #iwtv lestat #iwtv meta #the vampire chronicles #vc #vampire chronicles #forgiveness #blood communion #blood canticle #vc meta #ask nalyra

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