Archive of Our Own

I think we were still in Italy when it started. We heard the whispers of death close to us, if it was simply the mortals fear mongering thoughts or something else we couldn't be sure, but we were intrigued. It wasn't like the presence before, we weren't being followed by another coven, In fact we have since learned the Paris vampires were quite antiquated compared to the rest of our own, to put it kindly. No, Gabrielle and I were hunting spirits, calling out to the rest of the preternatural as their kin only to receive little back. At least we were the two of us then.

She disappeared often these days. While I was busy with Armand's curses coupled with Nicki's looks of hatred plaguing my mind, Gabrielle seemed to be flourishing into a nomadic lifestyle. Months would pass before she'd come back looking dazed and unkempt in a way that triggered all my impulses to take care. I often wanted to clean her under a waterfall, to dress her up in the most beautiful garment I could find so that she'd accompany me to a ball or an opera, just as we walked through the forest together when she was here.

The haunted places were something fun for both of us, I think for her it was the exploration aspect as much as the looking for answers about our origins and such. I'll admit I often looked for answers, if spirits lingered could I hold on to any human connections without having to make more of us? Maybe that was the missing key to protect me from Armand's warnings. If I could stomach seeing loved ones die again and again, perhaps we could live out eternity with them as shades without the loneliness of their silence or the risk of madness. That is, if ghosts were even real, which I couldn't just take for certain.

I suggested the place we were currently going to, no possessions this time, just some recent apparitions, a house. We made a small journey out of it, back to Florencian bridges for the next week or two. This was a relatively modern place next to a beautiful clearing, it must be a stunning view from inside. Gabrielle wore light clothes, less restrictive than mine, but otherwise we looked like quite a pair, sneaking around a cellar in the summer night.

We followed a stone path into the main entrance. Inside was dark, the walls were covered in citrus stencils, the wooden furniture covered in protective sheets. It could have been a lovely place in the sun, with people out and about filling the corridors with chatter, yet the only occupants seemed to be some small spiders, weaving a web along the staircase columns. A sense of blank nostalgia ran through me that didn't feel like my own, for all I'd known it could have been paranormal. 

I began imagining who could have lived here. Some high class locals? Italian rich inviting their fellow well off non-aristocrats to a dance that would extend well into the evening a few rooms to our left. Maybe that happened years ago before the dress silhouette shifted with it becoming uncouth to publicly wear your most extravagant clothing. Maybe before I was even born little children stumbled in these narrow hallways with their big rococo dresses making them lose balance.

Next to me Gabrielle hummed thoughtfully while looking at an old porcelain cabinet. Hand painted little pots and plates were spared from the dust thick in the air. We didn't own something like this back home, if anything that fine and fragile ever went inside the old castle it would surely come out broken. She wiped at the glass separating the tea sets and us, then turned from it completely.

"Have you ever been to a place like this before?"

I don't know what made me ask it, I knew Gabrielle had traveled before getting married to my father. Lived in Naples, London and Rome as a child with her own patriarch. I think I had drifted off in my fantasies of this place during its days of glory, in doing so they had gained too much detail. One of the little girls in those wore a yellow dress as well as having big blond curls draped over a kittenish face, I just couldn't help looking at Gabrielle. She looked at me from over her shoulder while pushing forward into the place.

"To a haunted house? I can't say I have."

I guess I wasn't that specific with the question. What I knew of her life from before was mostly vague details, so I pushed a bit in curiosity. When I was little she'd tell me stories, show me pictures of Venice along with books she had brought from St. Petersburg. I loved imagining what it felt like, being a child traveling across Europe, unshackled to a particular place as we were in the countryside. Did she miss it? 

The worst I could get now is the denial to know her. One might think going back to all these places would have sparked memories she'd like to share with me, nevertheless we spent more time apart than ever before. I stalked humans in search of companionship that could never come with what I was, meanwhile she came up with her own strange philosophies, in the end she had little interest in revisiting her past with me.

"I mean a country house, spacious and modern. It's charming, different from what I've seen in Paris."

She also didn't have much interest in listening about Paris. It was thanks to her sacrifice I had been able to see the realities of city life. Listen to the choir of Notre Dame, see the misery and pageantry walking next to each other in the same filthy street. If I tried to rationalize it is likely my life there simply wasn't interesting for her, I had shown the gist in the night I turned her, plus dwelling on it often came with the bitter taste of knowing the rest of the story. Be that as it may it didn't mean she couldn't be the one reminiscing, an eternity remaining a mystery to all that know me didn't sound appealing at all.

"It is, huh." She did a quick overview of the entrance with her eyes, "Keep your eyes open then, we could find something for your place."

She still preferred to steal whatever she wanted rather than simply purchase it. While it is common practice with vampires, I didn't really feel the need for it, now having more funds than ever in life. Albeit, if she wanted to decorate the place there was a possibility this meant she'd spend more time there, come to me more often. I remember the cold stone walls from the Auvergne, bare except the unnerving suits of armor, in contrast with the paintings I've chosen for my newest house.

"Maybe they have some decorative swords." I acquiesced.

We move in and out of rooms. A big dining area, a lavatory, some guest bedrooms. Nothing moved, no ghost screamed. I almost suggested we were misled since there was nothing here, but there was something sad about this place. Unfamiliar although not unwelcoming. Like a stray melody floating in and out of focus as we passed the halls.

I couldn't tell if Gabrielle had been affected as I was. She kept ahead of me as if lost and looking for something. We exchanged quips about the place, I found some matching ribbons we could tie in our hairs and she seemed pleased with me. I wanted to tell her to slow down and that we wouldn't find a fossil in this family home, yet I merely kept close to her the whole time. It felt rude to interrupt her for some reason. I remember posing if she would be willing to go dancing anytime soon as we passed the ballhall.

The melody from before became more clear the more time we spent in the house. It was a soothing Italian voice coming from upstairs accompanied with some back and forth cracking, like of the new rocking chair I'd seen in some travelers' memories. I looked at her as if asking for permission to go there, like I was intruding in a personal matter. She agreed, hence we went back to the staircase. 

Up there the song was louder, I asked Gabrielle if she knew it, that said she just murmured that it's something one would sing to children and didn't elaborate. The first door we saw was half opened. It was there in that bedroom, next to a vanity, we saw it.

"Hello children."

The ghost was an old woman with grey curls, delicate cheekbones and a mix of smile and frown lines. She wore stays with a chemise, as if she was caught off guard while getting ready for bed. Next to her were combs and an empty jewelry box. She looked us over wistfully. After she resumed her singing when we were too stunned to respond right sway. She moved side to side with the song, which was causing the creaking. I couldn't get my eyes away from the apparition then, like it would disappear if I dared look away.

“Hello.” Gabrielle broke me from my trance by responding. I couldn't read her emotions as she said it. Did the ghost scare her? Was she excited to have found something? Was she indifferent by its very existence? I'd have to look at her to know which I couldn't. Even if I did, she kept guard of her thoughts a lot better than I did. As a result it was entirely possible her face wouldn't reveal anything. The ghost fixed its eyes on Gabrielle and smiled. 

“Well, aren't you a beauty? Don't be shy, sit beside me.”

The spirit patted down the cushion next to her on the vanity, which didn't remove any of the dust there. Even in its dilapidated state, the room was inviting. A four poster bed with mauve sheets, unlit candles in the ornate nightstands. A window overlooked the cellar we passed entering the property. There were some plush armchairs aside from the long stool Gabrielle was invited to. This room smelled like a mix of all the places I've ever felt happy in. 

Gabrielle pulled at my wrist so we'd approach the thing together, she sat across the phantom while I stayed close. Like I thought, now that I could see her face it was like a mask to me. I waited to see if the spirit would turn malignant, would lunge at us like we did to humans, but the old lady kept calm.

“I don't remember faces like yours, you are related right? Do we know each other?”

I looked at Gabrielle waiting for her to answer, as the spirit hadn't addressed me when asking. Gabrielle only locked eyes with me for a second before going back to focusing on the woman. I take that as my cue to say something, clearing my throat while putting on a smile.

“Yes, we're related. No, I don't think we had the pleasure to meet, this is a lovely place you have. I'm Lestat and this is Gabrielle.”

The specter only hummed. I'm not sure if it didn't fully hear me speak or if it simply didn't bother turning to me, which is a bit rude. She stayed looking forward, alternating between a lost gaze or concentrating on Gabrielle. Should I ask her name too? Some cultures thought it significant, knowing a shade's name. I think the specific folklore I was thinking about said it gave you power over it if the creature turned against you, I read this one book on Egyptian mythology back in-

“You have beautiful hair, it reminds me of my granddaughter ” She looked away as if said granddaughter would come into the room at any second, only no one came through the door. She tilted her head at Gabrielle and asked: “Would you let me brush it, child?”

And wasn't this a bizarre request? It threw me off my train of thought. I looked over Gabrielle's blond hair. Vampirism had rid her of most of her grey, even so I could still pick some out in her braid. It could use some brushing now, though I would hope if she needed help she'd come to me instead of a specter. 

“Maybe later.” She answered. Did she not want to anger the ghost with rejection or was this a ploy to make the thing stay longer with us? She wasn't actually considering letting the unknown creature touch her, right? The old lady nodded, understanding as ever, next she turned to me for the first time, eyes up to where I standed.

“Don't feel left out. You, young thing, are also quite dashing. Did you have something to ask?”

And I did, didn't I? Who was she? Was she aware of what she was? Was she a dead mortal or an entirely different being? Did she own this house or were spirits traveling little things? What happened to make her stay unlike others? What about us, did she recognize us as fellow undead? Do we fool her as humans like with others? There were huge amounts of questions to ask. I couldn't pick one to start with, I just moved my lips around with no words at all.

“Why? Are you busy?” Gabrielle asked. Not the one I would have picked. The elder giggled, putting a wrinkled hand over her mouth politely.

“Oh yes. I'm working on a dote for my little one. She'll be off all by herself soon, so I want her to have some of my things.” The ghost looked warmly at Gabrielle, “You must know how lonely it is in the beginning, right? My son's girl is still just a baby, but I'm afraid no extra time makes the transition easier.”

Gabrielle smiled tightly before she nodded once. I didn't have anything to say to that. I wondered if this child would show up here, also an apparition frozen in age or if death had separated these two forever. In that event this granddaughter probably wasn't a child at all now.

If Gabrielle had died before I could reach her in Paris, was there a possibility she'd be waiting for me for all eternity, unable to comprehend the passage of time? Would she look as she was that night, frail and starved or did the old lady choose this appearance? I shut this line of thinking down, as imagining losing Gabrielle as well was too painful for me.

“Is she around?” I ask. Better to center myself back in the conversation. 

Sadly, that wasn't a good question. The woman simply smiled. Her vision seemed less centered on me as she did, then and there she started singing again.

If Gabrielle and I could share thoughts, I think I would have been reprimanded here by the look she gave me. We should probably be more careful what we ask to a literal apparition, I just wasn't thinking. We had been on this game for months going to battle sites, fortresses and graveyards yet here it was, an actual different preternatural creature willing to talk with us. We couldn't lose the connection, we had to guide her out of this state once again, so what to do?

Gabrielle thought quicker than me. She questions: "Do you still want to brush my hair?"

The gamble worked. The ghost looked at her, immediately it was like the spark of life hit her again, eyes focused, posture straightened. She reached for an intricately designed comb, then seemed to think better on it. Could phantoms not hold on to objects?

"That would be lovely."

Gabrielle turns to where I'm standing while swiftly undoing her braid. She tossed her hair to the side where it puffs in waves and knots. I feel stunned, just observing as the scene continues to play out in front of me. At one point I see my reflection on the vanity echoing a confused expression at me, therefore I go to sit down in one of the closest chairs. The elder starts on a small knot with delicate fingers. Our unexpected host for the evening finally spoke, satisfied:

"What were we saying?"

"You were telling us about marriage." I responded automatically. With a stray wind she could be gone thus I didn't want to come on too strong, even so it felt ridiculous as I said it. Was I supposed to go fetch some snacks while we were at it making friendly conversation with a ghost? How was Gabrielle putting up with this? She wasn't compliant at all these days, I only catched glimpses of it back home. The elder startles me out of my dissatisfaction:

"Oh yes. What a dreadful situation that can start as. Years spent rotting away in houses where you have little say about what happens."

She shakes her head resigned, yet fond. Like she was talking about a child making a mess: what to do, but clean it up? I of course knew a lot of things one could do, but that's not the point I'm trying to make. Sorry, this whole situation has thrown me in a bit of a loop. I peek again at the long fingers touching Gabrielle's hair, something about it was unnerving to me.

"I'm very lucky, after my in-law passed, my son took me and his daughter on his trips. I've been all across the old continent before returning." The ghost finishes telling.

The wrinkled face talked of softness combined with patience, something motherly and almost hypnotic about it. I respond again, trying to keep the conversation going for some reason:

“Uhmn yeah, that is very lucky.”

What was I even talking about? The thing peered in my direction again, her curls bouncing around as she turned her head to me. I think her eyes were blue like ours used to be, if a little too ghastly by human standards.

“What about you, have you traveled much?”

I adjusted myself in the chair while gazing away. There is a real possibility I'm the least well traveled one in the room, in that case what to say? I wished the apparition went back to ignoring me now. And that is a weird consideration, there was a reason I wanted to speak to it before, I'm sure of it.

“Just started recently. My mother has been to a lot more places.”

I didn't even focus on the slip at the time. I'd been strangely relieved to have her eyes off me, like they were multiple, ever-present in this room instead of only a pair. How a creature fluctuates between apparently having no presence at all and this suffocating attention I couldn't wrap my head around. With that delay, it took a while after my mistake for me to turn to Gabrielle and the phantom had already spoken:

"Oh, wouldn't you tell me about it?"

The specter had turned back to Gabrielle, radiant. It had seemed a lot more interested in her this whole time, so its happiness didn't concern me. I glance back at Gabrielle's face, it surprises me that she looks to be studying me. I felt compelled to tell her to stop it, I felt very calm so why is she looking at me like that? Wait, what?

“I would rather not. We actually had a few questions for you.”

And we did! Gabrielle turns to the old woman sharply, which snatches her hair out of thin fingers. We had many questions about spirits, they came back like an avalanche in my mind. I don't know why they were ever gone in the first place, I wasn't normally as easily taken by friendly conversation.

The old lady tilts her head at Gabrielle, giving the impression of unawareness. She retracts her hand to her lap then responds, amicable as always:

“Oh really? I thought we were done with those. Ask away!”

Gabrielle frowns in concentration. She gets up, puts some space between them before she starts to go through all the things we wanted to ask, firstly with the big ones. I trusted her to interview the phantom as objectively as ever. 

“Do you know anything about vampires?”

The woman considers it for a moment, quickly passing her eyes over us before frowning herself. 

“No? Is that what you two are? There is something strange about you.”

Okay, good to know we did pass to her as humans so far, one less subject for inquiry. That aside, are vampires weirder than phantoms in some scales? I feel like we are at least equally strange, non? She begins looking us over once again, deep in thought – I'm unsure if I should feel insulted by the display. I don't think we could hurt her, even if we wanted to, so what's with the staring?

“About spirits? Ghosts? Whatever you are?”

I'm glad I'm not the only one that hasn't been sure what the proper term is. After Gabrielle's incredibly reasonable question the air went cold in the room. A chilly wind passed us blowing the hair out of the old woman's face in a crown of grey. I didn't remember if the window had even been open before this point, only that Gabrielle seemed alarmed by the breeze, so I guess not.

“My name is Francesca, if this is what you are asking. An impolite way to word that one, dear. Why don't you sit, relax a little?”

That was the first time we'd explicitly irked the spirit, which had revealed her name after all. I wouldn't describe Francesca as content at all at this moment. Her tone was clinging to the politeness we'd been shown thus far with clear disapproval mixed in. Gabrielle stood tall even with the wind throwing her hair in her face.

“No, there is something wrong about this place. I should have figured it out the moment we stepped in the foyer. Lestat, get up.”

I do what's asked of me. I stand plus start puzzling together what she meant. The feelings that seemed to come from outside, the confusion, how comforting everything here was. I didn't have the knowledge to name it, so I just settled on it being similar enough to the spell gift. This place was as thick with memories as with the dust in the air. I wasn't certain if our host was even aware of it, if Francesca had some control over it or if her mind was too lost in the mist.

“I'm sad to hear you don't like the house anymore. If you stay we can redecorate. It's harder for me, being dead and all.”

She tried to inject some humor at the end. I felt a little too disturbed to appreciate it. Gabrielle apparently had similar feelings by her disbelieving tone next.

“Why would I do that?”

Francesca continues like she had already figured everything out in her head and Gabrielle was being difficult on purpose:

“Well, if you are immortal there is no rush to leave. We could get you cleaned up and reintroduced to a feminine touch. It's been a long time since I've cared for a girl, still you look so much like her.”

It all circled back to the granddaughter in the end. That probably meant the little one wasn't around. I wonder if it had anything to do with the vision from before, if the house missed the blond child so much it projected her in my fantasy. Gabrielle besides me was fuming.

“A feminine touch? To do what? Will you have us attending ghost events?”

Part of me felt touched that she included me in the scenario. The invitation so far hinted to be quite individual. And yeah, in a reality where she wanted to stay in one place longer, I would be there, even to a ghastly formality. I smile at her, let Gabrielle have her own confrontation with me as support, it's not like we are being threatened. What would a ghost ball even entail? I could analyze that one at a later date.

“There probably is some jewelry left somewhere in the house, of course we'd have a lot of work before ever going back to society.”

Careless. That is about to throw her fully off Gabrielle's good graces. I thought she was working on a dote, shouldn't she know where the jewelry is? I sneak one last look at the empty box that has been staring at us this whole encounter.  

“You're not listening. I don't know how long you have been in this room, but I'm not playing the submissive doll here, if you miss having a little girl around go find one. Surely you haven't taken the burden of madness badly enough that it would be impossible.”

I regarded her coldness as justified here, therefore I stayed in the same place away from the conversation. The effects were immediate. The ghost still looked too aware to retreat into music, although it chose its words more thoughtfully. The specter was hurt and pleading:

“I didn't mean to offend with the offer. You lot merely carry yourself so tiredly. Traveling can be so exhausting, why not rest for a while? Keep an old soul company? Us women feel so alone most of our lives, surely you understand.”

“I reject your offer. I have lived this life and went past it. I'm free, nothing could make me go back.”

As always she was decisive in the face of stress. I understood there were roles Gabrielle wasn't keen to return to. A marquise, wife, mother. Apparently surrogative daughter was also out of question for the time being.

Francesca tried playing one last card. The most confusing of all in my opinion:

“Not even your flesh?” She gestures at me, what she finds leaves her satisfied again, her warmth turned patronizing. “Just look at you, you are no beast, You might have turned your coat but I still see you wearing one, so how ‘free’ are you really?”

She looked cross and grim and intensely bothered in a way I've only seen once, when she had fully realized how she would never physically change. The lack of control of ourselves that wasn't fully erased when one was turned. This is all wrong. Gabrielle wasn't supposed to look shaken, she was emotionally the strongest being I've ever known, a marble archangel at the threshold of a church. I felt selfishly that her vulnerability should never be in front of others, this stranger didn't deserve to see it. I intervened:

“Let's just get out of here.” Questions would have to wait for another opportunity. Francesca didn't even insinuate to know much. We could swap life stories another time if we ever met again in addition to me not being on the brink of lashing out.

Gabrielle and I move back to the door. The spirit sighed woefully, then finally disappeared from view. Although now that I knew it, I could hear the whispers of her song moving around. It's time to get out of this house.

The night wasn't over yet when we passed through the threshold. In the meantime we had some hours before we'd have to hurry to my place or bury ourselves, therefore I let myself be guided to the clearing in the property for a breather. We sat down side by side, the humid air next to the tiny lake helped clean my mind further. Gabrielle still had her hair obscuring a lot of her face, head propped on her knees. The wind catches on the trees around us the way it's supposed to, making tiny leaf sounds. I decide to interrupt nature's orchestra:

“She was wrong back there. I know I couldn't make you fully go back to society. You will indulge me every once in a while, yet I don't have power over you like that.”

There is silence after I finish. I think we might purely leave it on that note since she doesn't turn to me or make any movement in response, but after a while she said:

“Do you know what I hate the most about it?” She clarifies, “Formal society?”

I do my best to guess. I don't think we ever went over that in plain french. I come up with pretty good reasons, in my opinion. 

“The structures? Rigid dress codes and rules?”

“The people.” She says.

The implications dazzle me, I don't think I'll ever understand her. She lets out a long exhale.

“I can't bear to hear their thoughts. The sad wives and ungrateful husbands of the world. I despise them. The sound of their shackles echoes in my mind followed by the feel of my ring finger burning. I don't want to keep reliving their misery in the blood, I don't want to stay infiltrated among them if I can help it.”

This was a personal tale I couldn't relate to. Humans were beautiful to me, I saw value in their pursuits of joy and goodness, even after being forcibly removed from humanity and remade in unfamiliar material. It sounded like staying close to humanity would make her mad. Even in my moments of pure franticness where I wanted to scream at their faces I couldn't imagine having a full break, the idea alone was agony.

She changes posture, sitting with her head looking up into the weald and dark sky. The moon was right above us, giving the lake a subtle glow. Though I couldn't really see her face with her hair down like this, she didn't look at me at that point.

“Sometimes I think about it. Disappearing in the wilderness and never returning. Or at least waiting till the culture is cleverer, if it ever will be. I could be a goddess somewhere remote, never hearing about this society's expectations ever again. Be an Other openly knowing those people didn't ever hold any power over me.”

It feels against my best interest to ask, still I can't stop myself from putting it out there:

“Then why do you come back?”

That gets me her eyes. Upon staring at them the answer feels too obvious, almost like I had been fishing for reassurance. We were trying to stay together, I wanted to travel through Europe before we went down to Cairo. Has this always been solely my idea? I swore she had wanted to come to Italy at some point, yet I'm not sure now. She confirms it nonverbally when my face shows that I got it.

The fact she doesn't say anything else forced me to reflect on what she just told me.

I can see her vision. The peace that not even trying to join a community could bring. No vampire or human rules to follow. Only, would the sounds in nature cover up my screams? I need noise. I need the distracting presence of a thousand voices. The constant shifts of relationships will always appeal more to me than the shifts of an ocean, at least as I am now. I don't long to be adored as an unreachable God as much as I yearn to be loved as a human would.

I've wanted freedom before. Back in the Auvergne with my failed escape attempts I understood what it felt like to be trapped. And I got to have that freedom, maybe that's where our differences started. However briefly, I've lived as an adult out there and I was happy, it was fresh in my head. Gabrielle lived the reverse, as free as a kid can be only to be immediately abandoned in a cage to waste away. Our cage. After I had my freedom my dreams shifted. I wanted to do good with my art, to grow old with…

Maybe the lesson of this evening was that the dead remain active players through our memories of them, through the integration of their life lessons into our life stories. I couldn't believe that many of us were born already doomed, despite everything. I feel like the biggest optimist ever when I answer her, even so as I say the words they ring true in my heart, one day the dead won't be here to rule the world.

“I believe the culture will shift. One day we will have to mourn the world we live in now. Are you ready to say goodbye to it?”

I knew if I ever step into Paris again it wouldn't be my city anymore, time will change the landscape in a way that will never change us. The enlightenment in the streets that molded the way I approached vampirism wouldn't stay forever, new philosophies would eventually take its place in the hearts of mortals. One day everyone we'd known will be dead, except the other undead, who regardless lived in a space of uncertainty. Potentially there comes a time where we all go into the flames with the ages, if I allow myself to be bleak for a second. I'm not ready for it. To outlive all I've known or to die myself.

Gabrielle looks at me like she could read my mind, and wouldn't it be nice, if she had all these answers? If she had been a being of infinite wisdom and I had finally convinced her to tell me. Her response isn't nearly as comforting.

“The world moving on from me doesn't concern me, it has never favored me when it mattered, I never belonged in it.”

Maybe she knew that wouldn't help me because she slips her arm around me then, as she did sometimes. I am larger than her, which never mattered when we had these rare moments. It's like we were two halves of a person, meant to fit like equals. I couldn't tell if I shrieked like a child clinging to comfort or if she became man sized at these times, perhaps a mix of both.

“I do care for you tho. I fear your extreme emotions, your attachments and how you will survive then being taken away from you. By time, malice or madness – it doesn't matter. Just don't think I don't love you, You remain the comfort who hasn't betrayed me.”

It made me want to laugh, to sob. That there was someone who cared for me enough to worry. It was rare for Gabrielle to put it in words, yet for all my doubts she had come back all these months.

“Your attachment?” I can't help confirming, it’s in my nature to be greedy for love. She rubs her thumb once in my arm.

“Exactly. Don't make me grief you. That will make me truly alone.”

She preferred her own company often these days, but there is an oceanic difference between being on your own and feeling the isolation. On that account I decided to push in another direction. One lingering doubt I needed heeded while she felt generous:

“You could survive it though. You worry for me, but you could roam the edges of earth alone long after I'm gone, right?”

She huffs a quick laugh against me.

“Yes. I've survived grief before, survived feeling my body as not my own multiple times that this inhuman form might as well be the most me I've ever been."

And wasn't that an interesting idea? We don't choose how we are made the first time, those horrors were erased from our small minds to linger only with the one giving birth. Could it be that vampirism done right was the correction of that particular injustice? The reintroduction of choice in a do over where one decides to have this life? That wasn't my experience, though I could see Gabrielle having a similar perspective. She finishes:

"I have lived and been alone before you. Don't make me do it again tho.”

She lets go of me on the last phrase to look at me seriously. I wanted to promise her to be safe then, I know I'm stronger than she gives me credit for, only her fears weren't crazy. As well as she had taken to immortality, for me it often felt like debilitating emotionality on top of ardent impulses. I was still in my twenties and it was already too much. My needs often manifested as a growing resentment for her, I knew I couldn't fool her so I said, finally:

“Ask me again after I've grieved people too. You're right, I'm not sure how bad it will be for me, but if I can survive it once I can probably endure it again.”

I look at her. She smiles solemnly, and I'm grateful to be here with her. She goes to push her hair out of her face, hence I decide to ask:

“Can I help tie this?”

She nods her head then turns fully away from me. It feels like trust as much as wanting to hide her own expression. Back in there she simply tossed her hair to the side, probably not wanting to let the spirit out of sight. Here the breeze is messing up her waves, blowing them into our faces rather non-practically. 

I worked quickly on the leftover knots before I started braiding. Sometimes I like to braid my own hair like this as well, which reminds me:

“Oh, do you wanna match?”

I show her the ribbons I'd taken from the house. I'm not sure if she will want them anymore, after all the jabs at her disheveled appearance, even so it doesn't hurt to ask. I could go back alone to grab hers where she left it if she preferred it. We'll strut through the italian streets as two gentlemen soon, when we decide to go back, therefore I'll need to tie the ends either way.

“Yeah.” I hear her say.

I finish her hair with the violet bow before I quickly swap mine in as well. It felt correct to match with her rather than either of us with the rest of the world. For all our differences and faults, I always thought she was the only one who tried to understand me back home. We were lonely then, I am still, except now we will be together while we can, no stone cage needed.

As vampires we live in the stasis between events, we preserve the peace, we don't commit. I know in my bones that one day it won't be enough for her. That she doesn't want the half life of a creature pretending to be human as much as she rejects other philosophies. Doesn't want a coven or a life among humans. Inexplicably she still wanted me around, the unwanted child turned companion. I don't understand it. Even so, I'm thankful so I accept it. If her need to be alone and the attachment to me are contradictory, for now I tried to trust her to deal with it.

“I would have stayed with you in this spooky house if you wanted me to, just so you know. I know it isn't your style, nevertheless I would.”

“I know.”

Gabrielle rolls her eyes at me, nonetheless she seems in much better form, for that I'm glad I said it. This is about to become too emotional for her normally, yet so much goes unsaid between us, I decided to push the moment a bit more.

“I think I never really gave as much thought to the institutions of marriage before as I should. If you ever want to talk about it-”

“You know I dislike dwelling, Lestat. It's over.” She pleaded. I tried my chances one more time, because I felt I might regret it if I didn't. 

“Yes, I know. Just as you abhor polite society. Still, I'm not asking for you to be like me or abandon our current compromise, it's not either of our faults I need someone emotionally often in ways you cannot provide.” That didn't come out as well as I hoped. I tried recalibrating, “I'm only asking for a change in approach. Try to talk to me in a way that makes sense to me every once in a while. I'll try to listen, okay?”

Perhaps It was too much to ask of the eternal mystery that was Gabrielle, we had our moments, at the same time her mind would never be open to me and I'd never be enough like her for us to perform perfect harmonies. I couldn't tell what she was thinking when she responded:

“Okay, I'll remember that."

My brain turned back to the house, to Francesca. I imagined she also would want to keep her loved ones close, enough to want to cage the first birds that landed on her window, Gabrielle was simply too wild to be tamed. Family often isn't unconditional love as the scriptures would suggest, it's sacrifice that goes unappreciated. I knew that firsthand, yet seeing it repeatedly helped me reconsider it.

“I'll also try not to be so judgmental about you not wanting anything to do with our family. I know it makes you sad.”

Keeping contact was to me like maintaining roots, it felt natural to provide the best I could for my nieces and nephews, for the rotting castle of people that never loved us. I had done it for years already. I knew thoroughly the way my brothers were a lot like my father, didn't have an empathetic bone in their bodies to comprehend our horrors, it's no wonder she didn't want them in her life. Sometimes I thought my paternal heritage disgusted her as it scared me once. His anger was the only gift the marquis' youngest would get.

Clinging to a terrible past felt right to me. That life had some purpose, I didn't feel as lost when we couldn't move either way, when we weren't directionless and unable to change. I'm glad she went along with it when these little speeches got too loud for me to keep them in.

She lets out another sigh.

“Abandonment has different effects on us all. If family is still important to you, have at it. It simply isn't for me after everything.”

I think I can live with that.

I see her posture straighten. Gabrielle suddenly spotted something near the lake, next going to grab it at inhuman speed. She comes back with it later, lowering herself in front of me so we were facing again. It fits in her closed hand, she looked pleased when she opens it to show her finding and hands me the colorful rock. I looked back at her face, questioning. She explained:

“Since we didn't find anything for the house. This one doesn't have any connections to a past life, but I figured we can make you some jewelry with it. What do you think?”

I looked at the rock again. Unlike her jewels before, this wouldn't sell for any monetary value as it is. It's just a piece of nature, at the same time It's a gift I could wear among people.

“I like it a lot, thank you. Maybe it could be a ring, I like wearing those.”

I standed up before offering her a hand. 

“What about you, Gabrielle? Should we find you something for a necklace? I remember those being your favorites.”

She took the hand then looked at me incredulously while I patted the grass out of my clothes.

“You want to spend the night looking at rocks?”

I standed straight before shrugging at her. I started making deliberate steps towards the shore and smile:

“These aren't the best trousers for it, I'll admit, but yes. Let's do it.”

I can't recall if we made it back to my house that night. 

In the present day I decide to not go quite as deeply in my recounting of this story, or much of our ten years traveling at all. It's not important for the grander picture, plus readers are already being asked to read between the lines. Sometimes we were happy, often not. I still loved her, and she told me she loved me then at that clearing, In Auvergne and later in Cairo when we had our goodbyes.