Lestat De Lioncourt
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Post by Lestat Sun May 18, 2014 4:21 am

>> I assume, I need no introduction. << Lestat_D_Lioncourt


A`hem...  But, allow me to introduce myself, anyway.

Je suis le vampire, Lestat ...

Some, choose to refer to me as "The Brat Prince". Imagine that. ^^

I`m immortal. More or less.
The light of the sun, the sustained heat of an intense fire.
These things might destroy me. But then again, they may not.

I've been on this pathetic Earth for centuries.
And believe me, one becomes relatively BORED after a while.
I am constantly on the look out for new ways to amuse myself.

(yawn)

Seems that everyone else had one of these ridiculous things.
And with an ego like mine, I REFUSE to be the last literary character without one.
At least now, I can't lose my diary to groups of idiotic supernatural psychologists.
The internet is also the utmost way to advertise my glorious being.

So here, I am.

Ah, Lestat. (grin) Prince, Victorian gentleman, rock-star, poet and immortal father. I have been many things, cheris.

Worship the beauty of The Brat Prince ~ as I, have arrived.

You know who, I am?
Then skip the next few paragraphs. For those whom I have not met before, I want this to be love at first sight.

Behold: your hero for the duration, a perfect imitation of a blond, blue-eyed, six-foot Anglo-Saxon male. A vampire, and one of the strongest you'll ever encounter. My fangs are too small to be noticed unless I want them to be; but they're very sharp, and I cannot go for more than a few hours without wanting human blood.
Of course, I don't need it that often. And just how often I do need it, I don't know, because I've never put it to the test. I'm monstrously strong. I can take to the air. I can hear people talking on the other side of the city or even the globe. I can read minds; I can bind with spells. I'm immortal. I've been virtually ageless since 1789.

Am I unique?
By no means. There are some twenty other vampires in the world of whom I know. Half of these I know intimately; one half of those I love. Add to this twenty a good two hundred vagabonds and strangers of whom I know nothing but now and then hear something; and for good measure another thousand secretive immortals, roaming about in human guise.

Men, women, children... Any human being can become a vampire.
All it takes is a vampire willing to bring you into it, to suck out most of your blood, and then let you take it back, mixed with his or her own. It's not all that simple; but if you survive, you'll live forever.
While you're young, you'll thirst unbearably, probably have to kill each night. By the time you're a thousand years old, you'll look and sound wise, even if you were a kid when you started, and you will drink and kill because you cannot resist it, whether you need it anymore or not.
If you live longer than that, and some do, who knows? You'll get tougher, whiter, ever more monstrous. You'll know so much about suffering that you will go through rapid cycles of cruelty and kindness, insight and maniacal blindness. You'll probably go mad. Then you'll be sane again. Then you may forget who you are.

I myself combine the best of vampiric youth and old age. Only two hundred and some years old, I have been for various reasons granted the strength of the ancients. I have a modern sensibility but a dead aristocrat's impeccable taste. I know exactly who I am. I am rich. I am beautiful. I can see my reflection in mirrors. And in shopwindows. I love to sing and to dance.

What do I do? ~ Anything, that I please. ~

Think about it... Is it enough to make you want to read my story?

Have you perhaps read my stories of the vampires before?

Here's the catch: it doesn't matter here that I'm a vampire. It is not central to the tale. It's just a given, like my innocent smile and soft, purring French-accented voice and graceful way of sauntering down the street. It comes with the package. But what happened here could have happened to a human being; indeed, it surely has happened to humans, and it will happen to them again. We have souls, you and I.

We want to know things; we share the same earth, rich and verdant and fraught with perils. We don't either of us know what it means to die, no matter what we might say to the contrary. It's a cinch that if we did, I wouldn't be writing and you wouldn't be reading this page.
What does matter very much, as we go into this story together, is that I have set for myself the task of being a herb in this world. I maintain myself as morally complex, spiritually tough, and aesthetically relevant a being of blazing insight and impact, a guy with things to say to, you!


So if you read this, read it for that reason that I am talking again, that I am frightened, that I am searching desperately for the lesson, and for the song, and for the raison d'etre, that I want to understand my own story and I want you to understand it, and that it is the very best story I have right now to tell.



If that's not enough, go read something else...  Twisted Evil



Your friend, in Darkness and in Light.
Lestat De Lioncourt.


Last edited by Lestat on Mon Jun 05, 2023 9:31 pm; edited 7 times in total
Lestat
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Post by Victor Mon Dec 15, 2014 11:09 pm

So, this is where I find you? Hiding in the shadows, as per usual.
Though I must say, what an interesting introduction you have, it`s much better than your old one, you`ve added a few words along the way, but it is a much better read.
Victor
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Post by Lestat Wed Mar 21, 2018 10:18 pm

I had a thought; (dangerous I know)
Hmm... I should update my profile picture with a more recent one.

This my old avatar, as you all know... C'est moi!
>> I assume, I need no introduction. << Lestat10

But time marches on and to be honest, I thought I should come out of the shadows and show my beautiful face once again.
>> I assume, I need no introduction. << Lestat11

It has been just over a decade since I updated my likeness, not bad... if I do say so myself. bounce

Come out, come out wherever you are!
Lestat
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Post by Louis Thu Mar 22, 2018 12:50 am

Welcome Home

Alone,
out cast in the in crowd,
heart beat,
beats through the break beat sounds,
leading me home,
war chants peace chants,
more drums lead me home,
home,
more of a fantasy,
than a reality,
haven’t had a home,
as we,
all march to the beat of corporate war drums,
poetry,
makes the madness seem more bearable please spare another poem,

Instagram hashtags,
the first lamb gets the last laugh,
epigrams and blood baths,
emojis and Adobe,
cronies as goalies,
bad math makes three halves,
empty proteins faux pas homies,
and ceremonies that feel phony,
see the hokey is pokey,
and Dopey’s all smokey,
7 Dwarfs one princess,
no support or precepts,
just for sport we shot at a bogie,
because the radar blipped,
life’s a trip,
let’s go half on a hoagie no baloney,
if you say you’re my homie then act like my homie,
don’t Facebook friend me then see me in reality and act like you don’t know me.
as we,
get lost in a narcissistic virtual reality,
where we are all voyeuristic spies,
I post a poem about all of this in totality,
and only get like 50 likes,
she posts a picture of her face on a date,
and she gets 50, 000 likes,
I don’t get enough respect for the words I write,
but somebody has to keep our words alive,

as the walking dead,
march to the corporate war drum,
I write a poem about it all,
nostalgic for the futuristic postmodern,
oh pardon,
did I offend your common sense,
well then,
you must be off balance with your oxymoronic opulence,

we are all narcissistic voyeurs,
voyeuristic narcissist,
caught up in polyamorous politics,
Demicans and Republicrats,
it’s dirt poor and filthy rich,
and that’s a fact but enough of this,
let’s get back to that,
let’s get back to that,
to you and me and that heart beat,
that beats as the orchestra’s score of our Soul’s soundtrack,

out cast,
in the in crowd,
heart beat,
beats through the break beat sounds,

leading me home…

I am already gone,
writing in the zone,

see,
we will all be free eventually…

Just give me a sign,
that there’s a Soul inside that shell,
Ghost in The Sea Shell,
Devils in the details,
so professional even when we’re wingin’ it they can’t tell,

oh well,

times up,

and I’m down,
your Highness,
so show me a sign,
that you’re still alive let’s,
see a wave of the hand or a sparkle of the eye,
so we can make this time the time of our lives,
as we dive free into thee divine design,
all thee preexisting lines are redesigned and redefined,
life,
in the prime,
high,
and alive,
alone,
out cast in the in crowd,
heart beat,
beats through the break beat sounds,
leading me home,
so never say goodbye,
Instead. Welcome Home…
Louis
Louis
De Pointe du Lac
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Post by Lestat Fri Mar 23, 2018 1:57 am

Thank you Louis. I said; "I would return." I cannot forsake this place, no matter how much I try.
Lestat
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