Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me, and as we know, I can't make money off this. I don't do it for money
anyway..

Spoilers: Everything up to Tale of the Body Thief.

~~~

Speaking from experience.. It never hurt to be a good looker. In mortal life, well, that lesson was readily available to me,
and I don’t mean merely in the subtle invitations from uncautious women, but other distractions always kept me from
paying attention. No, though it definitely secured various concessions for me then, I was securely unaware of it. Even
Lestat’s seduction... I saw his eyes fixed solely on my properties.

It has taken some time for me to realise the difference physical appearance can make. It is odd, isn’t it, that this
enlightenment should come about at a time when I have gorgeous creatures as my cohort who could easily win any
competition judging physical appeal. Despite their own striking looks, I find myself appraised, observed, desired among
them. To read Lestat’s descriptions of me, with the careful details he lavishes upon me unreservedly, and to see the way he
looks at me... It was embarrassing at first, and unbelievable. That someone like Lestat could be so affected by me… He is
beautiful, and he knows it, flaunts it, uses it as part of his irresistible charm. When he turns around and claims that I have
him entranced beyond his control… It was inconceivable, until I allowed myself to accept that his eyes lingered longer than
they should have, that the frequent, “accidental” brushes of skin on skin were no accident, that he could not possibly need
that many things from any room I was in unless he was trying to move it into another room. To make things more
confusing, he gives me these little signs, then to my face denies any attachment to me, even threatening, as he did in the
cathedral, that he could destroy me at any time. Granted, he was angry at the time, and I did not think that I would escape
his fury. Even though I had my reasons, what I had done, or rather, not done, had hurt him deeply. Did I think that he
really might kill me? In the back of my mind, there was the fear that he would carry through with his threat, but I have
learned the way to survive his tempestuous rages. To hand him the reins, to make it seem that I submit to him and trust in
his compassion, that I believe he will not harm me, to show absolutely no doubt in him even though it may in truth chill me
to the core… I think Mojo knows that secret as well. To look at Lestat then, in that condition of innocence, is a different
kind of plea. I do not beg. I give in to him without giving myself to him, and I know that that makes him want me enough
to keep me around for at least a little while longer.

I am glad that I cannot read the minds of the other vampires who make up our “family” now, because I am not sure I
would know what to do with what I discovered there. In some, like Marius, it might be pure appreciation of beauty. In
Armand, I might find a desire to possess me, and for reciprocity. In Daniel, adulation perhaps. I fear the promise of
violence I see in Santino’s eyes. Maharet would love to have me at her feet, and Jesse, in her arms. How many crave the
taste of my blood, but do not take it for Lestat’s sake? All these are, of course, mere speculation. They are not completely
unfounded products of my imagination, I find hints in their attitudes and dealings with me. How much of this stems from
the way I appear to them? Most, if not all of it, I believe. Before they knew me as more than a still-frame rendering of
fragility, I divined these intentions towards me.

As much as I can say that they exiled me to this cold immortality, I must admit that those physical features have coaxed out
goodwill where I might otherwise have received only the barest of regard, if any at all. They have obtained for me a sort of
esteem and value in the eyes of the others. Lestat, obviously, prizes me for them. Am I a fool to even consider giving them
up? Would anything change if I were to change? I expect so. Therefore I must make peace with myself and this
double-edged blessing and burden.

I have planned this, turned this over and over in my mind for some time now. It is just as well Lestat cannot read my
thoughts. He would be aghast. What will he say when I have done it? When he is no longer the lone star in the endless
night of my existence? Will he ever be able to understand my reason for doing it? He will have to accept it. As will the
others. “We agreed that there should be no more,” they will say, along with other assorted arguments against this. That
Lestat made another of us since that declaration will hold no weight, and to bring that up again will only drag him into my
trouble and stir up old rancour. I will have enough issues with him to deal with.

Their wrath will come crashing down upon me, and the consequences will crush me. There is no way I can get away with
this scot-free. I pin my hopes for leniency on their weakness for this face. I have learned the play of light and shadow on
ebony and ivory and emerald. The crease of the slightest frown is deepened a thousand times by the right angle. Turn that
way, and that unruly lock of hair tumbles down, obscuring what they believe to be pure sorrow, at the same time
subliminally tempting them to reach out and smooth it back, and then to trail the back of that venturing hand down my
cheek. Look up so the lashes outline, hint at, then reveal the fluting green, as if careful, hesitant, vulnerable, and hear their
hearts quicken in response. The hastened drum, the flicker of a waver across the stony countenance, and I know my
surreptitious strike has drawn blood. Careful handling now, and it is won over, delicately prone before me.

I am afraid, however, that my friend will not to as well. His bright eyes and spirit drew me to him, and brought about
the..very unusual event of my sparing him when I chanced upon him sitting in the moist grass in the frugally-lit park one
night. His companion fled, but he stayed to stare at me quizzically. Such courage for such a little one, I remember being
amused by that thought. Perhaps he will enchant the others in the same say. Perhaps not. His quick temperament keeps
from him the calm so necessary to survive this. Terror foretold. But I want to keep him. Do I not have the right to even
this? I will make my case. I will take responsibility for him. I will see to his needs. I will care for him. I will feed him. How
much could a vampire squirrel possibly need?

                                                        End..