Post by Lucien Villette de Séraphin on Oct 24, 2010 22:48:44 GMT -8
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Lucien Villette de Séraphin
Gender: Homme
Age/DOB: October, 1756
Occupation: ... many
Race: Vampire
Appearance;
At first glance, Lucien might appear the very image of androgynous beauty. He stands a bit above six feet, his figure slender yet shapely; he moves with a liquid grace that is not entirely feminine, though neither does it conform to the ideal posture of the aggressive male archetype; it is evidence of a complete control over physical awareness, something brought about only by the length of time in which he has been allowed to familiarize himself with all aspects of sensory input.
Indeed, his aura in itself is subtly commanding all its own – a side effect of the effortless confidence with which he carries himself – and the combination of both natural beauty and learned (borderline obsessive) grooming could only lend to this fragile image of perfection. His narrow and slightly pointed face, with its tapered features and high cheekbones, is of a flawless, practically ethereal complexion with skin of porcelain white tones. The rest of his features are just as elegant, with sharply arched brows, a slight nose, and delicate lips often found set in a slight, disdainful pout. Most striking are his eyes however, with their somewhat exotic slant, impossible to place on any one ethnicity; what most find enthralling, however, is not the shape but the color; the irises are of pale silver, rimmed unevenly in black. It is in his gaze that one might interpret anything from a subtle standoffishness to a thoughtful and distant regret.
Loose, golden curls frame his features, cascading down to nearly mid back. As expected from the rest of his carefully assembled appearance, this feature requires much maintenance, and Lucien can often be found preening or picking at his hair when left idle.
Like most of the older generation of the Chevalerie, in the home he dresses in fashions reminiscent of other times, and in varying states of dressing up (or down), though usually some variant of a late 18th century coordinate (coat, waistcoat, muslin shirt and jabot, knee breeches, stockings, heeled shoes). Outside of the house, however, he is usually dressed in immaculately tidy suits, perhaps with a splash of burgundy somewhere.
He wears a signet ring on one finger, as well as a delicate silver chain around his neck, bearing a silver crucifix, as well as three rings; they look suspiciously like wedding rings from various eras.
Personality;
Lucien is a … piece of work.
The best way to describe a first impression of him is probably ‘aloof,’ with an air of quiet confidence (and perhaps a smidgen of curiosity) about him that some might find almost intimidating. When out and about, Lucien tends to keep to himself, not prone to speaking to strangers unnecessarily; this might be borne partially from the lifestyle he and his family lead, keeping out of public eye. His tendency towards silence in these situations can easily have him be mistaken for standoffish or antisocial, but in truth he is simply content as a spectator and would prefer to observe.
This, however, only applies before the ‘ice is broken,’ so to speak. If conversation with Lucien can persist beyond a few ‘hello’s and ‘how are you’s, one would come to find that Lucien is a very colorful character. Not all would have the patience to withstand his calm neutrality (that to an extent can prove awkward for the other), but if they did …
Lucien is very thoughtful and well-mannered, moving with effortless grace, and seemingly the very image of elegance. He is mindful of how others think and feel, even if he does not outwardly express it. His emphatic tendencies lead to a protective and almost nurturing (sometimes as far as fussy) manner by which he treats friends and family; one might go so far as to call it ‘fatherly,’ though one should also be hesitant to use this word as Lucien treats even his various objects of affection in this manner.
He is not prone to rash action, often spending hours contemplating decisions that others might make much more quickly. Some find it irritating how immersed in thought he can become, but the outcome is often the result of much wisdom and at the very least, his family appreciates it.
In this sense, he has quite the pool of knowledge to offer to those who would listen, and with the right individual, Lucien loves to impart these little pearls, whether a little tidbit of assistance (‘adjust your fingertips atop the keys like so’), or something much greater: tutelage in viniculture, for example.
That said, Lucien can turn out to be quite social with the proper crowd. This ‘proper crowd’ typically only entails his family, and his idea of ‘social’ is probably a great deal more old-fashioned than someone would be used to, but once one has him talking (or once he has imbibed a glass or two of wine), one would find his dry mirth and eloquent wit quite entertaining.
Lucien is intrigued with anything new (provided that it is not immediately repulsive), and one can find him in the most random of places sometimes, simply people-watching.
However, it should also be noted that Lucien can tend to be judgmental if the company he finds is irritating or obnoxious. This is partially based on his own mood at the time, but he has neither the patience nor the interest to foster a friendship with someone he finds annoying, and unfortunately that’s more often than not.
Lucien is somewhat vain – aesthetically, of course, considering that with so many years passed and many more to come, he still only has one body and must therefore take care of it. When left idle, he’ll often be found preening at his curls or his clothing (which in itself is impeccably coordinated at any given time, if not frequently … out of date).
All of that said, Lucien still maintains a certain ‘detachment’ that few – even his sister Camilla – can overcome. At his worst, he can become bitter and melancholy, dwelling on memories and times long past that a part of him still pines for.
His claim to fame (literally, once upon a time) is his music. The vampire is nothing short of a musical prodigy, and adores the delicate intricacies of orchestra and vocalization with the discriminating taste of only a true connoisseur. He is skilled with a great number of instruments from piano to harp to anything in between, though most notable is his voice; in song it is capable of instilling such a range of emotions even before magic comes into play. The vampire is capable of great compositions and often he dreams in cadence rather than imagery; his knowledge of musical theory is all encompassing; it might be said that his collected knowledge of it is greater than any living creature's. He can compose anything from simple etudes to vocal arias to full-fledged symphonies in his head without the aid of an instrument for reference, and can transcribe said musical strains onto staff paper (or transcribe any music he hears by ear, really) as easily as an artist makes a graphite sketch or a poet a simple limerick.
Lucien is infamous around the house for maintaining ‘possession’ of numerous ‘sources’ of food (read: women). Many of the servants are part of his collection (or as Edmond jokingly refers to, his ‘harem’), as he prefers to have access to a wide variety of ‘live’ blood. Needless to say, blood isn’t the only thing expected from them, though these sorts of trysts are more in the nature of an ‘affair’ than an actual relationship of ‘possession.’
On that same note, Lucien is notorious for seeking new flavors, and has no quarrel with dallying with all sorts of women – so long as they are of legal age. Status of marriage/relationship and standing in society are of no impediment to his pursuits, though the key word here is ‘discreet’; he does not flaunt nor broadcast his affairs to the world, as that would be quite counterproductive.
No doubt his experience in these … matters lends a certain skill to related … arts.
Still, he chooses his affairs carefully, fostering lasting bonds with them even after romantic exchanges have ceased. Such women can find a sense of security in this aftermath, and on more than one occasion, some of them have asked for his aid in helping them out of dangerous situations.
On a more whimsical thread, Lucien enjoys the pastimes that he enjoyed growing up: riding, fencing, tea, picnics in the garden. Leisure has always been easily attainable considering his and his sister’s background, and he enjoys idle afternoons in the parlor as much as he does the ‘tasks’ for the Chevalerie. He is well-learned due to his background, but also very practically able due to his time in Yorkshire; aside from being well-educated, he is surprisingly an excellent carpenter and horticulturist.
History;
Lucien scowled at Araziel and the person Araziel had brought with him: a young female student majoring in journalism.
“Are you absolutely certain that this shan’t endanger our identities?” Lucien asked slowly, as he sank into one of the wrought iron chairs out in the front patio of the café.
“Don’t worry, Luce. Josephine’s a sweetheart. Besides, any identifying tidbits will be taken as nonsense by most people. And if the cult really wanted to know that much about us, they’d find out on their own,” Araziel assured him.
“Very well,” Lucien sighed, idly brushing his fingers through his curls, and fiddling with the lapel of his suit jacket.
“Thank you Monsieur Villette,” gushed the same student who had interviewed Araziel: Josephine, according to the boulanger.
“Oui bien sûr,” Lucien spoke pointedly, raising a brow expectantly at Josephine, who had seated herself across from him.
“Right,” she coughed, suddenly a bit nervous. Lucien definitely wasn’t as laid back as Araziel had been. “So … tell me about your childhood. Where and when you were born, what your family was like … those kinds of things.”
Lucien sighed, dully launching into narrative as if he had recounted this several times before. “I was born in Versailles, France on October the twenty-second, in the year of our Lord seventeen fifty-six. I was the first child. My father Florentin was a dragoon in the military, and his side of the family had a legacy of military excellence: he had served in the War of the Austrian Succession; his father in the War of the Spanish Succession, and so on. This was allegedly how we came to reside in Versailles; one of our grandfathers had been granted the title of noblesse d’épée by Louis Quatorze in honor of armed service.”
“How prestigious,” Josephine murmured. “How about your mother?”
“My mother Adelais … I never learned much about her. She died in giving birth to my sister Camilla when I was but two.”
“Ah … I’m sorry to hear that.” Josephine shook her head, her gaze sympathetic. “Were you and Camilla close, then?”
“Very. Father never spoke of mother once she was gone, but I felt that he missed her dearly. He, however, was called away shortly after Camilla was born, in order to fight in the Seven Years’ War over the Atlantic … in the British Colonies and French Canada, oui?” he confirmed, to make sure that Josephine was following. “Erm … I believe that this was the French and Indian War, by the States’ terminology …?”
“Oh, yes! Okay. So you were essentially parent-less from the start.”
“Oui. Hence mine and Camilla’s closeness from an early age.”
Josephine nodded. “Did you go to school together?”
Lucien was thoughtful for a moment, slowly shaking his head. “Mm, well, at the time, there was not yet a concept of ‘public’ school; en France, this did not appear until during or after Napoleon … I cannot quite recall …” he trailed off again before shrugging. “Camilla and I were tutored in the home, as was normal for children of our age and status. Education then encompassed what would today be considered ‘classical’ studies; that is, subjects including history, geography, mathematics, literature, music, and languages such as Latin, Greek, Italian, English … et cetera.”
“I see. So, your sister Camilla learned all this as well?”
“Mm, well, yes and no. She learned how to play an instrument, for example, but composition was not considered a lady’s profession. ‘Twas the same with the visual arts, which was quite unfortunate, as she was very good at it.”
“And you?”
“Music was my spécialité. I was already composing simpler sonatinas and the like by the time that I was four or five.”
Josephine nodded. “Did your parents – er, your father, I mean – did he approve?”
“He was away for most of our early childhood, but the tutors recognized our budding talents. They encouraged them – even Camilla’s painting – and wrote to father about it. When he returned – I was about seven or eight – he was quite happy with it.” Lucien shrugged.
“Did you receive any higher training in music, then? Beyond your private tutors?”
“Father intended for me to s’inscrire … erm … to register at the Académie Royale when I was older, but in the meanwhile, he did what he could to foster my talent – and reputation. He dragged me about the salons in Paris, urging me to perform for friends and associates. I did not mind; art was to be shared, after all, and what child would not adore such attention?” Lucien smiled a faint smile.
Josephine giggled. “Right. And how about Camilla?”
Lucien frowned. “Father encouraged her studies as well, but her gender was an impediment in her progress, at least on a social level. Few took her seriously.”
“I see, I see. So did you go anywhere professionally with your music?”
“Mm, well, Paris may have been the center of many things – fashion, namely – but the capitals of music were Austria and Italy. Alors, when I was eight or nine, my father took me on a trip to Vienna, and then Florence. We of course knew Italian – this was especially important for me, as Italian was the accepted language for operatic libretto. ‘Twas in Italy that Camilla was able to view classical sculpture in person, and even though she was only … mm … seven or so, one could recognize the spark of inspiration in her.”
“So you both benefited, artistically, from the trip.”
Lucien nodded. “Oui. It was not until we were older that we began to discover success in our fields, however.”
“How so?”
“I took a more conventional path. When I was about … fourteen … yes, this was in seventeen seventy – when I was fourteen, I was invited by the young dauphine herself to compose and play for her and the dauphin’s wedding.” Lucien’s faint smile had returned at this fond memory. “I had of course already played for them when I was younger; I believe the circumstances were that the court composer was absent on account of a funeral, and so the dauphine remembered me and sent summons. Whatever the case, it was my foot in the door, so to speak, and from there I was eventually adopted as a court composer a few years later.”
“Oh that’s wonderful! I ….” Josephine trailed off, tilting her head. She was hesitant, a question on the tip of her tongue.
“There is little that you can say on this matter that will offend me,” Lucien assured her with a quiet chuckle.
Josephine reluctantly smiled. “Well it’s just that … if you had such a position, why haven’t … why isn’t your music still famous today? Like with Mozart and such? Not that I’m trying to compare! I was just … it’s strange.”
Lucien’s smile turned a fraction grim. “It is, is it not? The short answer is that I later erased myself from public record as best I could. The complicated answer is that …” he trailed off, closing his eyes with a heavy sigh. “It is that I rarely instilled the true essence of my soul into what I published, because my music carries a curse.”
“A … curse?”
“A curse of knowledge, a curse of foresight, of the channeling of raw, undiluted emotion … these things were – are – much too heavy a burden for the average listener to bear. I learned this after a few incidents, one of which was … rather permanent.”
“What happened?”
“It was my music tutor at the time, actually. I was fourteen, I believe … oui, ‘twas shortly before the dauphin and the dauphine’s wedding. By then I had of course already connected the strange behavior of my listeners with something to do with my music. I had steadily been growing more cautious but … but it was during this one session that my tutor commented on it. He told me that he had noticed a gradual decline in my composition and my playing. He told me that he felt it was passionless and much too technical.”
“So then what?”
“Well, I decided to confide in him my fears about my music. Naturally, he thought that I was being silly, or perhaps too imaginative. Then he went on to lecture me about how it was a disservice to my talent to try to remove passion from the equation … and so he convinced me to try playing for him one of my compositions that was written from the heart.”
Josephine blinked. “So … so did you?”
“Oui, because my adolescent self wished to believe him,” Lucien confessed with a sigh. “And the result was disastrous. I chose a nocturne that had been haunting me night after night, for weeks. I had hardly finished when a crash shook the room, and I looked behind me to find my tutor on the floor, dead.”
Josephine gasped.
“I vividly recall his visage, drained of color. His eyes were still open, glistening, as if he had been crying. I …” Lucien cut himself off, folding his arms with an air of discomfort.
“What … how did you explain that?” Josephine pressed, too wrapped up in the story to notice.
“I was not required to. I was not blamed; there would have been no reason for me to kill him. I believe that the formal diagnosis was heart failure or something of the sort … but my tutor had been in quite perfect health. I knew better.”
Josephine nodded slowly.
“So, as you might imagine, after this incident, I kept my heart closed and did not let anyone else hear its compositions … well, except for Camilla.”
“Why her?”
“She suffered a similar condition with her art. For whatever reason, my music did not affect her as it did others.”
“I see. Did she keep her art to herself too?”
“I do not think that she needed to. Painting was much more technical in the first place, and so she could freely display her works to others, even if on a social level it was not orthodox. But we were similar in that we foresaw things … often the same things, and around the same time. This pattern has persisted into today, even.”
Josephine nodded thoughtfully. “Alright. Well … since we’re talking about Camilla again, while you were off being a court composer, what was Camilla doing? You’ve already mentioned that her artistic pursuits weren’t socially accepted?”
“Oui, ‘tis true. The académie was only open to men at the time, but Camilla was determined to enlist among the ranks.” Lucien chuckled to himself. “So she did. Under an alias. She pretended to be a male cousin of ours. She dressed up as a boy, enrolled with her alias, and attended.”
“Seriously?!” Josephine exclaimed, bursting into laughter.
“Quite,” Lucien murmured, smiling warmly. “I admired her determination. And it was because of all of this that I first met Edmond and then later Valentina, the d’Aoust siblings.”
“The same ones with you today?”
“Oui, they are a part of our Chevalerie.”
“Tell me about meeting them then,” Josephine insisted.
Lucien paused, thoughtful, though a quiet smile graced his features. Happy memories were rare, it seemed, and he was glad to be able to recall them.
“Edmond’s story is quite silly,” he chuckled, stroking his chin. “He was one of the men who liked to loiter about outside the académie in order to woo the sisters, daughters, and wives who usually waited across the rue for their brothers, fathers, and husbands to be finished with studies. As it were, however, Edmond chose to become smitten with my sister – while she was dressed as a boy, mind you – and I first noticed him on the days I came to wait for Camilla. He would watch her emerge, as if he were going to talk to her, but then when he saw her come join me on the sidewalk, he seemed to become discouraged.”
“Aww, poor thing,” Josephine giggled.
“Oui, en effet,” Lucien chuckled. “Eventually, he had the courage to approach me when I was unaccompanied by Camilla. It was obvious that he was interested in her … or ‘him,’ and was very insecure about his attraction to someone he thought was a man. Regardless, as a stranger, I could not disclose Camilla’s secret as it could very well jeopardize her academic standing; alors, I kept him at arm’s length despite our budding friendship over so silly an occurrence.”
“So when did he find out about Camilla?”
Lucien grinned. “Hmph, that is another story.” He folded his arms again, tapping clawed fingertips over his lips. “A story that consequently led to us becoming the best of friends. So, one day, Edmond appeared uninvited at our estate. Naturally this would be a complication, considering that Camilla did not have her disguise. Nonetheless, I answered, feigning that ‘Camille’ was not at home. That was fine with Edmond; he had come to invite me and ‘Camille’ to the opera that night, promising front box seats. It would have been impolite to decline, and we had no excuse really …”
“And you wanted to go, didn’t you?” Josephine laughed.
“Well … yes. Camilla and I supposed that it would help legitimize her disguise anyhow, and so we acquiesced to accompanying Edmond that evening, Camilla as Camille, of course.”
“What happened there?”
“Ah … well, this is how I met Valentina,” Lucien murmured, his voice dropping a bit as another rare, warm smile crept onto his features “You see, Edmond either chose not to mention or forgot to mention that this was the debut of his sister Valentina as an opera singer. She was a budding performer and this was the first time she had had a solo. Whatever the case, I was immediately entranced by her voice. I have not to this day heard notes so … so gossamer … ethereal … I cannot think of any way to describe it,” he eventually admitted with a quiet laugh, his gaze thoughtful, distant. “But when the night was over, her spell still lingered, and I knew I … I had to speak to her. Her song … the composition did not do her voice justice. I wished to write her something, but … but apparently she was married.”
“So did you talk to her that evening anyway?”
“I did not, but I confessed my thoughts to Edmond and Camilla … upon which Edmond laughed and told me that Valentina was his sister.”
Josephine snickered.
“He was kind enough to introduce me and Camilla to her later that week. And that was when everything began to come to the surface. Camilla was tired of her disguise and admitted to them both that she was a woman; Edmond’s reaction was priceless. I think that he was simply relieved to know that he had a schoolboy crush on a woman, not a man.” Lucien rolled his eyes, though he was smiling nonetheless.
Josephine nodded. “So from there, things looked up?”
“Oui,” Lucien murmured with a contented sigh. “Valentina and I played many duets together. Eventually, I was comfortable enough to truly play for her … play from the heart. It often brought her to tears, but I was eternally happy to have someone with whom to share my music.”
Josephine smiled. “Did you ever perform professionally? The two of you, I mean?”
“We did, actually. I would write some of the material for her performances. It was wonderful.”
“How about her husband? You said she was married?”
Lucien laughed. “And when has that ever stopped anyone, particularly in Rococo Paris?” He shook his head to himself. “Her husband was several decades older than her, and was a pig of a man. Neither Edmond nor Valentina liked him, but it had been an arranged marriage of course; the man was incredibly wealthy. As it were, he died one day in a tragic accident … involving choking on too much food or some such … we felt terrible for being relieved at his passing.”
Josephine tried to stifle a laugh.
“It was a respite for Valentina, and good news for the both of us, however.” Lucien smiled fondly.
Josephine nodded faintly, shuffling her papers a bit. “Aww, that’s sweet. But … before we get too carried away, I wanted to ask more about the Chevalerie itself. Can you tell me about it?”
Lucien nodded curtly, closing his eyes a moment. “Our initial connection to it was through Devereux. He was one of the court physicians at the time. I believe I was about sixteen or seventeen by then. Oui … well, one day he approached the four of us after one of Edmond’s dressage demonstrations. He told us that he had been observing us from afar … that he found our talents unique and that he thought we would be good candidates for a certain organization. I believe that he was interested in us because we lacked the airheaded-ness of the nobility that lived and thrived in their little bubble of Versailles.We were sensitive to trouble brewing about us – in France and beyond.”
“So Devereux was the one who recruited you four?”
“Essentially. He introduced us to the King’s Secret – this was what the Chevalerie was at the time. It was an organization established by the venerable Louis XV, meant to be an extension of his sight; his ‘eyes’ within and outside France’s borders. They operated in secret, often skirting the lines of law – that is, much of the things that they did were illegal.” Lucien chuckled. “The catch is that the Secret was near the end of its lifespan – much as Louis Quinze was at the end of his. Once he was gone and the throne passed to his grandson, Louis XVI disbanded it.”
“So you joined at the wrong time then,” Josephine remarked, confused.
“Au contraire, it was the perfect time. Without the king’s cumbersome regulations – there were still some, despite our legal ambiguity – we were able to operate with a freedom unavailable to us before the official disbandment. As it were, throughout its official years, the Secret had dealt much with supernatural activity within Europe. It had not intended to make it its focus, but it often ran across it, especially in political stations – courts, constitutional bodies, the like – and so to be able to more specifically target this issue was great news.”
“Supernatural … can you elaborate on that?”
“Oui. Devereux, for example, was a vampire already – several centuries old; he claims to have fought alongside Jeanne d’Arc and I do not disbelieve him,” Lucien murmured, thoughtful again. “But we generally classified ‘supernatural’ work as anything beyond the mundane: arcane and divine magics, non-human or extraplanar entities such as vampires, demons, witches, curses such as reanimation, demonic possession, lycanthropy … the list is endless. What was most relevant to our work, however, was how certain supernatural creatures or organizations abused their power to exploit humans for the sake of advancement in human society, which we believed was an unjust advantage.”
“But you could argue that if they had this power, they were entitled to use it.”
“I agree to an extent … but the ‘abuse’ is the key word. More often than not, these entities had no qualms with harming – often killing – innocents for the sake of their gain.”
“I see,” Josephine nodded. “It sounds like something out of a horror story.”
“At times it certainly felt like it,” Lucien agreed with a shake of his head. “Things began to decline from there, however. The work was good for some time, and so were our personal lives.”
“What were you doing meanwhile?”
“Well, in seventy-six, Edmond and I joined the Marquis de Lafayette during his sojourn to the colonies … States? Whichever. It was quite a spectacular experience. Edmond was a soldier so he actually fought; I was there as a musician and a journalist, writing accounts and sending them back to Valentina so that she could publish them.”
“She was a publisher?”
“A writer and a publisher. Singing was only one of her talents.” Lucien chuckled. “This was the Enlightenment, remember; intellectual debate was in fashion. She had her own salon, actually, to foster these sorts of gatherings, which was actually much more successful than her writing. Like Camilla, she was impeded at the time by her gender.”
“So … did you guys ever get married?”
Lucien raised a brow, but then laughed again, thoughtful. “Well that was another complication in itself. I returned from the States before Edmond did, but when Edmond returned after the war had been won, he and Camilla were immediately engaged, and later married. But as for Valentina and I …”
“What happened?”
“I … I had foreseen on several occasions that our marriage would not end well. That something would tear us apart. I expressed this to her each time that I saw it, and she believed me. But we were unable to resist the desires of our hearts, and after a few years we decided to be wed anyhow. Even if we were to meet a dark end, at least we could enjoy our time together.”
Josephine’s gaze averted. “That’s … I don’t know if … that’s deep,” she mumbled.
Lucien shrugged offhandedly. “I often feel as if I would be much happier without my curse of foresight.”
Josephine nodded slowly, sympathetically, before looking back down at her papers. “So how did that end come about?”
“Unfortunately, the Chevalerie bit off more than it could chew; one supernatural entity in particular especially did not like us.”
“I’m assuming that’s the cult Araziel was talking about.”
“Oui, en effet.” Lucien sighed again. “Perhaps our demise was partially our fault; we were confident in our abilities. Our work was productive and for the most part successful. But compared to the Cult, we were no better than fools stumbling about in the dark while they watched from afar. Everything just happened all at once …” He trailed off suddenly, his brow knit.
Josephine was tensely silent.
“When the Revolution swept Paris, we were all caught up in the civil unrest. The Cult knew to take advantage of this. Here you can see that the battle was one-sided; they knew precisely who we were, and we did not even know any of their members. It was quite terrible … Edmond at the Tuileries, Devereux trying to escape to Austria, Valentina and Jean-Michel during the September Massacres …”
“And you …”
“Camilla and I were the last to go. We were prisoners in our own house. I killed her before they could get to her. And I still vividly recall that the very last thing I saw before darkness; it was the Comtesse d’Émeraude. In those fractions of a second that I had between realization and death, it was as if everything about her suddenly had made sense.”
“She was a cultist?”
“She was its perverted mother. Later I of course realized she had orchestrated our deaths and turnings.”
“Turnings … so she was responsible for …”
“For turning us into what we are today? Yes.”
Josephine nodded slowly. “What happened after you … woke up, then?”
“I awakened just in time to witness the state of Paris, completely embroiled in flame. The good king and queen had been dethroned. I saw him executed. It was disgusting. He may have been a bit … shy of his responsibility, but what man could bear the mess his grandfather had left behind for him? He tried … he did try to right the wrongs of the noblesse, but one cannot make such drastic changes overnight. He was the people’s scapegoat.” Lucien’s eyes closed for a moment.
Josephine observed him before pressing on. “So did you stay in Paris? Or did you run?”
“Well, it was by the grace of God that I found Camilla again. She was as lost and confused as I was, but at least together we could escape. We only stayed long enough in the Île-de-France to salvage what few precious documents and treasures the Chevalerie still had in its possession – what had not been ransacked by the people. As for our identities, our property, our friends, our everything … that was gone. We could not dwell on it. Our worlds were turned upside down.”
“Where did you go from there?”
“To Marseille. Away from the unrest, the destroyed city, the terrible, bloodthirsty people. The Revolution did not reach far from Paris, at least not to the same extent. Marseille was safe for now, and was another city in which we could hide.”
“So what did you do there?”
“We eventually became smugglers. Once Napoleon had risen to prominence, the English imposed an embargo on the States. French goods were not permitted to enter its ports, so it was a profitable business to … find ways around this.”
Josephine laughed. “Looks like you and Azi had something in common then.”
“Indeed. Speaking of Araziel, it was around that time that I was seeing Clarisse.”
“Did anything come of that relationship?”
“It was not necessarily a relationship; only an affair. She was a rather frigid woman, but I am certain that Araziel has already told you this.”
Josephine snickered. “Lots of times.”
Lucien chuckled quietly. “At any rate, in Marseille, Camilla and I ended up running into a former member of the Chevalerie. He was older than us, but he had escaped death in Paris.” Lucien paused. “That is … it would be more accurate to say that his death was delayed. He was dying now, a curse having caught up to him, but his last wish was that we would look after his niece for him. Evidently she was the last remaining of his family.”
“Oh … that’s so sad. So … did you?”
“Yes. She was currently living in Provence but was parentless; hence why her uncle had come to find her. At least this gave us a purpose, however short term, and so we abandoned Marseille and swept into the countryside next door. Following our old comrade’s instructions, we located the girl.”
“What was her situation?”
Lucien stroked at his chin. “She was an only child. Her parents had evidently just passed away from disease … perhaps some derivative of smallpox. Her farmstead was now vacant, but with the money Camilla and I had saved from smuggling, we were able to negotiate buying it. The people there were fairly easygoing, if not suspicious; we were city folk surrounded by the campagne, essentially fish out of water.”
“So … the girl … you raised her?”
“Oui. Her name was Séraphine. She was a bright child, but always a little bit sad. She was hardly one year of age when we ‘adopted’ her, but I feel that she knew from the start that we were not her real parents. Of course we told her when she was a bit older, but it was painfully obvious that we were not from the area.”
“Did you have to take care of the farm?”
“Certainly. We had to adapt to the region’s lifestyle. Thankfully some of the families on the neighboring farmsteads were generous enough to aid us. This, unfortunately, was the exception. Most of them were suspicious of us: of what we were, of where we had come from, and I do not blame them.” Lucien sighed. “In the countryside, life is slower … I would not say stagnant, but I know that we were particularly susceptible to distrust. Camilla and I learned much there, and not only of the hard life of a farmer’s work.”
“What do you mean?”
“It was the first time that we were faced with the reality of our vampirism: that we were not aging. Séraphine was growing up; she was blossoming into a beautiful young lady, but Camilla and I had not aged a day since our deaths.” Lucien sighed, closing his eyes. “One can imagine how this reflected upon the rest of the Provençal community. Anyone with half a brain would recognize that something was not right.”
“What did Séraphine think?”
“We told her eventually. About our identities and our origins. She told us that it all made sense, but she didn’t seem to care … we had raised her after all, under her uncle’s wishes.”
“That’s nice of her,” Josephine remarked, smiling.
“Oui,” Lucien nodded, smiling faintly as well. “It all became quite strange and confusing. We had cared for her like a daughter, but the affections she reciprocated began to turn into something different, something romantic. I think she wished this sort of bond with me, but … I recognized that it would only lead to her dissatisfaction with herself. I coaxed her towards a ‘normal’ life, because that is what normal people deserve. They do not deserve the complications with which we are burdened.”
Josephine nodded slowly, silent again as she reflected.
“Thankfully she understood. She eventually grew up to marry a young man from one of the neighboring farmsteads. He moved into our farm, and we were a family unit for several years more. By the time they had their children, we felt it was about time for us to move on.”
“Had Camilla been staying with you this entire time?”
“Yes and no. She left occasionally, for a year or so, to study art in Italy. The last time she returned was when Séraphine had her children. But Camilla’s return provoked the uneasy neighbors to finally gather and try to run us out. They had always been suspicious of us, and at some point their tolerance broke.”
Josephine frowned.
“Not wishing for conflict, we left one night in secret so that Séraphine and her family would not take any blame for aiding us escape. And that was that.”
“That’s … that’s sad,” Josephine mumbled. “Did you ever see her again?”
“Yes. Before she died. I had one of my dreams, and she was in it. Her children had grown old and moved away, and her husband had passed. Camilla and I returned to her to take care of her until she too passed away.”
Josephine was silent again.
“This … this was when the full realization struck. That time was to leave us behind. That we would only be allowed to bear witness to its passing, but never truly be a part of it again. I cannot complain of the advantages of longevity, but the crushing sadness that accompanies it is, at times, much to bear.”
Josephine nodded, still silent. Eventually she gulped and asked quietly, “So then … what did you and Camilla do?”
“At that point we were nearing the end of the nineteenth century – the fin du siècle, as it was later called. The Revolutionary wars had long since been over, Napoleon III was gone … it seemed safe to try to return to Paris.”
“And what did you do there?”
“We survived,” was Lucien’s wry response. “It was strange to be back in the city after all those years. It was like living on the other side of the mirror. We were poor and friendless, the very bottom of the social pyramid. And seeing the rich bourgeoisie trying to imitate the nobility of old … it was all very eye-opening, and very superficial. It disgusted me to know that we were once like that … well, not to the same extent, but this … if only the people of Versailles had seen what we were seeing now …”
“Too little too late, huh?” Josephine sighed.
“Indeed,” Lucien agreed. “This was perhaps the hardest part of our lives. Camilla became involved with the artists in the Montmartre – the Impressionists, as they would later be called. She loved her work of course, and I loved seeing the joy in her whole being when she created … and as for me, my art was useless. Nobody would have need of my old compositions, whose style was by then incredibly outdated. No, salon music was à la mode at the time. Mindless things … and I think by then I was tired of the world. So, in a way I lived vicariously through Camilla. She painted and created and did what she loved, but art brings nobody any money. I supported the both of us, financially.”
“What did you work as?”
“I helped construct musical instruments in a workshop. It was menial work; the appreciation for a start-to-finish approach was fading. It was uninteresting, but I was good at it, and so it kept us fed … and intoxicated.” Lucien smiled dryly. “My only solace at the time was drink. And women. I suppose that not much has changed.”
Josephine laughed, despite herself. “So … how long were you like this?”
“A while. I had often toyed with the idea of trying to research where our old fortune had gone. Versailles was only twelve miles away after all, but … both the painful memories and the lack of resources deterred me from taking action. So we carried on, scraping by, stagnated and purposeless – at least, I was purposeless.”
“But you were taking care of your sister. That’s such … that was very selfless,” Josephine pointed out.
“I suppose. But from my point of view, I was simply … tired.” Lucien smiled. “As it were, things changed the night that I was thrown out of a certain bar … well, admittedly this was not an entirely uncommon occurrence; what was uncommon was that someone actually stopped to see to me.”
“Not Camilla?”
“No, a stranger. At first I mistook her for Camilla; she had brilliant blond curls like my sister and I. But no, she was a complete stranger. And she dragged me all the way to her home to nurse me back to sobriety. Admittedly, I was not entirely happy at the last part, but … I suppose even alcoholics must occasionally be sober.” He laughed quietly.
Josephine chuckled. “Who was she?”
“Her name was Arlette. She was the bourgeoisie daughter of a clocksmith. A very … sweet if not naïve woman, to be frank. But she was kindhearted, and as friendless as Camilla and I. Unfortunately, from the start, there had been a bit of a misunderstanding …”
“What do you mean?”
“Well … I think that she mistook me, and later Camilla, for members of the upper class. Granted, I was thrown out of that bar in decent but not necessarily fancy clothing, so I do not know what left that impression. But the next time we met was at some rich person’s party. We were only there to play … to find a bit of food to toy with, as the whores on the street sometimes grow dull. But as it were, Arlette was there too, and considering the circumstances, one would assume we were part of that caste.”
Josephine giggled. “So how did that work out?”
“With difficulty,” Lucien chuckled. “We became friends, but when we realized that she mistook us for the upper class, it was like walking on eggshells. When I lost my job at the workshop, I could not tell her, but fortunately she hired me as her tutor in French – she and her father were fresh from over La Manche, you see. But much like with Edmond and Camilla’s disguise, the closer we became, the more our secrets were at risk of being revealed.”
“By that you mean the vampirism.”
“Oui,” Lucien agreed. “When that finally surfaced, her shock was too much, and I, not wishing to lose our only friend, immediately sought what Camilla and I had not thought much on before: a cure for our condition. She pointed out that we had been vampires longer than we had been ‘human’ at that point, though in our eyes there really was no difference, save some physical discrepancies. Regardless, after some misunderstandings, everything was eventually tided over. I never did find a cure, though I did find some of Devereux’s old notes … but that is extraneous information.”
Josephine nodded slowly. “So uh … what happened with Arlette afterwards?”
“There were a few amusing games involving fortune and family drama … the sort of entertaining but generally boorish stuff about which one finds the nobility always arguing.” Lucien sneered. “At any rate, it was foreign to me, to feel such affections towards a woman in the manner that I did with Arlette, especially after years of disposable and superficial ‘relationships.’” He chuckled. “She made an honest man out of me – at least for the duration of her lifespan.” His brow knit again.
Josephine looked at him, anxious. “What happened?”
“The passing of time. Again. We had watched it claim Séraphine; it would come for Arlette as well. But the most … burdensome thing was that, much like I had foreseen mine and Valentina’s end, I had also suffered a premonition of Arlette’s untimely death.”
“She didn’t die naturally?”
“No, she died prematurely. Illness.” Lucien shut his eyes, his brow furrowed. “I saw it, only a couple of years after we had been wed. I saw how she would die, and vaguely when.”
“Did you tell her?” Josephine asked, hushed.
“No,” Lucien mumbled. He shook his head. “No. I … I did not wish her to be burdened with the looming shadow of her demise. I kept it to myself … I did not even tell Camilla. Instead, I endeavored to make her years as enjoyable as they could be.”
Josephine blinked, looking down. “That … that’s … I don’t know how you managed.”
Lucien laughed. “Moi non plus. Me neither. Perhaps it was good for me. I had forgotten how to sacrifice oneself for a loved one.”
“But … you did it every day, with Camilla.”
“That was different,” Lucien mumbled. “That was filial duty. This was refreshing and new.”
Josephine smiled. “How … did you get by, then? Arlette was wealthy?”
“Yes, but in order to be able to marry her, Camilla and I, who had then been posing as nobility in order to fool her father and the rest of his associates, needed to expedite our research on our old fortune and property. Now we had motivation. As it were, the property was still owned by another buyer, but we did source our fortune, as well as some of the hidden treasures the Chevalerie had cached, in preparation for disaster. Money was thankfully not a problem by then.”
“At least one thing ended well,” Josephine laughed, relieved. “So … what happened after that?”
“Well … after Arlette’s passing, I sank back into depression. It did not last as it had before, perhaps because my heart was already weary, or because it was prepared; whatever the case, to distract myself, I left Camilla for a while to travel and to keep my mind busy. I stayed in the States, mainly on the east coast, then returned to Europe and met up again with Camilla in Spain, to hide through the Great War. Then it was back to Paris entre les deux guerres. But around that time, Camilla and I both began to have dreams of the Chevalerie. Of Edmond, Valentina, Devereux, and Jean-Michel. Those four, specifically.”
“You’d thought them dead, right?” Josephine murmured.
“Oui. Truth be told, after learning of their deaths, we had never considered that they had suffered the same fate as us. Coping and surviving was enough to keep us occupied.”
Josephine nodded in understanding.
“When the Second World War began, and the Germans began to move into the north of France, we fled south to Bordeaux, where many refugees from Paris migrated. There, I saw a little cottage on the outskirts of the city. Many of the houses in Bordeaux opened their doors to refugees. It was a beautiful display of charity and kindness. But we had to go to this specific house. And when we arrived …”
“It was … it was them?”
“Oui,” Lucien nodded, smiling. “Valentina and Edmond had been living there for a few years, and when we turned up at the door … I cannot describe the gamut of emotion. But it was a teary reunion.” He took a deep breath. “Nothing is ever that simple, though. I knew that there was a reason we had been brought together again.”
“What was that?”
“Well, after Jean-Michel and Devereux had joined us the following year, Camilla and I began to have our dreams again. We foresaw that our old house had been ransacked. Our old house in Versailles had been one of the places where we had hid some of our Chevalerie treasures. Things like artwork, books, artifacts, sensitive documents … many of these things carried paranormal qualities, often curses. It was dangerous that they be scattered.”
“Who scattered them?”
“Probably the Nazis. It was not uncommon of them. Whatever the case, following the war, we returned to Versailles to see the damage. And it was all true.”
“What happened to the people living there previously?”
“They had sold their property. We assumed that it was because they were fleeing from the Nazis as well. In any case, we were able to buy back our home … after nearly two centuries.” Lucien rolled his eyes. “How silly that we would end up right back where we had started.”
Josephine smiled. “And how about Edmond and Valentina?”
“We tried to reassume the same familial roles that we had had in life. It was not as easy as one would think. We came together as very different people from when we had last parted. Despite our difficulties, however, our love was still there, and was rekindled.”
“I’m glad for you all,” Josephine murmured, smiling.
Lucien chuckled. “I am only grateful. Valentina is a strong woman, and one of few who truly understands me.”
Josephine’s smile widened, and her gaze averted back to her paper. “So … what happened between then and today?”
“We reestablished ourselves in Versailles. We were much stronger than before – our strength is derived from unity, not individualism, and with the compilation of all of our experience and knowledge, we were able to thrive again, financially, emotionally, socially. I have accepted that we will still never truly be a part of society as once we were, but perhaps that is no longer our place. We reassumed our duties that had been terminated upon our deaths, a result that I am certain the Cult never foresaw. They aimed to break us by cursing us with vampirism; instead, it has become a part of us. After all is said and done … I am grateful for all that has come to pass.”
Josephine’s smile lingered. “So … today, your mission continues.”
“Quite. We stay out of the public eye, but I believe that we have found a comfortable equilibrium. Between then and now, much has happened, most of it having to do with sourcing and recovering our lost artifacts. We are keeping an eye out on the Cult, because we know that they are still out there … but we do not let our vigilance rule our lives.”
Josephine nodded. “So is that all you do? The artifact recovery?”
“We also freelance our services to clients who require it. Our knowledge of the supernatural is still quite rare – perhaps rarer – today. And there are various other miscellany that we specialize in – Camilla offers services in appraisal of art and artifacts, for example.”
Josephine smiled. “Gotcha’. And if I can ask one last thing … how did people like Araziel and Takashi fall in with your lot?”
“Araziel found us through Valeri, mine and Valentina’s son … but I am certain that he has told you this story. As for Takashi … nobody here will pretend that we are literate in … modern things. We had need of Takashi’s skills, and Jean-Michel tracked him down. At first Takashi was a freelancer, but now he is a permanent resident. I suppose as with all things, it was meant to happen.”
Josephine nodded again, heaving a sigh. “’Whew, well … I think I’ve gotten everything I need. Was there anything else you wanted to add?”
Lucien stroked his chin again, pondering a moment before smiling to himself. “Certainly. What is your blood type?”
Josephine blinked, and, blushing, she quickly shut off the recorder. “Uhm … AB positive.”
“Truly? I do not suppose that you are free later this evening?”
“I … guess I am now,” she giggled.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
OOC;
Name: Kai
Other Characters: Lots
Preferred method of contact: PM, skype.
How did you find us?: I live here !
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