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Letter to Marius [03 Aug 2004|03:16pm]
[ mood | loved ]

What You Are To Me

I am a rose, you are my thorns,
clutching to me, protecting me.
I am the sun, you are my rays,
helping me to shine and to be all that I can.
I am a lake, you are my water,
filling me with ideas, dreams, and hopes for the future.
I am a tree, you are my leaves,
sharing who and what I am
and becoming an important part of my life.
I am a heart, you are my beat,
beating rhythmically to my happiness,
my fear, my sadness, my excitement.
I am me and you are with me,
to share all that I am,
to share life, love, and happiness.


By Bernice Ellrick

I had never heard of this writer. The words are far from elegant but the poem is open and honest, and it made me think of you.


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Last thoughts before Dawn [13 Jul 2004|12:51am]
I don’t know if I am amused or angered at Marius’ jealousy. When we are apart I am alone, and he may be alone. Or he may be with Lestat, Armand, Thorne, or Bianca. There is no telling who he will draw to him. And when we are together Marius tells me that I am atop this list of loves, asking that I understand. But me, my body, is his and not to be shared as he shares himself.

I would be angry if it wasn’t so Roman. He will have his affairs and anything that I do must remain politely under his notice. Am I supposed to be his proper Roman wife? This explains our constant fights even more. When living under the eye of Roman society I maintained a level of propriety that would satisfy. No more and if I could get away with less I did.

I gave up many aspects of Roman edict when the opportunity arose, but it’s amusing how much of that culture Marius and I hold on to, even now. In the true fashion of a divorced Roman woman, his love for others does not disturb me. I only fear that he will grow to love one of them more. And in the end, I have already learned that involvement with others usually leads to more trouble than it’s worth, especially when the love that I have for others never eclipses Marius. Yet I know there are many different kinds of love and have always believed that all love is fruitful.

Shameful to be pondering this when tomorrows evening holds such important things. I am deeply concerned for Lestat and hope that Marius will be more understanding with Jesse. Tomorrow Marius and I must also begin the hunt for Nicki. While I do not have much hope that we will find him, I know it will ease Lestat’s mind somewhat. I will look forward to the time alone with Marius, for it is easier not to squabble over the littler things alone, and I will hope that Jesse was just dreaming when she saw Nicki alive.
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Thoughts of reunion Marius cannot hear [02 Jul 2004|05:54pm]
I am the one who talked myself into coming here to see Marius. Lestat words were insightful, but they were only things I have thought myself, or avoided thinking.

Truth cannot be avoided forever. I have missed Marius and I am afraid of him.

I am afraid where I will be if he leaves me. I am afraid I’m doomed to play out the same arguments before leaving him again. I am afraid I will not survive him. Yet the possibilities of spending time with him, any amount of time, have brought me here beside him.

Seeing him has not settled anything for me. We do not understand each other. I wonder if we even hear what the other person is truly saying.

He accused me of changing the subject when I spoke of the others. He couldn’t understand that I was speaking of our own relationship. Trying to relate to him my fears, to explain to him why I did not seek him out for so long. Even why I pushed him away in Dresden, but I didn’t say any of this in a way he would understand. I was feeling too much at one time to offer him a clear explanation. I also wanted him to realize he could never be as alone as he feels. I don’t understand why he will not accept the love others feel for him.

Hearing how he felt about me, I tried to explain how I had felt in those years alone, so certain that Marius had what he needed. I had no idea that he needed me, or I would have been there. I don’t think he understood. I tell him of my love and he asks me not to mention Santino. Should I take this as a sign that it’s impossible to write the happy ending to our love story?

It seems hopeless to me, and yet I can’t let go of him. In the least I have now, until the next time we cannot stand each other. Once that was two hundred years, it could be done again. If only we could get beyond this miscommunication.
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Moving much later same night [26 Jun 2004|01:29am]
I have to decide where to go now. All my belongings are packed and I have let this finial detail wait as long as possible. I feel safe here, within America. I like to believe that other vampires will not wander across me, as David did in Paris. Yet I cannot love these American cities as I do the rest of the world. America does not hold enough history for me; the oldest ruins are monuments to the development of the modern world. Where as Europe holds too much history, there are too many memories in my home land.

I first thought about Saint Petersburg, but I know better than to let myself go to Russia after longing for Marius. It will only rekindle an anger that would not be his fault. It’s telling that I cannot visit the cities I hold dear. I must go somewhere new, somewhere I can form new memories, or I must find some way to move beyond the past. I am running out of cities.

The journal thumped closed, and Pandora sat another moment at the empty desk in her flat. She still couldn’t decide but time was ticking away, and she had to leave soon if she was going to leave at all. At last she reached for a piece of stationary she had left unpacked and penned a quick letter.

I will be traveling abroad for an unknown period seeking a home which I find suitable to live in for the rest of my elder years. Keep my belongings in storage until I have acquired this logging. I will begin my search in Dijon, France and have already acquired my travel arrangements. I leave the smaller details in your most capable hands.

Smiling to herself Pandora signed the letter with her current alias, knowing her lawyer would have a nice laugh at the thought of her settling down in a single location. Gathering her journal, Pandora donned her heaviest coat, in preparation for the flight. She could replace everything except the journal, so she left everything else for the movers. After slipping her letter into the mail she focused and felt her body lift into the sky. She shuttered and pulled her coat closer forcing herself to travel as quickly as possible so that she wouldn’t have to bare this unnatural gift longer than necessary.
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Restless in Seattle [23 Jun 2004|07:18pm]
[ mood | numb ]

The warmth of the café was a relief. In the few hours she had walked the streets the rain had soaked her hooded coat and the chill seeped through her clothes. It wasn’t as uncomfortable physically as it was mentally, when her emotions contrasted the chilling cold.

She picked a booth deep within the café on the left side, and sat where she could watch the woman that lead her into this particular café. Leather clad hands folded on top of the wooden table, her hooded head slightly bowed, Pandora watched as the woman with the coppery skin, dressed in a sharp crème linen suit started her business meeting. When her waiter came she ordered plain coffee, simply because it was the easiest item for the worker.

Only after the mug arrived and the waiter left her alone did she feel comfortable enough to lower the hood of her coat. She had to shake droplets of water out of her long hair, the wind had been able to toss some of the rain into her hood, but the inside of the coat was still dry as was the leather journal she retrieved from the inside pocket. Pulling the pen from the spine of the book, she gave the woman a final glance through her tinted glasses, and set the pen to the first blank sheet with a leisurely pace.

I saw Gabrielle once. I don’t remember speaking to her. Still Gabrielle has the presence of a woman in power of herself, even without words. I’m following a mortal tonight that reminds me of that image of Gabrielle I have. I think I would have liked to know Gabrielle better. Perhaps she could inspire me to be a stronger woman.

I wonder how Gabrielle handles living so alone. Does she take to it with the same uncompromising abandon that this mortal has? This mortal shapes her life through her sheer force of will. I feel certain that Gabrielle does not agonize over the choices she has made, not like me.

I am continually lonely living like this, and so guilty when I give in and seek comfort. I don’t want to need anyone. I refuse to need someone who can cause me such deep pain. It is not right to want, need, love someone who can cut you so deeply without realizing your pain.

Even as I write these words I know that I still harbor my love for Marius. How could I throw it away? Only he knows what I was like before my skin became inhumanly bleached. I judge all men by him, and yet I can’t stand to be with him. Did this all spring from that first fight? I would like to think that after all these years we have moved beyond that. No, in truth we are poorly matched. Yet my soul clamors that our relationship should have, could have, would work, if only I knew how.

I will set a move in motion before the night is over. I am restless in this city after thinking these thoughts. I think I will kill this mortal before I go. Her life is far from clean. Even now she calculates how much money she can skim from this investment. Perhaps she will reveal to me some secret I can use to protect my heart. I can’t be the one to find him this time, not after he left me. I can’t go back to him, I must bare this loneliness.

She stopped there, feeling the mist of gathering tears. This wasn’t a place she could release the full depth of her emotions, she forced herself to replace the journal in the pocket of her coat once more. When the waiter wandered near her table again she ordered a pastry and sat back to watch the mortal woman again. Hiding her interest in the woman, she played at eating and drinking, the way the rest of the patrons did.

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