Daniel I
Junior Member
The Devil's Minion
Posts: 80
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Post by Daniel I on Sept 28, 2006 23:35:09 GMT 1
Welcome to the Shiny Archive of Daniel. It is full of angst, angst, and more angst, mostly about and centered around Armand. Because, ah... well, we all know why. You can also find these stories credited to Dusty Angelic. Enjoy!
Because of my dumb ass, these names somehow belong to Anne Rice. None the less, you enjoy em, drop ole Danny a line and let me know, eh?
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Daniel I
Junior Member
The Devil's Minion
Posts: 80
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Post by Daniel I on Sept 28, 2006 23:37:02 GMT 1
Title: Secret Lovers Characters: Daniel Summary: Daniel muses on his life and hobbies. Takes place around Blood and Gold.
Secret Lovers
Contrary to popular opinion, he was not mad. He knew perfectly well that Marius told everyone who came to the house that he was mad, but he thought that he would snap out of it eventually, regain his sanity. Daniel knew he was wrong on both counts- he was not mad, and so he could not regain his sanity. In fact, he was far too acutely sane for his own taste. Damn shame he couldn’t get drunk anymore. So he made models.
He leaned down, squinting as he carefully painting a tiny candle in the window of the house he was making. No, if he was mad, it was a common malady. It was the madness of anyone who had ever had a hobby, anyone who had ever wanted to become immersed in something else to escape the reality they were faced with.
Daniel knew he was not the only member of the Coven to hide in such a way. Louis read obsessively, Marius painted and helped the others deal with their problems to avoid his own, Maharet kept track of even the smallest branch of her Great Family, Lestat, the most brilliant and flashy member of their group, had developed the most brilliant and flashy way of hiding from himself- cause all Hell to break loose, again and again.
Their hobbies were not so different from those of the mortals they fed on every night. Mortals who did as Daniel did- painting to cover the imperfections they saw in themselves, sewing the broken shards of themselves together in effigy, sanding away the harsh wounds reality had inflicted so that all was smooth and unblemished again, at least to the eye. They created beautiful things, representations of themselves that they were not ashamed to look at, things borne of their own souls that did not shame them, but brought them pride. For some, perhaps these creations were the only things they could find to love about themselves.
Daniel didn’t like to consider that he might feel that way, on some level. Best not to think of it.
Truly, the only difference between himself and the mortals who shared hobbies like his was that he could afford to become totally enmeshed in his work. After going out to hunt, he could completely dedicate himself to working, with vampiric focus. He didn’t have to work to feed himself or keep a roof over his head, he didn’t have friends to socialize with, and he didn’t have family he had to care for.
Family. No, he had no family at all. Some of the vampires considered Coven members to be almost relatives, particularly those they had shared blood with, but Danny didn’t really have that. In a way, Marius was his grandfather, but Daniel knew perfectly well it had nothing to do with affection for him, and everything to do with guilt over Armand. He took Daniel in and looked after him, because he had failed to do so for his own fledgling. No real familial feelings there. And as for his Maker…
Well, Armand wasn’t the family type, apparently. He was not Daniel’s lover anymore, nor his companion, friend, mentor, demonic familiar or, it often seemed, even his Maker, despite the blood between them. No, Armand had distanced himself so far that often Daniel could almost believe Armand had never been anything more than the scornful voice in his head that pointed out how miserable he was, and what a failure he had always been. That scornful, hurting voice- all he could now remember of the greatest love of his life.
It was his fault, really. Or so he had concluded, after much deep thought- he always had been the masochist. But he had dared to make Armand feel weak. He had dared to force Armand to face how much he really loved Daniel, how deeply Daniel had gotten into his heart, and that had a way of terrifying Armand. Always the Coven Master, always the one in control, he had none the less broken down, broken his own resolution, and in terror at the very idea of losing Daniel, he had brought him over instead. What he had fought against for twelve years, Daniel had forced him to do. That concession was viewed as a weakness, and so Armand had begun to systematically and ruthlessly rid himself of it.
First it had been sending Daniel out to hunt on his own. Then extended silences, night upon night, and finally Armand had left entirely. It was an interesting change of events and had quite bewildered his lover. Daniel had spent months lurking around the home they had shared, waiting for Armand to come back. He never had.
Since then, they had encountered each other a few times, mostly in group gatherings. Always Armand was polite to him. Would ask after his well being, as a distant relative might, feeling it to be family obligation, and then he would withdraw to go to Louis, Lestat, Marius. Anyone else. Daniel felt no closer to him as he sat beside him on a couch than he did when he knew Armand was on the other side of the world. That much of a gulf had opened between them, and it broke Daniel’s heart. Damned little he could do about it, however, and so he painted his models. It was peaceful, and they didn’t have eyes to stare at him coldly, as if not sure exactly how he had happened to come to be where he was. What he was.
Sighing, he set the model down and sank into a chair, slumped there inelegantly, staring at the model city taking shape in all of its minute detail. It was truly a masterpiece, he had to admit. Beautiful and perfect and completely ordered. Unlike his thoughts. That was nothing new.
Cocking his head to the side, he remembered the words… secret lovers. Yes, Armand had once said they were secret lovers, back in those heady nights of love and blood and passion and obsession. Back when he could actually feel the warmth of Armand’s embrace, even if he had not yet fed that night. Back when he still allowed himself to love Daniel, because he hadn’t yet realized just how deeply he felt.
Secret lovers indeed. If they were still, in any way at all, lovers- it was certainly a great secret to Daniel.
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