I'm sorry I missed chatting with you. I was called away unavoidably that evening. I'm sure time will come once more. Did you sing for me yet?

Just remember the thought, as you prepare to move, that what you think is waiting out there for you might not be precisely as you envision it to be. Many times I have been too late in seeing the truth of such a warning. That is not to say that the search isn't worthy in its own right. One thing you have to remember is that as bad as you think you might have it, you could always have it worse. Ah, but I'm sure I won't dissuade you from your ideas, will I? Pursue them with your eyes open, that's all I can say.

Don't tell me things like there are people who no longer believe. Do you taunt me? Do you want me to make them all believe again? I'm sure I will, in short time. Those who matter, those who truly see what I am as something beyond mere pulp fiction, they are the ones who believe in me, and that's all I really care about. I'm sure if you announce it into the crowd, even in silent acknowledgement, there will be those who say one simple word: Yes. It's all I've ever needed.

I find it hard to believe you have no bookstores? Try ordering the books online. I've found that online just about everything is attainable, if you look.

You hadn't touched on too personal an issue, no. If you had I would have indeed said so without too much anger. Simply Cherie, you must understand that while you are sitting up at night penning all these inquisitions, I am out doing the things I do, and I can hardly hire a secretary to answer such things as I sleep. (I tried, but adorable as they are, their job description quickly changed to "victim".) I know you're inquisitive, and I love that, I do. I want to lie back sensually and have you all examine me, touch me and love me. There are just too many things that occupy my hours. In the future, just restrain your e-mails a bit, to a few questions about my life, past or present. I don't want to be rude and let such things go unanswered, but I haven't the time or the inclination to answer lengthy letters.

You wish in vain to see me. I take immense pleasure in moving unseen in the night. I am a swift, lethal presence often unseen until the last moment. You wish for that?

Of course there are times I give in to my own vanity and move among the mortals as I did so long ago. Why shouldn't I? I'm entitled to see operas, plays… all of that. They know, or maybe they don't know, I don't bother to care. I love them and they love me in some unspoken way. If we never meet or breath words to one another, if my flesh never presses to theirs - or to yours - It still does, in some way, doesn't it? As the lyrics to on Enigma track say: "It's in the mind, not in the eye."

As for a title - Let me know what you want and I will set it as such. However, I will not be giving personalized titles to anyone such as 'Lestat's ___". I see no reason for that, so if you want to be a pet, you'll have to ask someone else.

How can I answer that without being seen as even more egotistical than I already am? Oh well, they can think what they want. I'm Lestat, should I care? Here are my thoughts:

I think that in us, mortals see many things. Of course they see the beauty, and the perfection that comes from a marriage of different factors. We live eternally, we are physically beautiful, we are dangerous and yet we also have lasting humanity, if for no other reason than it is -that- very thing which sustains us. The 'danger', also represents the Taboo, The Forbidden. In speaking with us, maybe there is a constant thought that it is somehow flirtation with evil; we're something parents and good Christians warn against. Ironically enough I think also that there is a certain element of religious fever in those who 'adore' us. As I said, do we not live eternally? Are we not likened to God in that aspect? Believe me, I have met and tasted in mortal blood, ardent, zealous belief in me, praise and sacrifice their will to me down to the last moments.

In us, mortals see everything they'd like to be, and everything they are afraid to be. It's the unending dichotomy of the human soul.

That's one way to look at it.

Of course, being "Goth" is so "cool" in the modern age, that it is often times just a clique sort of thing to 'talk to the vampires', or read my novels. Those children are mere tasty, if perhaps less interesting on the whole, appetizers. What they see in us is what they sit around and gossip about. What they see is what they think we are, what they've made us in their Barbie and Ken gone bad world. Overall, I tend to be more vicious with these lads and lasses just for that reason.

Thank you for the question Catherine, and welcome to Minuo.

You ask:
Were all immortals ever made, from an aristocratic background? It just seems, from what I remember of all my readings, that most of you were from rich families. Does that have anything to do with the selection of who you give the gift to?

Most I've encountered, and certainly most in our little brood, have some aristocratic heritage or affiliation. Sometimes however, it's not so lofty as appearances or titles would have the eye believe. There are others now in the world, made in some careless passion, and they are not 'rich' in any way. There are rogues among us, and I've never bothered to check into their lineage, but I can tell you many of them are for their solitary ways, more unpredictable and dangerous that we are. Does it factor into who is given the Gift? I would say for the most part, from the ones I've known to be given it, the lineage doesn't have to be rich, just sound, and substantial. Does that make sense to you?

Don't hold your breath for the e-mail. I've been lazy lately, at least in attending to those things. It's still lying there, waiting, so at least it's not forgotten.

Well you've graduated by now, so celebrate and congratulations! I'm glad you haven't figured out how to interpret me. I like to confound people and leave them breathlessly puzzled. It's such an amusing dance, I think. Good luck with what decisions you make and what your days might bring you now that school is complete.

You said:
Though, sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be you. No offence to you, but I don't think I've been me long enough to make an educated decision on that one. I'll give you a proper answer to that when I'm 30. Deal?

I wouldn't tale offense darling. I think that's a marvelous answer. It is important to know yourself before you venture onto being something other than that self, I agree. For if we are something always other than ourselves, be it in any sort of performance or persona, when the lights dim, what do we have in the quiet of dawn to return to?

You said:
But of all the people I know, I am the strongest. I don't cry. I don't hurt.

Does that make you strong or a master of self-deception?

You said:
Is there anything solid, real, three-dimensional about you that is not temporary? Is there ever anything in your eyes that could not go out of fashion? Pardon me if the question seems rude, but I wonder. You seem to go through fads, almost. One minute you do, the next you don't. Things like love, hate, desire, thirst - those kind of things seem to be a permanent fixture with you. Physical realities you seem to enjoy varying - spiritual, mental, emotional realities you keep the same, always. Emotions rarely change with you. Even when the people do, your feeling remains.

Well of course when I have centuries behind and before me, how could anything be constant? That eternity is what is constant. The knowledge of it is at once glorious and overwhelming. I am a fickle creature, I'll admit. I've always been that way. Physical realities I enjoy varying? Elaborate dear Jenna. Emotions with me are like the ocean. They change, really. They have in that analogy, areas teeming with life and vigor, and areas deep and almost devoid of life. They see storms, winds, but yet all along, they are as it, still the ocean, you know?

And lastly you said:
All the gorgeous things that inquisitive little children like me dream as they wander through the valley of slumber, warm beneath a blanket of stars.

Ah what a beautiful picture that gives me you know? Walking softly in the warmth of the evening, the air kissing your skin and scenting still as you fall to your dreams. No. You don't want to wish me away, I know. That's all right Jenna, I don't want you to do such a thing as that. I'll just watch over you and all the sleeping little children with my eyes full of dark crimson hunger.

As I said earlier in my replies, I'm not going to give any mortal a title in association with my name. How about 'Night's Shadow', or something similarly suitable?

Of course that's what I had in mind. If you did laugh, and cry, I fulfilled what I set out to do. If ever there are people who read and don't 'get it', then bah! Let them sit in the corner with the dunce cap on their head. You should come around more often.