I'm not sure in this little diatribe of yours whether you're talking to me or about yourself, or of the population on the whole. At any rate… such dramatics? Though I am not unsympathetic or unaware of the problems mortals of any age face, and though I do not doubt that such things occur, I'm fairly inured to the way it gets so sorrowfully presented in places like this. What can I say to you or to any of them with such dismal words? Hate the one who brought you into this world? Carry a grudge and harbor vengeances in your mind? Yes, that's productive, isn't it? Cowering in a corner and watching the world go by will only get you a mess of regret later on, child. Of course you can generate regret by being too impulsive and grabbing the world by the hair enough to say 'look at me, feel me, love me', yes, I know. I've done that, haven't I? But I'll tell you this much, I would rather have regrets that make me legendary for my atrocities, then regrets that I was never noticed at all because I allowed myself to be quiet.

I've been well. Temperamental and otherwise moody, but then that's a mere facet, isn't it? I'm glad you like the sig. Louis made it for me. I know he's been waiting for me to acknowledge that fact, so there you have it. I think it is about as close to me as I've been able to put forth in such an item, and I'm pleased to use it.

Could it not also be said that we hate that which we cannot have? In an attempt to take away the envy, the longing, and the pain, we channel those frustrated feelings into hate

That could be possible I suppose, for someone to use the word hate in such a connotation as that, but to me hatred isn't really anything else but hatred. Hatred is a dislike so pure that it can only be that, hatred. And even when it is labeled hatred, it is still a blend of so many other factors like mistrust, betrayal, and whatever led to the hatred, that to cap it off with one word, isn't even really accurate. It is the same way with love, is it not? To say "I love you," is really saying, "I love myself more for having you in my life because _____________, and because of that, I thank you, and care for you and want to make you feel the same way about me." But we cap it off with I love you, because somehow, if used correctly and truthfully, those words can capture that sentiment.

You say you can feel some mortals more strongly than others. What is it that draws you to these few? Is it their pain or their happiness, their captivity or their freedom, anger or peace?

I can't really say it is any of those. It is something I cannot name to a point. It is intelligence and vulnerability maybe. Quite a lethal combination, as it has proved in my past. As far as mortals connecting with us, or really us with them I guess, there could be something in the similar life experiences or the metaphors we represent and have endured in our time. I'm sure in us, there are innumerous things to be found that could be analyzed to the tiniest degree, so that anyone could say, "See, I'm like so and so because this happened once." It's nothing I mind really, but then that very fact does take some of the sweetness out of discovering a mortal's mind, at least for me. I much prefer it when people don't try so hard to be like anyone, me especially, or any of us, and instead be themselves, if they even know who that is. Most mortals I encounter online are very young, and so that becomes a problem. I am old, comparatively, and they are undefined. It makes it difficult to connect with them then in the way they might wish I could or would. Still, I find their curiosities and vivacious ways captivating at times, and so, here I am.

What types of musical intruments do you play or would like to play?

I play the piano, and the violin. Of course it has been many years now since my fingers have possessed the bow. I could never do it so well as the one that is lost to me now.

Darling, are you as literal as I am at times? I meant for you to stop whatever you were doing and write to me everything, from your thoughts to what you could hear when you closed your eyes and listened for the farthest sound you could hear. Tap Tap on the back of your hands Cherie. Try again.

The Silent One, The One who blindly hopes. Am I your Daughter Lestat? ( looks over at her title ) Yes, that title has riddled my head with unanswered questions. I guess your paying me back for all the riddles I gave you, dear Prince? Why have this be my title?

No, of course you're not my daughter. I am not darkness personified, am I? I should think that title more fitting to Santiago or Santino. I picked that title out of the others you had suggested, because frankly I thought it had the nicest sound to it. Ah, sometimes it's not a complicated answer, is it?

If you want a dramatic explanation, think of this: A daughter of darkness would be someone, in my opinion, that moved through the world with a constant shadow, a cloak if you prefer. The shadow may be imperceptible to the human eye, but it is there. In the shadow are doubts, fears, unspoken hopes and somewhere, secretly whispering, a love for possession of the shadow itself.

How is that for a riddle and an answer in one?

You intrigue me because as I've tried to explain, my words to you when I write them seem nothing truly remarkable, and yet you always seem to find something in them which you see as being just that.

I'm pleased though, that you do. To hear you say that I seem somehow to be standing there speaking to you lets me know that I'm getting my words across as I intend to, for surely as I sit here writing them, there are inflections and expressions that accompany each keystroke.

I have one wish that I have had for many years now. I would tell you but then it might never come true or then again it might come true before I'm truly ready for it to. I know you understand.

Funny you should say that. I was just thinking on something the other night. I started to tell someone about something I'd seen, but as I went to speak, I stopped myself and went on to something else. What I'd seen happened when I was alone, and it wasn't anything so spectacular, but it was mine. It was something that maybe at that moment was only seen by me. That particular thing, those objects in that moment weren't being seen by anyone else anywhere in the world. Keeping it to myself was almost like a certain quiet knowledge you know? A comfort. I think whether it is a wish, or a vision, or something you read… it's important once in a while to keep some gems close and private. The world indeed has a way of crushing their silent perfection.