Violenta's Profile at Vampire Rave.

I remember the exact moment that I lost my faith. Oh, not lost. I know right where I put it. I have excised with a surgeon's precision all traces of a faith that could be so murderously cruel. But we will not speak of such things now. I forget my manners.
How well you look.

Come, sit with me a moment. Indulge me with your company. I have been too long with my own thoughts. Even if you do not speak, let us rest here quietly while I feel the warmth of you beside me. Just for a moment, let me forget how deeply I am chilled.

There was another whose warmth I shared. I have lost count of the years since I last felt him beside me, the beautiful boy who buried his face in my hair one last time, breathing me deeply into himself before he was taken from me. Do not speak to me of love. You will not like my laugh as it frosts the sweet pink from your cheeks. My laughter frightens even myself of late. I curse love for the depth of its depravity and the thorough skill of its perversion. But how do you out-curse Curse itself? My apologies. I digress.

Each day is so like the last that I feel I may go mad, if indeed I am not already. I think my feet small, watching them pace from gate to gate, knowing the way without my eyes. Memories fade, slipping away from me like puffs of breath against a rain-streaked window pane...ephemeral ghost children dancing away at the edges of my sanity. And I want myself back! I want more than this phantom tangle of confusion I am become.

I hear home in your words, the accent of your people, and the cradle sounds where language first cooed to you that you belonged. My home is where a blue-eyed boy rested his head upon my pillow in the stolen time of an autumn moon that shone on my provincial Italian village. Home is an hour, minute, second. Home is olive trees and vineyard-quilted countrysides. Home is gone. Here is all that I have now. I share it with you, if you will but tarry a little longer.

Do you shrink away? You are so warm. So impossibly warm, and polite. I am grateful for your indulgence. But, I thought I saw from the corner of my eye...what? Pity? Go your way then, and I will go mine. I was not always thus. I can bear anything but pity. It galls me! Do you see this hand I hold out to you? Once, it held a fortune, gemstones of the purest opulent blue. I stole a future that belonged to another and made for myself a name, a measure of fame and promise all mine. Lines of people formed just to glimpse me from afar whenever I arrived. Irony is my daily repast; I choke on it. I will not choke, too, on your pity.

I fear that I have offended you. I want nothing more than to simply sit beside you, to reassure myself that I am real. You can see me, yes? Alexander called me his Bellaluna. His breath was sweet as the scent of freshly bundled hay and his eyes loved me when I was just a farm girl of sixteen years. Those eyes. Those impossible eyes. I dared to believe myself beautiful then, in those moments when his eyes held me captive and I could see forever within them.

Yes, I know. You must go. But it is too soon for me. I will walk you to the gate, and I will watch you leave this place. Yet I will not let you get away from me so completely. I have kept something of yours and you will have to return here to me. I am your secret. Hold me close. Hold me fast. Tell no one what you have seen. Speak to no one of what you have heard. I will know. When you sleep, dream. When you dream, feel me near. Seek me in the shadows.

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