Bloodbeat Chronicle Repository
Daywalker Chronicle - Character Diary
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The Diary of Vampire "D" August 1781: In the Schoolroom Good day, Beatrice! ...I write to myself because myself is mostly all I have for company, there being no other offspring residing in the manor house. And besides, this is my Diary. To whom else would I address the words I place here? Mother's face is a bit hazy in my mind, these days, having died so very long ago, but many of her words still ring in my head. In this instance, what comes to mind is her sweet voice explaining that "we only write to people we know very well, lest our meanings be misunderstood". Upon reflection, I realize that the only person I know so well is me. Thus, I write my thoughts to myself, and hide this little tome away from the prying eyes of servants and my friends. Well, enough of that, and on to matters of true importance! Yesterday, Papa gave me a real horse to replace my pretty little black pony, but he says I'm a big girl now and so must ride with a saddle. I think this is a bit silly, riding sideways on such a spirited animal, but lately Papa has begun inexplicably to fuss so about appearances that I haven't the heart to cross him. He says he loves me as I am, but a young Lady of breeding, about to leave the schoolroom forever, must act the part. And I do try to do what will please him, although sometimes I wonder if he knows how BORING it can be to be a Lady. I don't mind the sewing or the lessons. In fact, I rather look forward to the running of my own household - setting it up just as I like. It's just that I don't understand why men get to go about obviously enjoying life when we females must pretend to spurn enthusiasms of all sorts. Ooh! I hear a carriage. I must run, for I believe it is the modiste, come to give me a fitting for my newest set of gowns! Perhaps she'll have more of those beautiful, soft feathers she promised last time. July 1782: Having Left the Schoolroom Two days ago, upon the celebration of my 18th birthday, I discovered why it is that females put up with the nonsensical parts that come with being a Lady. Papa hosted a huge ball in my honor. The modiste had brought me the most incredible creation of silks and soft, floating feathers! Far beyond my wildest dreams. Everyone who is anyone attended. Even my wonderful Uncle Mallory came to see me take my first steps in the bright and beautiful world of adulthood. For once, I was the complete center of admiring attention. And I got to dance, and dance, and dance, all the night through, until my feet were so sore I had to beg off the rest of the clamoring young men and go sit to share whispers and giggled tales with Ellie and my other friends. The musicians played until the sun came up again, and I could barely see through a haze of happy exhaustion. But I did it! I kept up with the veterans of the Ton. And I'm so very glad that I did, for it allowed me to see that almost no one left before I took myself off to bed to sleep the day away. Oh what a conquest! I am sure I shall take the Ton by storm!! February 1783: Upon Entering the Social Whirl of the Ton London during the Season is just as exciting as I had hoped and dreamed. Every night is filled with dancing and parties. See and be seen, talk and be talked about. And every afternoon is spent either at the park or visiting. Lately most of my visiting has consisted of young men vying for permission to attend me at our townhouse, trying to impress me enough to put in a good word with Papa. But I have to turn some of them away so that I can accept invitations to the most exclusive salons. Mustn't put on airs or spurn the womenfolk. It seems to me that one can be too popular with the males and cause discontent with the females. That way lies disaster, I believe, since all it takes is a few disgruntled words to ruin a girl's chances and good name. So I make a point to be polite and social with the Ladies of all the best families as much as possible. A few days ago, Ellie (Yes, she's here too. What fun we are having on this mutual adventure!) confided in me that people have started calling me by a much coveted title: They say that I'm an "Original". Oh my! I'm an Original. In a town positively bristling with cynics and the jaded, Beatrice Patricia Wilhelmina Bradford has been labeled an Original! Just wait until Uncle Mallory and Papa hear about this. Of course I'm not going to be the one to tell them. They must hear it on their own, through their own sources while they tend to their duties of escorting me about the musical and glittering nights of the Season. Hah! I told Papa that I could be myself and still be Lady enough make him proud. And now I am proven right. Poor Uncle Mallory, though. I really do feel sorry for him. It is obvious that he was rather pushed into becoming my primary escort by Papa. Papa's heart just isn't in it without Mama. And I overheard Cook tell one of the kitchen maids that my looks match Mama's more each day. So I can only imagine that it must break Papa's heart to watch me move through the social whirl of the Ton, like the ghost of his lost love. It was very good of Uncle Mallory to take on this role and save Papa that pain, so I try not to be too much of a worry for him. My only regret is that none of the eligible young men who keep flocking around Papa, asking for my hand, are really what I think of as an ideal husbands. Most of them are nice enough, I suppose. They all come from good families. Many of them even have really respectable titles. I just haven't met one with whom I fancy spending the rest of my life. And I truly wonder if I ever shall. January 1784: My Suitors & Uncle Mallory - I'm the Center of a Delicious Scandal! I had just about given up on the idea of finding someone with whom I could be happy, and was trying to make up my mind which marriage offer to promote to my dear Papa, when I had a brainstorm. Suddenly, I knew that if I could just get myself invited to the Prince Regent's ball I would meet the man of my dreams. A man with humor, intelligence, and of course, a great many manly charms. I could hardly contain myself, but immediately focused all my energy toward gaining that most coveted of invitations. Weeks later, to my great joy, the invitation arrived. I was going to the Prince's ball! Papa and Ellie, and even Uncle Mallory, cautioned me strongly not to place too much of my hopes into the events of one evening. After all, they said, it was just another ball. But I knew, I just knew that it would change everything. And I was so very right! That night I met Anton and Marcus. Anton Sigurtson is obviously descended from some Nordic god of strength and beauty. Prince Marcus (PRINCE Marcus!!!) is darkly handsome; his charm tinted with an edge of danger that I simply cannot imagine any girl resisting. And to put the frosting on the cake, these two amazing men seemed to be competing for MY affections. Both are charismatic, good-looking, and obviously wealthy. Both seemed quite sincere in there desire to win me ...and possibly even my hand! How could my head not be turned? When they both stand so near that they can engage in genteel battle without many of the eavesdroppers being successful, their presences are literally dizzying. I do believe I could be eternally happy with either of them. ...but, a PRINCE! And I have paid attention. They dance only with me. Both of them. It is unheard of, but there you have it. They seem interested only in me. It is so amazing, I cannot quite believe in my own memories of each encounter I have with them. Uncle Mallory, now, he seemed to develop an immediate powerful suspicion of my two glorious suitors. And for the next several months, he did everything in his power to keep me away from them. Really! That is taking one's responsibilities as chaperone just a bit too far, if you ask me. He is supposed to see that propriety is observed and that I am not harassed by undesirables. And my oh my, are these two most definitely the most desirable males haunting London. In any case, I don't know why he is so worried. It won't last. It is not as though I have a great enough title to capture the amazing Anton. And Marcus is a Prince, for pity's sake. He couldn't marry me if he wanted to. I'm certain his family would never stand for it. So why can't my dearest relative let me dream a few impossible dreams while I can? The Ton, of course, is simply eating this up. Two of the most eligible bachelors in London, spending all their time and attention on little ol' me. It has been going on long enough that some of the women are, I strongly suspect, becoming jealous. Why just the other day, Lady Hollingsworth warned me that people were beginning to "talk". And that is never good. Something will have to happen soon. Things cannot continue as they are. January 1784: An Offer From a PRINCE!!! Oh I was right! A few days ago I was told that Papa wanted to see me in his study. If one is summoned to see Papa in his study, well it must be serious. So I knew that something important was about to occur. He informed me that two of my suitors had asked for my hand in marriage. I knew that he meant to give me to one of them. It was the only explanation for the summons. But my heart was heavy, for I knew that I would have to put aside my dreams of my two glorious, but impossible, suitors and accept whomever Papa had chosen for me. I tried to smile as I waited for him to tell me of his decision. Papa explained to me that first he had been visited by Prince Marcus. The PRINCE had asked for MY hand. Could it be true? I was to be a princess? Only in my most secret dreams had I hoped for such a thing, knowing it could never be. Papa continued, telling me that Anton had also requested the right to marry me. I was stunned. They both wanted me. Forever. Me. ...Oh my. I thought about this very quickly, but very thoroughly, for I suspected that Papa might be having difficulty with his decision. I knew I certainly would. And the conclusion at which I arrived was that I could be happy with either of them, but a princess is a PRINCESS. So I knew what my answer would be, should he unbend enough to actually ask me my opinion. As it happens, I suppose he was just giving me a moment to let me take it all in. For then he informed me that while he would like nothing better to see his daughter become royalty, this royalty happens to be Catholic, and therefore unacceptable. His baby would not sink to idolatry for the sake of a mere man! So he had chosen Anton for me. I would be wife to a very wealthy member of a merchant family. (Apparently my small title was good enough enticement, after all.) While I briefly mourned the loss of an unseen palace or two, I was not deeply unhappy with Papa's choice. Once my mind was able to truly accept that I would actually get to marry one of the two men of my dreams, that I would be allowed to live out one of my fondest wishes.... Well, even Ellie says that I am practically floating around the manor, instead of walking as mortals should. And my face has begun to hurt from smiling, or trying not to, all the time. September 1786: How I Came To Leave England Lord Hollingsworth, husband of Lady Hollingsworth and one of Papa's oldest friends, held a lavish engagement party for me and Anton. Everything was perfect. Absolutely perfect. The flowers, the food, the guest list, the groom. My every fantasy had been fulfilled. Papa and Uncle Mallory were there to see my happiness. Anton was gracious and attentive, as usual. And all the women, young and old, married or debutante, wanted to talk with me about my grand stroke of luck. All was proceeding like a wondrous dream from which I hoped I would never awaken. Then Marcus arrived. Anton seemed a little unhappy, as one might expect of a bridegroom facing his former competitor for the hand of his fiancé, but then I saw them converse a little and Marcus must had said something on the nature of couldn't he at least have a farewell dance with me? because Anton nodded tersely and walked away. Marcus came directly to me then, ignoring the attempts of the more persistent mothers of marriageable daughters, and led me to the dance floor. Near the end of our dance, Marcus said he needed to talk to me someplace where we wouldn't be overheard. I have never been able to say "no" to him, and this was no exception. So we snuck out into the wilds of Hollingsworth's magnificent and extensive gardens. Then, under the dim light of the new crescent moon, he kissed me. And kissed me. And did some other things I knew I should not have let him do, but was powerless to protest. How could I when I wanted it as much as he did. Possibly more. But the feelings were all new and so overwhelming! Suddenly, his body was against mine. I barely understood that our clothes had gone. He was touching me, and kissing me until I was frantic for something I could not name. Then he was loving me in a way I had not even imagined possible, and I seemed to soar higher and higher. The world was very far away. Only Marcus was real. His marvelous hands. His mouth on my newly sensitive neck. His body inside mine. Oh so real. ...I fancied I could hear the heartbeat of the world. The colors in the night faded out and then came back so sharply I could not stand it and had to close my eyes. Then, as I rose so high in the heavens that I feared I would never find my way back, everything went bright in a silent explosion. Then I knew nothing. When next I was aware, I found myself entwined in silken bed sheets and rose petals. And Marcus was telling me that we were in Italy, and to be wed! September 1786: My Wedding, & Venice in the Fall Even now, I can scarcely believe it: I am a Princess! Papa always called me his little princess, and God knows I deserved the title, but now it is official. Of course, I had to convert to Catholicism for this to happen, but really it was such a small price to pay for such bliss as I know now. Papa missed the wedding. Everyone on my side of the family did. Marcus said it was unavoidable because only those of The Blood could be allowed to witness the ceremony, and none of people would understand what they saw. My beloved's family more than made up for that lack, however, throwing us a lavish, fairytale wedding in magnificent Venice. My gown was the most beautiful concoction of silk and lace imaginable, with fresh flowers sewn into the bodice and skirt mere moments before I was to walk down the aisle and join with my beloved Marcus. The ceremony itself took place in the throne room of one of Marcus' castles, for it was also my coronation as his Princess. I don't remember much of it except that it was beautiful, and seemed both to last forever and be over in an instant. We had a get-away gondola positively covered in roses instead of a measly old carriage! And Marcus had our gondola flanked on either side with gondolas full of musicians and singers to serenade us all the way to our lodgings. The years following the wedding are a happy blur of balls and fêtes, punctuated by halcyon moments alone with my husband and Prince. 1792 - The Scarlet Pimpernel I have discovered the most amazing thing! My dearest Marcus is, in secret actuality, the famous Scarlet Pimpernel! I can't claim that I learned this on my own; he is far too clever than to let his wife discover such a thing of an accident. Rather, he did take me into his confidence, knowing that I would wish to help him with this endeavor. And, of course, I do. I just wish we could do these good deeds from a nice clean city where it is possible to get a decent bath! Also, Marcus' plan necessitated our being apart much of the time. I'm a big girl, and can handle this, especially for such a good cause, but really I do miss him so! While Marcus is off sneaking around with French nobles, I am infiltrating what passes for Parisian society. Merchants and aristo sympathizers pass me names and hiding locations, which I then give to my husband. How he proceeds from there, I do not know, but the revolutionaries continually curse him and his ilk for making the nobles disappear into thin air. Happily, I have found a way to make a contribution of my own. During the course of performing my part in Marcus' schemes, I am able to pass the names of some Frenchies who do not deserve the title "noble". Those who were lowborn and bought their title or were granted their title as a reward for deeds done for the crown, and even those who have deliberately sullied the blood by marrying a commoner .... I use the revolutionaries to rid us of them all. It is so simple and so gratifying to perform such a service for our kind. I can't hardly wait until we are free of this horrible, filthy place and I can tell Marcus of my exploits at our leisure. I think I shall present it to him as a belated wedding present. I came to him with nothing and so had nothing but myself to give him at the start of our marriage. Now I have something more; something that will show him I am willing to do my part to preserve the Blood and protect it from dishonor. I know he'll be pleased. ...Ah, if I can only last in this god-forsaken mudhole they call a city until that day! God give me strength to endure this awful place and it's unflattering, outdated, patched rags and stolen finery!! 1792 to 1882 - Life as a Courtier Well, that's just great! I find the perfect husband, get him to marry me and make me a Princess of the Blood, go together on heroic adventures, and my favorite relative has to show up out of nowhere and behead my Prince ...for no good reason!!! Now I'm just another widow in Rogan's court. Uncle Mallory didn't even stay with me here. He just left me to the tender mercies of Court. At least I'm Rogan's ward and not just a charity case. That would be too much to bear, even if he did change my name to "Brocade". This way I still have some dignity. And I people still call me "B". 1882 - On the Train to California This trip seems interminable. The dullness is broken only periodically by political maneuvering and the odd interesting accident. But it always is everything happening at one, or nothing at all for weeks at a time.
Tonight, for example, started off with very little promise until I noticed a young one of the Blood whom I did not recognize. This was notable because a large portion of Rogan's household occupies this train, and few would intrude upon that knowingly. Of course, once I took an obvious interest, the feeding frenzy began. This young man, whom I will call Sparky (it's not like the name he gave had any validity, I'm sure), is absolutely adorably young and naive. He is also apparently without a House. His sire was criminally negligent in his education with regards to his own kind. Until boarding this train, he had only seen one or two of us, and never in a group. So he has no idea about proper conduct or how to be sociable. Even worse, he has no understanding of the value or importance of the House. I have attempted to teach him a little, but one can only achieve so much in a single encounter. It will be interesting to see how this one develops ...if he survives the trip. I couldn't say why, but I suspect that he will. Note to self: Don't forget to think up several new impossible tasks for that moron, my most ardent suitor, to attempt. It would seem that acquiring fruit in mid-winter is not sufficiently difficult as to be a deterrent. Also, find out what Romando's favorite color is. If I can manage a gift in that color, an embroidered handkerchief or some such, I may be able to garner more favor for my grandsiress from him. 1905 - Political Intrigue The moment Rogan¹s household arrived in San Francisco Rogan began the task of taking over the Society of the area. 1907 - Earthquake After the devastating earthquake the current Tyrant of San Francisco, Lady Sabine, was found lacking in coping skills and was easily displaced by Lord Rogan. B was now in the entourage of a ruling Lord Tyrant, a position she found very suitable. 1907 to present - San Francisco Courtier Just prior to the recent great Silicon Valley War, D was having great time juggling lovers and admirers from amongst all three of the major local houses. She was sleeping with Lord Tyrant Rogan of San Francisco, Lord Maximillian of San Jose, and one of Josephine of San Jose's favorite Toys. At the start of the war, D was pouting because everyone was caught up in the political and racial tensions, which meant that no one was paying attention to her. She decided to try and make her lovers jealous by creating a Child of her very own. Problem was that the only guy that caught her fancy and showed enough interest in her turned out to be a government investigator of some kind. She quickly hid his ashes and tried not to look too embarrassed. As far as she knows, this is just her own private little secret, but she worries that the disappearance of this agent may have caused a slight breach in the Masquerade. After the war fizzled out due to a distinct lack of surviving combatants, D decided it was time to acquire a human Pet. Very furry, but definitely human. She spends a great deal of time socializing with Lady Sabine's household, as she is the only Vamp of means left in the area with any sense of style. Well, okay, she's pretty much the only real Lord left in the area at all, but that doesn't mean her parties are any less entertaining or tasteful. So D is where she always wanted to be; listed amongst the crème de la crème of Society, and very happily so. |
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