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It was a terribly fragile thing in those days. Still is, actually, or so it feels like some days. When she is away at Trinity Gate and leaves nothing but doubt in her wake. When she is here I feel so sure of her love, even if she is doing nothing but sitting by the fire with an open book, as she so loves to do, letting the light of the flames dance across her features.
“Sit,” she had said one evening. I was getting ready to go to the opera, but she would not be joining me. Claudia was still so young then, so fresh and new in the blood, and Louise was loath to leave her for any length of time, and I was just as loath to give up my habits, so I often went alone in the early years of our dark triad. She had already helped me lace my dress for the evening, a pretty violet thing. I think it made my iridescent eyes seem almost violet as well. But that is neither here nor there. The point is, she had helped me dress, as we often did for each other in those days.
I was used to dressing myself, you see, as we could not afford maids to do it for us when I was still a mortal woman, and my maman, my dearest beloved first child in the blood, my Gabrielle, never bothered to lift a finger for me once I could do it myself. (Though I was more than happy to do it for her every morning.)
Louise, on the other hand, was never without, and therefore once we were on our own, with no maids or slaves to depend upon, it fell to me to take up this mantle, not that I minded of course. Why would I? Who in their right mind would complain about completing such a task? All that tantalizingly pale skin on display, smoothing the beautiful fabric I had picked over her lithe body. Oh no! No such hardship for me.
Then came the hair, Louise preferred to wear hers up now, as was the fashion of the time. As it was, she was hardly one to ever leave it down, not if she was to be seen in society. But it was not always like this. When I first met her, I found it beguiling how long and free it was, tumbling in messy waves around her shoulders. She couldn’t be bothered to do it back then on account of her grief, and she couldn’t be bothered to do it when she was still fresh in the blood, too enthralled by all her new senses, new powers, to worry about such things. And I certainly was not going to make her put it up. To see it laid out on the silk lining of the coffin was a joy in and of itself. Like someone had spilled ink all along the inside in perfect waves. So soft and shiny against the pillow.
I treasure the memory of our first time in the coffin together, the feeling of her hair against my lips. Naturally I had awoken before her, and I couldn’t help but press kisses into it, so happy that she was taking to it so well. Such an optimistic thing I was back then. Oh, who am I kidding? I still am and always will be an optimistic thing. What did Marius call it? Nauseating optimism? You cannot see but I am rolling my eyes, dear reader.
As I was saying, I preferred to leave my hair down, customs be damned. But after we had Claudia, she felt it important to start wearing it up again, to teach Claudia how to be a little lady. Lead by example and all that. Though my Claudia and I looked like veritable twins with our long golden curls. Together we stalked the night like lions on the prowl, and I had to teach her how to drink without getting her hair caught in her mouth. She was a fast learner back then…
I digress.
Tonight, Louise was not going out, so her hair was down, and brushed over one shoulder. The long column of her throat on display like delicious ivory. I had to force myself not to leer at it, wanting nothing more than to hold her fast and bury my fangs in it. Like a man kissing his wife goodbye before he goes to work. I’d pull hard at the vein just once before my night at the opera, perhaps even make her miss me.
As mentioned previously, my dress was violet, and as soon as it was on I thanked Louise, and went over to the vanity to pick out the jewels I would wear tonight. However, she didn’t leave like I thought she would, like she usually does. Claudia was still asleep in the coffin they shared, still so young, but Louise usually went to sit by her until the death-like sleep released her, so the first thing Claudia saw every night upon waking was Louise’s soft smile.
No, Louise lingered in the doorway, watching me stand and hold up various necklaces against my throat to see what would compliment me best, for so many things did, you see! But I did not notice her at the time, too used to her leaving without even an acknowledgment of my thanking her. But that was her way, and it was alright, I loved her still. Always have, always will.
So this is why it startled me when I suddenly heard her pretty French accented voice behind me, commanding me to sit.
And I did, of course.
Unquestioningly.
I sat in front of the gilded vanity while Louise reached over me, bent so I could more clearly see her dainty breasts in the mirror as she rummaged in the side drawer for the brush. Once she retrieved it, she went about brushing my curls. I watched in the mirror, enraptured at the little crease that appeared between her eyebrows as she concentrated on her task.
She’d never done my hair before. I’d done her hair plenty, of course. Like I said, Louise was a lady, and I liked pretending I was her handmaid, and it was my sole duty to make her even more beautiful than she already was, if such a thing were even possible. Louise didn’t know I played these games of course, I knew she’d never understand.
I didn’t question why she was doing my hair now, even though she knew I didn’t like to wear it up. I wasn’t about to spoil the moment. It felt like the world had stopped entirely, not merely paused, and it narrowed and shrunk down to the size of the head of a pin. All that mattered were her fingers in my hair, and I was not about to ruin the moment by questioning her. I knew how to shut my mouth when it counted, mostly.
She held pins between her teeth as she artfully placed the curls atop my head. I suddenly felt the breeze on my exposed neck, but that’s not why I was shivering. With each touch I felt myself growing more drowsy and dreamy, wanting nothing more than to sink into this moment completely. I felt entirely at her mercy. She could’ve asked for anything in the moment and I would’ve given it to her. My body, or my blood. Anything. She simply had to have asked.
I cannot stress enough the intimacy of this act. For someone that had grown up with maids and servants, it surprised me how effortlessly she did it. It made me wonder why she even needed me to do it for her at all, if she possessed this skill.
You can imagine then, the sadness I felt when she was finally finished. She hadn’t said a word the entire time, and I didn’t dare break the spell. She stood behind me with her hands on my shoulders, looking it over in the mirror, head slightly tilted to the side like a pretty bird while she examined her handiwork. I had no way of knowing what was going through her mind at that moment. I hated it.
You see, she was my fledgling, my companion heart, but I never knew… I didn’t know, at the time, if she was really ever mine. Not truly, not fully. Because at the end of the night she didn’t really know me at all, did she? Not all of me, not back then, and that was my fault, yes, because I did so desperately want her to know. But I couldn’t, and so I contented myself with the knowledge that it was better this way. I could ignore this lonely feeling most nights, for in her presence I didn’t care what she was thinking, only that she was here, with me, with our family that I had made for us. It was enough. So long as we had Claudia with us, we would be happy.
“Merci, Louise,” I breathed out in little more than a whisper. She gave me a small smile in return, nodded, and exited the room. I left for the opera.
On the way there and on the way back I thought about what I wanted to tell her. I wanted to tell her how nobody else had touched my hair so lovingly since Nicolette, that nobody had cared enough to even try. Gabrielle certainly wasn’t going to concern herself with trivial mortal customs, and though my hair had been wild and undone when Marius dug me out of the dirt, he did not offer to style it for me.
I laughed to myself, picturing him giving me some Egyptian style, probably the only thing that he knew how to do. He must have perfected it after caring for Akasha for so long. Oh, that would’ve looked dreadful on me indeed! I laughed and laughed, picturing myself with such an absurd hairstyle, and then I pictured Louise’s reaction to it and laughed even louder. People on the street turned to look at me, but I didn’t care. Look at me! I thought. I look like a beautiful lady tonight, because my lover wanted me to. Do you see how methodically and thoughtfully each curl is placed? It is by no mere accident, you see. She took her time, and it is lovely. It is wonderful.
Pure giddiness. I must get home to her now, I thought. I want to be home with her, I want to be with our family.
In the present, I feel very much the same. I miss her. I want to hold her body close to mine. I want to tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear when it falls into her face as she reads.
I picked up my phone and dialed Trinity Gate.