T h e . w o r l d . o f . R i c e - +

Contrary to popular belief, I am not obsessed with Anne Rice even though I might have been in the past. The explanation for that may or may not come at a later time. The purpose of this page is to show off my characters, the ones I roleplayed with while I was on Blessed Darkness, The Black Rose, A Macabre Minuet, Terra Immortatum, and Le Jardin Sauvage.

Each character will be listed with a brief description and a sample of my writing as each. I hope my role-playing has improved over the years. ::wince::

Lekiare / Lorena de Milano

She was created in November '97 and has yet to be retired though she has evolved over the years. Her hair color is black and curly; eyes are green; age is estimates at over 500 years. She was born in the state of Venice, and was turned twenty years later. Lorena is a very mournful character, sometimes unable to let go of the past.

sample: I leaned against the cool marble wall and watched the crowds rush by me in a frantic dance. Their faces were blank, but they all said the same thing. It was determination, in a race against the clock, a mad final effort to catch the next train as it pulled into the station only to leave again in five minutes or less.

“Eurostar number 1345 for Paris is now seating rows eleven through 17. Please proceed to Gate A.”

The same statement was repeated in French as I strolled by a security guard, and I briefly smiled, catching the strain in his dark, brown eyes and the wonder, the amazement that his thought betrayed at the lightness of my skin. They were always surprised, or concerned, and sometimes, even a bit afraid. I even fear myself… Nonetheless, I walked past the guard and followed the attendant who directed me to a cushioned seat.

“Would Madam like something to drink?” she asked holding a plastic tray with an assortment of wines and champagne. I nodded slightly and she left me with my thoughts and a thirst unlikely to be quenched even with the sweetest beverage. I closed my eyes to ignore it, but at the same time I seemed to let in those feelings I had been trying to avoid all day. I was returning to Paris for a reason, one that was so clear by the title of the book stored away in a suitcase. It was my attempt to go and heal old wounds, though as I sat there within the confines of my created darkness I wasn’t sure if it was the best idea. How could I when my heart seemed to stop at the thought of laying my eyes on his curly auburn hair and cherubic face. He was the epitome of beauty with the soul of a devil. A man who though he appeared to be young could be as passionate and violent when something got in his way. My skin still tingles when I think of the last time we spoke, how my flesh burned ice cold when he cursed me for driving Santino mad.

We both did.

Natalie Mayfair

Nat was a Talamasca agent sent to stir up some trouble for Lestat and Co. She's described as being stubborn, and at times outrageous due in part to the spirit of Kyle who follows her every movement and torments the poor witch. She's about 25, her hair is auburn, she is petitie, and she's very athletic. Natalie first appeared in December '97.

sample: Love me.

His words danced on the wind, finding me just as easily as he always did. Was it to be this way forever? No, it couldn't be. I wouldn't let him control me. It was enough that he was able to sneak into my mind like a parasite anxiously awaiting to overcome the host. I grimaced at the thought of a bug doing just that. Come on Nat, you have better sense than that. Did I? I ran my fingers through my shoulder length hair, attempting to push away the auburn strands from my face to no avail. I glanced at my watch. It was 9:30. I had been watching the old townhouse for sometime. The Talamasca had said that Louis de Pointe du Lac would be returning fairly soon. The sooner the better. I was sick of waiting, sick of having to sit out here in the Mercedes waiting for a vampire who might just as well never appear. The motherhouse wanted the information. What had happened to Lestat they asked themselves and sent agents like me to find out. He's probably dead. I laughed at the absurdity of my comment. The brat prince always survived, one way or the other. The Talamasca just didn't know where he was and Monsieur Louis probably had the key to his lover's disappearence. I only hated the fact that they picked me to find out. What I would give for a nice warm cup of hot chocolate instead of this. I guess life wasn't always perfect.

My thoughts returned to Kyle, reminding me that he was still here, just waiting for the perfect chance. It was either me or Mona, he would whisper, sending chills racing up my back. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the seat. I was so tempted to fall asleep, to disappear from all the cares in the world, but that would be too easy. I had already gone through so much, I couldn't give up now. I had a vampire to kill, an Asian boy to train, a cousin to save, and spirit to destroy not to mention another vampire to watch. I heard a soft rustle in the back of the car and I smiled. Kyle must have heard the "destroy" part.

You can not avoid me my precious he whispered softly in my ear. The hair at the nape of my neck stood.

"Wanna bet?" I whispered back.

Kaitlynn Merida

A beautiful blond from England, Kaitlynn was as dangerous as she was vain. I don't remeber her age, but she was given the dark gift soon after her husband's death. She's a genuine bitch and she's proud of that fact. Kaitlynn appeared in March '98 and was retired that same April. Unfortunately, all the posts I wrote have been lost as well in an unexpected reformat. Ouch!


Eugénie was a minor character in The Vampire Lestat. Since not much was known about her, it was up to me to create her past for the role-playing game in which she was premiered September '98. She was born about 100 years prior to the beginning of Le Theatres de les Vampirs. She was the bastard child of a noble and a prostitute, later becoming a whore herself until she killed her employer. Eugénie can be very strong in dire situations, yet when it comes to the loss of those she loves, she tends to lose all self control to the point that she poses as a risk to herself and others.


I wrapped my arms around me as I strolled down the street, heading towards the river. A cool breeze swept through the city and the mortals around me huddled closer to one another or hid deeper within their thin clothes. I looked up at the sky and saw the moon with the mouse forever painted on its perfect sphere. It glowed so brightly that the lamps in the city could not compete with its luminance. It seemed to fill every crack and every crevice with its light that it illumined a Paris so gay and radiant, yet it failed to do the same for me. Such light could not fill in the dark gaps embedded so deep in my soul. How could it when all my feelings were of anger, loss, and despair? I groaned at my sudden relapse into meloncholy and ran my fingers through my hair in frustration. I promised myself that I would not think about the past. Just for tonight. Yet here I was already wallowing in my feelings and I wanted to scream. I needed to concentrate on other things.

My pace quickened as I neared the Siene. Here was the place of my solace. I loved to stare at the dark, blue waters. The slow waves reminded me of a soft lullaby and sometimes I would close my eyes and wish never to open them again. The serenity this river caused was so sweet and yet so powerful that I found myself enthralled by its beauty. I was a slave of romance, and as my master, the river knew how to command me.

I rested my hand against the bridge, absently tapping my fingers on the smooth, stone surface. The world passed by me so fast and so suddenly that I ignored everything around me. The mortals, the noise, and reality. All I saw was the bridge and the water beneath, sweeping me away into some distant world were all my thoughts and displeasures could disappear with the blowing wind. I wanted so desperatly to forget who I was and what I had become. The past was too painful. The edge was so near and I could feel myself slipping…

Then he crashed into me and we both almost fell into the water.

I turned around to see who had rudely disturbed my solace only to find a tattered young man drunk enough to drown in his own vomit. His face was covered with mud and with one dirty hand he still grasped a bottle of vodka, half empty. I glared at him and he spit in my face.

”You’re in my way whore!”

I couldn’t resist his comment and I laughed. I laughed so hard that my stomach hurt and I literaly had to clap a hand over my mouth to keep from drawing attention to myself and to my new victim. But it was too funny and the drunk fool had no idea of the irony. A whore! Mon Dieu how right he was, but how stupid. An insult like this definitely placed him in a precarious situation. One he would never realize until it was too late.

”How dare you call me a whore!” I whispered not to seriously as I smiled and showed him my fangs. His eyes widened and he stood frozen to the ground. I walked over to him slowly as I placed an arm around his waist and drew him closer to me. He babbled incoherently and struggled rather weakly as my teeth pierced through his soft skin. The blood lust overtook me then and I nearly swooned with every swallow. The liquid was like honey, sweet to taste and satisfying to the senses. I drank as if there were no tomorrow and our hearts beat in a single rhythm until his began to slow. I released him then and his body fell into the river like a lifeless doll. I stared at it disappear within the waves and I sighed deeply. At least this inicident had made me forget my troubles for a while. Now I only longed to live the whole experience again so that I could keep myself entertained. I didn’t want to remember…

”The past some way or another will always haunt us Eugenie.”

That voice. I gasped as I recognized the voice. I didn’t want to turn around. I didn’t want to see but I did see. I started into the eyes of the angel of death….