[The story is based on Anne Rice's Interview With The Vampire the AMC series]
During the 1870s and '80s, it gave rise to the Industrial Revolution which paved way to the concept of capitalism dominated by social elites: the aristocrats - who played...
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"HOW DID YOU FIND US?" I couldn't believe it. We were careful. We only roamed the streets I knew Lestat wouldn't set foot in.
"Did you really think I would let you go off that easy?" Lestat rolled his eyes, then chuckled. "You know I don't take kindly on people who don't say their goodbyes."
"So that's what you want? A goodbye? Fine. Goodbye Lestat de Lioncourt."
"After everything that I gave you, you're just going to abandon me? You're ungrateful. I should be the one leaving you."
"Here's the thing, Lestat. You didn't really give me everything when you missed this one crucial little thing. And that little thing is the only thing that I really want, and you kept me away from it. So I'm taking it by myself."
"Tala, Tala, Tala... always trying to be so.... independent. If that's the case, what're you doing with this filthy penniless pauper?"
"Because I'm him, Lestat. All the gold and glitter won't hide the fact that I came from filth. He understands me in ways you can't."
Behind me, Alejandro slumped on the ground as his mouth opened up to vomit blood - my blood. It spilled out of his throat like a sizzling acid, burning him and hurting him. He vomited more until he grew paler than before.
"Alejandro!" I yelled, then immediately went beside him. He wouldn't stop expelling the blood I gave to him. "What's happening?" My hands shook in panic as I helplessly tried to comfort him.
"Not every vampire is given the maker's gift. A very few only have it. And I'm elated, you're not one of the few."
"Why won't he stop vomiting?!" I exclaimed - more to myself.
"He's rejecting your blood. He won't stop until he's gone back to the state from when you sucked him dry. He won't recover. He will die."
"No, no, no, no!" I cried.
Lestat laughed. "Yes, yes, yes!"
The way he mocked the suffering of my friend, irked me so, that I felt the veins under my eyes throb and become visible. My nails grew sharp and long, as did my fangs. Then, I lifted my feet to begin my speed on rushing toward him. I tried to be as fast as the invisible wind that my apparition blurred. I aimed to surprise him with an attack to the throat with my claws, but I was the one who got surprised when he caught me swiftly by the neck. He stopped me just in time. He tightened his hold around me, and lifted me up only with his one hand. I felt myself choke on his brutal fist around my neck. It might've been fun, if only we were in a different circumstance; but this scene here was pure hate. There's nothing stimulating about this, only wrath and loathing.
His cold gray eyes which swirled with sparks of wintry blues and violets, sent a dangerous gleam that brought forth a dangerous blizzard upon me. I felt myself shiver. I tried to wriggle free, but his tight grip was frozen around my throat - that my own forceful movement, could snap my neck.
