Date: Sun, 23 Aug 1998 22:23:36 -0700 Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: LeeAnn Pultz Subject: Conversion Day Challenge: A Toast (01/01) To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU Well, I'm baaaack! Having finished moving into my new apartment, started my new job, and organized my new email account, I'm back, and I'm ready to write! So. Here is my response to Erica's "Conversion Day Challenge". You knew it was coming, didn't you? Bearing in mind that this is my very *first* effort at writing a story based on Lucien Lacroix, please be gentle! Obligatory Disclaimer: As always, the characters and situations of Forever Knight belong to James Parriott et al. and not to me. I make no money off of these little sagas, and thank TPTB for letting me play with them. Permission is given to archive this at the fkfanfic site, and the ftp site. Anyone else, please ask. *********************** Conversion Day Challenge: A Toast August 1998 LeeAnn Pultz *********************** Lacroix landed on the balcony of the penthouse apartment that he called home in this life. He had fed well this evening, which would help him regain his strength. Moving inside, he caught sight of the marble bust he had had recreated, and his thoughts went back to that fateful day... ...the terrible rumbling of the mountain...like angry gods...his defiant roar to the heavens...Divia's offer...and his choice.... To live. Yes. He *had* lived. For over a thousand years, he had continued to live. There had been as many happy times as there had been sad. And his family. Janette - beautiful, charming Janette, his treasure, his creation. And of course, Nicholas. A twisted grin crossed the ancient vampire's face as he thought of his wayward son. Despite the trials and tribulations Nicholas caused, there was always the belief that one day, Nicholas would realize the gift his father had given him. Life. Never one to allow the past to haunt him for long, Lacroix pushed away from the desk. His eyes strayed over the calendar on the wall. August 24th. He supposed it was ironic in a way, recognizing this date each year. But, he reasoned, he could no longer remember the date of his birth, and it seemed fitting to celebrate the day he was brought across into this life. Stopping at the refrigerator to collect a bottle of bloodwine, Lacroix moved into the sitting room. Each year at this time, he made a point of recalling the events of the past year, and toasting the future. This year would be no exception. He sat in his overstuffed leather recliner and poured a goblet of thick, red liquid. Staring into the depths of the life-giving substance, his thoughts wandered back over the events of the past year. He had begun a new life, this time as a radio talk show host in Montreal. The petty problems of mortal callers afforded him much amusement, and he found that he rather enjoyed the freedom the talk show offered him. Each night, he was able to offer his opinion on various topics, and his listeners, his children, learned from him. Their love for him was obvious, by the volume of fan mail that arrived daily at the station. Casting his mind back to the reason he had moved to Montreal, Lacroix grimaced. Taking a long draught of the bloodwine, he recalled the events that had occurred in Toronto this past year. The theft of the second jade cup from the museum...confronting his son...shocked to see how weak Nicholas had become...that night in the loft...and the utter disbelief he felt, as his son attempted to kill him that night... "And he nearly succeeded too." Lacroix muttered to himself. Refilling his glass, he drank deeply once more. Weak still, his consumption of blood had increased dramatically. But he would live. Oh yes, he would live. Raising the glass in a toast to the future, as he did every year at this time, Lacroix spoke to the empty room. "To the future. And to you, Nicholas. We *will* meet again, I promise you." ******************* send comments and vampires, Roman or otherwise, to: LeeAnn ********************************** "Why don't you try a more conventional lifestyle, like living in an apartment? Real people live in apartments and houses, not warehouses." - The Pursemonger of Fugu by Greg Kramer