Date: Fri, 27 Oct 1995 10:57:00 PDT From: Elizabeth Ann Lewis Subject: Song Challange, Moon over Bourbon Street A few words before I begin... I'm a newbie and I've signed on to the list for the war. But, I thought it might be sporting to participate beforehand, so I wanted to try my hand at the song challange. This is both a) a first draft and b) unedited. Oh, and I'm quoting the song lyrics from memory, too. :) Sting's Moon Over Bourbon Street is what made me a vampire lover. Enjoy :) Elizabeth Ann Lewis Lizbetann@aol.com elewis@ucla.edu Passion is the Will to Be PS: This takes place *before* the events in Love You to Death. ========================================= //There's a moon over Bourbon Street tonight./I see faces as they pass beneath the pale lamplight./I've no choice but to follow their call./The bright lights, the people, and the moon and all.// New Orleans, 1892 Nicholas watched from the shadows as the party goers climbed into their carriages, laughing and calling goodbyes. Celestine stood with her parents on the veranda of their rich townhouse, demure and beautiful in a white silk gown. He had not been able to stay away from her coming out party. LaCroix and Janette had declined to attend, and oddly, he barely missed their company. They had been his constant compainions for hundreds of years, but he was finding their company less and less enjoyable. LaCroix was constantly mocking him for his loves and desires, for only killing the despicable and refusing to prey on the women he wanted. Nicholas was sick of it. //The brim of my hat/Hides the eyes of a beast./I've the face of a sinner/but the hands of a priest./Oh you'll never see my face/Or hear the sound of my feet /While there's a moon over Bourbon Street.// He did not hate what he was, did he? Only what he did. Killing the innocent was wrong, but so long as he avoided that crime, he was no worse that any *man* who could walk in the sunlight. LaCroix would hate that thought, Nicholas thought absently, his eyes still fixed on the gleam of Celestine's hair, his enhansed senses still able to pick up the scent of her perfume, although he didn't know if it was from his clothes, lingering from their one waltz together, or wafting from her skin. LaCroix would hate the idea that Nicholas was comparing himself in *any* way to mortals. //She walks everyday in the streets of New Orleans./She is innocent and young,/struggle with my instincts/In the pale moonlight.// When the last of the festivities had ended, Celestine and her parents retreated into the house. He knew which window was hers. Standing here, he could envision the honeyed warmth of her skin, tanned lightly, if unfashionably, from the warmth of the Louisiana sun. Her light brown hair was streaked with gold, and her graceful movements against the sheer curtian reminded him of her active daytime life. They also reminded him how much he wanted her. //How could I be this way/When I pray to God above?/I must love what I destroy/ And destroy the thing I love.// *Take her*, a voice spoke in his head. *You want her, take her, make her yours. Bring her essance inside of you.* Nicholas could not tell if the voice was LaCroix's or his own, and the thought frightened him. With a low sound of anguish, his turned and disappeared into the moonlight. //Oh you'll never see my shade,/Or hear the sound of my feet/While there's a moon over Bourbon Street.// Celestine turned her head slightly, wondering if it was the mournful distant howl of a dog she heard. Dismissing it, she turned back to her mirror, daydreaming about her dance with Nicholas de Branbant. He was so handsome, so charming, so intelligent. Maybe, the next time she saw him, she would be bold and invite him for a morning ride with her. She was longing to see the sunlight on his beautiful golden hair...