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Mona Mayfair
28 April 2015 @ 11:34 pm
If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in the river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song

Current Location: Madrid, Spain
Current Mood: nostalgic
Current Music: The Band Perry - If I Die Young
Mona Mayfair
20 February 2008 @ 06:37 pm
A dark street, desolate of any mortal souls that might bear witness to a lonely figure moving quickly through the shadows. The only sound that betrayed my presence was the steady clacking of the rhinestone high heels I had chosen to wear, resounding on the ice-cold bricks of the pavement. The night was drenched with a cutting frost, and my breath left a white mark in the air. I grasped the chiffon scarf I had draped around my neck to shield me from the elements, and buried my face in it.

We had been talking online for several nights, flirting, teasing, and finally, in a moment of spontaneous passion, we had decided to meet. I thought back on his invitation, and what the deeper meaning behind it might be. I wasn't fooled to think he might have some sense of love for me, nor was it what I was looking for. I had love. Tonight was about excitement, adventure, about letting go of all restrictions and feeling alive in the moment.

I couldn't think of Quinn, or what he might think or say when he found out. I had left Blackwood Farm quite suddenly, only revealing to him I was taking a trip to Europe, and that I would be back before long. But he had not known the purpose of that trip. He had not known I intended to throw myself into the arms of another.

I felt a sharp sting in my heart. Can vampires feel remorse? I didn't know, but I could not turn back now. I needed this for myself, I needed it for who I would be in a distant future, and I needed it, oddly enough, for Quinn. Perhaps by having one last night of intimacy, I would be able to put all the more conviction into my vows. "For as long as you both shall live," but what if you're already dead?

I saw Quinn's face before me, envisioned the pain in his eyes that would surely be there when I told him. But the image was overtaken by that of another, and it was he who had me magnetized now, the reason I walked through a dark European street, my heart pounding furiously in anticipation of what was to come.

I looked up and saw a man's obscure outline under the faint glow of a lantern. It was him, and I halted my breath to a full stop. Would he be everything I had come to expect from murmured words here and there, from small traces left in a virtual world? It was but a mere second that I was allowed to ponder, as suddenly he vanished!

I ran to the place where he had stood, my heels thundering in the night air. Where had he gone? I looked into the street that crossed the one I was in, and saw him at the far corner, waiting for me. I walked towards him, and again, he disappeared. He was leading me.

I followed him for a short while through a downtown neighbourhood until finally we reached a hotel. The words "Kyriad Prestige" were imprinted over the entrance. The door was left open and a warm inviting light poured from it. I quickly entered and was welcomed by a spacious and tasteful interior. He stood at the bottom of the flight of stairs leading up to the rooms and continued his game, until I saw a long corridor, all doors closed except for one. I drew a deep breath and slipped into the room, closing the door behind me.

It was luxurious and comfortable. A thick red carpet stretched from wall to wall, dark wooden furniture placed thoughtfully to add to the overwhelming impression of sophistication and safety. The velvet curtains that reached all the way down to the floor were drawn shut, and a single candle was lit, giving to the whole a sensuous quality.

I was not given much time to muse over my surroundings, as quite suddenly I heard a voice whisper in my ear.

"So you have come."

I gently bit my bottom lip and inhaled his scent. My head swam with images, and I could feel myself trembling slightly. His presence burned me.

"We agreed that I would, didn't we?"

It was more a statement than a question.

His hands grabbed the scarf I wore and took it off, carelessly discarding it. He pressed against me and pushed my hair aside, letting his lips caress the nape of my neck. I sighed, letting go off all tension. His hands slipped around my waist and pulled me closer.

"Are you sure it is wise for you to be here, witch?"

I grinned.

"If you are suggesting I didn't think this through, you're wrong. I have, and I know what I want."

"Hmmm, and what's that?"

His hands were sliding lower, following the curves of my body down to my hips.


He laughed.

"Well, we won't tell Quinn, will we?"

I turned around to face him. He was definitely handsome, the white sheen of his skin beautifully contrasting with the darkness of his hair, which was tied back with a ribbon. A crystalline pair of brown eyes seemed to stare into my very core, demanding that I relinquish all control. I had not come to be a slave to him tonight, and yet his beauty intoxicated me, drugging me to be a mindless puppet, given over to his will.

I let my coat slip off and fall to the floor, revealing the black dress I had chosen to wear for him this evening. It was a short dress, with a deep V-cut neck line and a ruffled skirt, tightly hugging my figure, and perfectly opposing the innocence of the ribbons in my hair. He wore a silk ruby shirt and a dark pair of trousers. My fingers slid over the silk, and I could feel the hardness it tried to cover. Somewhere hidden deep within was a heart that did not beat for me, but was soon to release its secrets to me none the less.

I grabbed the silk more firmly, and pulled at it, tearing it from his form and revealing an ivory chest. So unlike a mortal man's, so unlike Quinn, who was still warm and supple. I kissed him, ran my fingers through his hair, and felt him do the same to me. We were tangled in a bloodless kiss.

He drew back and tore off my dress in one quick motion. I was naked, and I felt him soak me up with his eyes. I fired up and placed one hand flat on his chest, returning the favor to his pants, despite his moan as the fabric ripped away from his hips. Now we were even.

I jumped up and threw my arms around his neck, my legs clung around his waist, and I sank my teeth in his throat. The blood instantly welled up and met me in a blinding fury, rich, decadent, drowning out the world and the eternal buzz of mortal voices. I drifted in a black sea, stars the only witnesses to the utter abandon with which I sucked all life out of him. I felt the prick of his fangs on my throat and then there was nothing but passion, the deafening thunder of two immortal hearts feeding each other.

A church bell in the distance. We were lying on a bed, the sheets stained with an obscure red. I let the sharp nails of my right hand dug into his flesh, springing up little drops of blood. Hungrily I lapped these up before the wounds closed.

I lowered my head to rest on the muscles of his strong body. I sighed and smiled. Yes, this had been the right thing to do.

My vision danced over the items scattered throughout the room. I saw a black case, and I knew what was in it. It was his violin, the material possession he cherished above all other things. Stories of his skill had spread across nations, inspiring a faint hope for all mortals who knew of it, that one day they would hear those notes and see the music floating across the sky for them as he lowered his bow and played from the deepest parts he owned.

I lifted up my head and looked at him.


I pointed at the violin.

"Would you play it for me?"

And he did.
Mona Mayfair
04 January 2006 @ 01:33 am
I have finished the site for my beloved Noble Abelard and completely revised my own.

Please take a look by clicking on the banners below, and let me know what you think.

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Mona Mayfair
01 January 2006 @ 05:15 am
The Death of the Old Year

Full knee-deep lies the winter snow,
And the winter winds are wearily sighing:
Toll ye the church bell sad and slow,
And tread softly and speak low,
For the old year lies a-dying.
Old year you must not die;
You came to us so readily,
You lived with us so steadily,
Old year you shall not die.
He lieth still: he doth not move:
He will not see the dawn of day.
He hath no other life above.
He gave me a friend and a true truelove
And the New-year will take 'em away.
Old year you must not go;
So long you have been with us,
Such joy as you have seen with us,
Old year, you shall not go.

He froth'd his bumpers to the brim;
A jollier year we shall not see.
But tho' his eyes are waxing dim,
And tho' his foes speak ill of him,
He was a friend to me.
Old year, you shall not die;
We did so laugh and cry with you,
I've half a mind to die with you,
Old year, if you must die.

He was full of joke and jest,
But all his merry quips are o'er.
To see him die across the waste
His son and heir doth ride post-haste,
But he'll be dead before.
Every one for his own.
The night is starry and cold, my friend,
And the New-year blithe and bold, my friend,
Comes up to take his own.

How hard he breathes! over the snow
I heard just now the crowing cock.
The shadows flicker to and fro:
The cricket chirps: the light burns low:
'Tis nearly twelve o'clock.
Shake hands, before you die.
Old year, we'll dearly rue for you:
What is it we can do for you?
Speak out before you die.

His face is growing sharp and thin.
Alack! our friend is gone,
Close up his eyes: tie up his chin:
Step from the corpse, and let him in
That standeth there alone,
And waiteth at the door.
There's a new foot on the floor, my friend,
And a new face at the door, my friend,
A new face at the door.

- Alfred Lord Tennyson
Mona Mayfair
06 December 2005 @ 05:26 pm
The pain I see now reflected in the face of Quinn reminds me of what I used to suffer in the days of mortality. The inevitable has knocked on the door and refuses to leave, the future is present and all Quinn's worst fears are becoming reality. To feel the aura of pure agony that surrounds him now is more than I can bear. Will my undivided love and unquestionnable loyalty be sufficient to help him through what he must face? He will be destroyed and already can I see the crumbling of his once so strong soul, like small pieces of broken glass on the floor reflecting his nightmares.

I feel helpless when I see the lines in his smooth immortal face darkening with sorrow. What can I do but stand by his side through every ordeal ahead? No, my love will not be enough to keep the Blood inside him from coagulating, but we will brave the future together as one, arm in arm, and should he lose his balance, should the ground beneath his feet fail him and make him fall, I will be there by his side to catch him.
Mona Mayfair
02 October 2005 @ 01:23 am
What is love? According to modern science, love is no more than a chemical response in the brain, triggered by scent and a subconscious investigation of furtility. The Blood animates me, keeps me alive, but my body is dead. No chemistry happens in this brain of mine. Then why do I still feel an increasing affection for Quinn, what part of the Blood feeds this? These observations draw me to the conclusion that love is quite beyond the realm of physicality and that it finds it's origins in an evanescent external source, something I can only define as the soul.

Does this mean when the Blood entered me, I did not trade spiritual immortality for physical immortality? What is the nature of my timelessness? Is the old cliché true, can True Love survive death? It would seem so, and it still continues to grow every day. Or is love perhaps not bound to life or death, is it transcendent? I have come to believe it is indeed an entity of it's own that thrives in the hearts of mankind and in the very air. So the love of Christ who died at the Cross has survived for centuries and inspires people to kindness to this day. Troy's walls would still stand had it not been for the love between Paris, prince of Troy, and Helen, his chosen princess. Indeed, I would be a rotting flower in the earth, had my Abelard not still had his heart filled with passion for Ophelia dying in his bed.

Ah, but my own explorations mean nothing in the end. Love transcends even that. The very beating of my heart is a composition in honor of my devotion to Quinn. Knowledge has no place there.
Current Mood: in love
Current Music: Lara Fabian - Love By Grace
Mona Mayfair
21 September 2005 @ 01:25 am
My lady : Italian
Noble : Irish

You are a charismatic individual with a dynamic and attractive personality. Probably not known for your caution or patience you are a risk taker who hates to be restricted in any way. Freedom is very important to you. Your thinking and intuition is strong and you have a talent for communication. You enjoy the sensual and material pleasures of life and with the application of care and wisdom you can achieve wonderful worldly success.

Mona Mayfair
19 September 2005 @ 04:22 pm
List ten things that make you happy in no particular order.

- Quinn
- Freedom
- Natural Beauty
- Wisdom
- Stimulating conversations
- Hamlet and anything written by Shakespeare
- Family
- Congenial company
- Inspiring friendships
- Being able to see the perfect balance in all things

List 3 things that bug you. Only list 3 things because you can/may be tagged again.

- People who consider themselves to be above others
- Ignorance
- Close-mindedness

Then tag 5 of your friends:

Mona Mayfair
12 September 2005 @ 05:43 pm
As you can all see, Sublime Requiem is down. We don't know how long this will take, but Nicolas is growing himself a headache trying to fix the problem.

Celeste and I have decided to host a chat at YIM this evening at 6pm EST. Contact either her or myself to be let into the chat. We hope to see you all there!
Current Mood: annoyed
Mona Mayfair
11 September 2005 @ 10:57 pm
I felt it was time for a new layout (yes, again). I will be using this one at both my livejournal and my deadjournal. Let me know what you think?