† The Brat Queen †

DISCLAIMER: The following stories are all non-profit, amateur efforts not intended to infringe on the rights of Tom Cruise, Brad Pitt, David Geffen, Warner Brothers, Geffen Pictures, Knopf, Randomhouse, the city of New Orleans, the U.S. Constitution, any copyright holders that I might not have thought of or even a certain author who shall remain nameless but who has a set of initials which are, coincidentally enough, just one letter off from spelling "B.S."

History
by The Brat Queen

Challenge: A picture of a man in handcuffed bondage was posted over on Rotoli and spec writers were asked to write a story about it.
CHARACTERS: Santino, Eric
SPOILERS: None

Winner: Best Challenge '98-'99

The gallery had a low-level hum to it as they entered. Mortals milled about everywhere, clutching their glasses of wine as they scanned programs and muttered to one another their thoughts and deep interpretations.

Eric found it fascinating, in a common kind of way.

"Where first, my fearless leader?"

Santino met the comment with a bland look. He'd never truly appreciated Eric's sense of humor. "Here is as fine as anywhere," he said, moving over to the first picture in the exhibition and studying it.

They didn't stand out much in the crowd. Pale skin was appropriate for artists, likewise so was black. Although Santino was dressed in a simple black three piece suit whereas Eric had preferred black leathers (with a white silk shirt, of course). They were allowed to walk about much as anyone else.

"What do you think of it?" Eric said, examining the first photo himself. It was a shot of a forest, done in black and white. Apparently late evening. All that could be seen was the skeletal trunks of trees.

"Fine enough, I imagine," Santino said, his Italian accent providing a faint blur to his vowels. "Pretty, but I see no meaning."

Eric considered this. "Perhaps it's meant to suggest the need for wide-open spaces?"

Santino actually granted him a smile. "Or the love of closed ones. Eric, really, one can't sit and read too much into these things before it becomes silly."

"I thought that was part of the fun." Eric struck a pose of deep inspiration. "I… I feel trapped, surrounded. I see the plight of humanity all around me. Nature curses the breath of life that man must take and… and…"

Santino folded his arms and played along. "And?"

"And something about peanut butter and zinc," Eric finished, studying the picture closer. "I'm not quite as sure about that one though."

Santino laughed and lightly touched Eric's arm. "You're in a strange mood tonight."

Eric shrugged. "I suppose that I am." He paused, considering his next comment carefully. "I wasn't sure what you were hoping for when you invited me here, Santino." He said Santino's name with a slight accent of his own. It was softer, more intimate and gave the name a pronunciation that was 3,000 years old.

"Company and no more, my friend," Santino said, pressing his hand against Eric's arm one last time before turning back to the picture. "Alright then, we shall play your game. I see forests, like my home."

Mentally Eric rolled his eyes. Santino had never been much for imagination. "Italy?"

"Si." No other comments were forthcoming. Eric considered asking but then realized he couldn't think of a question. "Shall we move on to the next?"

The next picture was of an old man, stripped to nothing but his boxer shorts, staring straight ahead at the camera. His body was thin but still able to stand on its own power. Eric guessed the man's age to be perhaps 85.

"A mortal obsession," Santino said.

"Hum?"

"Age, the elderly," he gestured to the picture. "They stare at this as they would tongue a rotten tooth. They want to remind themselves of the pain."

Eric laughed. "Only today would they need to do that."

"Only today can it be truly hidden," Santino replied. "Death does not walk among them as it once did. Or so they like to think. Cover their mirrors, banish all but the young from sight. It is no protection but it is their superstition."

"Do you consider them to be as superstitious today as they once were?"

Santino gave this some thought. "Yes. In different ways, but yes." He smiled. "I confess to enjoying how many of the superstitions from my time have still survived today."

"Today they call that 'New Age'."

"They called it that back then as well," Santino said, moving on to the next photo.

"And 'Pagan'," Eric said almost involuntarily.

There was only a slight pause in Santino's step as he heard this. Unnoticeable to anyone save Eric. "Yes," he said finally. "Pagan as well. Ah, what do we think of this one then?"

Eric looked up. They were standing in front of Mapplethorpe's classic picture of a crucifix in urine. Again Eric considered his words carefully. "Here's a rather famous bit of blasphemy."

"It is no such thing," the strength of Santino's words surprised Eric.

"You don't consider this blasphemous?"

Santino looked disgusted at the thought. "God creates everything. That - " he gestured to the urine " - included. The worst bit of blasphemy is if the cross's material is plastic or some other such chemical. But even then God made man and man made the material so it is truly not as bad as that."

As he spoke Santino's posture had changed. He was standing more solidly now, his posture straighter. Eric could easily see the room around them fall away and replaced by a Church with Santino at the forefront. "What about the symbolism?"

"None save plain fact," Santino said. "A holy relic dipped in human waste - at least I assume it is human - is simply life. We are surrounded by both the Holy and the Hellish. God created the states of Agony and Ecstasy. It is one in the same."

It had been a while since Eric had heard Santino talk like this. Perhaps 100 years, in fact. He was surprised at the timing, but not the words. Santino's religion had never truly left him. He couldn't help but add to it. "He created both vampires and angels?"

"Vampires are angels," Santino said, his dark eyes meeting his with only a little coldness in them. "Always for greater Salvation. How we go about it is another matter." With that he moved on to another photo.

"Are you thinking of going back to it?" Eric asked as they looked at a photo of abstract, urban shapes. "It'd be a first, certainly."

"A first?" Santino thought about it. "No. All priests are vampires. They do drink the Blood of Christ, you know."

Eric smiled. This was Santino's concept of a joke and Eric felt he should be encouraged in it. "All Catholics too, then."

"But of course. That is what makes us the most bloodthirsty religion after all." Santino sighed. Eric reached out to caress his back gently. He knew how much it hurt the younger vampire to see his religion persecuted. Santino would never claim Catholicism to be perfect - Santino never claimed anything to be perfect - but he despised anyone who sought blame rather than the bigger picture. "And to answer your question, I'm not sure."

Eric raised his eyebrows. Santino had apparently given this more thought than he realized. "Truly? You'd become a man of the cloth again?"

"I always was, Eric," Santino said, meeting his eyes. "There has not been a moment of our lives when I did not know you as a priest. I never abandoned those vows, nor was I Excommunicated." There was a slight flicker of a smile here, as though Santino knew how hard it was to understand. "I may have committed many mortal sins, of course. But God is always forgiving, if His children ask for it."

Eric could remember committing a few of those mortal sins with Santino himself. He had rather fond memories of those. "And would you?"

Santino shrugged. "I don't know. I do find myself becoming more spiritually minded, of late. It never left me, of course, but I do think more and more of my place in it all. What my actions are doing in the realm of the universe."

Eric considered this. "What would you do, if you did?"

Santino shrugged again. "Act alone, I believe. There is no flock I could have nor monastery I could join. I would simply know it myself, and act accordingly."

Eric nodded, trying to picture this in his mind. "It goes without saying that I'd - "

Santino cut him off, smiling. "I know. You would not challenge and you would support, as you always do. I know, and I'm glad. What do you think of this one, then?"

Eric blinked at the sudden change of subject. He followed Santino's gaze to see the picture they were now standing in front of. It was of a young man stripped to the waist. The only things on him were a pair of white pants, handcuffs that tied his hands behind his back and two pieces of cloth that both blindfolded and gagged him. A bit of white color around his neck suggested a noose or leash of some sort. Eric paused a moment to take it in before answering. "It hopes to be kinky. Emphasizing his helplessness."

Santino nodded. "He is lost." He gestured, pointing out with his hand how this photo was placed so that it was directly opposite of the picture of the old man they'd seen earlier. "It is a set. The old man has been worn down by life but still knows who he is. His eyes show that there is power still within him. The young man has no such strength. He is caught. He does not know what direction to move and everything behind him strives to pull him back and jerk him about like an animal. Perhaps he has desires but they will remain locked inside his own mind."

"What is your conclusion then?"

Santino looked back and forth between the two once more before speaking. "It is a lesson in life. Passion about the past is the strongest thing that defines us. The old man knows this and uses it to his advantage. He has lost much, but regrets nothing. The young man knows only fear. He's lived nothing but fears everything. He cannot go forward as long as he is pulled back to what is behind him. His attachment to the short past he knows will keep him from discovering anything in the world around him."

"So the answer is to have no regret?"

"No," Santino said, making his way for the door to leave, indicating that Eric should follow. "The answer is to know yourself for all that you are. Good and bad. Christ - " he gestured back to the Mapplethorpe photo as they passed it " - and piss. One in the same. Accept the whole or be jerked around forever by your own hand."

"How do you find a future, then, if we are always defined by the past?"

Santino grinned as they stepped outside. "Shall I say a cliché and point out that the past is only the future that has already happened? Or shall I be more practical and point out that it only defines what has happened before and should have no confining hold on what you wish to be?" Santino sighed, stretching his shoulders out as though shaking something off. He looked back at Eric with eyes that were more relaxed than they had been. "Or shall I say that we should simply find what we want - what we desire for ourselves and our future - and follow the path toward it?" He cupped Eric's cheek in his hand. "My friend?"

Eric smiled, turning to kiss the base of Santino's inner wrist. "Always."

Santino's expression became lighter and even more genuine than before. It was a look that Eric was reasonably certain only he had ever seen. "What I want for my future is to collapse in bed with you. I believe the path to that is down the corner and five blocks to the right?"

Eric laughed, again trying to encourage Santino's attempt at a joke. He moved so that he could walk arm in arm with Santino down the street. "That, my friend, gets us back to my car. Afterwhich we'll see if I like you enough to take you home with me. But since I already know that my plans for the future coincide with yours, I do not think this will be much of a problem."

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