wasted in friction [historical, lord byron/oscar wilde, pg-13]

[mirfara.livejournal.com]

Title: wasted in friction
Author/Artist: mirfara
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Lord Byron, footnotes
Word count: 461
Prompt: 13 - Historical, Lord Byron/Oscar Wilde - Vampires - a Vampire walks into a bar



My dear Oscar, I am on my way to Italy by now. It will take you several hours to wake fully. You’ll be rather ravenous, if I remember correctly. There’s a boy waiting in the sitting room, who is rather well acquainted with my – and now yours as well – particular… needs. You’re in luck I am not feeling humorous lately, or it would have been a lovely girl in a white dress, in true Gothic splendor - but I wouldn’t want your first meal to reek of mutton. Oh, don’t be afraid of killing him, we are not as mindless as that. There would be little point in immortality, if so. Not that there is any great point to immortality. Ah, but this is not a philosophical letter. There will be time for that later.

The thirst is no different from any human appetite. Don’t be a fool and overindulge just because it tastes rich. There will be more, and it will undoubtedly be better. Paris is disturbingly lacking in vampire-friendly whores these days. London is fair swarming with them. I suppose we can blame your countryman Mr. Stoker for that.

…I am a very bad man, you know. You once wrote that my personality was terribly wasted in rebellion – perhaps. I submit that my personality was terrible in the first place. Seventy-six years as some remnant from the grave have not improved it much, though I dare say it has done wonders for my looks. Do you know, when your ghastly little book came out I actually tracked down several of my portraits to check for gray hairs? But enough of talk. I've changed you, Oscar, I've given you my blood. I hope you will survive, it was quite a chore to keep you from actually being buried. The grave monument plans are atrocious and modern, you are better off without them over your head.

Meet me in Ravenna, when you can travel.

Yours, truly forever,
BYRON

---

Byron folded the letter twice and carefully dripped wax over the flap. He pressed his ring into the cooling seal and dropped the letter onto the desk. Wilde was still laid out flat on the bed, hands folded demurely over his chest, the sheets pulled up to his neck. Byron sat in the chair next to his head and rested his chin on his own folded hands, elbows propped on his knees. The floorboards of the Paris garret creaked; it was a temporary refuge for Wilde's transformation, not one of his more carefully stocked retreats.
He smiled at the corpse on the bed. Then he left.

---

Finding Byron in Ravenna is as simple as walking into a bar. He followed the path between the crowded bodies that opened as he walked among them, hands deep in the pockets of his fur-collared overcoat. Byron was leaning against a table, hip cocked. Wilde lengthened his stride and reached out as he got close, pulling Byron up by the lapels as he laughed. He was not careful when he pushed their mouths together.






Note: There are a lot of stupid little references in here. The mutton jibe is referring to a story about Wilde in Paris after his release from Reading Gaol – his friends, as a joke, got up donations to send him to a brothel and when he came out he claimed that sex with women was like cold mutton. According to my Victorian Lit professor, anyway.

Also, Wilde had this to say about Lord Byron in his The Soul of Man Under Socialism, from 1891:
***What I mean by a perfect man is one who develops under perfect conditions; one who is not wounded, or worried, or maimed, or in danger. Most personalities have been obliged to be rebels. Half their strength has been wasted in friction. Byron's personality, for instance, was terribly wasted in its battle with the stupidity, and hypocrisy, and Philistinism of the English. Such battles do not always intensify strength: they often exaggerate weakness. Byron was never able to give us what he might have given us. Shelley escaped better. Like Byron, he got out of England as soon as possible. But he was not so well known.

Note on the note: Byron may be a sexy beast, and Wilde is hilarious, but nobody beats Shelley for pure earnest adorable.

Comments

[jusrecht.livejournal.com]

This is awesome in so many levels.

[bronze-ribbons.livejournal.com]

*exceedingly amused ... especially by the note upon the note*

[daniela-lynx.livejournal.com]

A++.

*Will be grinning for the rest of the day.*