Fern Leigh

Fern Leigh

Part One
Mortal Life

I was born in 1924 and grew up in Georgia during the depression; my family wasn't stricken hard by it, but we saw how it affected others and did our best to help. I was taught by my mother to be a lady of good breeding, and learned to sew, cook, clean and run a household (this helped me later with running a company). I lived with my mother, father, maternal grandparents and my two brothers.

When the war started, I was a junior in high school. My brothers were both older than me, and both were drafted (my father was rejected by the service due to the missing fingers on his right hand). After graduating high school, I began to work toward a degree in home economics but then heard of my brothers' deaths and lost all motivation. I left school but still needed to earn money, so I answered an advertisement to model for the art department. I still wanted to help the war efforts, however, and soon found a way of sorts--I wasn't built for men's work, but I was pretty. I soon went from modelling for artists to modelling for pin ups and calendars to send to 'the boys'. This was what brought me out of my grief and I went back to school, finishing my degree.

When the war ended, the world seemed so much brighter, and though I continued to model, the camera was replacing the paint brush rapidly and pin ups were becoming less artistic and more vulgar. In disgust I left the business, working as a seamstress for a few years.



Part Two
The Embrace*

One night in 1948 I met a gentleman while I was walking home; he invited me under his umbrella (I'd forgotten mine) and we became acquaintances, then dancing partners, then friends. Many of my friends thought I was in love with Vincenzo, but strangely enough that wasn't the case for either of us. He told me he'd been looking for a lady to keep house for him, and so I took on the job, seeing as I possessed a degree in 'keeping house'.

Soon I noticed strange things about my gentleman friend: he kept nocturnal hours, and had not a speck of food in the pantry, nor did he ever ask after my cooking skills. One night I woke to see him at my bedside, his lips dark with blood. It was then I realised what he must be--was I to be as Mina? As he leaned over me I tensed, and felt his breath on my ear as he spoke, telling me not to tense or it would hurt.

Death was darkness and blue flames. I found myself stepping onto a shore, being asked for a ferry toll, when suddenly I was pulled back by a sweet taste, sweet sensation. It was dark and decadent, like something from another era--an older era than mine of bright lights, fast cars and jazz--no, this was something else; harpsichords and lace, horses and poetry.

When I awoke he was still beside me, the covers still tucked around me; hunger like I'd never known ate at me, and he pressed something warm and soft to my lips. I had lost my mind at that point, and tore at it like a wolf, suckling the fluid that tasted so sweet now, like wine and sex and life.

I wept when I came to sanity again and realised what I'd done. Much to my surprise, he held me and rubbed my back, and told me to take a warm shower, then come out to the parlour when I was done.

When I did so, he was once again my gentleman friend, but dressed much differently. I noticed this first because he had always looked somehow wrong even in his fine Armani suits--now he was himself, dressed in silk and lace, and my breath caught. I had been called beautiful, but this man surpassed me.

"Please, sit," he said to me. And when I sat, he told me of the vampires. I remember asking to take notes, so much was there to take in! He laughed at this, but bid I fetch my notepad and pencil.

He told me of the tradition he had trapped me in of hospitality to other Daeva* (sounds like 'diva', that's how I remember it--most of them are, I hear), and apologised. "But I'm southern," I replied with a grin, "Hospitality is what we're famous for."

"This is why I enjoy your company," he said with a laugh. "So, you are not upset about this...dark gift, as it is called?"

"I'm in my twenties, sugar, it's quite advantageous for a model to be this age forever. It's no matter to me--you're a gentleman, and ya'll haven't abandoned me or anything." I was worried about hunting, and so ventured to ask if I had to kill to feed. When he told me no, I did not, I was satisfied. I told him of my despair about being the last child of my parents, but it does not trouble me now, for it was not my desire to have children. We never became lovers, as was common with our bloodline, for he was too wise to do that.

We lived together for many years as he taught me of the ways of vampires (I will never call them kindred; I'm from Georgia, and kindred means family there). He let me be with the rest of my family--took care of my parents when they passed on and so forth. We moved a lot, and I didn't realise why until we got to San Francisco.



Part Three
Existence as a Vampire

The year was 1962 when we arrived in San Francisco; the world was in transition, changing rapidly. My sire told me how the vampires watch the world from afar, and I slid easily into it, though the so-called 'cold war' and the missile crisis gave me flashes back to the war. Television appeared in colour now, and I never took to it, missing the radio I had grown up with. Civil rights were rampant in the liberal San Francisco, and everyone was excited about the space race.

For me, these developments were watched with detachment--I had never been one for politics, and I suppose since my childhood the life of the nation and the life in the news seemed far away.

Politics of the vampiric world, however, were to affect me deeply. One night in August of 1967 I first encountered other vampires, and learned of another ability vampires had--the crime of diablerie*. They left me for dead, and I held Vincenzo in my arms as he died in that alley.

After that I lost my taste for other vampires, and lived as I had been for years, giving him the funeral of a human even though it would have seemed laughable to other vampires. Alone I continued, grieving--as I had before for my brothers' deaths--for quite a number of years, working as a seamstress and an artists' model once again. This time I found a new idea to bring me out of the darkness.

I made friends while working at the university, and learned that I triggered much talk about Vargas, Paige, Comstock--names I knew from long ago. The other models approached me, asking to be taught how to achieve the 'pin up look' I did so well. This amused me, but gave me an idea--why not start my own pin up company and raise up the industry again, make it what I remembered? I told my friends and they responded with enthusiasm, and thus my small company was born, in 1973.

Over the years it grew, and in the 1980s with the rights movement of the gay people I began to ask not just for girls but boys as well. San Francisco received this development well and business jumped quite a bit. This also challenged the creativity of the costume designer--namely me. I adored this development and with the help of my male models we designed an as yet unheard of thing in the area of the 'classic' pin up--pin up boys. At first I thought to augment the masculinity, but I learned that effeminacy was what my models enjoyed for the most part.

The advent of the digital age in the 1990s was almost my undoing, but my photographers and models helped me as always and I endeavoured to learn all I could to keep up. Dark rooms were replaced with bright offices full of sleek computers and our large Kodaks were given over to silver Nikons.

By now we could move into our own building, and my models found a beautiful three-story nearby the university. With the help of architecture students ('It really is a great advantage to know students,' Vincenzo always said), I had the building redone in art nouveau and business began again. Soon we even started a small magazine, adding creative writers and journalists to my body of employees.

Now, however, it was impossible to conceal my immortal nature--university students are, however, notoriously off the beaten path. Though the word 'vampire' was never used, it became clear that my nature was clear to my young employees. Indeed, they are more likely to tease me with asking about my portrait and calling me 'Miss Gray' than anything else.

I still feed the way my sire taught me, from drunken parties and never killing blows. It is a good way to feed. Though I am lonely, I never feel the urge to create another vampire--I only miss Vincenzo, I have no desire for any other companion in vampirism.

Over the years I have been approached by various shady characters, pushing to make my company prostitution or to punish me for taking away their whores. The police, too, have given us some social calls. Mr. Barret* is one for our precinct, and we have become...professional acquaintances. We knew of each others' natures right off, but again, nothing was ever mentioned openly.

I know I have been lucky in that no vampires have approached me, but I still know what to do in the event. I hope that no one takes offence to my being, for I'm no fighter; I will rely on my charm and hospitality, for I am still a southern gentlewoman, and ever will be.

___________________________
* The Embrace is what vampires call it when they make another vampire.

* Daeva are a clan of vampires; they are based on Anne Rice's vampire-as-hedonist model. There are four other clans: Nosferatu (Obviously based on Nosferatu), Ventrue (Aristocrats; based on Dracula), Mekhet (Shadowy secret-keepers; Blade?) and Gangrel (Vampire-as-beast; based on the merging of the vampire and werewolf myths).

* Diablerie is the act of drinking the blood of a vampire more powerful than you to gain their power. It is, understandably, an extreme taboo in vampire culture.

* Mr. Barret is another player's character; he's a cop-turned-vampire, and of the Mekhet clan.