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Marius

Birth

Born during the 1st century in ancient Rome. When 40 years old, Marius is made into a vampire by the druid's god, the "God of the Grove."

Family

Marius was the illegitimate son of a Roman senator. Mother was Celtic slave. Apparently, he had several half-brothers. Armand and Pandora are his two vampire fledglings.

Looks

Blues eyes, white-blond hair, tall height, all inherited from his Celtic mother. Is partial to red clothing...

Marius
by aoi mukoh

*Also, here's one more Marius picture, based on a Hugo Boss ad.

Personality

First of all, Marius is a scholar. His favorite subject of study is humanity, for he has an undying interest in humans' behavior and thoughts. He also shows great appreciation of artwork, which he realizes can only be produced by humans, perhaps because of their mortality. He enjoys blending in among unsuspecting mortals and living as one of them (at least until he is attacked in the 15th century by the Roman "Children of Darkness"). Of course, being quite old a vampire, he has lost all his humanness; it is only through conscious effort that he moves more like mortals, which not only gives him pleasure but also has the effect of not frightening the younger vampires, of which Marius is quite conscious. Marius is generally a magnanimous being and looks upon not only Armand, but the "Brat Prince" Lestat and Louis with great affection. He is at heart an ancient Roman who believes in a rational world, which means he believes there is an absolute logic. He prides himself greatly in his reasoning powers and therefore has the tendency to believe his logic is always correct; whenever this belief is shattered and Marius's pride is wounded, he quickly loses his magnanimity. Otherwise, he is a stately, well-respected and well-liked vampire of wisdom.

History

Aoi Style...

Art of a Dark Heaven

Recently, an exquisite painting was donated to the Metropolitan Museum of Art by a mysterious, unnamed benefactor. The piece, entitled The Temptation of Amadeo, dates from around 15th century Venice and is a striking rendition of a young boy being "tempted" by a ring of dark-winged angels. Its author is unknown. According to the museum, the gift was made by the anonymous patron upon one condition, that it become part of the museum's permanent collection always on display, a condition that the museum promptly accepted.

The Tempation strikes the viewer initially in its technical perfection: each subject is rendered with amazing realism and the creatures appear ready to breathe any moment. In particular, the young boy Amadeo is painted with much care; the viewer receives the distinct impression that the model was very dear to the artist.

After one passes that first stage of shock, the unusual characteristics of the subject material come to fore. A "temptation" usually depicts a saint being surrounded by devils. Yet, here the devils are replaced by dark-winged angels and the saint by a mere boy. The demons may appear to the boy as wondrous creatures, their sinister intentions only hinted at by the darkness of their wings. The expressions on the angels' faces themselves are curious, for they are tinged with faint irony mingled with bitterness.

Can the angels themselves be mocking their own cause? Do they realize that their appearance make humans kneel and pray in awe, but blinds the mortals to the angels' terrible true nature? It may not even be that their natures are entirely "terrible;" perhaps their ironic expressions come from their knowledge that their awe-inspiring appearance only mask their emptiness and fallibility.

No real answer lies behind the disturbing questions that come to mind. As a matter of pure conjecture, perhaps this artist has lost a dear son, Amadeo, to death, and remains unconsoled by the heavenly consolations that accompanies such a loss. If one were to sum up the power of the Temptation, it lies in the fact that there is little Christian comfort in the painting, a crucial factor that perhaps resonates with the viewers in this present age of dying religion.

The museum is presently considering setting up a small research group to investigate the author of the Tempatation. However, considering the funding constraints, it is unlikely that this project will ever be realized. For more information, contact the Metropolitan Museum of Art (212) ***-****.

Daniel sent me this little clipping ("a horrible journalistic piece," he said). He seemed quite tickled. Despite the indifferent writing, it does show a few flashes of insight. Perhaps I did have those things in mind when I painted it; I did tell Lestat that it was a product of my "black period."

I must confess I am rather amused with this little 'gift' from Lestat, who came up with the idea of removing the painting from that dreadful cellar in the Talamasca motherhouse. There must be more vanity in me than I thought, for I find the idea of having millions of viewers seeing that piece rather satisfying. The condition Lestat imposed on the poor museum is really quite ridiculous, but that boy always has had a talent for overdoing things. Armand will be quite upset if he hears about this--I hope Lestat does not tell him. Then again, who am I kidding, of course the imp will tell Armand. He knows it will infuriate my redhead. They can be so troublesome...but that's what keeps us all alive after all.

--Marius

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Updated July 2, 1997