I drove a two-hour round trip to go buy a treadmill off of someone on Facebook Marketplace, and I spent the entire drive talking to myself about Aggie---or more specifically, tonight, his Sire. Now you get to benefit from my highway monologuing.

So, DeVry. Beauregard DeVry. (Formerly Dorian Du Vrai Beau-Regard, formerly Dorian Beauregard).

He was handsome, once; its written all over his features, though age has shown him little mercy. Though he hasn't aged a day since he was 56 years old, the centuries he has seen still managed to write themselves into the lines and creases of his face, smudge their fingerprints ever darker under his eyes. He is, now, a tired sort of handsome, with salt-and-pepper hair cropped neatly around a tall, wide forehead, and a square jaw, not striking, nor pretty, but dignified and elegant nonetheless.

As far as vampires go, he's on the older side--a few centuries, at least. He was born sometime in early 17th century France, and was turned on the cusp of the Age of Enlightenment, but I don't actually care to get into it any more than that, because I'm not really very interested in French history and I don't want to get bogged down in details about DeVry when Aggie is RIGHT THERE. This is just to establish three and a half particular details: He's old, he's French, and he--and by extension, Aggie--are of a lower generation than might be expected. (I'm thinking he is 9th or 10th, making Aggie 10th or 11th, because I like the idea of my insatiable little hedonist being of a lower generation and giving other vampires conniptions.)

Like all Toreadors, DeVry has an eye for beauty; and like his childe, he finds that beauty in fine art. What DeVry seeks, though, rather than experience or sensation or emotion, is perfection. Precision. The epitome of beauty is a perfectly executed brushstroke, the flawless line of arm and leg in a ballerina's leap, technical expertise. Where Aggie wants to experience beauty--sink up to his elbows in it, crush it through his fingers and lap up the creative juices trickling down his wrists--DeVry would preserve it behind glass--immaculate, distant, untouchable, even those art forms that require air and movement in order to breathe. Over the years, this seeking of perfection has become a nearly pathological impulse, a flavour of madness, the standard for said perfection ever impossibly higher. Rather than finding beauty in the unique nature of a slight flaw, or in the evidence of humanity, it rings out discordant to him. He doesn't care for breaking new ground or trying something new, the evolution of style that comes with the passing centuries and changing human minds; rather, he knows what art should be, in his opinion, based on his experiences, and continually tries to seek out those he thinks are capable of being molded into that perfect model. DeVry doesn't want to experience art; he wants to observe it, for art's own sake.

Because, in his mind, the vagarities of human emotion are an impediment to achieving the platonic ideal of art, DeVry holds a belief that only a Kindred will be able to create it; though he accepts that a Kindred with no taste or aptitude for art in their human life will not become magically adept upon Embrace. Therefore, those he chooses to support and patronize--like Aggie--are humans who show an aptitude beyond that of their peers, one which could be molded and shaped and tended to the uppermost extent to which they are capable; and then, if they continue to show promise, Embraced so as to allow them to exceed the limitations of humanity, accessing the ability to create what he thinks of as art--something divine, to which humanity can only aspire.

To this end, Aggie is something of a failure. His artistry, while technical perfection in practice, is far too human in its expression; while he is capable of singing without his technique being overshadowed by emotion, he doesn't typically care to. Rather than unlocking hidden ability and potential, being Embraced only served to further feed the infusion of raw emotion that Aggie pours into his music, now inspired by the distance he is forced to take from Alastair and Phillip in his new unlife and the impact that his experiences with his heightened senses have on his emotions.

DeVry has only sought approval for Progeny a handful of times in his long life; he is incredibly discerning in bestowing the gift he offers, and so despite Aggie not living up to his expectations post-Embrace, he still harbours a great deal of care and affection for the younger Kindred. Aggie, for his part, is giddy with the new sensations on offer, and thankful to DeVry for the privilege of experiencing them and the faith that DeVry has always shown in Aggie's ability. (Another commentary on Aggie's relationship with music and with DeVry is forthcoming.) So the two share a fairly genial, familial relationship; the core of their disagreements and conflicts tends to boil down to their individual natures. Where Aggie is loud and unabashed, and free with his affections, DeVry is reserved; where Aggie is messy, even sloppy, DeVry is fastidious; where Aggie has a tendency to be emotional, DeVry is cold. If they do have a conflict, it is often smoothed over by Aggie giving DeVry a private concert in which he brings all of his technical skill and expertise to bear, as though to remind DeVry, "This is why you Made me; this is why it was worth it." (Aggie's technical skill does, indeed, improve once his ear becomes more capable of hearing the finest distinctions between notes, and he no longer needs to worry about breathing to sustain himself while singing.)

DeVry has been married a few times, once as a human and twice after his own Embrace. His first wife was a ballerina; his obsession with the pursuit of perfection in art has its roots in the way that no other ballerina was ever able to compare to her talent and beauty after he lost her, and has since--over time, with the erosion of rational thought, and the loss of connection to his more human emotions--perverted itself. He is currently unmarried, has no mortal descendants, and Aggie is his only childer.

The Sire: Beauregard DeVry

I drove a two-hour round trip to go buy a treadmill off of someone on Facebook Marketplace, and I spent the entire drive talking to myself about Aggie—or more specifically, tonight, his Sire. Now you get to benefit from my highway monologuing.

So, DeVry. Beauregard DeVry. (Formerly Dorian Du Vrai Beau-Regard, formerly Dorian Beauregard). Went by John DeVry when he was teaching at Eton.

He was handsome, once; its written all over his features, though age has shown him little mercy. Though he hasn’t aged a day since he was 56 years old, the centuries he has seen still managed to write themselves into the lines and creases of his face, smudge their fingerprints ever darker under his eyes. He is, now, a tired sort of handsome, with salt-and-pepper hair cropped neatly around a tall, wide forehead, and a square jaw, not striking, nor pretty, but dignified and elegant nonetheless.

As far as vampires go, he’s on the older side–a few centuries, at least. He was born sometime in early 17th century France, and was turned on the cusp of the Age of Enlightenment, but I don’t actually care to get into it any more than that, because I’m not really very interested in French history and I don’t want to get bogged down in details about DeVry when Aggie is RIGHT THERE. This is just to establish three and a half particular details: He’s old, he’s French, and he–and by extension, Aggie–are of a lower generation than might be expected. (I’m thinking he is 9th or 10th, making Aggie 10th or 11th, because I like the idea of my insatiable little hedonist being of a lower generation and giving other vampires conniptions.)

Like all Toreadors, DeVry has an eye for beauty; and like his childe, he finds that beauty in fine art. What DeVry seeks, though, rather than experience or sensation or emotion, is perfection. Precision. The epitome of beauty is a perfectly executed brushstroke, the flawless line of arm and leg in a ballerina’s leap, technical expertise. Beauregard DeVry rarely, if ever, really experienced art through a lens of emotion. Even as a human he was always overly analytical, and maybe didn't really understand why people were enthused over works that lacked technical merit--those were flaws, through and through. The tragedy for him, I think, is that with the enhanced sense that come with vampirism, such flaws stand out to him more than ever.

Where Aggie wants to experience beauty–sink up to his elbows in it, crush it through his fingers and lap up the creative juices trickling down his wrists–DeVry would preserve it behind glass–immaculate, distant, untouchable, even those art forms that require air and movement in order to breathe. Over the years, this seeking of perfection has become a nearly pathological impulse, a flavour of madness, the standard for said perfection ever impossibly higher. This obsession, connected as it is to the Beast, has drastic implications for triggering Frenzies when his perfectionism comes up short.

Rather than finding beauty in the unique nature of a slight flaw, or in the evidence of humanity, it rings out discordant to him. He doesn’t care for breaking new ground or trying something new, the evolution of style that comes with the passing centuries and changing human minds; rather, he knows what art should be, in his opinion, based on his experiences, and continually tries to seek out those he thinks are capable of being molded into that perfect model. DeVry doesn’t want to experience art; he wants to observe it, for art’s own sake.

Because, in his mind, the vagarities of human emotion are an impediment to achieving the platonic ideal of art, DeVry holds a belief that only a Kindred will be able to create it; though he accepts that a Kindred with no taste or aptitude for art in their human life will not become magically adept upon Embrace. Therefore, those he chooses to support and patronize–-like Aggie–-are humans who show an aptitude beyond that of their peers, one which could be molded and shaped and tended to the uppermost extent to which they are capable; and then, if they continue to show promise, Embraced so as to allow them to exceed the limitations of humanity, accessing the ability to create what he thinks of as art–-something divine, to which humanity can only aspire.

To this end, Aggie is something of a failure. His artistry, while technical perfection in practice, is far too human in its expression; while he is capable of singing without his technique being overshadowed by emotion, he doesn’t typically care to. Along with unlocking hidden ability and potential, being Embraced also served to further feed the infusion of raw emotion that Aggie pours into his music, now inspired by the distance he is forced to take from Alastair and Phillip in his new unlife and the impact that his experiences with his heightened senses have on his emotions.

Most of DeVry's protégés that had the chance to meet his standards and be granted the gift, to have their senses and awareness awakened to the true potential of artistic perfection, fall short before they ever reach that stage. This failure, combined with the obsessive manifestation of the Beast in his blood, is often a trigger for his Frenzy--the tragedy there being that the Frenzy looks an awful lot like lack of emotional control. Because of how horrifying he finds it to be so out of control of himself when confronted by a Frenzy, he seeks to avoid it.

As a result, DeVry has only sought approval for Progeny a handful of times in his long life, to mitigate the risk of losing himself in a manner most unbecoming--but this also decreased the likelihood of finding that perfection he is constantly seeking.

Despite Aggie not living up to his expectations post-Embrace, he still harbours a great deal of care and affection for the younger Kindred (in part because Aggie, while affected by emotion more than DeVry cares for, is in fact capable of achieving mastery of his voice that DeVry has seldom heard before). Aggie, for his part, is giddy with the new sensations on offer, and thankful to DeVry for the privilege of experiencing them and the faith that DeVry has always shown in Aggie’s ability. (Another commentary on Aggie’s relationship with music and with DeVry is forthcoming.)

The two share a fairly genial, familial relationship; the core of their disagreements and conflicts tends to boil down to their individual natures. Where Aggie is loud and unabashed, and free with his affections, DeVry is reserved; where Aggie is messy, even sloppy, DeVry is fastidious; where Aggie has a tendency to be emotional, DeVry is cold. If they do have a conflict, it is often smoothed over by Aggie giving DeVry a private concert in which he brings all of his technical skill and expertise to bear, as though to remind DeVry, “This is why you Made me; this is why it was worth it.”

Aggie’s technical skill does, indeed, improve once his ear becomes more capable of hearing the finest distinctions between notes, and he no longer needs to worry about breathing to sustain himself while singing. Beyond that, there's something special and unique about Aggie to DeVry, something that prompts the elder Kindred to risk more and support more than a Kindred his age normally would. (Maybe Aggie looks like his dead wife, and over time that gets twisted around to signify how much more potential he has than any of the others did, like Aggie in the present is superimposed on her in the past.)

Before learning about the Masquerade, Aggie didn't challenge DeVry very often. If he slipped and let emotion colour his voice too much, and DeVry got angry--the beginnings of that Frenzy--he would adjust to make his master happy. He's willful and prideful, certainly, but DeVry also gave him something he had never had before--attention from a "parent" (neglected child of nobility, etc etc etc), which he is terribly loathe to lose. So he learned when to push, when to not, when to sing with technical perfection and when he could let a little more emotion through.

As the years have passed since Aggie's Embrace, he has become very good at reading DeVry, because whether the elder realizes it or not, he is affected by emotion, and Aggie is tuned into that. Appeasement behaviours--giving private performances, demonstrating technical mastery when he knows DeVry is in the audience--have typically been enough to placate him, though in recent years Aggie has noted that DeVry's mercurial reactions have become more volatile. These strategies don't really placate him as much as they used to, and Aggie knows that. It's part of the reason they aren't cohabitating by the end of the 20th century--Aggie can't sing him a song to calm him all the way down, anymore, so he has also started to find ways to put distance between them. It's almost like...dealing with senility in an older relative. Aggie respects DeVry, has affection for him, but is having to manage his swings more and more, and is getting more and more frustrated at the impediment it represents to his own expression. DeVry is like an old man, bewildered that they don't make the one specific candy from his youth anymore, and lashing out in confusion and frustration that no one will just go buy him the damn sweet.

DeVry has been married a few times, once as a human and twice after his own Embrace. His first wife was a ballerina; his obsession with the pursuit of perfection in art has its roots in the way that no other ballerina was ever able to compare to her talent and beauty after he lost her, and has since–-over time, with the erosion of rational thought, and the loss of connection to his more human emotions–-perverted itself. He was never a man who was moved to emotion by beauty, and so rationalized his feelings for her by assuming it was because of her technical merit, when in fact it was something far less logical and analytical than that. But he had no frame of reference for it. And because she was never actually technically perfect--that was just his perspective, his rationalization for his love--everyone else falls short. Even despite the objective perfection of Aggie's technique, DeVry is waiting for someone to make him feel like she felt, and that's never going to happen. There's only so long it can continue to simmer before something has to give in their relationship.

DeVry is currently unmarried, has no mortal descendants, and Aggie is his only living childer.

9 Airs d'Opéra  les plus célèbres au monde

Carmen - L'amour est un oiseau rebelle

La Traviata - Libiamo ne' lieti calici

La Traviata - Choeur des bohémiennes

Pagliacci - Vesti la Giubba

La flûte enchantée - Air de la Reine de la nuit

Les noces de Figaro - Non più andrai, farfallone amoroso

Rigoletto - La donna è mobile

Carmen - Toreador

Nabucco - Va pensiero

Vous les avez sûrement entendu au moins une fois dans votre vie : ce sont les grands airs d'Opéra que tout le monde connaît. De la Traviata à Carmen en passant par le célèbre Rigoletto, tout le monde peut fredonner ces airs qui sont entrés au coeur de la culture du plus grand nombre. Il faut dire que la majorité de ces grands airs d'Opéra ont été rendu d'autant plus célèbres qu'ils ont pu être utilisé dans des publicités ou au cinéma. Je vous propose donc de découvrir ces airs d'opéra les plus célèbres au monde que tout le monde a déjà écouté au moins une fois.