High school anyone?

Welcome back.

Now that you know vampires exist and how they came to be, let’s talk about the six families. Wow. I feel like I should have a tux on and a cigar hanging out of my mouth. But, then again, for all you know, I do. I suppose thinking of the families in terms of the Mafia would work, they’re all violent and want you to think they’re the most powerful. So I guess a Godfather reference is a little more apropos than I first thought.

Go figure.

There were six Original vampires, so there are now six bloodlines. While no one seems to know where the Originals went, or what face they wear in the modern era (if they’re still alive), we do know they passed their curse on to at least one other person way back when, and the viscous circle continues to this day.

Each line has a couple of names, so I’m going to try to keep this as neat as possible by tackling one a day for the next six days. Here we go with the first family, in completely random order…

Wait. First I have to give you a crash course on ages. Ancient refers to any vampire over 2,000 years of age. Elder refers to any vampire from 200 to 2,000 years old. And Fledgling refers to any vampire who’s spent less than 200 years dead.

If you happen to be reading this and you’re a Fledgling vampire…you fuckin’ owe me. Some of this info is probably news to your watery ass. (For my precious humans, calling a Fledgling watery refers to the power of their blood. Since vamps only get more powerful as they age, someone who’s only been dead for a decade is about as watery as it gets.)

Now we move to the good stuff…

Golden Guild / Generals / Trumps:

Human high school stereotype: Preps

Referred to as members of the Golden Guild by Ancients, Generals by Elders, and Trumps by Fledglings, this family has everything to do with land and title. A long time ago they were Kings and Queens or maybe even merchants. Now, they’re stockbrokers and CEO’s. They love money. They love nice clothes. And they love to flaunt anything they might have that is better than what you have.

If you can say, “I can’t believe that waiter spilled the bottle of Romane Conti on my hand-tailored Armani suit,” without batting an eyelash – you belong with the Trumps.

While the Trumps aren't my favorite family, I do happen to know a few who don't make me want to puke on sight. Derek Ballard is one of them. Long, blond hair, face and body chiseled from the finest golden stone, and the best Armani clad ass I've ever seen on a man. If I had fangs, I'd sink them into his delicious skin in a heartbeat.

Now I need a cold shower. I'll be back tomorrow.