My name is Bianca Solderini. I was a Venetian Courtesan in Renaissance Venice, but I am not your ordinary courtesan. I am an intellectual courtesan, inviting philosophers, painters, musicians, poets and the like to my home to dine and drink and share ideas. Then one day, I saw him. Marius. Marius de Romanus. He was the most handsome man I have ever met, he had sandy blonde hair and the most beautiful azure eyes. And his paintings were just as majestic. If love at first sight was ever possible, it happened to us. He likened to me to Botticelli‘s paintings. He also knew that I had been murdering men in my own house. You see, when my brothers died, I was left to depend financially on my kinsmen, who were moneylenders, or in layman’s terms, bankers. Under the guise of my lavish parties, I would invite the men who they owe money to but don’t want to pay back, and secretly put poison into their wine cup. Marius, helped me by, how should I say this, eliminating them. For good. I will forever be grateful to my darling Marius.
Me during my mortal life as a Venetian courtesan, that is one of my kinsmen, Lorenzo, whispering to me who’s cup I should poison.
I knew what he was, a vampire. Armand had told me. And I was not scared. I remained loyal to him. And when a group ofSatan worshipers led by Santino burned Marius’ palazzo, he turned me into a vampire to help him grow strong again. We lived together for 200 years or so, and all along I had known about his love for Pandora, his first fledgling. I was not jealous, for I knew that he loves me just as much as he loves her. But as I overheard him pleading to Pandora to stay, saying that he will leave me just so she would stay, and that he traveled to Dresden just to wait for her, I was deeply hurt. I told him that night that I would leave him, even if it hurt me so much inside. He begged me to stay, he did, but I had to leave him, it was my only way of coping.
Several years passed, I had traveled the world, seeing places I never got to in my mortal life, I went to India, to see theTaj Mahal, I went to Borobudur in Indonesia, to Rio de Janeiro in Brazil, I went everywhere. I had settled in New York in the 1940′s and a little bit after the war in January of 1947 I met Christopher De Torres. Oh, he was handsome, tall, dark hair as a raven’s, and wonderful green eyes. We got married 7 months later in a small civil wedding in the New York City Hall.
We got married on July 21, 1947.
I thought he would make me happy, but my bliss was soon to fade.
He wanted an obedient wife, and I was, I did everything he wanted me to, because I love him. He knew what I was, a vampire, and he accepted that, and he loved my blood. It made him stronger, and he used that against me. He was a jealous man, scolding me for talking to men he didn’t know. I was tied to the house, and to him. And some nights when he would go home, my heightened senses could smell the perfume of other women, not on his clothes, I could tell he painstakingly tried not to get the perfume on his clothes, but I could smell it on his skin. I could smell her, or them. And when he wanted to sleep with me, and I refused, he would lock me in my coffin, in chains and would let me stay there to starve, and when I did finally comply, he would use my weak body against my will then let me feed off him. But I had had enough. Once I had his blood running through my veins I could slowly feel power seeping into me. And as I almost drained him, I let go of him quickly took everything I needed and left. I slept from 1950 and woke up three years ago. Now I am an opera singer, living in London.