ᴍᴏɴꜱᴛʀᴏᴜꜱ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛʏ

❛ your reflection can't offer a word to the bliss of not knowing yourself. ❜ ❛ no closer could i be to god or why he would do what he's done. ❜ ❛ what you live in, it finds a way to live in you. ❜ ❛ your heart has such darkness. ❜ ❛ i wanna be gone. i wanna run so far, i'd beat the morning. ❜ ❛ before the dawn has come, i'd block the sun if you want it done. ❜ ❛ let all time slow. let all light go. ❜ ❛ i don't need to know where we begin and end. ❜ ❛ i'd still know you, not being shown you. ❜ ❛ the first time that you kissed me, i drank dry the river lethe. the liffey would have been softer on my stomach all the same. ❜ ❛ some part of me must have died the first time that you called me baby. ❜ ❛ some part of me came alive the first time that you called me baby. ❜ ❛ these days, i think, i owe my life to flowers that were left here by my mother. ain't that like them? gifting life to you again. ❜ ❛ oh, to share the space with simple living things infinitely suffering but fighting off, like all creation, the absence of itself ... but anyway. ❜ ❛ some part of me stayed alive each time that you called. ❜ ❛ whatever keeps you around, it keeps you around. ❜ ❛ when i was young i used to guess, are there limits to any emptiness? ❜ ❛ how could you think i'd scare so easily? ❜ ❛ my life was a storm since i was born. how could i fear any hurricane? ❜ ❛ i would do it again if i could hold you for a minute. ❜ ❛ what good would it be on the far side of things? ❜ ❛ i would not change it each time. ❜ ❛ heaven is not fit to house a love like you and i. ❜ ❛ i feel lighter than i have in so much time. ❜ ❛ how could i fall when i am lifted by every word you say to me? ❜ ❛ if anything could fall at all, it's the world that falls away from me. ❜ ❛ if you need to, lean your weight to me. ❜ ❛ if we fall, i only pray, don't fall away from me. ❜ ❛ i'm starving, darling. let me put my lips to something. ❜ ❛ you can't buy this fineness. ❜ ❛ we can celebrate the good that we've done. ❜

This, he thought as he kept one arm out, his eyes focused on the ground as he walked ahead, dead ahead, the stink of drugs and booze and too many bodies mingling, was going to be a very difficult night. There were too many smart phones, too much noise, too much desire for the latest and greatest scandal that this would fall under, not as a headline, but mingling into background noise.

The vampire Lestat, of the band by the same name, had fallen to his knees on stage. He was watching behind the scenes as always, his eyes focused, his ear plugs in (it got too loud for him, these were a gift from his boss, the one who had fallen to his knees when the guitarist failed to pick up his tambourine) and he saw fangs, fear, fury.

He’d never seen Lestat like this, drowning in the noise of it all. This wasn’t him — this wasn’t like him. Then again, anything could happen.

“I’m just going to get you to your dressing room.” He’s pushing past people, one of the ear plugs popped out, he lost it in the melee. Someone grabbed his arm and he reeled back, and whatever expression was on his face made them drop his arm.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” His hand’s been on Lestat’s waist the whole time. Someone called him lucky — lucky him, lucky him, lucky him! — but all he did was keep walking, the rockstar in tow.

He could hate him later, fire him, but there was something wrong that happened on stage, and he knew Lestat needed to be alone. Wasn’t that his entire job? Protecting him?

Humans. So easily broken in a thousand ways; irreparably damaged by emotions and memories. Their whole worlds can come crashing down in the blink of an eye with one wrong - or strong - word, typed by an unthinking small-minded individual. Vampires have never had these problems. They live forever - save for the sun or their own kind - and have seen things no mortal can imagine. Of course, bloodshed has been part of the history of man for as long as records remember but, nowadays, it only takes a so-called influencer a few seconds to teach a willing audience how to poison themselves.

What a world this has become. And now, it's bleeding through. The pressure, the noise, the constant screens shoved into his face. Visions still crowd Lestat's mind, filling every inch with a flash of pain, as he staggers by Will's side - the ever-loyal guardian dragging him to salvation. Nicky, Louis, Claudia, Gabrielle in her death throes; their silences overpower the amps, their hands tighten in ghostly fists around his throat.

All because of that fucking guitarist.

Fangs remain extended in his gasping mouth, the sharp whiteness catching in the green light of the corridor backstage as the whites of his panicked eyes do. He'd seen Louis there but not in the way he'd hoped and, perhaps sickly, prayed for in the past. This version was an assurance; you've failed again, Lestat. Can't even control a human now, Lestat. Everyone will always betray you, Lestat.

Only Will's voice breaks through the abyss growing in the vampire's chest. To his ears, the phrase isn't I've got you but, instead, I'll save you. From everything. Their bond is a strong one and Lestat lifts his head briefly to glance at Will's face. The iron determination is resoundingly comforting and only once the door of his dressing room is opened and slammed closed - and locked - does Lestat begin his decompression. Hands hold tightly to his bodyguard, legs trembling hard. "THAT FUCKING GUITARIST!"

⋆｡‧˚ʚ💋ɞ˚‧｡⋆ 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲

❝ say that again, slower this time. ❞

❝ i don’t need a bed to ruin you. ❞

❝ you’re already shaking and i haven’t even started. ❞

❝ keep looking at me like that and we won’t make it home. ❞

❝ tell me where you want my hands. ❞

❝ clothes off. now. ❞

❝ is that a threat, or a promise? ❞

❝ make me regret letting you in. ❞

❝ i want to hear you beg. ❞

❝ sit down and behave. ❞

❝ i could do this all night. ❞

❝ i love the way you break for me. ❞

❝ let’s see how quiet you can be. ❞

❝ don't even think about tapping out. ❞

❝ i’ll stop when you forget your own name. ❞

❝ come here and prove it. ❞

❝ don’t you dare look away. ❞

❝ you’re not getting any sleep tonight. ❞

❝ i’ve got plans for that mouth. ❞

❝ be good and take it. ❞

❝ say it like you mean it. ❞

❝ you have no idea what you’ve started. ❞

❝ you asked for this. remember that. ❞

❝ i’ll make you forget everything else. ❞

give that to me! where did you find this?!

do you drink coffee or tea?

sorry– am i crazy, or have we met before?

do you trust me enough to close your eyes?

when were you planning on telling me?

at the risk of being a cliché, do you want to get out of here?

can i convince you to stay the night?

do i look like someone who knows what that means?

would you consider giving me a second chance?

do you really think that's helpful right now?

would you mind showing me around?

do you ever plan on forgiving yourself?

are you thinking what i'm thinking?

can we ... go out and do something crazy?

why are we whispering?

who exactly are you, anyways?

can't we just be civil for a minute?

does the past ever keep you up at night?

if you have nothing to hide, what's the problem?

how long has it been since i saw you last, [ name ]?

did the power just go out?

are we still doing the thing where we pretend not to care?

how should we celebrate?

can we just ... start over?

why is this so important to you?

how was i supposed to know that?!

do you want me to stay? it doesn't have to mean anything.

where are you? nobody's heard from you.

can you help me zip this up?

why do these things always happen to me?

you don't secretly hate me, right?

can i get you something to eat? –or drink?

ready to see what i've been working on?

where have you been disappearing off to?

what's that perfume you're wearing?

you're laughing?! do you really think this is funny?

are you planning to stay for dinner?

did you think it was going to be easy?

you see where you went wrong, don't you?

when did we become so cold and distant?

who are you working for?

did you really do all of this for me?

can i open my eyes yet?

haven't you heard the stories?

[ name ], what are you doing here?

what's it gonna take for you to trust me?

do you believe people can change?

how about we catch the ten o'clock showing?

don't you remember what happened last time?

why is it so unbelievable that i'd want to help you?

you're [ name ], aren't you?

who did this to you?!

how did you know i'd be here?

what's that supposed to mean?

do you think i'm irredeemable?

what kind of mess have you gotten us into?!

do you see anything you like?

what do i owe you for the food?

why won't this stupid thing work?!

does tonight really have to end?

holy shit. can you believe we really pulled that off?!

i can tell you're upset, [ name ]. what happened?

how long have you been standing there?

do you ever wish you could just ... run away?

haven't we been here before?

wait, shush ... did you hear that?

did i miss today's newsletter or something?

can we put our differences aside for a second?

what are you getting out of this, exactly?

you'd tell me if something was wrong, right?

are you willing to bet on it?

would you kill for me?

what made you think that was okay?!

do you believe people can change?

what's the worst thing you've ever done?

you were going to leave without saying goodbye?

[ name ], can you sit up for me?

can i kiss you?

where are your keys? you're not driving like this.

how's life been treating you?

where have you been?!

aren't we supposed to be alone tonight?

aw, has someone had a little too much to drink?

where are you going with this?

are we really doing this right now?

have you eaten today?

can i crash here for the night?

how did you learn to lie so well?

can i at least buy you a drink?

where should i meet you?

is that  ...  blood?!

are you trying to make me jealous right now?

what’s your problem? you're acting weird.

[ name ], you're ... real, right?

where’s your sense of adventure?

do you like horror movies?

what are you trying to prove?

can you give me a ride?

do you have any idea what you've done?

shouldn't you answer that?

why should i be the one to calm down?

have you been up all night?

why are you lying to me?

is that my [ jacket / hoodie / shirt ]?

what are you so afraid of?

do you want to grow old with me?

you’re gonna walk away from this?

are you nervous? your hands are shaking.

where am i supposed to go?

how many fingers am i holding up?

you want me to just walk away from this?

[ name ], slow down– what's wrong?!

are you embarrassed of me?

what's that smell? something's burning.

how can i make it up to you?

why can't you stay out of it?

is this some kind of trick?

come on, what do you have to lose?

do you ever still think of me?

idiot. why didn't you tell me?!

can we stop and think about this rationally?

how long has it been since you’ve slept?

what's your ideal first date?

are you ready to tell me the truth?

i almost died, and you're laughing?

what do you mean, "sort of"?

can we just stay like this forever?

when can i see you again?

can we put this behind us?

oh ... you thought of me first?

where did you learn to do that?

oh my god,  are you bleeding?!

where are you?  nobody’s heard from you.

[ name ], are you drunk?

how can i make this go away?

someone's jumpy today. are you feeling okay?

are we safe here?

what can i do to convince you?

what could possibly go wrong?

you have no idea who i am, do you?

how do you really feel about me?

why can't you look me in the eyes?

did you know you talk in your sleep?

were you following me?

can we just pretend this never happened?

are you just barely getting home?

are you even listening to me right now?!

where does it hurt?  can you show me?

are you trying to get yourself killed?!

how about we just forget the world exists?

how long have you been keeping this from me?

were you ever going to tell me?

what do you make of this?

[ name ],  what the hell?!

can we just be honest with each other, here?

are you trying to keep me a secret?

why does your story keep changing?

how long have you known?

it can't be that bad, right?

are you happy? i mean, really happy?

isn't this place amazing?

did i interrupt something?

how am i supposed to trust you?

are they still following us?

are you fucking serious?

do you remember our first kiss?

can we take a break for a minute?

how about we disappear for awhile?

you're going to walk away from this?

can you please just cut the crap?!

why didn't you tell me you were hurt?

how can i make this go away?

can you just look at me, please?

is there anything i can do to change your mind?

do you ever stop talking?

that depends. are you done lying to me?

are you sure this is legal?

how do you take your coffee?

can you keep your voice down?

His mouth opens, lips parting, and there's a crack of skin somewhere, that he realizes comes from him. Something in his lower back shifts and he hisses between his teeth, he tore a muscle, there's something wrong with one of his hips, a loosening of fibers that disconnected, somewhere in the tangled mess of the fray.

He didn't have a weapon. He didn't have a weapon, all he had was his bare hands.

He looks to his left hand and he sees that there's a chunk taken out of the meaty center, right by his pinky finger. He stares at it for a long moment, as if he doesn't quite understand where the missing flesh is. Can he find it somewhere, in the cold and the dirt, perfectly intact, and somehow, preserve it on ice, pack it back onto his hand, pretend it's still part of him?

No. It was gone. The night took a part of him, but he doesn't care about that.

"It's not your fault." He tries to hide his hand behind his back, but all he succeeds in doing is leaning against Lestat, who he notices, is missing something. "Your tooth. They took your canine," and he feels something clogging in the back of his throat, he wonders what it is.

He reaches behind his molars with his good hand and extracts what he can discern as, a piece of black hair. When all else failed after his hands, he used his mouth, he remembers now.

Will leans down, and with his good hand, he forces whatever is blocking his throat up, and he's throwing up in the grass, exhaling through his nostrils, he doesn't know what he swallowed, but it's the worst thing he's ever tasted.

A nose. It's a fucking nose. He bit a vampire's nose off, he sees the nostrils in the grass, black in the moonlight.

"Not exactly kosher," he manages to say, his eyes streaming with tears. "Lestat...Lestat," he says, rising to one knee, his right hand clasping his shirt, "it's not your fault. I keep saying...I said I wanted to settle my affairs. I kept saying we had all the time in the world."

He blinks, and he feels something slip from his eye that isn't tears brought on by the purging, there's blood there.

"It's not your fault. None of this is your fault. None of it. None of it." He licks his lips, and he hates the way it tastes, whoever that was tasted rotten, as if they'd never bathed a day in their life.

He can't get to his feet. His eyes are closing, but he knows he needs to stay awake.

If love can't keep him awake, rage sure will.

"Did Louis ever kill for you?" He manages to move his left ankle, which is progress. "Did he ever rip someone apart with his bare teeth for you? Did he ever admit to loving you enough that he'd tear flesh with his fingernails, all because that skin belonged to an enemy?"

He stands and though he's swaying, he stays stock-still after a moment, his eyes sharp and bright with blood and the glaze of unprecedented battle.

"I can't leave you. I can't. I'm right here. I'm right here, Lestat. They could've maimed me, blinded me, but I'd still make your name the last thing I said before they took my life."

He can't stay upright, and so, he falls to one knee. This is where he belongs.

Blue eyes watch, wide with a mix of pride and the closest thing to revulsion he can manage, as Will regurgitates the hair. And the nose. Nothing screams devotion like tearing flesh with your bare hands, except maybe swallowing it in the fray. Lestat's lip curls, dull pain throbbing in his gum as - even in this state - Will has enough in him to bring some sick humour. Strangely, it's comforting to see the blood running from his eye. So familiar to Lestat's own kind.

This human will make a glorious undead. If he survives long enough for Lestat to make his peace with the loss he'll feel at the silence in his head.

"How can you say that? How can you think I'm not the reason for this? I broke vampire law and now we're both being punished. That isn't fair. You've done nothing to deserve this." He would scream into the night for all others to come and die by the hand of Lestat de Lioncourt but he knows this coven is no more - all of them perished tonight. A century of age between the five of them gave each no chance against him. But Will has suffered, badly, for his humanity.

A crimson tear slides down his own face but the vampire makes no effort to stop it, his hands still giving aid wherever they can, as Will needs. "Louis... never took to the blood like I did. In all our years together, I can remember that he killed for himself and, after she died, in revenge for Claudia. The thought of killing for me, becoming a beast to feed the love of a beast? He was far too human for that."

The implication of Lestat's words shine almost as brightly as the moon reflecting in the icy pools of his eyes. I consider you my kind now; vampire. And he allows himself to relinquish that grip that has been a crutch to Will and he drops to one knee. The scene is everything he's imagined for this moment. Gone are the roses, the candlelight, the dinner that tastes like paste. No more soft, lingering concerto fading into obscurity at the mere mention of Will's undying devotion to him.

This is the savage reality of their future together, oh, could it be more beautiful?

He's tired. He's more tired than he lets on, because, he never talks about it openly. When his throat becomes scratchy, a cough slipping from his mouth at every other word, he thinks nothing of it. When his alarm clock goes off and he's shivering, sniffling, his right hand shaking as he tosses back medicine that he's positive is expired, he presses on.

That's just part of it, not all of it. He tells himself that, sometimes.

He doesn't realize Lestat is standing in his room until he blinks, his head lolling forward as a sheen of sweat coats his forehead.

"I need to go to work," he explains, as if he was caught having dessert before dinner. "I have so much to do," and he's aware he sounds as bad as he feels, but it's only one more day.

"I'm okay, don't worry -- I don't want you to worry about me," his eyes are watering, he can barely see, but he knows he can do it. He's done lectures on no sleep before, and he's been more ill than this.

"I --- disagree." His blue eyes never wander, gaze never dropping from the object of his concern and desire as Lestat slowly makes his way forward, almost gliding with ease, footsteps silent, until he's close enough to feel the unusual, sick heat radiating from Will's skin. "What you need is rest, mon cœur, you're burning. Your body is at war."

This aspect of human life is one he hasn't ever missed. A nose that refuses to stop running - no matter how many times it's blown - and a fever, sapping every ounce of energy from heavy limbs. Sickness is foreign to Lestat. As foreign as feeling the warmth of the sun on his face. Yet, for Will, infections come as easily as breathing in the winter months, especially given his precarious sleeping habits.

"Jack and his merry little band of morons can survive without you for a day, perhaps two. They don't need you there. Not like I need you here, getting better." The backs of Lestat's long fingers graze Will's cheek and the vampire knows he could look deep into his companion's eyes and tell him to stay. But he doesn't. Free will is precious between them; something never to be abused. Only touched with great force upon occasion. Cruel to be kind as they say. "You're blind with tears. I'd be a poor companion if I didn't worry. What if something happened to you in daylight? I could do nothing. I would be powerless."

001. the interior of an elegant carriage .

002. seated at a large dining table set with an elaborate meal .

003. the shadowy corner of a lively tavern .

004. the top of a light house during a raging storm .

005. along the dimly lit corridor of a large manor .

006. the damp , dark brig of a pirate ship .

007. the ruins of an ancient structure lost to time .

008. a theater hall brimming with attendees .

009. the bustling streets of a market town .

010. a sun - drenched vineyard .

011. along a boardwalk overlooking the sea .

012. a moonlit cemetery full of weathered graves .

013. on horseback , deep in the woods .

014. a luxurious drawing room smelling of tea .

015. a sprawling dragon roost , hidden atop craggy mountain peaks .

016. a war - torn battlefield .

017. a beautiful cathedral bustling with churchgoers .

018. within a crammed opera box during a performance .

019. an elegant tearoom serving afternoon refreshments .

020. a lakeside pavilion on an especially hot day .

021. a sprawling network of underground catacombs .

022. a hidden glade in the middle of the woods .

023. the deep , dark dungeon of a castle .

024. a market square full of fruit and fineries .

025. a baker's shop smelling of wonderful pastries .

026. the quiet stables of a large estate .

027. on the outskirts of a magnificent water fountain .

028. in a dimly lit library , hidden amongst the books .

029. among the high walls of a hedge maze .

030. at the front desk of a warm , homey inn .

031. under the protection of a gazebo as it rains .

032. on the landing of a busy train station .

033. a gambling hall alight with raucous laughter and drink .

034. a pristine infirmary , mostly empty .

035. on board a huge ship making a long voyage .

+   20  more  setting  prompts :    6 / 01 / 2024

036. in a sunlit garden adorned with blooming flowers .

037. at the edge of a serene forest lake under a starry sky.

038. within a quiet corridor of a castle during a lavish ball .

039. in a bustling blacksmith's forge , sparks flying .

040. on a rocky cliffside overlooking a vast ocean .

041. in a quaint village square during a festival .

042. within a secret chamber hidden behind a bookshelf .

043. in the grand atrium of a luxurious hotel .

044. along a narrow brick alleyway in a crowded town .

045. within a busy marketplace in a desert town .

046. on a tranquil beach at sunrise .

047. in a cozy cottage with a crackling fireplace .

048. at the helm of a majestic airship soaring through the clouds .

049. in a grand library filled with ancient tomes .

050. on a bustling harbor dock as ships come and go .

051. within a magical forest where the trees glow softly .

052. in an apothecary's shop filled with herbs and potion .

053. at a secluded cabin by a dangerously quick river .

054. within the opulent throne room of a powerful ruler .

There was an old adage somewhere, intermittently laced with irony, that when it rains, it pours. New Orleans expected a hurricane, all those who were boarding rooms in the hotels were told to take out liability insurance, just as a way of the company to disrupt the hold of responsibility that came from yearly forces of nature.

Louisiana was her own private beast, sundered from the rest of humanity the way a butcher cleaves fat from bone: with deliberate precision. Those who had lived here for years understood the danger, but they took precautionary measures – those who were ill-timed tourists bought umbrellas, charged their smartphones when they could, and continued to go on the tours of the city.

Bad weather never stopped crime, of course. He had been instructed to follow a lead which had turned into an arrest, and at the time, it was looking as if he’d outpace the storm. That wasn’t possible now, and without even thinking of the consequences, Will Graham walks into an alley, then another, and with a fierce clap of thunder, he winds up with his back to an open door, his foot falling through the rotted wood of someone’s foyer. Oh. Oh no. Oh, no…his leg was caught, and without even thinking, he yanks it up, wood sliding through his pant leg, making him bleed. He was okay, he was fine… “I’m so sorry,” he calls out, attempting to shout over the sudden torrent of rain, “I’m so sorry if someone lives here,” and he yanks his leg, skin and part of his slacks giving way. He eases himself up with his hands, looking to the trail of blood running down his shin.

So, he created property damage to someone's home. This was the last thing that needed to happen, but it did, and he needed to explain what had happened to whomever was living here, it was only right. He wouldn't let the storm take the fall for his clumsiness. He wanders into a dimly lit foyer, noting a light in the center of a living room. No one should be by a window right now, much less, having lights on, they need to conserve energy… “I’m so…” and whatever thought Will Graham had in his mind filtered out of his ears, weaving into the thick, hot night of the storm when he saw a figure, crouched by a window, bent over what appeared to be…a piano.

There's something so undignified about this squalor and yet, Lestat can't bring himself to spend another dollar of the fortune that Magnus left to him on luxury. Not after what happened to Claudia. Money couldn't save her. He couldn't save her. Instead, he used his Mind Gift to save Louis and seventy-seven years later, they're still estranged. Some would call that a waste but the heart wants what the heart wants, doesn't it?

His foot shifts, Siri fading into nothing in the wake of scuttling rodents and a thunderclap mixed with the scent of new blood. Fresh, human blood. Something Lestat has not indulged in for a decade now. He stops playing the wooden piano in his lap and rests his aching hands atop the crudely carved keys. Improper feeding has led to this, nothing else. Were he stronger, this intruder would be in his death throes by now.

"Death will have to try harder than this to kill me." Lestat doesn't even register that, perhaps, that's an odd thing to say to a stranger, and inhales. The bouquet of that precious lifeblood turns his head, profile now partially visible to his visitor. "You, on the other hand, should find somewhere safer. Especially with your leg that way." One blue eye glances at the injury; crimson staining the bared, shredded skin. He's so tired and this temptation is just something else to bring disappointment.

Nothing like a vampire with no hunger.

Lestat turns his head away again just as a flash of lightning strikes. It reminds him of the old days; the fireworks of the Mardi Gras parade. Happier times. He closes his eyes and swears that, in the seconds of silence, he can hear Claudia laughing. Or maybe she's screaming. Then comes the thunder again, along with lashings of rain against the loose shutters and Lestat slowly props the home-made piano against the table and stands, dressing gown lank and old. A shadow of its former self, just as he is.

The vampire barely lifts his head as he turns to the stranger. "I have a cellar. It's dry down there." One hand gestures vaguely to the door in the right hand corner of the room; a heavy door, purpose build, to keep prying eyes from his sleeping quarters.

A man, much taller than he could ever hope to be, his expression grim, opens the door for him, the skin of his forehead creasing in the heat of the city. He dabs the back of his sleeve across his forehead, smearing the perspiration across the crisp bend of fabric at his wrist, a slight crackle hitting his ears. One of his eyes was twitching, -- too little sleep, dehydration, the stress of a potential commute to the city, he could speculate all night -- but, Will stops his observation, forcing himself to press the edge of his fingernail into his index finger, exhaling his breath.

This was, by all accounts and purposes, a step backward, but a step towards some form of inner-defiance. He had been a police officer, he didn't have a history with crime, and there was an opening here, to fulfill duties as a guard.

He had no experience like this, this was entirely out of his comfort zone, the space between his gums and teeth felt hot and tight at the same time, he didn't want to be here. But, he knew that if he didn't peel away from his comfort zone, he was never going to do anything else.

"Are you aware of what your duties will be here, Mr. Graham?" the man asks, shifting forward in his seat. "The hours, the pay, all of it? Crowd control is its own beast, a lot of men bigger and stronger than I have fallen prey to groups of teenage girls with their iPhones."

This is when Will feels a burst of laughter fall from his mouth, his dry lips cracking apart, knowing the humor was appropriate but, he wonders if he's mirroring, if this is posturing in an effort to deflect the agony he feels at being in the city, at the heat that slithers up his spine, nesting between his shoulders like an adder, its fangs full of venom.

“Yes. I’ll be more or less, on the front-lines.” I don’t want to be, but, I need to be.

“You are aware of the client’s popularity? That you’ll be instructed to guard them with your life?”

This wasn’t the President or a King he was talking about, but, celebrities were placed on the same pedestal, revered as gods. All the better for a healthy dose of atheism. 

“Yes. I will. I don’t want anything to happen to them.” He didn’t even know who he was talking about, for all he knew, he could be the newest bodyguard to Taylor Swift.

“Good. That’s what’s asked of you, aside from a few NDAs.” He suspected as much. “Would you like to know who—”

Again.

Louis didn't come. After publishing that book with Daniel, the least he could have done was come to see one show. Just one. Just tonight. On the night of their first meeting in the city that shaped so much of their relationship. But no. There may be some excuse later; he had to fend off another vampire, maybe, or perhaps the thought of returning once again to New Orleans was just too much. Too many memories remain of their beloved Claudia. Because she was. She was theirs. Even if, in her final moments, Lestat had wished for nothing but to be gone from her perishing gaze.

She may have burned to dust but so did a part of him that day. A void he now fills with the screams of fans from all around the world - the adoration of thousands to make up for the pain of one.

Lestat shakes the feeling off, sweat beading at his exposed collarbones, hair suffering some from the humidity. Fucking Louis. Ring-leaden fingers slide through the golden mess, and his heeled boots suddenly sound so loud in the empty hall as he walks towards the dressing room. It's so sterile these days - all grey paint with the autographs of those who have come before him. Time will carry their bodies away but he will remain long after those inked marks have been covered over. The life of a vampire can be devastating sometimes.

Still, he straightens up, hearing voices already inside.

This must be the new security. A bodyguard sounds a little too romantic for his liking but as Lestat opens the door - airy white number catching the breeze behind him - he pauses. His bared chest rises and falls in a moment of silence. He doesn't want to give anything away. Least not how disappointed he is that the show wasn't all he'd hoped it would be.

Don’t say such things, son. You know that’s not right. You shouldn’t be thinking like that. Stop looking. I said, stop looking. Didn’t I tell you to stop looking? Focus on something else, ignore everything but what you see in front of you…

His father’s words from so many years ago rattle in his mind like loose change at the bottom of a car’s cup holder, ever-present but rarely needed until, he was broke, or in the process, of breaking. There’s a subtle shattering that comes, not from the absence of wine to his mouth, but with the gaining of it, the bitterness sliding down his throat, he finished the glass in three quick swallows, he wanted to be numb to this.

But, never to Lestat. He never wanted to close himself off to him, ever.

“Evolution,” he says, “comes with sacrifice. We came from the apes, and you’re above us, higher than us on the food-chain,” he says, his breath clotted in his throat like heavy cream scraped from the bottom of a container, “which is the most fascinating truth I’ve come to understand.” He blinks, he knows he’s slightly drunk, he hasn’t had wine in so long, especially that fast, but it makes his mouth crease into a smile, his head lolling to the side.

“May I watch you hunt, sometime? Would that be like you watching me prepare a steak or a fish?” He wonders about the intricacies of the assembly of a meal, about the machinations of it. “Or, would it be intimate?” he asks, his hand curling around Lestat’s waist, he feels emboldened, his mouth parting as his breath heaves, making his chest rise and fall, his eyes closing as he loses himself to the rapture of Lestat de Lioncourt’s voice.

“I don’t want to be afraid of what I want anymore,” comes his admission, his eyes opening, his face turning towards Lestat’s. “I feel like I’m combating two opposing forces at the same time, as if I’m throwing color onto a greyscale world to the left and to the right, watching wildfire ravage permafrost but to no avail. I feel that, if I just combined the two, somehow,” and he moves, his hands resting on Lestat’s chest, “I would find reprieve.”

His mouth is stained cranberry and he wants to understand what it’s like to hunt a human being down for sport, for food. He wants to understand the pleasure that can come from the kill. 

“I’d like that,” he says, his eyes drifting to the shape of Lestat’s mouth, the coral-peach of it, ataxia claiming him, the room tilting to the left a little. “I’ll protect you from all those that try and change your narrative,” he says, devotion and inebriation making his tongue loose, his heart clamorous in his chest. 

“I wish,” Will begins, resting his face against Lestat’s jaw, “I could have helped you, back then. I would have thrown your maker into the fire myself for what he did to you.” His free hand grips the back of the sofa, his fingernails aching from how hard he holds the material, wishing it was Magnus, somehow. “Thank you, for listening to me,” I’m drunk, don’t listen to me, “you make me feel safe.”

His thoughts turn red as he imagines how it would feel to throw someone into a fire, their flesh sloughing away from bone, their hair disintegrating first. He thinks about doing this for Lestat, to honor him, to protect him and something in his chest heaves, his eyes closing as he breathes him in.

That finger continues, delicate but deliberate, to entwine itself within the soft curl at Will's ear as Lestat listens. Louis never really had the inclination to allow such affection and Claudia - well she was a different sort of tale altogether. Quick, blue eyes shift to Will's face as his hands touch Lestat's chest and the vampire hums, allowing the warm palms to feel him; alive and present. "When you hunt with a god, you become something greater, something higher than yourself; surpassing even what you are now. And to have you watch me feed, well," Lestat almost moves, almost loses whatever capacity for control he has but the last shreds hang there and he smiles, instead. A handsome smile. "It would be as though I were watching you touching yourself. The sensations are alike in their climax."

And then Lestat laughs; the moment far too heavy with his own desire. Of course, wine tears down social barriers, encourages the cowardly, but anything that happens between Will and himself, Lestat needs to know his human companion will remember and won't regret. "The virgin scream of a hunted man will paint your world all shades, I promise, mon coeur." His own gaze falls to Will's mouth, stained as though with blood but that bitterness lingers. It doesn't dissuade the vampire and he takes the opportunity to imagine how Will would react were he to slide his hot tongue across those full, reddened lips now, tasting.

"Magnus would have welcomed your anger. He was old and sick of life." The words come out, unfeeling, as Lestat's gaze continues, firm and unblinking upon the doors to Will's breath. "But I will never be either of those things so long as I have you." Images from Will's mind flood into his own; burning flesh, hair curling in the flames, the way it's made very clear that such an act would be for him... Oh, exquisite beauty. Without another second passing, Lestat lurches forward and presses his open mouth to that of his love. A seal is made, tight, as if to steal any further words and consume them immediately into this own throat.

The skirmish lasts only a moment, Lestat not wishing to conquer Will so quickly, and he eases back, cheeks flushed rouge. He takes one of Will's hands and persuades it into his golden hair, ruining himself. "You may join me whenever you like. Whenever you're free and willing to lose yourself in my world as I so often find myself lost in yours these days." For he does. Before, when they were only acquaintances, nothing felt as it does now. Nothing was so powerful or bright, no glance could bring him to his knees as Will's can. "We can burn the body together afterwards. Share a cigarette while the flesh drops from the bone."