✱ a world without love

"HA!" A manic bark like laugh at the idea of Armand, the devil with the face of an angel being called Amadeo. "Oh you're serious. HA." That warranted a second bark. "I don't know how Venetian men carry themselves but I would mind my words calling someone a mistake monsignor. Tsk,tsk, tsk that is very unbecoming of a man of nobility to speak so lowly." he tutted shaking his head. "Marius de Romanus, nobility personified soils himself by such lowly words." Marius did not call him a mistake but the act, to give the blood so soon after his first fledgling when Lestat was so young himself was always a recipe for disaster...but Nicolas was a man that jabbed and provoked and if Marius lost his restraint and offed him he'd call it a mercy.

He longed for death. For peace. Rather than this perpetual anger and madness that gnawed at his mind like a staved dog.

"Oh Lestat was upset was he? Wah wah wah my Nicki- oh." he mocked with an exaggerated voice and grimace Lestat's theatrical way of sobbing. "Oh despair. I am so upset I must take a nap...Lestat would weep over a leaf striking a stray dog...he weeps over everything. You could tell him his tie makes him look a fool and everyone is mocking it and he would sob and cry. His mourning means nothing to me-" It....really didn't right now.

"How do you wise and ancient teacher think that conversation would go. Devil incarnate give me back my hands, no I am speaking to you ignore your boy and give me my hands. Which are probably in Paris. I looked in the theatre but did not find a box and well I assume they would have been put in the same vault as me...maybe he threw them in the river. Maybe he applauded Lestat with them when he went to Paris to this little trial. Boring characters but this Daniel has talent for writing, it does not surprise me he was a successful journalist. Makes you wonder if it's down to him or Louis that Lestat seems so..." Nicolas tilted his head sideways. "Not Lestat- but I digress. Me and your devil child are giving each other wide berths for it is a night of celebration and...look at his boy." Daniel was deteriorating rather fast wasn't he.

"My account on who Armand is would be two centuries out of date, you are better off asking Louis. Or Daniel if he still comprehends you as a concept rather than an abstract shape in his vision" Nicolas sighed.

“Is it lowly?” Marius asked right back, his voice without any change in its tone. “I am not calling you a mistake; I call his actions out as a mistake.” It was a fact that Nicolas, as the second born within such a short timespan, was less powerful. The secondborn of a fledgling. So many mistakes made at once.

Only a soft sigh fell from Marius’ lips when Nicolas mentioned his hands and that he didn’t find them. “Why should he keep your hands after all those years? Are you certain that they didn’t burn with you?” Marius asked further. He had no idea what happened to Nicolas’ hands, as everyone thought Lestat’s fledgling was dead. He was in no position to ask Amadeo for it, their relationship was not good enough, and his fledgling was too stressed over seeing Daniel’s mental state declining further.

“I understand that you do not wish to talk to him. But you may want to have a conversation with your Maker. For your own sake. Not for him. Not for anyone else.”

He followed the younger vampire. After a bit of walking, they found a bench that was facing the beach from where they could take a look at the small waves. Without saying a word, he settled down on the bench and waited for the other to sit next to him.

The familiar weight of Samir's head against his shoulder was a welcome one, his own shifting enough that he could press his nose in to the other's curls. Take a slow breath while listening to the other speak. And he knew it, deep down, what the answer would be. He'd just... Felt the need to say it.

"And yet I've never felt like I've been lacking in anything with you around, Samir." A low voice, the laced fingers being squeezed in turn. A reassurance in the pressure as he tipped his head further in to the others hair. His words may hae been muffled, but he wanted the intention to be clear. "Make no mistake. Bonded or not, you are mine. I believe I have had my mouth on near every inch of your body, know the sounds you make in almost any situation. Have grown to recognize your breathing."

Under Bennett’s guidance, Samir shifted his weight until he settled in the other man’s lap. Dark brown eyes lifted until he could look into Bennett’s eyes. An amused little smile appeared on his lips, and even a soft giggle followed. “You definitely had your mouth and tongue everywhere. I don’t know any place that was spared.” A little more amused than before, he leaned his forehead against Bennett’s and placed a sweet kiss on the tip of Bennett’s nose.

"You almost never speak of your mortal years. I can imagine you did not take the rejection of her father well, you are a very prideful man and I can imagine when youth still clung to you, prouder still." Ysabeau did wonder what his status was but she could fill in the blanks that he was simply not wealthy enough or perhaps not high born enough. "Understood. Age then" she could accept his definition of 'becoming a man' it was a very pragmatic approach so at least it was easy enough a concept.

"Oh, my dearest friend I took but a few glances at him and I could tell he is not made to be demure. He is a mischief-maker, demure boys do not cling to their masters demanding more attention. How boring it would be for you, to have a demure man at your side. No challenge, no zest, like lemon cake without the lemons the saccharine sweetness rotting your teeth and making you sick" No, she could not imagine Marius thriving with a demure person as his companion.

"You speak so fondly of Botticeli, or spoke. What has changed? Has he disappointed you?"

"Matthew has disappointed me in so many ways, Marius. It is what children do, break your heart and disappoint you. As their teacher you are more adept than anyone to understand the sheer disappointment our fledglings are. Never listen, always think themselves right, and who must clean up their messes? Us. A thankless and arduous task that we endure because we love them. But alright, I shall get to know your Amadeo, I shall speak with him and asses how he carries himself and I shall report back to you in the same urgency and seriousness as I would to my beloved Philippe. Let my opinion be a guide and no more than that...none know better than you on what is right"

"Bonsoir mon petit."

And assess the young man she would, she had asked Marius to allow them to be joined and she felt beautiful in her dress and mask. A party was just what she needed to get her mind off things, a night of revelry and political play. "I feel safer already." She did not need protection from a mortal but what a good excuse it made should someone wonder why Marius invited Amadeo if he needed an excuse. She did not know Bianca or how deep her friendship with them both was.

"I had no time to buy her a present. Do you think she will like it?" Ysabeau questioned showing off the Sapphire pendant in it's box. "I hope it will be suitable, I must admit I do not meet with courtesans often. I find them fascinating, from a purely political perspective. Courtesans and servants know of all the messes the noble lords leave behind- hm." Ysabeau never had to worry about being seductive or alluring, a glance of her had been enough to bring Philippe to his knees. Still, never too old to learn some secrets of subterfuge and cunning intelligence.

Bianca's home was beautiful, well decorated, large and so very clean. So many thought themselves so privileged to attend her soirée,men of wealth, men of titles, the sons of the council of ten, it seemed that only the crème de la crème would attend.

"Honoured to make your acquittance signora. May I gift you one of my necklaces in gratitude?" she asked and gave the box to a servant that presented it to Bianca. Interesting, everyone wore masks and Bianca was the only one to know who hid behind each one. "Many speak of your intelligence and beauty signora, they say that you are the jewel of Venice and eclipse even your rival Veronica Franco" She was the only courtesan of Venice Ysabeau knew off and she just guessed they were rivals. "Perhaps when you tire of the wine we could speak of politics, I would like to hear a young Venetian's opinion on the war. I am willing to believe you have opinions on which diplomats ought to represent Venice in the talks of Armistice-" Which would fail.

"Come, dance with me." she demanded off Marius just as an excuse to step away from Bianca and his apprentice and watch the young man from afar on how he would act. Many thought many thoughts of Amadeo, his curls must betray who he was even behind his mark or maybe the colour of his skin. Delightful cherub...the pseudonym was almost cute.

“I admired him to the point where I was thinking about making him one of us,” Marius admitted. “I learned from his techniques. His early works resembled the humanity of the Renaissance. But at some point his works became dark, savage, without any life in them and without hope. The bright light of innocence and hopefulness I saw in him was gone and he got entrapped in the narrow-minded view of the mortal Christian church. I thought about giving him the blood to free him from the darkness of the church and bring him into the light of hopefulness he once possessed. A foolish thought of mine, and I am glad I didn’t do it.” He sighed softly while thinking about the talent he saw in Amadeo. “Amadeo’s talent is much greater than Botticelli’s. The icons he painted were full of light and innocence. I have never seen such fine art before. But when I tried to give him a brush to paint along with his brothers, he couldn’t do it. Even in private, he cannot hold a brush anymore. He shakes like a leaf and starts crying and begging.” Even though Marius didn’t say it out loud, his voice was emphasizing that this kind of behaviour disappointed him greatly. Even after he blocked Amadeo’s bad memories, he still couldn’t do it.

He nodded at Ysabeau’s words. It was good to hear such things from a mother. Maybe he didn’t fail his boys that much. With a soft smile on his lips, Marius thanked Ysabeau for doing him this favour. 

As they parted ways and he guided Ysabeau to her chambers, Marius made preparations for her dress and mask. He left a note for Vincenzo, the oldest of the boys. The next night, he had their gondola prepared, which brought them to Bianca’s palazzo. Amadeo greeted Ysabeau properly in the way he was taught by Marius and the tutors. He even learned a few words of French for her. 

“She will love it. It’s a very fine piece.” Marius said, and Amadeo’s eyes sparkled upon seeing such a piece of jewelry. Of course, the boy was delighted to be allowed to attend the ball as well and to have an important role in keeping their guest safe. He had a little dagger on his belt and reassured their beautiful guest that no one would dare to put a hand on her.

They made it into the spacious salon of the Palazzo that had been carefully prepared for the occasion. Amadeo guided Ysabeau inside like a gentleman while Marius stayed behind as he had someone to talk to first. Amadeo brought Ysabeau to another young blond woman who turned out to be Bianca Solderini and introduced both properly.

“Madame de Clermont, oh I am so delighted to finally meet you. Marius talked so highly of you. I thank you for your way too generous gift.” The blond courtesan smiled her brightest smile. “Please enjoy the night; I look forward to our conversation. And…” She leaned in so she could lower her voice a little bit. “Be careful of those women by the bouquet of roses. They are senators’ wives and their preferred topic of conversation is the newest fabrics.” 

Marius approached them and kissed the back of Bianca’s hand to greet her properly. “You can spend time with Bianca, if you wish, Amadeo.” Marius offered, and the boy’s dark eyes lit up right away. Even Bianca giggled a bit and took Amadeo’s hand in her own to show him something.

Betrayal has a special way of clouding one's mind, the rest mist of anger, it was a catastrophic and rapid deterioration that lead Lucius Sigeric Benoit de Clermont to leave his home, leave his family and find himself lost for two years wandering, and without purpose, without chain of command a soldier falls into base instincts. The guard dog turned jackal, and he nearly had him. Matthew made the mistake of being slow, of wanting to see Constantinopole on the way to Corfu. A golden spear with it's beautiful golden tip broken and steel replacing it, what once was a symbol of his honour, a mark of his valour now descecrated with one target in mind was nearly launched from the top of the hill and would have found the target's heart. It meant something, the hasta was an emblem of a proven soldier, Patrician families often gifted ceremonial weapons to sons who had shown exceptional discipline or bravery. The Lucretia gens, being old and conservative, would favour a symbol of duty, restraint, and honour rather than ostentatious display.A spear is not a weapon of frenzy — it is a weapon of precision, distance, and control, which mirrors his entire psychological architecture. Lucius was not a man that swung wildly, he was a man who held the line. Lucius was a man who fell to a spear but to a studied Roman it's very tip, the desecration of what was meant to be a symbol of the best of a Roman soldier was proof enough of his frenzied state. Another vampire's hand held the back, held back a symbol of valour being used for fratricide and it took a mere sentence, a Roman vampire questioning what happened to strength and valour to allow Lucius to drop his spear and Matthew to continue on his horse never knowing he was seconds away from death.

A Roman. It took just that, Marius being eloquent and Roman to allow Matthew to leave. He allowed Matthew to escape. He did not scream, he did not lash out, he stood a little straighter, the way a man of the Empire would stand presenting himself. Marius was so eloquent, he did not demand Lucius stop, he wished to understand what would drive a Roman, a son of the Lucretia gens no less to fall so far from grace as to contemplate fratricide as of course Lucius had introduced himself with his trinomen to prove he was a true Roman, it was his spear.

The haze broke enough to make him look to the figure gaining distance and not pursuit. The presence of another Roman so monumental that vengeance fell secondary.

So here they were, rising from finding shelter in an epipitaph some said housed the tomb of Thesaloniki herself, Alexander's half sister, Lucius had relinquished his spear to Marius' care and he held Marius's books, an old tradition of travelling companions to offer collateral as proof that they would not rob each other.

Some men needed a moral compass, if someone just showed them North they could claw themselves back. "I take it Cicero is who you admire? I have never read his philosophies. Would you mind if I read this?" It was not relinquished to him to use it was as safe keeping, and he was not the sort of man to flick through another man's property casually.

"Have you been waking early too?" Lucius asked as he noticed that the sun's hold was weakened over him since crossing the borders closer to Greece. Who else was he going to ask about the darkening skies that had the mortals in a fuss. The stone sealing the epitaph was heavy but nothing to a vampire like Marius or him. "Do you hunt?" he asked, so far his life consisted of two types of vampires, his family and those he imposed Philippe's dominion over. Marius was a strange third thing that did not fit into that binary.

Marius’ question was genuine and not in a judging manner. He understood that a Roman sometimes had to go to these lengths, but the turmoil in the other vampire’s thoughts told him that this was not thought through enough. The spear fell, but Marius kept holding it in his hand, looking at it with a soft smile on his lips despite the maskish face which was his own. 

As a sign of trust, they exchanged the spear for Marius’ books after they exchanged names as well. “I try to learn from Cicero and other philosophers. Cicero is a master of phrasing his beliefs in such a manner that it will draw you in. Please, give it a read. Even if you don’t agree, it will give you enough to think about. As we age, we tend to lose our grasp on humanity. At least, that happened to me. I detached myself from mortal beliefs and politics, a foolish mistake from my part. Thinking that our kind is above mortal matters. I had my mistakes corrected the hard way.”

Marius kept his words very calm and collected without going into any details, and he nodded slowly at the question. He was the keeper of the mother, and thus, he got educated on their kind. “The older you get, the more you will stay above the restrictions of the sun or the hunger. We develop gifts that are beyond human capabilities. But the skies here work in a strange way. Something is not right with the clouds and the weather. Can you feel it too?”

A soft hum fell from Marius’ lips. “I do hunt for survival. But my principles might be strange. I only feed on those mortals who are considered Evil Doers. Murderers of those helpless and defenseless, for example. Mortals with no honour left in their soul. But I am not a warrior; I did not serve on the battlefield. My mortal days, I spent as a scholar and chronicler. Not honorable enough for the father of the woman I fell in love with. A Roman Senator expects a different type of man for their daughter.” Which meant that Marius used to have a lower social status back in the day. “I can tell you lived a different mortal life.” Marius nodded at the spear, then he nodded.

"I love you so much" Lestat spoke after twenty minutes or so of cuddling and downed that potion Samir made, it tasted of soap the way most things tasted of soap to him but he did not feel any different... He kissed down Samir's torso, his hips and from his favourite spot, the thigh Lestat would drink, his large fangs dug into the supple flesh and that delicious magical blood flowed into him, Lestat moaned taking just a little.

"You taste of honey. Real...honey." he purred and like a radgoll picked Samir to put him on his lap and greedily dug his fangs into his neck, holding his thigh so tight for a reason Samir later would suss out that was Lestat's cut palm pressing vampiric blood to force the wound to heal as he drank from his neck and moaned, the memories of his beloved husband flooding his mind and he had to be so very careful as he almost didn't want to stop.

He was so good at it though, the Little Drink, somehow he controlled himself enough to break away even though a noise fell from him that was almost like a whimper of upset, pressed the pad of his bleeding finger against Samir's neck and then flopped on the mattress with him in his arms as his head floated in the delirium of Samir's blood.

"I can run so fast-" he spoke with a giggle blood drunk as the memory of Samir running through a wheat farm flooded his mind and he could almost feel it, the sun on his fur, the feeling of the warm summer soil, the way he weaved through the wheat running...

“I love you too,” Samir whispered, watching Lestat drinking the potion. He caressed the vampire’s cheek lovingly, knowing that the taste must be revolting. Closely, he watched his husband just to make sure he was doing fine. And like a more than willing snack, he remained calm, enjoying the feeling of those tingling kisses before it all was cut short by sharp pain coming from his thigh. Samir moaned out and arched his back. His body was pulled up, settled in Lestat’s lap as another sharp pain went through him, this time coming from his neck. Samir put his hand on the back of Lestat’s head while his mind opened to his husband automatically.

Lestat could see the memories of Samir’s former witch in the moment when the curse was spoken upon him. And he could feel the fear the familiar had gone through. He could feel the wind caressing through the thick fur as Samir, the fox, ran through the streets of London, trying to hide from mortals until the vampire Anthony stood in front of him with the most gentle smile on his lips. Another memory of fox Samir running and running through a wheat farm. And then there was the third memory. Lestat could see the familiar purple, blue, and pink LED lights of the club. Through Samir’s eyes, he could see himself sitting on a couch, winking teasingly. He could feel Samir’s nervousness as well as his fascination and attraction to a vampire he had never seen before.

"You will taste it. It will get bitter. It is alright, it will not kill you, it just won't taste very nice. You will learn to listen to the heart mon cher" Lestat stroked Valentin's back and hair as he fed to encourage him, to soothe him, to ground Valentin in the present and let him know Lestat was right there with him. "Thats it, good boy. Taste how warm and inviting the wine of the vein is-" he softly whispered his encouragement, watching Valentin feed.

"Good job, you stopped before the heart stopped. Oh, messy." Lestat tutted and took out his monogrammed handkerchief to wipe Valentin's lips clean and then to look at the rest of his face. "Perhaps I ought to keep some baby wipes in the car from now on. No matter, you have fed. How did that feel? Does that not invigorate you little one? You surely can not tell me that blood bags compare to it fresh from the vein- surely not" Well modern men had less of a refined palate; maybe it did not taste that different to him only by asking would Lestat know.

"I am so proud of you mon cher, you drank him dry." he praised like someone would praise a toddler for eating all their broccoli. "Cut your thumb, rub your blood on his wound so it heals the bite. And then we will dispose of the body- there is a gambling den not far from here, we shall prop him by their fire exit and make it a gang's problem to dispose off" Lestat would pick up the victim and down three alleyways, a fire escape ladder and practically parkoured down a wall they were at the gambling den abandoning the victim there.

"Have you learned to use your vampiric speed yet?" Lestat asked and if Valentin could not woosh off with him Lestat would halt, come back and throw him over his shoulder to get back to the car with him.

He pressed his pointy nail against the pad of his thumb as instructed and rubbed his blood over the mortal’s wound. It probably took a little bit longer, but the wound finally closed. Then, he got up and watched Lestat dispose of the body. With pure fascination, he watched how agile Lestat parkoured around at a speed Valentin had not achieved yet.

“No. When I run, I run like a mortal. Anthony said he is confused about that.” Lestat came back, threw him over his shoulder, and with a yelp coming from Valentin, they wooshed off to the car. They drove to Lestat’s home, a place the other vampire didn’t seem to like, and when they entered, Valentin knew why. In sheer surprise, Valentin let out a Spanish curse word and jumped back.

“That…that is a little over the top.” All the gold and marble. Valentin moved to the stairs and touched the gold on the banister. The young vampire made a face and looked over to Lestat. “Do you have a new place already? If not, can I help you looking for one?” The mention of music made Valentin stop. He walked over to Lestat and took his hand in his own.

"Both of us? I don't feel awkward at all" Baldwin simply had tidied up the bookshelf in the living room, to him it had always been just for display much like art but Amadeo had actually started reading the books on it so he made some effort to put them alphabetically rather than by descending size now that it was more a bookshelf and less art made of books. He was all too aware that he simply made everyone feel on edge around him, he was the sort of man who's entering a room cause many a puckered butthole in anxiety.

It was the reason Baldwin had greeted Amadeo's brother, made him a coffee and simply told him to make himself at home before leaving the two boys to catch up and making himself scarce in his office to give them privacy. When Amadeo had to leave though it left just the two of them, Baldwin had offered him a drink and then had sat down to find Riccardo looking at him as if he expected Baldwin to attack him. Nervous and young.While Riccardo fidgeted, on the couch opposite him Baldwin was the picture of military discipline in his stillness as he held his glass of brandy he would not drink.

"He lives with me, is that not self-explanatory?" Young people and their tendency to need to vocalise everything, nothing was allowed to exist, no it had to be stated. "He is my partner." Since he had to have it spelled out to him.

"Grew up with him" Baldwin corrected interrupting him,he was watching him so intensely, no wonder poor Riccardo fidgeted around. "Thank you" He was so precise with his words, yes he did have a beautiful home.

Man.

"Hm- back in my day fathers taught their sons respect towards their superiors. We are not peers, nothing against you sir." he corrected his voice never raising yet always so firm. No they were not equals and in instilling that he ought to call him sir the narrative would shift instantly, a reminder that Riccardo held no authority in his presence, to question him or otherwise. "His heart will be broken. One way or another his heart will break because he either continues to live with me, the man he adores and away from his family...or he returns to Venice and our relationship crumbles in the loneliness of long distance."

"If you have any life experience superior to mine that warrants you feeling justified to sit across from me and lecture me on how to be a man, please proceed, I would welcome your wisdom." He even sat forward to listen. "Because from where I am sat I welcome you into my home, proof that I am capable of providing your brother a good life where he will want for nothing, my sanctuary and give you the decency and respect of making myself scarce so you and Amadeo have the privacy and time to catch up and you repay such respect with confrontation in my own home before you made even the slightest effort to get to know me. Would Marius be proud of how you carry yourself? Forgive your lack of courtesy?Or would he be appalled and feel the need to come visit me himself and apologize for his son's behaviour, I do wonder. "

Baldwin would allow Riccardo to reflect.

So putting two and two together, a man who is filthy rich and with an attitude of a mass murderer. What could he possibly be? A mafia boss. Amadeo got himself a mafia boss. Was their Master aware of that? Riccardo was spiraling on the inside while he straightened his back more with each second passing. At some point, the young man sat perfectly straight as if someone was threatening him with a gun against the back of his head.

Mafia boss. The Godfather reincarnated. ‘I'm gonna make him an offer he can't refuse.’ Amadeo invited him into the embrace of the godfather himself. And now The Godfather will detach a finger from his hands for not calling him Sir. Is this how it will end? Oh certainly, if he makes it out of here alive and with all his fingers and toes still attached to his body, he will give Amadeo the speech of his life and a big fat whack with a newspaper or whatever paper he’ll be able to find.

Riccardo cleared his throat. Do not anger the godfather then. Fine. He could do it.

“Right. I forgot myself and got too comfortable. I sincerely apologize for forgetting my manners, Mister Montclair, Sir.” Good. A good start. Maybe he will not lose a finger. Mental note: call Albinus later, when you make it out of here alive. 

“I thank you for your generosity for inviting me to your home so I can see my brother for a bit. With all due respect, Sir, but I cannot help but feel worried about my brother and his carelessness regarding his financial situation.” Riccardo took a deep breath, but his butthole was puckering too much to calm down. “I am not accusing you of ill thoughts or intentions, Sir. I am just worried about my brother’s well-being in case” Riccardo stopped himself to find the right word. “In case things do not turn out well. Which, I don’t assume, nor hope. I can tell that my brother holds strong feelings for you and wish for him to be well. But with all due respect, Sir, I know my brother well enough to know that his loyalty to those he loves can get him in…situations. I am not his father, but his vulnerable position worries me.”

Riccardo nearly forgot to breathe during his little speech. In fact, his heart was racing, and his cheeks had flared up a little bit now that he was starting to pump oxygen into his lungs.

"I never had problems with witches. Never met a witch" Nicolas in some way understood that Samir might just be nervous for that alone, it was plausible. Fear of prejudice. "Your over cautious wording is the most offensive thing about you, Samir. If you want to speak then speak plain and let us be men. Diplomatic politeness disgusts me" Too many hidden intentions hid behind false niceties. "I can tell you're sweet but speak plain seeing as I am conversing in English, an ugly gravel language just to converse with a pretty face"

"My Coven Master did not like my music. Vampires are harsh critics" That is all he would say about the missing hands, his version of events for sure. "You are not a vampire but you are not human either. Are you a witch?" Samir mentioned witches being disliked by vampires.

Slowly, he shook his head. “I’m not really a witch. A familiar; you probably don’t know my kind, as you don’t seem to engage in witchy stuff. Do you know the tales about witches with their black cats or ravens? Those animals are their familiars. Spirits to protect them and enhance their magical abilities. That’s what I am. Just that I don’t have a witch.” With a cocked brow, Samir turned to the bartender, who happened to be a mortal. He was one of the very few mortals who were allowed to work at this place, as he was also a blood donor and approved by the Talamasca. Samir snapped his fingers almost in front of the bartender’s face.

“Lucien! Stop! Stop giving our guests bedroom eyes!” The bartender flinched and turned away. This was when Samir turned to Nicolas again. “I’m the manager of this place.” He tapped Nicolas’ shoulder gently and got up from the seat at the bar. “Come.” Samir guided them past a seating area that led to the stage for live music, which wasn’t occupied right now. To match the theme of the club, everything was decorated with LED lights in all shades of blue, purple, and pink. He guided them up the stairs to a secluded VIP section which was unused this evening. From the balcony, one could still see parts of the club downstairs, but it was a little quieter where they were.

"It is not about the eager groupies, mon cher. It is about the art." Lestat looked at Elias and frowned. They had both gotten too messy to pass unnoticed so Lestat opened the wardrobe of whoever and found a Seattle Seahawks t-shirt. Hockey? Football? He didn't know but it was blue so he wore it and crumpled his own up throwing it in a McDonald's bag that was being used as a refuse bin tossing out the contents on the floor.

"I saved his one good shirt for you. It is a blend but you will survive – if you wish for it" Lestat offered the black shirt to his friend.

He would drive them like a maniac to the site of the open air concert. "I know plenty of modern music, enough to be dissatisfied with it and to know that rock needs revising. Real music, real rock music, Led Zepplein, Van Halen, Whitesnake. Raw, fucking music causing hips to gyrate and young beauties to procreate, and I will declare to the world I am a vampire...and this loneliness, this unending crushing loneliness, will end as they will see me. I want thousands...millions...billions chanting my name and reaching for me..."

"And the Ancients will forget all about Louis' book...I have always been far more infuential. Far more charming and beckoning, I cannot be ignored by mortal or immortal alike-" he spoke his vision and blew a kiss to a man on a bike. Such a handsome man, such a beefy bike as it drove past. That was when Lestat put his foot on the pedal and tried to catch up with it, for a reason currently unknown, and they would never know as traffic separated them.

Lestat driving like a maniac was surely hard for some to deal with, but Elias had the time of his life. Whenever they took a turn too sharply, the younger vampire let out a squeal of delight and thrill. No one could convince him that it wasn’t fun to be a little reckless at times.

“Anthony thinks you are being reckless,” Elias answered very calmly, but the tone in his voice already emphasized that he was not agreeing with the ancient on this one. The younger vampire gave Lestat a little pat on the thigh. “I’ll support you. It’s fucking insane to put a target on your back, but frankly, I’m a little tired of the hiding game as well. So whatever it takes, yeah…?” He watched the biker passing by and snorted softly. “Weakness for bikers, Mariah?”

They stopped, and Elias jumped out of the car. He took Lestat by the hand. In vampiric speed, they made it to the location that was already open. Smartly, Elias avoided the ticketing control area, as mortals didn’t seem to pay attention to them yet.

They passed a few merch booths or booths for drinks and snacks. Elias ignored those and guided them through the crowds until they could see the huge stage in the middle of the park. LED lights shone from the stage; a band (which was clearly an opening and entertaining act) was already performing their song under the moonlight. Festival goers danced to the songs of that pretty unknown indie band.