#childofmanynames

@childofmanynames sent: [ text ] stop shutting me out.

A sound of fragile apprehension rumbles in his throat, the infringing instrument prickling at his frayed nerves as it pushes up beneath his lip to expose the razor glint of a fang.

Peering up to the pair of beguiling pale faces that cast their shadows over him ---both that he so loves---, the warring flash of confusion and excitement in Lestat's eyes is rife. How had it come about that Fareed would consent to loan his place of business in such short notice? How many palms had Armand, and by association Louis, had to grease to allow this practice in untold experimentation to unfold?

With his wrists bound, there's little he can do but clench his hands into fists, nails shredding into the vinyl. Of course, it is a simulated emulation of confinement. He could tear himself free in a matter of moments if he'd wanted ---and with no effort at all---, but where would the fun be in passing up this singular demonstration in relinquishing control, when he could hand over the reins to another? Or two.

'I suppose you both conspired to put this little plan into action?' The thought drifts wordlessly to Armand (Louis cruelly shut out to him, as he will always be), as Lestat's eyes shut, his breath hitching in a small whine around the metallic implement as it pushes harder, and the fleeting surge of cold pain sparks the need to snap his jaws shut, to tear the thing out of his mouth. Yet he doesn't. He'll play along, eager participant that he is.

Hadn't he often thought of this, in passing yet amusing detail? The idea of capture and study, his limbs surrendering to the illusion of immobilization?

She looked down at the gun she was holding, "Well, it's a dangerous area, I need to make sure I'm protected."

It had not taken long for her to start hunting on her own, not requiring Marius and then Armand's careful guidance for how easily she had taken to it. She had no qualms about killing, no fear of her vampiric nature. No, maybe the problem was the opposite ; she was voracious, ever so bloodthirsty and still not great at doing it cleanly for how impulsive she was. Her newfound power and strength, for someone who had been beaten up, used and abused was just exhilarating. Each night, she was defending herself. Each night, she was taking back power. You can't hurt me anymore and I'll make you suffer for what you did to me. Of course she was not completely aware of that. There was only the need to take, the need to punish. And sometimes, it got too far, anger completely taking over leaving her stunned in the aftermath. Some man had preyed over a poor girl who looked too much like her, or maybe a fool had called her some slur -- calling her crazy could be a death sentence for some.

On a night like this, she walked back home with only little awareness of how she'd fed. She was ghosting back to her bedroom when Armand gently pulled her aside and walked her to the baths, sat her down and started cleaning her up. His gentle touch was bringing her back to the present, the warm water making her feel her body again. She cupped his face and stroked his cheek, thankful. Relieved.

"Bathe with me ?"

He took in a deep breath when he felt Armand come up beside him, brushing his hand against Vlad's own still resting on the balcony. is lips twitched upwards into a smile that was like a flicker of light in the dark, gone as quickly as it had come and only a ghost now between them.

"Your hunger for me is relentless." Vlad commented, using the French that Armand had been accustomed to. He had not quite acquired the smoothness of it, his accent still thick and sometimes harsh even after all the centuries he had existed. He could speak the Slavic languages much better of course but even German was a better fit than French. Still, he tried.

"I have to wonder if it is solely for me however or for someone lost to you." He turned his head, glancing down at their hands before looking back up, his index finger brushing slowly and softly against Armand's knuckle, reciprocating the touch that Armand had initiated.

Silence dripped into a bowl and slowly overturned. It spilled between them like dark water, sweeping over their feet. The elder creature was haloed by light, warm and golden, a kitchen's light, a home's light. Its rectangular shape bracketed his broad frame and legere look. Santino stood in the doorframe to his house in contemplative silence, an entire private world pressed up against his back, begging for protection.

He studied Armand, the way he stood there in his fashionable but unsuitable coat. The snow had not yet receded from the mountain tops and a sharp wind whistled through the streets below. He looked wrong here, the way he had arrived with no warning, no intent beyond arrival. Santino stood as sentinel before him, exchanging pleasantries stiffly and warily.

But he would not have asked him inside. He knew this as soon as Armand spoke, made his little comment. He would have let him remain a solicitor on his doorstep, a vagabond turned away from the stoop. Armand was not a part of this world, of the secret domesticity Santino took his refuge in. Perhaps he should not have ceased his wanderings, should have shied away from stationary existence. Well, now it was too late, he supposed, and courtesy bid him.

When Nicolas discovered a book written by another one of Lestat's fledglings, he was instantly drawn in. He finished the book within the night, reading at a rapid pace to see what Lestat had been up to. But he was horrified- this fledgling had burnt down his theater. And Armand had let him do it! Nicki hadn't felt this much rage since he was freshly turned by Lestat.

It was time to come out of hiding. But he wasn't looking for Lestat, no. Nicki wanted to find Armand. He'd trusted Armand with that theater, with his legacy, and Armand let it be destroyed. Nicki did not even consider that he was risking his life by seeking out Armand. He was too angry to care.

Based on the book, he figured Armand was still in America. Seeking him out took quite some time, but he eventually tracked him down. He had a feeling Armand could sense his presence as well, and they came face to face on an empty street one night.