#lechroniques

@lechroniques sent: you wanted happiness. i can’t blame you for that.

Ah, there it is. The breath that had been held, stifled, for two centuries at long last released from the depths of Lestat's lungs. It isn't the suddenness of the words that strike Louis as they shatter the comfortable silence shrouding their little parlour. No, not the words, but something in his lover's voice; a strain around the consonants and a twinge of the old pain bleeding out betwitxt each syllable.

It stuns Louis enough to lift his gaze from the pages before him and seek that twin flame of melancholy in his maker's eyes. It pains Louis to recognize the heartache in his expression, the deep wells of sorrow pooling in those beautiful eyes with which Louis had fallen in love so very long ago.

This is the closest Lestat will ever come to an apology, and part of that realization absolutely enrages him. I never wanted happiness! he wants to scream. Even as she plunged the knife into your flesh, I didn't want any of it!

"I wanted..."

I wanted to know you, even as I loathed you. I wanted to know your secrets, and your cruelties, and your terrible vexations with this world. I wanted you to love her as I loved her and I wanted you to pay the price for ever having given her to me.

Oh, he cannot bring himself to say it, cannot bear to dredge up those old bones and make the distant nightmare real by speaking it into existence. That has always been the most difficult part for them, hadn't it? If they say it out loud, that means that it happened.

"It hardly matters," he finishes the thought with a gentlemanly nod.

There are nights he feels like digging the canker from his heart with his bare hands, but this is not one of them. Lestat's guilt is not Louis' cross to bear and he'll be damned if he placates a single drop of that incarnadine sea of guilt.

Only...only the harder he tries to concentrate on his book, the more aware he becomes of Lestat's presence in the room. The relentless thud of his heart cries out to him like a child until something in Louis breaks, too.

she can't help but jump slightly whenever she hears lestat's voice. she had been riding on the carousel, round and round. she didn't necessarily know what to do with herself, you know? whenever you were attached to the hip with someone for the last nineteen years and suddenly they were gone? well, you can't necessarily blame her. ever since kevin had dusted outside of the park the night prior, the pink princess didn't know what to do or necessarily how to feel.

a hand comes up to rest on her chest as if she was trying to stop her dead heart from pounding. "oh, dear. i, like---....totally didn't hear you coming!" of course not. she was lost in her own head. her features were exhausted, bewildered. she'll blink rapidly, head tilting to the side. "i don't know what your talkin' about," she'll scoff, playfully rolling her eyes. she doesn't know why her first impulse is to lie but she did it anyway. she didn't want anyone to worry about her.

@lechroniques sent: this doesn't mean anything.

"Are you so sure?"

A single dark brow quirks upwards, too fast for mortal eyes but just enough to send Lestat his impression. The creature in his lap seems to mirror Louis' amusement, his bushy tail beating once, twice against the cushioned upholstry before he nuzzles his snout back into Louis' lap.

Truly, Louis hadn't meant to let the beast jump up on the couch with him during his evening read, and he certainly hadn't consented to getting shed all over his lounge pants, but...well, there are worse feelings than the weight of a soft, warm creature across one's lap. And Mojo was extraordinarily well-behaved, after all— no nipping, no barking, no incessant scratching. Truth be told, he has more manners than Lestat himself.

Another scratch behind the ear, and Louis can't help but smirk at the sudden rapid thud of his tail, like a heart beating out all the stiflingly unconditional love that only a dog could possess.

@lechroniques sent: do you want to go home now?

This had all been Lestat's idea, of course. Though Louis himself is not at all unfamiliar with the many bars around town, he considers them better for hunting than for any date night.

This bar is different, though.

A little quieter, off in the Garden District and away from the swarms of tourists. It's open mic night, and the young woman currently on stage is a little too drunk and a little too flat, but there's a rasp to her voice that Louis finds himself falling into as he cradles his whiskey.

Louis can't remember why he had protested so vehemently against coming out tonight. Perhaps it's old muscle memory, simply to dig his heels in, no matter the request. Perhaps he's afraid. Afraid of spending too much time together, that they may grow to resent one another. Afraid to move forward and build a life atop the ashes of all they had known. Afraid to admit that in this brave new world, Lestat may be his only anchor.

No matter the reason, Louis is perfectly content in this singular moment, on a date, in the year of our lord 2024, with Lestat de Lioncourt.

Do you want to go home now? he asks, and already Louis can read the anticipatory disappointment.

"No," Louis says kindly. "I'd like to stay a while longer, if that's alright."

He claps as the woman on stage finishes her ballad, then turns and allows his hand to gently grasp his lover's arm.

ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ　╱ @lechroniques said : do you trust me, or are you just out of options?

HE SIMPLY STARES FOR A MOMENT. like he's weighing the words. shadows shift at his feet; subtle & restless. a quiet exhale through his nose comes. ❝ trust? ❞ he repeats, low, almost amused. but there is no warmth to it. ❝ that's a generous word to put in my mouth. ❞ dark gaze lifts, steady, settling on the other with a kind of calm that feels measured & earned.

❝ I'VE KNOWN PEOPLE LIKE YOU MY WHOLE LIFE. ❞ words continue, voice even. ❝ i know what you do when you're bored. when you're curious. when you decide something might be interesting. ❞ his sire was much the same. a faint tilt of his head, gaze studying the other . . . not impressed. ❝ and i know men like you don't ask for trust. you just take it. ❞ a slight shift in his stance, weight settling like a blade finding its balance. ❝ so, no. i don't trust you. ❞ words are plain. a beat passes before the corner of his mouth pulls. not quite a smile, something drier. ❝ call it necessity, if it makes you feel better. i call it simply choosing the devil i can see. ❞

the blonde can't help but snicker at the elder vampire's comment. he'll take a few steps forward, his boots barely making a noise on the pavement. the only thing that could be heard was the sound of his keys jingling ever so slightly on his belt loop. he'll peer upwards towards lestat, a hand coming up to give his torso a few pats. not aggressive, but certainly not gentle. a playful roll of emerald eyes as his hand slowly falls back to his side.

she had only stepped out for a cigarette and to collect her thoughts. as much as she loved going out, she would get overwhelmed. especially whenever it was on a weekend. the music could be heard but it was muffled as she lit her cigarette, inhaling the smoke. she'll hold it into her lungs before she exhales from her nostrils, turning so her back leans against the cool brick. icy blues don't even shift towards the man that had came out to join her. she knew he was there before she decided to acknowledge him. he was quiet on his feet, almost predatory.

@lechroniques INQUIRED: ❛   console .   comfort  my  muse  as  they  cry .