#lestatl

The shouts carried through the house. They echoed off of the walls, to your ears, and to the ears of the little one who had been in your arms, whom you have been teaching colors to in that moment. Red. Rouge. Blue. Bleu. Green. Vert. You winced as you heard the shouting for it was never anything good. He had a great temper, your Lestat, a dramatic streak, but usually when it was warranted. He made his way to the room that you were in and leaned against the doorframe, his hair mussed, his lips tinged red with the blood that he had been drinking. “Merde,” He said again, quieter this time as the wheels inside of his brain were turning, thinking on the situation, and on what to do about it. “What is it, my love?” You asked, your eyes staring up at him, as were the wide ones of the child in your arms. Her little arms were reaching up, wanting her père to hold her. Lestat obliged, stepping forward and picking up the child, which was second nature to him now. “I was caught by the police, I had to kill an officer,” He said with a sigh, as your little one started to play with his hair. Or rather, tangle her fingers in it. “They taste of grease, those officers.” “Merde,” Your little girl repeated Lestat’s earlier word, making him look down at her, and then sigh again. “I’m glad she understands,” He said. “I was able to bring the body to the back for cremating, but you know how these police are. One goes missing and they cause chaos.” “I’m sure you left no trace,” You said, standing up. “You’re the best hunter I know, the best killer. It will be alright.” “Merde?” Your daughter said in a roar that rivalled Lestat’s from when he had come in. You rolled your eyes, and moved towards the two, kissing the top of her head. “Now that is going to be harder to get rid of,” You said, about your daughter’s swearing.

Barely half a dozen responses have come in from the advertisement that Louis and Lestat had put into the local gazette, searching for a third to their romantic partnership. Three of them were angry letters from the ‘good, upstanding, religious’ people of the community who thought that their relationship was sin in the first place, and attempting to shame them for attempting to corrupt a third person, one of them was clearly a joke, one of them was unreadable due to the poor spelling, but one had caught the attention of the couple. Lestat read it outloud now, between himself and Louis. ‘Dearest friends, I write to you not on behalf of myself, for I know that I am not what you are looking for, but for my brother, my best friend in this world, and someone who I can highly recommend for this relationship that you are seeking. You have met him once before, on Canal Street a few months prior, he was the one who was doing a performance, consisting of flips and jumps from one building to the next. You both had stood out to him, and he has been unable to cease speaking of you since. Once I had spotted your advertisement in the paper, I showed it to him immediately - and that is when what I believe his fatal flaw had struck. He is much too shy and introverted to reach out to you himself, so that is why I have decided to step in and write this letter. My brother is hard-working man who loves not just with his heart, but with his entire soul, and he certainly has enough for the both of you, if you would consider him. If you are interested, he is performing with his troupe on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays at the local circus, performing his trapeze act at seven pm, and nine pm. I do hope you take advantage of this opportunity sirs, and that you give my brother the chance to be very happy. Sincerely yours --’ “I remember him,” Louis spoke, sounding lost in thought. “I believe you referred to him as .. a bird of some sort - or was it a monkey?” “Both, as I recall,” Lestat spoke. The way that you had flown through the air, it put both of the vampires’ gracefulness to shame. “He was a handsome little darling though, wasn’t he?” “Yes, yes he was,” Louis said, his eyes darting towards a calendar that he kept for pure sentimental purposes, though each night seemed to blend into the next. “It is a Friday.” “Then we shall go to the circus,” Lestat said, reaching for his hat.

The festival was in full swing by the time that you and Lestat got there. It had started at dusk, and of course, the two of you showed up fashionably late. Your hand was on his arm as you took in the sights of the exotic circus in front of you - the torches burning, the contortionists bending, the music playing, the smell of alcohol permeating the air and of course, the excited shrieks of women as men in masks approach them and ask for a dance.

Neither you nor Lestat were wearing a mask on this night. As Lestat had said, the both of you had amazingly beautiful faces with clear, marble skin - what was the point in covering perfection? More people than you had expected to noticed, and Lestat smirked as the gossip turned towards you and him, and your beauty.

You let go of Lestat to clap for one of the performers, a jester-type who cartwheeled around the two of you, bells on his clothing clanging with every movement that he did. He came to a stop after a handspring in front of you, and seemingly out of nowhere, pulled a bouquet of roses that he handed towards you with a painted on smile. You accepted it and blew him a kiss to the amusement of spectators, but Lestat put an end to the jovial fun in his own way.