@ofmercy

Daniel had suggested that Lestat invite Louis. Daniel had said that perhaps letting Louis finally hear the story, first hand, would lead to a better understanding of who he had been during their time together. And while Daniel had insisted that Lestat was abusive...he had also insisted that relationships could be mended.

And so, Lestat had used Daniel to invite Louis to this very moment.

"You came."

He's nervous. And he looks it. Lestat gently reaches out and rests a hand on his former lover's shoulder.

Louis- his beautiful Louis. Lestat sat opposite his lover in their salon, lounging on the chaise and gazing deeply at him as if he might dissipate into nonexistence at the blink of an eye. Such a thing would be a tragedy, and what ever would he do without those green eyes gleaming against those letters at such a speed? The thought of absence suddenly overwhelms him with feeling and he stands, making a show of slowly walking over to kneel down right in front of that old, dusty book in his lovers' hands. He raises a perfectly manicured finger to slowly push down the top of the book, revealing needy eyes and a curious smile.

how's my portrayal? / @ofmercy.

 For a time the sound of a heaving chest is the only thing the permeates the still night. Cold brown eyes remain unapologetically fixed on the way dark blood trailed down wrought iron. There is no tenderness in the hunter’s heart for the now headless corpse impaled upon the graveyard’s iron fence. He’d drawn first blood, had thought he was being clever several days before when he’d left the mauled corpse of a novitiate upon the steps of the local cathedral. As was typical of the undead, he’d also expressed his disappointment that she was all the Church had sent in response.

❝ Brucia all'inferno, stronzo. ❞ The word are breathlessly spat at the remains with all the venom she has left inside of her. Whether by adrenaline or exhaustion, Nico’s knees briefly shake as she moves to turn away from the carnage. She’s sure the groundskeeper has some kerosine she can borrow to dispose of what’s left.

She freezes in her tracks at the sight of him. She hadn’t even heard the stranger’s approach. Nico regards him in silence for a moment. What a contrast she is to his debonair appearance; strands of hair wildly freed from her ponytail and lithe form spattered in dirt and blood. A bristling, rabid dog with a crucifix between her teeth. When she finally speaks, irritation is more apparent than anything.

“Oh, hello,” Kieran greets with a small smile, paused in unlocking his apartment door. The caregiver had an evident exhaustion in his shoulders, a stain here and there on his shirt, and the scent of applesauce and baby powder. “You must be the newest tenant. My name’s Kieran, I live in this one,” he vaguely gestures. 

No doubt the constant scratch of pen on paper was scratching just as harshly on her new parents nerves. Perhaps that was a subtle motivation behind why she was constantly ‘talking to the book’ as Uncle Les had said. There were few things which sparked interest when you could only be awake when every other kid your age was asleep. If irritating Lestat and Louis gave her a little excitement in her night then it would be worth it. Lestat was far easier to visibly irritate with it but she could see the impact on Louis as well, despite how much he tried to put on good graces.

The main reason for her constant scrawling, however, was a loneliness that sat so painfully and deeply in the pit of her stomach that it rivalled her constant hunger. The book was someone to talk to. It was her friend. She could project any personality or trait that she wanted onto it. It could be something the same age as her who liked to play games and enjoyed the mischievous intrigue of her stories.

With little to do but write, it didn't take her long to fill an entire book. She’d done so the morning before and the only thing to stop her tossing and turning all day had been a promise from Lestat that the booksellers would still be open when they woke up. That didn’t stop Claudia from peaking out of the coffin every hour or so to pinpoint the exact moment that the sun began to sink below the horizon. As soon as she noticed the small amount of light that came through the curtain begin to dim, she through open the coffin lid and shook Louis by the shoulders.

sometimes it’s hard to get up in the morning, hard to willingly cause themself pain so they don’t feel. kris had gotten possessed again, so they have to act quickly-- they shove their hand against their chest, feel it pass through and tear flesh, break bone. they know full well it will all knit itself back together once the “problem” is removed, but it still... hurts.

and then they hear it.

the shuffling of feet and a terrified gasp from their baby sibling.

* f... frisk-k--!