revivalproject | Venez à Moi

Entry tags:

Venez à Moi

Who: Lestat de Lioncourt, Open
What: Arrival
Where: Temba
When: End of month (during calibrations, so limited to those who are outside atm)
Warnings: Blood, vomiting, violence, Please reply to Opt IN/OUT" post

Even Lestat's hyper acute senses couldn't quite catch where the change had happened. One moment he was facing down the ultimate betrayal, and the next he was outside in some utterly unfamiliar and strange looking place, Loius, Claudia and Antoinette no where to be found. He couldn't smell a trace of them on the air- air that was thankfully dark, he realized- looking up at the strange stars with a snarl. His insides churned, and vomited up more blood, looking quite the bloody mess. Despite this and all the more pressing issues, his eyes landed on a strange...orb, and he staggered towards the thing with purpose. He could feel the hold it had over him, but couldn't fight the urge, hissing at the orb or whatever force was inside his mind, before surrendering to the compulsion to touch the thing. It spoke all sorts of things to him, and when he finally pulled back with wide eyes he was panting, feeling weak and vulnerable in a way he hadn't experienced in a very long time.

The poison in his veins distracted him from any further thoughts into the 'how and why' of things, doubling over to empty up more blood from his stomach, crawling along the ground and trying to scent out a source of blood- any blood- that wasn't his own.

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As though in answer to his prayers, a splash of blood appeared.

To Tony, it was a bloom of warmth that hardly registered as his back slammed against stone, sending a shock up his spine and forcing a growl out of his lungs, almost making him drop both of his arms that were flung up defensively. His hands grasped at nothing, only strangely cool air, the twist of his snarl fading before he could bring himself to slit open his eyes. He expected to hear a roar of hunger, not the wet splatter on stone somewhere to his right. He expected to see the dark press of the alien forest around him, not the open square and familiar glow of the data point. That should have been miles away.

The stone at his back must have been the fountain, not a gnarled root digging into his spine, and with clumsy urgency he dragged himself around to first scoop a hand through the fresh, cool, abundant water. That pretense was quickly abandoned to shove his face into the pool instead, the scrambling and final hitch the last encouragement that the metal plates clinging precariously to his clothes needed to fall away. Tony didn't hear the clatter as he came up for air, and didn't have much time to regret drinking too much at once on his desperately empty stomach as he watched the red splash into the water through the tangle of his hair in his eyes. It was a wide, dark bloom, even in the meagre glow of the orb, enough to make Tony lift a hand with concern to his cheek, torn open by the claws of the thing that should have killed him.

That was why he was here.

Bastards.

The man appeared out of nowhere, but Lestat didn't care so much for the specifics in that moment, only for the scent of blood in the air- which he crawled eagerly towards. He lapped at blood spilled over the ground like an animal, far too pale, gathering enough strength to catch at the source of the blood and drape himself over the man's back. He licked a stripe up his bloody cheek before unceremoniously tearing into his throat with desperate need.

The claws and teeth were supposed to be back in the woods. Already struggling to get his bearings, Tony had barely turned toward the noise, trying to think of some apology or excuse for his appearance, he was normally in a tuxedo by now, honest, and was left wondering why he was thinking about tuxedos at all as the weight suddenly dropped on his back and pressed him breathless into the stone lip of the fountain. There wasn't room left for him to gasp then at the wet swipe up his cheek, his hand already flailing back to find some purchase before he found out the worst was yet to come.

It felt like more of that lick, melting into his neck like a kiss, only the hot rush dripping down his chest and splattering into the water shocking him into realizing that should have hurt more. That adrenaline had him shoving away from the stone for some leverage as he grabbed for hair then shirt blindly over his shoulder to roll the attacker over his head and dunk them both into the fountain.

It would have normally been a laughable attempt, but Lestat was weak in that moment, fighting to keep hold of his meal as he was flipped humiliatingly into the water of the fountain. He tried to pull the man after him, or at least keep him from running, panting indignantly as he tried to wrestle his way back onto one of those warm veins.

"Se tranquille," he hissed.

Edited (french) 2023-07-01 04:25 (UTC)

Tony might have commiserated and admitted he'd be just as indecent to a hamburger right about then, except he didn't particularly like being the hamburger, and he wasn't about to die right there in the middle of the city. He had been trying too hard to get out of it to lose that badly. It wasn't a dignified struggle. It was mostly splashing, where Tony at least had the advantage of leverage still on the dry side of the fountain to brace his knees, and yet this very presumptuous man was still shockingly resilient. "What--the--hell--!" Tony grit out as he tried to wrench his arms out of their hold, and only stopped with his fists clenched and biceps straining to meet the man's eyes wildly and snap back, "You calm down!" He was not the one biting people.

The man's thoughts were closed off to him in a way Lestat had only ever experienced with his maker and those he had made himself. A human had never managed to shut him out so completely, and if not for the roaring heartbeat and very real evidence of blood he'd wonder if the man were dead.

"Quiet, you-" he growled, keeping hold of one of those damn arms, too sharp nails slicing at the wrist greedily trying to suck down more.

He didn't get much before he found himself suddenly blinked away- not far- dropped from the air back down into the fountain with a confused and indignant shout. How had he done that??

In the spirit of generosity, Tony would say this insane man was very determined and goal oriented. This was very difficult to keep in mind as more of his skin tore, and Tony could have broken his own wrist to try to wrench himself free. "Shit--what--?!" He didn't have nearly enough fuel for both words and shoving at that murderous face, fingers curling tightly in the blood matted hair to push away from being licked again.

He was thrown back.

It was an overdrawn chord snapping, all of the strain Tony was putting in to pull himself back suddenly throwing him onto his back as the hold broke, the click of his own teeth vibrating in his skull like the warning hum of steel lashing through the air. With black dots swarming his vision, he still scrambled backward, smearing blood across the stone, pushing himself up on his hands until he was sprawled a safer few feet from the fountain, and could try to squint at the thrashing man in the water. This didn't seem to suit either of their (admittedly very unclear) goals. "Why did you do that??" Tony demanded.

"Putain de bordel de merde!" Lestat hissed in frustration, and leveled a glare at the man, "You think I did this to myself??" he snapped pointedly, slapping the water and pushing unsteadily to his feet.

"You. You have some sort of magic-"

What the guy did or didn't do to himself was his own business. It was the biting and clawing and then topping it off with insults like magic that had Tony widening his eyes and glancing around like there was anyone else in this city that could explain what he had done to deserve this now. It couldn't have been that hard to come up with something, there was a pretty substantial list of transgressions he had to answer for. "Me?" he demanded, more offended than by the physical aggression, which maybe he should be dealing with by at least pressing one hand to the torn skin of his neck. "This is 100% science, baby," maybe didn't deserve to be declared with so much pride when that all natural, no hexes body was bleeding out. "If you're looking for a magic snack, you could have just asked, I might know a guy."

"You did this to me-!" Lestat growled, magic- science, he doesn't care which. He tried to lunge for the man with that inhuman speed, shoes catching on the slick bottom of the fountain and he fell with a rather violent splash, cursing loudly.

Maybe he meant the blood that was all over him, that did seem like something Tony might have done, but before Tony could ask any illuminating questions the guy was throwing himself back into he water. That one kind of looked like it hurt, and after moment of hazily staring at this new development as the water sloshed over the stones, Tony tried to gather himself as quickly as possible to crawl closer again and make sure Louis the Fourteeth hadn't cracked his own head open. "Hey, hey," he encouraged, free hand out to search for a way to help keep the guy's head up out of the water, "If I promise not to laugh, will you stop biting me?"

Utterly humiliated, if Lestat had been at full strength he would have torn the man to shreds by now and left his viscera floating in the damned fountain. As it was he still planned to kill him eventually, bearing his teeth but very reluctantly grabbing onto that arm for a hand out of the water.

"...I need to get inside."

"Uh-huh, okay," Tony muttered, mostly just to hear himself as he struggled to dredge up more words through the effort of clambering to his feet and hauling the man out of the fountain, equal parts helping pull and using him as leverage. When he came out in a flood, drenched clothes spreading water across the square swirling with mud and blood, Tony crashed against his shoulder to sling an arm around him, keeping his other hand pressed against his bleeding throat. Inside was, in itself, not a terribly difficult proposition; they were rich with options. As close as it was, though, they couldn't go to the library, not like this. Besides, Tony rationalized, the more immediate option was the hotel, that was logical, that was efficient, Lark had needles in there.

"You have to admit," Tony started as he gave a tug toward the tower, "it was, listen, if you had seen it, you would still be laughing, I've never experienced this kind of self-control. It's not really my thing, historically."

The vampire seemed almost hypnotized by that tantalizing throat, so close, blood dancing in the air just waiting. But he didn't want another dip in the fountain just yet, forcing restraint as he did his best to walk. The bit of blood he's drunk has helped a little, just enough that he can muster some strength to move towards this towering ruin.

"It will be your thing if you want to remain standing," he warned drying, gesturing up towards the hotel, "Is this...a church of some kind?"

Muttered and clearly not expecting an answer, Tony grumbled, "Hey, who's keeping who up? Big words for the guy in the middle of a bender. I found you in a fountain," though it wasn't so easily discernible just who was more steady on their feet as Tony led them across the square.

The question had him squinting up at the hotel, trying to see it from the angle that gave it some kind of holy polish, and couldn't make the connection. Someone was going to have to explain that to him some day. "Why, you gonna melt?" he teased, and tossed his head in lieu of flapping his occupied hands. Maybe it was a little soon to be making vampire jokes. "It's just a hotel. Somewhere to get you cleaned up, sleep it off."

A hotel. A grand one then, it's in prime. Though everything here was so tall. Maybe these people had prospered beyond any of the civilizations Lestat had viewed in his lifetime.

"Like in that foolish novel?" he asked, scoffing. Such strange ideas he had put out into the world.

Those kind of connections were very easy and loose when you were drunk, and very baffling when horrifically sober, and left Tony furrowing his brow and trying to figure out which singular novel to hit the presses ever had a hotel in it. Or maybe just the kind of hotel that one slept in. Ridiculous.

"Yeah, sure, sweetheart, we're living the fantasy," he encouraged, bundling them into the lobby where he had to linger unsteadily for a moment as he tried asking DATA where exactly Lark's room and thread were. Wordlessly, he was tipping his head back, squinting at the ceiling like he could see through it as the whole structure was mapped for him. Abruptly, he announced, "This way," dragging the man along again with impatience, like he hadn't been the one to slow them, only to slow his step again with a tugging at the other man's shirt to give him the time to insist, "And--keep your voice down." Feeling like he needed a convincing reason for this mandate, and provided with the untarnished materials of someone who didn't appear to know what a hotel was, he produced, "They'll arrest us for being in here."

The man seemed to be having some kind of...fit, staring off like he could see through stone, and Lestat found himself wondering if he ought to try again. Tony's saved a third attempt on his life for now with that abrupt and assured announcement, the vampire looking unimpressed with the threat of being arrested until he remembered his current state. It might not end well.

"Our captors?" he asked in a hushed voice.

As man and vampire make their way to Lark's room, a feeling settles over the building. A feeling that may still be familiar to Tony even if not in this particularly oppressive density. It is of course the feeling of being watched. Heavy and concentrated on Tony and the toothy newcomer.

That Tony has managed to stumble over someone willing to hurt him without hesitation doesn't really surprise Jon anymore. But he is determined to have some stern words with both as he makes his way over to the hotel purposefully and enters the building. The faint, yet steadily increasing crackles of static may give his presence away, but the Archivist has never been known to be stealthy anyway. And at least for Tony it's a fair warning to get his excuses sorted out ahead of time.

Already getting paranoid about being caught looking this vulnerable, Tony tried to dismiss and repress that crawling feeling that had the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He hurried them on, resolutely looking ahead and not at every lurking shadow, dragging the drunk along to Lark's door. It was only when Tony's resolve broke and he looked over his shoulder for those eyes he could feel boring into his back that he accepted this might not be an entirely self-made anxiety. Maybe that crackling in his ears wasn't from the hunger.

Excuses were not going to be as effective as looking very in control, so with a sharp breath he pressed his ear to the door like he meant to listen for any movement, but the only thing he could hear was the hammering of his own heart and that hiss in the air. Maybe that was why his hand shook when he finally took it away from his neck, too, and the blood that he smeared on the door handle was incidental as he practically shouldered the door down in his rush to get in and buy them some time. "Yeah, they're coming," he breathed, feeling his way through the dark to deposit the man in a chair and free him to plan his convincing presentation.

Extremis was back online. A glint of gold slithered up his neck, smoothing over his skin and polishing away every bruise under the nanoweb. Good start.

The hell was happening? Lestat hadn't felt this sort of foreboding presence since his mortal life when he was being stalked in the shadows before his kidnapping. He tried to reach out with his mind, that strange static making him wince and scowl as his eyes darted about.

He hardly understood when exactly he came to be deposited in this chair, or where they were, watching that gold slide over his would be snack with fascinated eyes.

"What is this?" he demands in a soft hiss, and he could be referring to some many things in that moment.

While Jon isn't actively hurrying to catch up to the two, his pace is still one of determination. Lark will need a better lock to prevent further breeches into her private space in the future. And Jon has no intentions of withholding these information to her.

But that's for later. Now? He makes his way up himself, approaches the door and- Knocks politely.

"A hotel, I told you," Tony whispered back, like this was the standard hotel hospitality package, including the way he snatched a pillow from behind the man roughly to have something to start wiping blood on. He could pay to replace that later. It might not have been an entirely effective tool, Tony couldn't really see in the dark or keep his hands very steady anymore, but he went from trying to dab at the claw marks opening his cheek to the mess the blond man had made of himself as he continued, "I'll get you some water, don't move, don't even say anything, everything's fine, this is very normal--"

The knock had him freezing, clutching the ruined pillow and staring blindly toward the door. Then he flung the pillow away like he could hide the evidence, which clearly knocked something over in the dark, and his instinct to cover the ensuing thump and clatter was to call, "Just a minute!" Which was clearly stupid, and he turned back toward the biting man with a grimace and hands up as though to ask why he did that.

Moments later, after a deep breath and grit teeth, the light from the hall was spilling into the room as Tony swung the door open in one determined move, then almost passed out. The mounting dread was broken briefly like it was cleansed by that dazzling light, and Tony's relief to see Jon's perfectly unimpressed frown had a smile softening the knit of his own brow before he realized his vision wasn't really clearing, and his heart was still pounding, and the incredibly casual lean he meant to drop against the doorframe became heavy and loadbearing, and crossing his arms became more of a hug around himself to painfully squeeze the disarming smile out of a dry well. There was a lot more he meant to say, he was pretty sure, and it all came out as, "Darling."

Oh dear, that's a lot of noise. And it leads immediately to baying of a dog on the other side of another door in the room Tony brought Lestat to. Little Bear was awake, and with his wakening... Well, moments later the door was opening, spilling more light into the room from a second angle. An older woman in a dressing robe, slippers, and a look of annoyance, looked into the room.

"Tony?" she asks because she sees him first, and then past him, "Jon? Mila bless, why are you all in my work room at this hour?"

And that's when she notices the other person.

"And who have you brought? I hope you all intend to clean up after yourselves."

Very normal. Clearly. Lestat huffed in his chair as Tony fussed, that strange feeling growing worse, and then there's a knock. And whatever it is on the other side of the door, it prompted a hiss from the vampire once Tony had opened to door to it.

And then of course there came the barking. Animals never did take well to his kind. And they must have made quite the sight, a mess of blood between them, Lestat's fangs bared towards the door. It was a chaotic scene.

"*C'est quoi ce bordel?!" he demanded.

(*What the fuck?!)

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I hope this is okay.

👁

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