We breathe the music

[marquisdemort]

Who Lestat, Open
What Mingling, Feeding
Where The Warrens
When Volcano Event
Warnings Blood, Violence



Love Me

It had been a long time since Lestat could roam freely without having to worry about the sun. He could adjust his schedule to match that of any other man down here. And there was a routine to things down here just as there had been above ground. He made it his mission to mingle, to be one of the people. It wasn't the night life of New Orleans, but it was at least more lively then Temba in the moonlight hours most nights.

And so Lestat ignored his gnawing hunger and took Nicki's violin out into public for the first time since his arrival. He played a song from long in his past when he was still newly turned, welcoming others to listen or join in.

Feed Me

That hunger ate away at Lestat until he couldn't stand it. Let it throw me into the damn fountain and in the path of the volcano, at least it would be a faster death than this- he reasoned, stalking his prey to a more secluded area of the warrens before swooping in on them. He moved with lightening fast speed, on them in a flash and sinking him teeth into their neck with a groan of relief.

Comments

[belladonic]

The worst part was how much he clearly did understand. Of course she wanted to leave again when he refused to listen to her, what else could he mean by again, and yet he couldn't help the cruelty of persistence and burdening her with the fault. "No, I was his mistake," Claudia reminded him, so they both knew they were having the same conversation that should have been over years ago. In that time, Claudia had only grown more sure that Lestat's lies were meant to hurt her and Louis, and there were more of them out there to be found. She spun and stalked back the way she had come, into the tunnel where she wouldn't be lured by pretty music anymore.

[marquisdemort]

Mistake. Of course. He huffed, and in a flash he was there before her, not allowing her to run off this time.

"You said yourself you wished we hadn't done it. Why do you get to say it and not us, mm? Few children in this miserable world aren't a mistake."

[belladonic]

Claudia might have been sensitive and quick enough to see Lestat herself, but the display of speed still made her flinch back as the height of him barred her way, neatly halting her retreat and bringing her hands up defensively. Despite the cowed recoil, she still met his eye steadily, and was disappointed that she had to reply evenly, "You making a mistake is not the same as me being a mistake." She wouldn't accept that anymore.

[marquisdemort]

Nose curled, Lestat looked ready to launch into another rant, but something about that steady gaze struck him for once, and he felt a modicum of guilt. Not much at all, but more than he typically did in the heat of an argument, and it robbed the power from him, cheek twitching.

"...maybe not," he allowed tightly.

[belladonic]

That was practically a downy softness for Lestat, all the more striking in its remove, something he hadn't offered Claudia since...Since she started being as cold as he wanted her to. Since he held her face and made her watch her last fire burn out. It settled tensely between them, throats gone still when they should have been howling cruel words. Claudia wouldn't look away, but eventually lifted her chin, letting her shoulders and clawed hands relax, tipping her head slightly so her hair fell around her shoulder again, a vulnerable display of her neck.

"You can make a thousand mistakes and still have eternity," she eventually said, the tension of anger still in her voice for both an admonishment and an offer, in what sounded like an illustration. "To be a mistake is a death."

[marquisdemort]

She's wiser than he'd ever admit. It intimated him, if Lestat was being honest, to acknowledge that she was in many ways his equal now. Didn't need him. Didn't want him.

"Believe me, my little milkweed, I have made an eternity's worth of mistakes," he offers in turn.

[belladonic]

If he really meant that, then he would finally have a real answer for Claudia when she pressed, "Like what?" Of course she didn't need him, if he still refused to answer her. There were plenty of ways to expand her knowledge. He had never been a reliable one.

[marquisdemort]

Like what? Lestat's smile grew tight, gaze turned inward as he reflected. He didn't like to admit to his failings. Never had. But particularly not to his fledglings. To his daughter... who tried to kill him for his failings and his cruelty. Who turned Louis against him finally...

"I...have been unkind to you. Hard on you," he managed stiffly, struggling to admit it aloud.

[belladonic]

The eased slope of Claudia's shoulders became a droop of frustrated dejection as she groaned and rolled her eyes until they were white. He was impossible. She didn't need to be told that he was unkind, she could figure the details of that for herself. And it was so frustrating that she couldn't even slam a door as she snapped, "Stay out of my room," and pushed passed him to stalk away again, to a pathetic little corner of moss and dust to mope in.