I'm Not Okay, (I Promise)

[Amant]

ooc; Yes, I know this seems very familiar. It is pretty much a copy of the intro of The Tale of the Body Thief just re-worded a bit. It is the only decent intro I have with me. I had to switch to a new computer not long ago so only half of my intros made it over. x_x' Sorry lvoes.

bic; It’s never really chaotic in New Orleans. It’s never really a rustle.
It is a peaceful city for the vampire; and it never fails to yield to me a mortal killer – some twisted, sinister morsel who will give to me a dozen of his own murders as I drain his memory banks and his blood.

But tonight it was the Big-Game Hunt, the unseasonal Easter feast after a Lent of starvation –the pursuit of one of the those splendid human trophies whose gruesome modus operandi reads for pages in the computer files of mortal law enforcement agencies, a being anointed in his anonymity with a flashy name by the worshipful press: “Back Street Strangler.”
I lust after such killers!

What luck for me that such a celebrity had surfaced in this infamous city. What luck that he has struck six times in these very streets –slayer of the old and the infirm, who have come in such numbers to live out their remaining days in these undisturbed climes. Ah I would have crossed a continent to snap him up, but he is here waiting for me.

To his day history, detailed by no less then twenty criminologists, and easily purloined by me through the computer in my New Orleans lair, I have secretly added the crucial elements –his name and mortal habitation. A simple trick for a dark god who can read minds. Through his blood-soaked dreams I found him. And tonight the pleasure will be mine of finishing his illustrious career in the dark cruel embrace, without a scintilla of mortal illumination.

Ah New Orleans. I am the only immortal now who walks this glorious corner of the Savage Garden boldly, for as you have seen, the others long ago deserted the coven house here –unable to endure each other’s company any more then I can endure them.

But so much the better to have New Orleans to myself.

I stood at the front window of the rooms I maintained in the swanky little Central Park Hotel, every now and then letting my preternatural hearing sweep the chambers around me in which the rich tourists enjoyed the premium brand of solitude –complete privacy is only steps from the dreary street. My strangler was almost ready to move from the realm of his spasmodic and fragmentary vision into the land of literal death. Ah, time to dress for the man of my dreams.
Picking from the usual wilderness of freshly opened cardboard boxes, suit case, and trunks, I choose a suit of grey velvet, an old favorite, especially when the fabric is thick, with only a subtle luster.

Tis very suitable for a cold night as this, but I do not feel warmth and cold in the way humans do. And the coat was slim with narrow lapels, very spare and rather like a hacking jacket with its fitted waist, or, more to the point, like the graceful old frock coats of earlier times. We immortals forever fancy old-fashion garments, garments that remind us of the century in which we were born to darkness. Sometimes you can gauge the true age of an immortal simply by the cut of his clothes. With me, it’s also a matter of texture. The 18ooth was so shiny! I can’t bear to be without a little luster. And this handsome suited me perfectly with the plain tight velvet pants.As for the white silk shirt, it was a cloth so soft you could ball the garments in the ball of your hand. Why should I wear anything else so close to my indestructible and curiously sensitive skin? Then the boots. Ah, they look like all my fine shoes of late. Their souls are immaculate, for they so seldom touch the mother earth.

My hair I shook loose into the usual think mane of glowing yellow shoulder-length waves. What would I look like to mortals? I honestly don’t know. I covered up my blue eyes, as always, with black glasses, lest their radiance mesmerize and entrance at random –a real nuisance – and over my delicate white hands, with their telltale glassy fingernails, I drew the usual pair of soft grey leather gloves. Ah, a bit of oily brown camouflage for the skin. I smoothed the lotion over my chin bones, over the bit of neck and chest that was bare. I inspected the finished product in the mirror. Still irresistible. No wonder I’d been such a smash in my brief carrier as a rock singer. And I’ve always been a howling success as a vampire. Thank the gods I hadn’t become invisible in my airy wanderings, a vagabond floating far above the clouds, white as a cinder on the wind. I felt like weeping when I thought of it.

The Big-Game Hunt always brought me back to the actual. Track him, wait for him, catch him at the moment that he would bring death to his next victim, and take him slowly, painfully, feasting upon his wickedness as you do it, glimpsing through the filthy lens of his soul all his earlier victims…Please understand, there is no nobility in this. I don’t believe that rescuing one poor mortal from such a fiend can conceivably save my soul. I have taken life to often. Nevertheless I like saving those innocents from their fate.

Suddenly I was distracted by the sound of a police car passing by slowly below, the men inside is speaking of my killer, that he will strike soon again, his stars are in the correct positions, the moon is at the right height. Gradually I saw the blurred and overlapping images of their thoughts, rising as a million glittering birds into the firmament. Give me my killer, give me his vision!

He was there, in a small dingy room, very unlike this one, yet only two blocks from I, just rising from his bed. His cheap clothes ere rumpled, sweat covering his coarse face, a thick nervous hand going for the cigarettes in his shirt pocket, then letting them go—already forgotten. A heavy man he was, of shapeless facial features and a look full of vague worry, or dim regret.

Standing still in the silent shadows of my room, I continued to track him, to follow down a cask stairs, and out into the garish light of the street before him, on toward the inevitable and yet unchosen object of his desire. I walked slowly down the steps, and through the smart, glittering art deco lobby with it’s magazine-page glamour.How good it felt to be moving like a mortal, to open the doors, to wander out into the fresh air. I headed north along the sidewalk among the evening strollers, eyes drifting naturally over the newly refurbished hotels and their little cafes.

There was no time left.
With a little spurt of speed, I took to the low roofs. The breeze was stronger, sweeter. Gentle the roar of excited voices, the dull natural sings of radios, the sound of the wind itself.

In silence I caught his image in the indifferent eyes of those who passed him; in silence I saw his fantasies once more of withered hands and withered feet, of shrunken cheeks and shrunken breasts. The thin membrane between fantasy and reality was breaking. And in minutes, I was ambling along, steps behind him, a menacing young man perhaps, piercing the clusters of tough guys who blocked the path, pursuing the prey through the glass doors of a giant ice-cooled drugstore. Such drugstores can keep ,e enthralled for hours on end. Sometimes I become spellbound in the middle of Wal-Mart.

But this time I had prey in my sights, didn’t I? And as I watched, the provocative moment came. He had seen the old woman, idly enjoying the buzz and throb of others around her, face half hidden beneath the green plastic of a visor, hair twisted with dark pins on the back of her small head. In a trance he fell behind her, so close that surely she felt his breath upon her neck. Dull-eyed and stupid, he watched as she inched her way closer and closer to the register, drawing out a few dirty bills from the pocket upon her hip. Out the doors they went, he within the listless plodding style of a dog after a bitch in heat, she making her way slowly with her grey sack drooping fro it’s cut-out handles, veering broadly and awkwardly to the small forlorn apartment building made of crumbling chalk.

He came to a sudden swaying stop, watching mutely as she walked back the narrow tiled courtyard and up the dusty green cement steps. He noted the number of her painted door as she unlocked it, or rather he clamped on its location, and sinking back against the wall, he began to dream very specifically of killing her, in a featureless and empty bedroom that seemed no more then a smear of color and light.

My vagabond killer was near paralysis, his mind a riot of moments so personal they defied interpretation. Finally the beast lurched away fro the wall, listing for a moment as if he would go sprawling, then sauntered towards us, into the little courtyard and up the steps to the home. I slipped around into the small linoleum-tiled room to watch this procession from the kitchen’s doorway.

He stepped into the room, fixing upon her without expression. She was terrified, shrinking back in her chair. Ah but he saw me in the kitchen doorway –a shadowy young man in grey velvet, glasses pushed up over his forehead. In a second he bolted and I was after him, not bothering to touch terra firma, letting him see me poised for an instant under the street lamp and for blocks we played this game.

As last he came to his seedy hotel and pounded up the stairs. I was in the small top-floor room when he reached it. And before he could cry out, I have him in my arms. His heart was laboring and nearly bursting –careful, careful, don’t crush him. I let my teeth clamp down on the wet leathery skin of his neck. Hmmm. My brother, my poor befuddled brother. But this was rich, this was good.

The fountain opened; his life was a sewer. All those dead women, those old men. They were cadavers floating in the current; they tumbled against each other without meaning, as he went limp in my arms. No sport, too easy, no cunning, no malice.

Never mind. I let him go, tumbling soundlessly out of my grip. I was swimming with his mammalian blood. Good enough. I closed my eyes, letting this hot coil penetrate my intestines, or whatever was down there now in this hard powerful body. In a daze, I saw his stumbling on his knees across the floor. So exquisitely clumsy.

I jerked him back by the collar. His big empty eyes rolled up into his head. Then he kicked at me, blindly, this bully, this killer of the old and weak, shoes scuffing my shin. I lifted him to my hungry mouth again, fingers sliding through his hair, and felt him stiffen as I finished the job.

The death came like a fist in the gut. For a moment I felt nausea, and then simply the heat, the fullness, the sheer radiance of the living blood, with that last vibrant of consciousness through all my limbs. I sank down on his soiled bed. I don’t know how long I lay there. I stared at his low ceiling. And then when the sour musty smells of the room surrounded me, and the stench of the body, I fell into a haze, mind overcome with woven dreams whilst I laid there upon my victim’s bed…

[Armand]

Armand had been in New Orleans for several evenings now, his mind filled with thoughts that provoked questions. Questions that then needed to be answered. Ah at such a time as this apathy and anger were impossible. Nervousness and melancholy replaced the aforementioned emotions. How many years had it been sense his last visit to this great American Port city? This question he could answer easily. “Too many! Too long away from here, from my friends here!”

Friends? Could he call them that? Lestat, the Brat Prince that nearly all the surviving immortals loved deeply. The one that had brought them all together with a book and a rock album. Oh he wanted to see Lestat, needed to see Lestat. And Louis. Well Louis was probably still angry at Armand for everything that had happened with Claudia. Would Louis ever forgive him for that? Would Lestat ever forgive him for it either?

Ah, so many questions.

“Where are you, Lestat?” the words were whispered into the warm night air, almost lost in the sound of the wind. Closing his eyes, Armand pulled his denim jacket a bit more tightly around his body and started to walk off down the street. He was here, in the Garden District. Appropriately named place… really. And as such, he found he had to eventually open his eyes, just to admire the foliage.

Trees, shrubs, flowers. Ah this place was truly beautiful. What must it be like to live here? 'I wonder what it's like here durring the daylight hours...' A question that could never be answered, at least not by himself.

He'd fed earlier in the evening, and was sporting a human sort of look. Teenager, beautiful young man. His hair was combed perfectly, his clothes made him look every bit a modern young 'rebel' ha! Oh if the mortals only knew the truth about him....

[Marius]

The light flooded onto the damp streets, the tiny neglected specs of soil and stones scatterd the wet and cold pavement. It was a humid night in Mimai, an immortals playgorund. The air was thick and salty, the smell of various fragrences mingled withinthe un-mistakenable mortal odor. So powerful was this smell, it summoned a creature, pale as basalt, tall as a god, seeming to tower over the benches and signs, leaveing the objects in darkend shadows. This being walked without a care, hearing his own footsteps, the sound makeing acalmling beat on the street, he whistled non-chalantly as a mortal would. A bawdy tune emited from him, a far off song, a lost song of achenttimes and anchent beleifs. He studied the lone mortal that sat upon the bench drunk, intoxicated with cheap wine and hurt with a worthless humans faulse love, her heart torne in agony. Large cobolt orbs stared at her, the neat eyesbrows that rose were colored golden, seeming to be fine stroke of a bush. Long magnificent blonde hair cascaded down broad shoulders, resting upon his attire that was red velvet.

A simple outfit, trimmed, but was worn with carlessness as the immortal gazed at the drunken woman with emptiness. His hands raked through his hair, that gentley curled, tiny droplets of left over rain decorateing his beautiful features. Long deatailed fingers were home to prized rings, finely sculpted fingers, Artists tools. His hands rested in his pockets, such a mortal gesture, how lovly. He felt nothing, but a pain of memoried lingerd. He felt normal, nothing. Human. As he ascened upon the fragile thing that lay slumped against the bench, they mistified eyes slowly traceing the ouline of the brilliant handsome finger that now stood before her. A drunken smile spread over her face, he took her into his arms, cradeling her neck. Oh the blood, just a tiny kiss, a little taste. He kissed her gently, then his fangs went through her, like tiny ivory spears, they sought to kill. He sucked, his tonge lapping at the blood, tasteing the sweet necter, his body healing and warming with the elixer.

The heartbeats rushed through his scences, the death waltz began with a quickend beat. His veins flowed with blood, restoreing themselves, but to be fully healed, more murders must be commited. With much effort he stopped, hateing his actions, actions that his body can never be truly satasfied. I cannot do this! He let the dead body rest on the bench, the brunette hair falling in waves, the heart movineg no more, nor did her tender eyelids. He stared at his victim, his councience not plaged with the notion of killing an innocent, this woman mettled with crime after crime. He slowly walked away, head bowed in silence. This moster, that clawed at his mind, and his very being and hungerd for blood, for death. This was not Marius DeRomanus, this was not the one with roman reason and educated logic who saw wisdom in the human flesh, the one who cared for life and all this mortal! He carlessly neanderd to the nearby bench that rested under the lamp, he relaxed in it, his mind open and easy reading. His hair was a wild lions mane, shineing in the light, dark eyes searching for nothing. Did he care, no, what was left for him now?

Marius the keeper, the forgotten god, the painter, the adivce giver, the learner, the teacher, could not fanthom his existance. He who helped others with this task could no longer help himself! " So tis true, we have no purpose, we never did, never will..." He murmerd with low tone and a sigh, the intoxicationof the blood seeping through him, swallowing him, his thoughts, actions. His eyes closed, and drew in a slow breath. He searched, wandering, uttering a long forgotten name.

Lestat, anyone. I need someone, an anchor..now..

Soon a crowd of voices and images rushed into his mind, a traffic of irruptions. In the streets the children screamed, the lovers cried, the poets dreamed. Image upon image, voice upon voice crept into his mind, some from far off lands, echoing the langages of French, Italian, and even Chinese. But where was the brat prince, the one he adored and looked upon in favor, but also he adored the others.
It is Marius who weeds out the truth, the reason and logic from the monster. The monster that hungers for blood, this is not Marius. Or is it?

When was the last time his hands touch the delicate wooden handle of a brush? Fingers were trembleing with anticipation, hands yeanring, and yet, nothing flowed. Oh yes, this was one of his 'black periods' once again. Why? Oh, the normal things, something he could not escape. Fate. Perhaps things were going to brighten, I mean, his little rift with Demonica has been mended, and...Lestat. Well, ever since their little feud he has not talked, or conntacted the fledgling. Why should he, what could he say? Sorry? Hell no!

He now reclined upon the wooden bench, resting, thinking, upon the bench of wood. Of course, Marus was the paternal type, but stubborn. And at times his youth returned more then ever. Yes, his youth, that rebellious young man who enterd his soal time from time again, usually when Lestat lurked about. Marius stifled a couph, a lost mortal habit.

A secret longing, no one knew: To be the original Brat prince once again!

[Amant]

Coffee. She lusted for coffee. Of all the things in the world, she wanted something that she would never have again, she wanted coffee. Two sugars and a creme make the perfection, the miracle of the two. Oh how the poor fledgling desired such a thing at this thour, at this minute, this second. It was quite depressing, to have such a thing so close by but yet not touchable. One of the many faults of being a vampire, this only blood thing was. Oh yes, it was beginning to irritated Madame Demonique quite a bit.

She sat within the cafe, arms crossed over her chest lazily as she held a miffed expression on her facade. The small corner cafe was placid, all calm with the whispers of late night customers and the ding of the silver bell when an order was finihsed to call a waiter or waitress to cart it to it's buyer. It would be quite easy to heard the dull mummble of her cursings. She sat in a booth, choosing one a ways back but still seated by one of the windows, the moonlight pouring in only to be washed away by the yellow lights of the room. She was not a happy camper this night, certainly not. She cursed crossly under her breath, talking as one would not expect our Dem to speak. Eyes glared down at the table, looking at the smallest detail of the marble tops, seeing the shine of the lamps above and the dim reflection of the moon's streams. Usually such a thing would cause her to smile but not tonight, no smile was there.

"Damn the faults of a vampire. All I want is a coffee, toss in two sugars and one cream and viola, my agrivation is cured. But oh no, I can only take a person or animal's blood. othing else. Perhaps if I simply steal the blood from a person who has jsut drank coffee, would that work? I doubt it. And everyone here seems to not be leaving soon or alone. Damnit."

The thick dressed of satin hair were let loose into wild ringlets of black, tossed over one shoulders as the other side was left as it was, swaying as she shook his head in displeasure. The grey and violet eyes continued to glare, though rising to glance out the window. The arms had uncrossed to allow glass nails to tap impatiently upon the table's top, clicking in a perfected beat each round. A leg was tossed over the other, the fabric of the blue jeans felt upon one another as she shifted upon the booth's cusion slightly. Her shirt was simple, long sleeved and of a tan color, her black jacket tossed over the booth's back next to her. The pallid flesh was seen in a few spots, mostly jsut the neck and profile, and then again on the hands. Her wrists ahd been decorated in silver bangles, jingling as she would raise an arm to brush away a tress of hair or such. The slender neck was left bare aside from a small silver chain necklace that fell down to tuck beneath her shirt, hiding a small pendant she had obtained from Africa on a trip when she was in her mid teenage years.

She was not simply cross for the fact she could not drink coffee, that was only one thing that troubled Dem tonight. And if onelisened to her ramblings long enough, they would find out jsut what else was bothering her. "Marius jsut up and left when he woke, didn't bother to tell me where I could find him. Oh posh, he still isn't himself lately, just pretending to be around me. I am getting sick of it, that and the Brat Prince. He is probably corrupting Juliet as of now. No telling how that poor girl is going to end up when heleaves her. Atleast I will be stable enough on my own if Marius ever does that to me. But Juliet? No no no, she won't last. My Lord, I need a coffee to calm myself but once more, the damn fault of a vampire!"

She had turned heads at this sudden snap, glancing at the various eyes of mortals. She gave a small smile and mummbled an apology before turning back to the table once more, grabbing a small black book from her bag as well as a pen. She always kept her journal with her, documenting everything she felt or everything she found out. And certainly write now she would scribble down her anger and the fact she needed to make a note to herself saying that she needed to keep control of her anger and irritation for the fact it'll easily draw a human's eye.

She scribbled it all down like a mad man, the pen flying across the sheet of the paper as she concentrated, not even noticing the waitress that had made her way up to her, watching her document this latest edition. "Miss?" she called softly, for fear of angering the raven maned female. Demonique stopped in a second flat, glancing up at the other female a moment. "Yes?" she enquired, already having a good assumptio of just what the other was going to ask. And long behold, when the waitress spoke, Dem's guess had been right on target. With the shake of her head she sent the waitress off, simply telling her she was not sure as to what she would order at that moment. It's not like she could actually eat or drink any of the things on the menu.

She finally gave a heavy sigh, calming down quite a bit from minutes before. Wordlessly she stared out the window, seeing the many people pass by. She wondered is Marius might pass by. Most likely not, and if he did, he would probably be too wrapped up in his thoughts to notice his fledgling sitting in the cafe stressed and weary. She let out a small groan, head falling to lay on the table, atop her open book of papers. "Where are you Marius? You could have atleast told me that..." she mummbled under her breath before falling unvoiced, sitting there with her skull down, eyes closed as she enjoyed the near-silence of the cafe.

[Louis]

Everytime Louis returned to New Orleans he wondered why he had left. Memories of his mortal lifetime permeated everything. The cool scent of jasmine intoxicated him as it had when he was a man. Wandering these dark streets was sublime.

Louis walked slowly down the lighted streets, wishing to savor the sense of calm that was becoming exceedingly rare. Perhaps he was meant to be alone. As happy as he was among the others there was always the worry, always the fear that he would be left over and over again. Armand was right. Louis, easy to find, easy to leave. Lestat had proved that true many times. And Louis tired of it. He lifted his hand to his head languidly, running his fingers back through his clipped hair. He pressed his fingertips to his temples. Be still, my beating heart.

Louis found himself suddenly at his unconscious destination. Before him stood the gate of the St. Louis Cemetary. It was an easy thing to climb the gate. It was even simpler to wander as if in a daze to his gravestone. He knelt before the crumbling marble, reaching out to trace the letters with his fingertips.

Louis de Pointe du Lac
1766-1794

Could he really have been so young when he died? He felt so unaccountably worn. He could not even imagine being as old as Marius. How horrid it would be to have no connection to mortality any longer! But then, Louis was alone in his retention of life, and Marius had always been incalcuably stronger and more brave than Louis. Marius had his thirst for knowledge, his unquenchable yearning to know. Louis had Lestat and Louis had fear. Only the more unwelcomed of the two stayed with him always. Fear was for him elastic and all-encompassing and something inevitable. It was borne from the wasteland backdrop of his dreams, from the remebered words, "Get thee behind me Satan."

Louis rested on his knees, his eyes moving now to the grave of Paul. No emotion stirred, nothing in him longed to remember. He felt as he had when Claudia has beseeched him to make the woman Madeleine a vampire. His heart was hard and heavy and empty, bereft of all save fear.

He felt he should want for his mortality but he could not. He regretted nothing, wanted nothing, needed nothing. And he could not remember having ever been different.

Sometimes he feared he would become like Khayman. Sometimes he wanted it. No memory, no conscience, no suffering, just being. Without presence of mind he would forget all and have only phantom dreams to yearn for.

His soul could not be marred to any higher extreme.

Louis knelt at the grave still, the damp grass against the knees of his jeans oddly soothing. He felt the urge suddenly to throw himself at the ground, to dig as an animal into the soft earth and come to rest in the empty coffin in which he should have lain two hundred years ago. But this was foolish and impulsive and unlike him and no one knew his secret thoughts, no one felt his secret longings. And the one being he wished to confide in had been locked away by deadly intimacy an eternity ago.

[Amant]

The young vampire continued to sit upon the booth's seat, murmuring to herself as the sounds of the city came into her hears, the imaes in her mind. She blocked them, pushing them away in frustration. Glass nails had pushed up, becoming locked within the mass of ebony hair, the tresses falling to bite at her pale cheeks as digits dug into the scalp. "I have no life... why am I even sitting in here wasting my time worrying about Marius? It's pitiful, really, that I worry about him. He is far older then I and able to care for himself, he did so before my turning so why do I think I should take command now? Oh Dem..." she mummbled, eyes still clsoed as she gently shook her head, the fingers still within the locks. She could hear the click of someone's shoes as they made their way toward her booth. God save the mortal if it was another waiter...

"Excuse me, Madam... Are you ready to or-"
"NO!"
"Oh. I-i'm sorry..."

The poor waitress scuttled off like lightening at the pale female's outburst, head having shot up in a glare to the other. Awh, now Dem felt bad. She sighed, shaking her skull once more. 'And there you go, shouting at the closest person in hearing range." she said, pulling out of her pocket a crumbled ten dollar bill and a piece of paper. Hurriedly, with a pencil she wrote an apology on the paper for her sudden yelling and layed the ten dollars atop it. After doing this, she grabbed her jacket and rose from the booth, making her way though the cafe and out into the streets once more. She tilted her skull down, pieces of hair sliding from behind her shoulders to now reach down over her breasts, shining in the bright street lights as mortals passed by, pushing her into the crowd and away from the cafe's entrance. she willingly followed the flow, unsure of just where it would take her. But she didn't care, she just wanted to end up somewhere...

Meanwhile, Lestat had risen from his haze, sitting upon the soiled bed to glance about the dark room slowly, the gray eyes taking in each and every object, every detail. Slowly and inaudibly he rose, feeling a fresh sence of strength and life in him, in the new blood that was certainly tampered with by that of Amel's by now, surely. Pale digits brushed through the mass of faxen hair, bringing wavery tresses to fall into his profile, covering the long lashes and vivid eyes that had fallen to a close for the moment. He inhaled rather deeply, smelling the stanch of the room as it fille dhis lungs. He lingered there, in this breath before slowly letting it be released, shoulders falling back into a relaxed manner before he moved to rise to his feet. the hair falling naturally behind and about shoulders, eyes opened once more.

He moved wordlessly from the room, stepping over the now lifeless form of the man, thinking no longer of his as the excitment from the kill, the hunt, had died away within the vampire's core. He made his way out, feeling a gentle wind pick up his hair as he looked about. Easily he felt the presence of the ancient Marius, soon spotting him upon a bench, calling for the Brat Prince. But... lestat wished not to speak with him. he wished not to engage in conversation with any of them at the moment. He wished to be alone, jsut for an hour more. And from there, he would seek out Marius and perhaps Louis. Yes, he would go find Louis as well. He rather did miss him, even though the other claimed Lestat to be the devil and the damnest of them all. But then again, lestat always liked being called that, even if he knew that Louis never relaly ment it, with the emotions behind them. It still amused the brat Prince to some extent. And so with this in mind, he snaked off the opposite way, heading away from where Marius was lying. he made no responce to the other's call, fleeing silently. Fleeing... it is not the proper word, more like he simply left, giving no word with his trek. He wound his way through mortals so easily.

He had not gone but four blocks before he stopped, halted in his steps as his gaze had easily snapped acorss the lane to the image of someone he wished not to happen upon. Demonique. Oh yes, he was not the fondest of this little fledgling of Marius. True she did give up a good debate and had been taltamascan, but something about her irritated the vampire. Jealousy? No, no, no, certainly not! What do you take Lestat to be? An attention hore? That is far from him! *cough* he watched as she mvoed out of the cafe, quite int eh irritable mood. A smirk flickered onto the Brat Prince's pale lips to this. Oh well maybe he could talk to one other for now. I mean seriously, what could be more fun then to annoy the hell out of a fledgling who completely loathed (as afar as he knew) the flaxen haired immortal. Nothing could be more fun. And jsut like taht, he ahd made his way across the street, moving to appeare right before her.

And but of course, poor Dem hadn't realized this, too caught up in her mummbling. She hit the other immortal, stepping back a moment alter to began muttering an apology before she looked up, eyes shooting into a glare a moment later. She brushed a lock of hair from her face that had been knocked ajar, glancing from Lestat to back at the cafe. Now was not the time to be dashing into the Brat Prince.

"What do you want Lestat?"
"Nothing really, jsut to chat."
"I doubt that, our last chat wasn't the most pleasant."
"Of course it wasn't. it was because you made it that way."
"ME?! Oh you..."
"Oh I what? Go ahead, call me the devil, a brat, anything. I do lvoe to hear people calling me such things, it maeks me feel so good."
"...Oh silence yourself. I am really not in the mood to bicker with you right now. Marius didn't tell me where he was going, I want coffee, and I have some thing I need t-"
"Oh! Marius didn't tell you where he left to? Funny, because he was calling me jsut a minute or so ago."
"Humorous..."
"And as for coffee, get over it."
"Don't tell me to get over it! I know when to get over things!"

Why was she yelling? She never raised her voice, not even to Juliet! Why now? Lestat just seemed to bring out this in her, to drag out the little raging beast who so usually hid away. And he enjoyed doing it too.

"So, Demmy, mis sme much after our fued in London?"
"Don't call me Demmy and no, I haven't missed you a bit."
"Ah I see. Yes well obviously Marius did."
"Shut up about Marius, Lestat. I mean it..."
"I mean I could ahve responded to him a moment ago but I relaly didn't feel like it. How is it that he called to me and not you? Hm?"
"He has his reasons now Stop talking about him lestat."
"Make me. I mean atleast Juliet tells me where she is going."
"WHAT THE FUCKING HELL EVER LESTAT! I BET YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW ABOUT HER INFATUATION WITH ARMAND!"
"....."
"Um s-sorry Lestat. I-I didn't mean..."
"She..."

Before Demonique could say anything more or explain, the blond vampire had lefted, flickering out of her sight as she gave a sigh, shaking her head. "Great Dem... You swore you would not say anything, you promised yourself you wouldn't tell anyone you knew. And now you went and screamed it at Lestat because he made you mad." she muttered, glaring atht he various people who had stopped to stare at her. She then moved to walk off in a hurried fashion. She needed to either find Lestat again or go locate Marius. She needed to find someone, any other vampire (of course only the ancientish ones or Louis) would do!

[Marius]

( Writers Block )

Just like him, to leave. Marius did not move, he knew Lestat left. What the hell. He was being so...so...what is that frequently used Mortal word? Shit, umm. Oh yes, scatter brained. So caught up in all this 'freedom from Akasha buisness'. He missed Dem. DEM!
This moment the anchent shot from his position, the golden curls flowing about his marble facade wildly. His cranium turned about, as if he was searching for something. The immortal now stood, taking a few steps ones way, then the opposite. Fine hands were shoved into the pockets of his Red Velvet blazer, his steps heavy but more swift then the usuall pace.

His hair was cut short, the magnificent tresses of gold brushing the back of his neck and the very tips of his ears. Brows were furrowed, dark opticals of blue darting about as he continued his walk. Follow Lestat! A Frantic thought, he just knew that Lestat would lead him to his precious Demonica. Why? Well, maybe it was a bit of paternal intuition on both parts. The anchent caught sight of the Brat, storming from the Cafe's doors.

The combination of blood and ashe made his marble pallor seem human. Now his pace slowed, and he produced a heavy sigh. The tall Roman paused, seeing Demonique also in the Cafe. Although, something was not right? Hmm, maybe Lestat finally found about Armand and Juliet. Oh yes, Marius knew. Why should he not? He toko it upon him self to watch over the others, and it was not hard to spot his old child and Lestats mischevious fledgling wandering about.

This would cause trouble, he knew it, yet said nothing. Lestat has gotten furious over your medeling into his buisness, Marius jusr decided to keep his mouth shut. Observeing Dems face, and the way the Brat left the Cafe Marius put two and two together. Slow and heavy steps, carlessly placed on the pavement. Dem was here, she missed Coffe, that much he knew. How could you forget about Dem, did I not tell her, he thought as he neared her.

Closer and closer he got to his fledgling, seeming the child who neared his mother when he knew he did a naught deed. Marius haulted, looking to Demonia with a blank expression. Yea gods, I love her so much, does she know it? She hates me...everyone seems to of late! No, don't be so negative. But...Dem is not happy with me, I brought her into this...this immortality. Im such a fool. But, I love her, I would end my 'life' for her in an instant!

"He found out..." Marius stated, cocking his head toward the direction Lestat had fled. The magnificent Keltoi pressed his lips together, such a mortal habit, something he always clung to.
"Im so sorry, I just forgot. When I left earlier, I..actully wanted to paint something! You actuly inspired me you know..."
Just stop Marius, your rambeling on! There are more important things, Like Dems feelings, Like Lestat, Like Juliet, Armand.
"Im sorry. I was foolish just to leave, I should have made it known to you..." He paused, glanced to the small cafe.
"You know, if you drink blood of someone who had Coffe, it would taste like it a little. I always had a thing for fine wine..."

[Armand]

Armand gazed up at the sky, fixing his eyes on the moon. He loved the moon…it was so beautiful, and oddly it seemed to have a personality. Rather like a gentle, motherly figure… “Ah! I’m a lunatic.” He laughed, running one hand back through his hair. He was sitting on a bench on the sidewalk, feeling rather sorry for himself. But he wasn’t feeling as terrible as he had earlier.

“I need to see a psychiatrist about these mood swings…” he mumbled under his breath, changing his position on the bench so that he was lying on his back. Yes, he could see the sky much better now. And he could watch the moon and the stars all he wanted. “I envy the astronauts.” Yes, they must have wonderful jobs! Getting to live up there in space…where it’s always dark and they can stare at the moon all they want… But why was he thinking about such things?

He’d been feeling odd lately, acting very differently than he normally did. There was that whole thing with Juliet of course…and he still wanted to re-open the Theater of the Vampires…

“I think my old age is starting to make me loose my mind…”Old? Was he old? Yes, when compared to younger vampires… but not in comparison with Marius…

“Marius…” Armand sighed mournfully. It had been too long since he’d last spoken with his maker.
((sorry this post is so...strange. I'm kind of out of my mind at the moment. I almost broke my arm yesterday and I'm still reeling from the whole experiance.))

[Louis]

Louis stood up, his left arm stretched across his stomach, clutching his right elbow. He sighed and looked down at his arms, at his chest. His white shirt was shapeless, hanging long on his arms, ths sleeves gathered at the wrists. The collar was cut into a plunging V, cinched together by bits of leather. His tight black breeches were spotless, even after having been pressed into the grass and the dirt. Add a bit of lace and a fitted frock coat and Voila! Louis of twenty-five, young and promising. Louis smiled a little at this mental image, but it sooned turned twisted and black. In his mind he sprouted spined wings. In his mind he took flight and screamed to the sky. In his mind he ripped at his hair and clawed his chest with tensed hands. In his mind his wings wrapped around his body and smothered his breath from him.

Louis shuddered and gasped, near to crying out. His hand was halfway to his mouth when it froze and fluttered near his throat like a white bird. Such retained mortality, he wondered. If Satan was clever he would commit his sons to the depths of their nightmares. Could there be a more Hellish fate?

Loius backed shakily off of his grave in a few hurried steps, his footsteps silent. He stared at the ground there, at the small unoffending stone that marked its presence. He felt in his heart that it was finally time to let go of the past, finally time to embrace what life he now had. He had always been too weak before, too cautious, too caught up in others to realize his own life. But had it not been worth it? To have loved so much and lost even more was bittersweet.

Folding his arms, Louis tilted his head back to the sky. Solace was in the stars and the light of the moon embraced him with a comforting smile. And he still felt alone. He had to start anew.

[Amant]

Her pacings had not gone far from the cafe, finding that her legs were heavy and her mind disturbed. Brows were furrowed, drooping down upon the bridge of her nose as lips were drawn into a small line, only the slant of brows and the revealance of eyes giving away any emotion at all. The steel colored orbs were clouded and distant, dull and so uncommon to the female with her witted mind and alwas curious mood, her lsut for knowledge. But grief seems to have replaced this, or perhaps regret for what would eventually happen. She didn't know fully what she had jsut done, what Lestat would do, how Juliet would react to the knowledge that Demonique knew, that she had spoken against a vow she made with herself. She seemed to ahve tugged on a delicate thread that bound Lestat to Juliet, that bound Dem to Juliet, to Marius, the thread that held everyone together on the fringe of hell's quarrels and of eternity in peace. She had broken this, and was almost for sure that the sem had fallen to the side of shouts and hatrid. EYes were locked upon the shop window before her, seeing her reflection; the long black hair that was upset and ruffled, the eyes were dull, cheeks tainted lightly with the roll of a tear or two. Oh how she wished the legend of no refletion was true, that she as a vampire could not see this horrid person that was herself, in the glass' reflection.


The young vampire gave no reaction to the ancient's appearence, eyes still locked upon the view of herself, finding it unbearable to keep looking at her own form, or to look toward her sire for shame might take over the near-lifeless feelings she had calmed into, a numbness. Soon enough, eyes clsoed and lips fell apart to a soft whisper, barely spoken. "I... I let it slip. I let anger overcome me and I broke my vow. I... Marius, I /never/ act upon rage. But Lestat, he brings that wrath out in me and I could not control it. I've done something terribly wrong and I can feel it."

Eyes slowly fluttered open, turning upward to look at the Roman, the ancient, her sire. Slowly she shook her head, the gaze soon enough falling away ocne more as she stood to herself, wrapped together in a solitary comfort. "There is no need for your apologies now Marius, I am over it. I see I need not act like your mother for you are a thousand times older then I and need not tell me what it is you do upon your own time." she said, voice almost monotonal in it's gentle whisp. "I'm not hungry anymore and my lust for coffee is gone. Thank you for that knowledge Marius but... I need to be alone now. I need to think, to ponder, to..." her voice trailed off as she cut herself short and brushed a hand over th eother's cheek before hurrying off without a chance to bid adieu or allow Marius to do so. She left no trace to where she would go or to what she was planning on doing. But from her actions, it was either something to strive for understanding or an attempt on self-banishment. A witted mind left to dull tends to be irrashional on things if not sharpened once more.



Louis... I need Louis. I msut say good-bye to him at the least, I must see him a final time. I refuse to speak with Marius, with Armand, with Juleit. They all have damaged me and I wish not to see them at all. But Louis... he has yet to harm me and for this, I lust for im. Oh Louis where are you?!

The flaxen haired male had indeed left Demonique quickly, using all of his speed to vanish from that block, from that street. He was dejected, taken aback, shocked, he was damaged with many many emotions. The news of his Juleit had engulfed his mind, taking away all common sense, all logical thought. He refused to think, only react. And his reaction was to leave, high-tail it from the town and never come back. Sleep, he felt like sleeping. He wanted to detach himself from the world and be at peace, to forget everything. he wanted to lie down within the ground and rise to find the world to be new, for the whole matter to have blown over, for everyone to have forgotten of the Brat Prince and for... he wasn't sure. He didn't know quite fully what he wanted, what he wished. reason had yet to return but upon the back of his mind thoughts had began to develope. Natural barbaric instinct restricted them to proceed much futher. He had reverted to a feverish manner, no logic, no reason, no sense.

He had slowed down from his flee, the gray-toned eyes darting about as images filled his mind. He wanted to find Louis. He sought through the many minds of mortals, trying to locate the raven-haired male, to see the green eyes. He knew he was in the regions in of the city, he felt it so, a strange close feeling. He was determined to find him. There! He was sure he had seen him! A mortal having glanced into the cemetery to see a dark-haired figure inside. It /had/ to be Louis, it jsut had to be, he was so sure. Lips curled into a slight smirk as feet moved quicker, bringing him through the large streets and down into the district where the mortal had sptted him. The cemetery! It wasn't far from where he had paused. yes flashed with a small bit of hope. Now Lestat... you really shouldn't get worked up about this. Oh shut the hell up who cares if hopes fall? He wanted to see Louis and god damnit, he was going to see him! Even if he had to search the world.

He was at the gate now, staring up at the entrance's sign, the large letters, the black iron. usually he wandered away from graveyards, figuring out that it was the place where vampire-wannabes usually hung out and the old 'The Vampire Lestat' band fans were commonly. On more then one occasion he had ran into someone who recognized him. Pity he had to kill a fan. They always made him feel so loved when they gushed about how they had gone to his concert in the 80's, how they loved his books and how they worshipped him. Hm, take back the pity. They got annoying after a while, these rambling avid fans. Indeed.

His steps were light, carring him like a phantom across the grass, past grave markers, tombstones, statues. He didn't care for any of them, the deceased. They ment nothing to him for he ment nothing to them. Why should he cry over those he didn't know, or those he had once known? More then 90% of the people he once knew would sure as hell not cry about him. His brothers would simply laugh and shake their heads, his father would simply be sad for the loss of a care-taker. He was the unwanted among the past. But here, now, he was adored, loved. Mortals eagerly waited for his next book to be published, for some sort of reappearence. But that was just as likely as Elvis coming back. It just wasn't going to happen.

Eyes came to rest on a lone figure of a familiar lvoe. His stoppe din his steps, watching the green-eyed man stare up at the sky, his wonderous visage in full view for the other, for the Brat Prince, to see. And oh how he was grateful he had sought him out before his leave. The sight of Louis almost made him want to stay. Almost.

"Hm, I never would have thought they'd make a grave for a missing corpse. Did you Louis? Hm, no one in my family would give me a grave even if they /did/ have my body. No matter now though."

Light chatter. He knelt infront of Louis' grave, a hand clapsed upon his knee casually as eyes inspected the words. Lips were within a line, giving no gesture to emotions, just yet. The flaxen hair fell loosly about his skull, brushing cheeks in their full form. He acted as if nothing had happened jsut minutes before, as if he was not planning on going MIA. He was acting like Lestat the Brat Prince.

"1766 to 1791... not very long. Not at all."

[Louis]

Louis brought his head down quickly, unable to supress a gasp. He could feel all his resolve breaking suddenly, all of his internal promises of a new life. Here before him stood the one he had so longed to see, the one he knew would be forever flitting in and out of his immortal life. He opened his mouth to speak but found that he had no words. He only looked upon Lestat, his eyes tracing the strong jaw and that long mouth. And in the eyes, there was a hidden sadness that could not escape Louis' surveyance. Ah, but did the Brat Prince not always have something to worry about, some scandal to vindicate himself from? No, this was deeper, this seemed almost desperate. Louis could see it and it frightened him.

And to hear that voice again, so soft and casual, brought Louis such joy that he questioned the fact that he let Lestat leave him time and time again. Did not Lestat feel this same happiness, this same completion?

"Lestat?" Louis said softly. He unfolded his arms slowly, letting them hang long at his sides. "Your eyes are betraying you. I can see, something is wrong." He tossed his head back habitually before remembering that he had clipped his hair that evening.

He took a step closer to Lestat, reaching out to touch his elbow. "It is good to see you again," he added, almost as an afterthought. He looked down, waiting for Lestat's reply.

Ooc: -coughs a bit to distract all from embarrassingly short post-

[Marius]

((Okay, umm, I'll post as Marius for Armand and Juliet....just so she can get in the board. Lesta and Louis, you can just have you love-fest! ))

The long brown tresses gently caresses the soft marble flesh, the rounded baby cheeks accompanying a soft cupids bow, the lips slack. Her petite form so fragile, she seemed to skip down the sidewalk.Well, she did just that. Her hair curled at the end, the curls brushing her lower back and tiny ringlets danceing about her wide-set eyes, the girlish limbs finly crafted as she swayed to and fro. A smile tugged at her lips, a mischevious glimmer taking place within the depths of her eyes.

A laugh, the lilte echoing across the lonly street. Black cotten skirt swivled about her naked calves, the black blouse loose upon undeveloped breats, narrowed hips tossed as Juliet continued her frantic skipping. Her beautiful facade contored into glee, hands clasping onto a lamp post to swing her form about just to land softly out onto the open street.

Ahh! What a wonderful night! I just returned from bring chaos to dear old David, what a boreing chap, he needs me. Hmm, but who couls not want me in the first place! Really? Okay, today is the night I will tell Lestat. I'll inform him of my feelings, feelings for Armand. I have been putting it off, not haveing courage for it, I beleive Lestat may possibly the only one to seem to keep me in line. I shall tell him today, I can't keep it hidden. I love him to much! Oh god, way to much, so much I...I dont know what to do! Lestat!

Slim fingers pushed back a stray hair, her frame now calmy nearing the Cafe du monde. Juliet paused, the baby face now deserted of emotion. Motionless, a rigid porcelin doll.

***********

This was to much. Yea gods, I can't handle this. It was no one's fault, just, it just happend. What horrible timing, just, not good timing. The threads that have tied all of us together, held all of us stable, are slain. Such a simple mistake, a lack of time, all of it came down upon us and torn the bonds of all of the immortals. Everything would have been fine...if Just Juliet would have told Lestat sooner. Perhaps that was not it either, just, it was bound to happen. It just occured. Demonicas fault? No...but....god! He knows now, he knows...

His cranium was bent low, those fine hands were hanging loosly and gloved by brilliant brown leather. The fine tailored red velvet jacket was askwed, hanging almost off of his right shoulder. The tall roman seemed smaller now, lids tight against the words, blood filming his eyes. Now opend, the dark cobalit blue mimicing the sky above.

Short cropped golden locks brushing the nape of his neck, Marius now lifted his gaze to meet Juliet who stood before him. So beautiful, fragile, and totally alone and naive. The male pushed his hands into the depths of his pockets, heavy and carless steps was made to near the fledgling before him. A lose at words. He was suppose to be good at this thing, this, adive and helping thing. Not now, he was never one to mend broken hearts.

He knew now, what Dem told him before. 'She is so vunrable, and troublesome at the same moment. She can't last alone, even though is damn well try...'. Lips moved, nothing emerged.

"He does not want me, does he?" Such a tiny voice, a silver bell.

Marius made a move to talk, to speak, the anchent was cut short.

" Like, like everyone else!" She seemed like one of those lifless child puppets, merely hanging from a string, but the string is about to be cut. Cut away.

"No, Juliet, listen-" He stated, just to be stopped again.

"NO! JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE!!! NO ONE WANTS ME!!!" A furry of tiny fists and quick gestures, the cherubic face twisted into a frown as she sobed, hot tears of blood pouring.
***************

So sick, scared, the child clutched her side and began to sob again. Crying for herself, her stupidity, and everything. Angry at herself. Fingers digged into her head, as if attepting to full every lovly strand of hair. Eyelids were shut tight, blood rolled down the baby cheeks and plumped lips parted into a frown.

Running blinding, Juliet started down the street.

**************

So carless he walked, nothing like a vampire might. Head was spinning, he need to drink, and he knew who he wanted now. Armand.
Marius now stumbled, the elegant form clashing with nearby mortals. Apaologies were utterd, the male seeking out prey in the process.

Just go get drunk, find some mortals with toxic blood. Why the hell not.

Tears fell down his face now, that hot blood of centuries, the man found himself in some alleyway.
"Oh, my Amadeo!"

[Armand]

Armand tore his gaze away from the stars and rolled over onto his side, his boyish head resting against the cold metal arm of the bench. He stretched his legs out, giving a mortal sigh of discomfort. He felt so alone, and all he could do was come out and sit on this bench. He wanted to get up, to go find someone. Marius, Juliet, Louis, even Lestat. Anyone. Then again, he couldn’t really bring himself to go find the others. No, if they wanted to see him, they could come find him. He wasn’t trying to hide. What more could he do?

Frowning, he watched as mortals walked by. And so many of them weren’t alone. Even the ones who thought they were alone weren’t really alone. Not in the same way that a vampire could be. Mortals, depressed and miserable though they might be, only had to live with their problems for a few decades. Vampires…ah now that was a different story. Year after year of endless and monotonous solitude. And there wasn’t anything he could do to escape it.

And why was that? Why was he so alone? Because no one would stay with him! No one… Armand sighed, sitting up suddenly. He’d had enough of this. Damn being alone. Obviously the others weren’t going to do anything about it. Much as he hated to give in, to be the one to go seek them out, it seemed he’d have to…if he wanted to quit being by himself.

“Ok, I tried making my presence obvious but obviously you idiots just aren’t getting it!” Armand practically shouted the words, both mentally and aloud. Mortals stared at him, some thought he was a total lunatic…. Let them think what they want, they were probably right. Hadn’t he been through enough in his lifetime to drive him totally insane? Being kidnapped from his home as a mortal, forced to do things…then stolen away from Marius just after becoming a vampire, spending so many years in a cemetery as a coven master, seeing everything fall apart… first the coven and then the theater. And how could he even begin to describe all the stuff that had happened in the past few years?

[Marius]

(( lets be truthfull here. I'm in a 'lil bit of a Romantic mood, so, I made Marius all 'excited'. Oui, tis not the appropriate timeing, but, yeah...Armand I dont excpect you to respond to Marius in such a way, if ya do then...fun-ness...if not then okay))


The moon held no welcoming glimmer, the rounded orb continued to bath the lone being with it’s light. Pale rays got caught up with the golden hue of his hair, the vibrant locks cut short, curls twisting delicately about his ears and the nape of his neck. His attire was normal, the usual for the retired Keeper. Scarlet velvet Jacket was askew, one part practically falling of one shoulder. The male was propped up against the brick wall, minuscule droplets of rain was sprinkled upon him, the cold bead collecting upon the fine jeweled fingers, Artists hands. So tall and elegant, finer then other men, the Roman was motionless. Marius sat as if drugged, legs sprawled out before him and arms lay limp at his sides. Tender lids lay at half-mast, the marble pallor of his flesh seeming utterly pale. No blood resided within him now, no victims has he taken in a few days.

This whole ordeal gnawed at him, spreading like cancer. It began a few days, when he first acquired the information of young Juliet’s sudden infatuation. The Keltoi was not reluctant to read the fledglings mind, but, it was quite easy and he could not possibly pass her by without hearing her thoughts so clearly. How Demonica knew of it he did not know, but she knew, and now the information was spoken to Lestat. Oh Mon dieu, he knew he would not take it well. Why should he? Of course, Juliet is just a teenager, falling in and out of love in expected, added that is she is knavish and rash.

A low moan passed through his rested lips, lids fluttering open to revels the magnificent deep blue hue. Weak, so exhausted. It all came to a horrible climax, although none is to blame, things happen. Marius called Lestat earlier for he reason, he knew Dem would be there; things do not go well with the pair. The roman thought she would say something, non-intentionally of course, but he knew it would not end up happy. Marius tried to assist them all, to once more play the card of the parent, to cease the chaos before Lestat knew.

Poor Dominique, I want to go to her, but won’t. I’m terrified, yes, so scared. What will become of her now? Juliet, she is so innocent, what of her? What of us all! Yea gods, I’m so at a complete loss! Lestat. I want to counsel him, to help, he wants nothing of me or what I can give. Sadly, he never has nor anyone.

Hands groped for the wall, finding it, the immortal stood up. He used the wall for support, glancing down the empty street. The ancient took slow careless steps forward, not giving a damn where is feet went or where he was heading. Marius stumbled into a fresh man, bad man, evil man. The vampire forced himself to step away, letting loose apologies in his wake. Armand, he knew he was here. The eternal bond between sire and fledgling was still present, minds closed. Perhaps it was mere paternal instinct, or coincidence, that he found his beloved lying upon a wooden bench.

Such fine russet hair, he wanted to let his fingers tangle in it. Kiss Armands neck, hands, and rounded cheeks. On sight of his fledgling his muscle grew hard, hot and throbbing inside his pants, although such a feeling now is most inappropriate, but he wanted him so! Marius, forget the troubles, just think of Armand. Such a sensual feeling, those secret kisses in the Venice bedroom. Love him. Something so pleasant he has never been able to capture on canvas, although one should try and try again. No, stop, don’t get so caught up. This is serious Marius, your other fledgling is in such a horrible state, and this whole problem is such a tragedy!

“My child…” Marius murmured, his words full of warmth and serenity, although such words cannot mask his utter sorrow and trouble. Oh yes, he was the only one that can tell Armand, especially a five hundred year old vampire, ‘Child’. A weak smile tugged at his lips now, yes, for a moment he was happy, happy with Amadeo again. One day, they might travel again to glorious Italy together, only at Armand’s accord. More importantly the Theater de Vampires, he wanted to paint again! The ancient neared him, footsteps heavy, stride of a mortal man. Oui, Marius de Romanus will constantly keep the countenance of a living being.

Such fine russet hair, he wanted to let his fingers tangle in it. Kiss Armands neck, hands, and rounded cheeks. Something so pleasant he has never been able to capture on canvas, although one should try and try again. No, stop, don’t get so caught up. This is serious Marius, your other fledgling is in such a horrible state, and this whole problem is such a tragedy!

The Idiotic mind, how it grasps for something pleasant in the darkest hours, some sanity or familiar thing. Armand, I see him, the light at the end of the tunnel.

“ I missed you…”

[Amant]

He could hear and feel the shock of the other at his arrival, he could easily tell he had taken the other off guard by his sudden appearance, and it humored him. But even with such muse in his mind, the thoughts of earlier still cast a shadow over him, gaze locked upon the grave to evade Louis’ eyes, unable to look into them no matter how much he wished to. He really didn’t feel like telling his fledgling the whole story, oh no, just an explanation as to why he was leaving then a bidding of adieu. Nothing more, nothing less; he couldn’t allow Louis to keep him here long, for he had to be away from the damned city before the sun had risen, before the others might realize his intentions or Juliet might seek him out. He could not run away when she would call to him, no matter how much hate he had stored up- hence his leave without a word to her. He wanted to leave and he wasn’t going ot elt anything stop him.

He had risen back to his feet, frame looming at it’s height of six feet. He was indeed happy to see the other, truly- but he could not get over this sadness that had come to be known by him during this night, this very hour. All he could do was flash a fanged smile to the other in hopes of perhaps fooling him into thinking all was fine. But he knew that the probability of this happening was near to none. He heard the other say him name, lips softening from their hard grin into a small, softer, smile. He couldn’t help but be somewhat calmed, soothed, with the simple presence of the other nearby. Eyes rose to look at the ebon hair the other had, the smile instantly turned downward with the noticing that he had cut his hair. He had always loved the other’s full, long, dark hair. And now on the last night Lestat would see him for sometime… he had clipped it!

“Wrong? Oh Louis, the only thing wrong is that you have cut your hair! It’s a sin, Louis, it’s a sin for you to cut such beautiful hair.” He said in a teasing manner, watching as the other had stepped closer, the hand upon his elbow as he himself stepped closer as well, giving a sigh of contentment. “It’s good to see you too Louis.” He said softly, a pallid hand moving up to brush the hardening cheek of the other, unable to help but stroke the flesh as steel eyes admired the perfectly sketched façade, the brilliant green eyes. All that was missing was the hair. Oh yes he was quite miffed over the fact he had cut it.

Soon enough his hand fell away as he glanced to the time, the sky being his clock. He had to leave soon if he was to get out of here and find a decent place to sleep. He indeed to be far away by the next day, somewhere the others wouldn’t find him so easily. He would conceal his mind and lay low for as long as he could until either having an urge to rise up once more or the whole ordeal had blown over. He glanced back to his fledgling, flaxen strands of hair falling into his face to run over the mournful lips and eyes. “Louis… I sought you out tonight to tell you something.’ He said in a soft tone, almost praying the other wouldn’t hear him but knew that he could be heard quite clearly if the other listened. “I have come to say good-bye, I’m leaving this god damned city and I won’t be coming back for some while. I’m going to go as far away as I can and sleep… sleep for how ever long I am willed to do so. I couldn’t vanish without saying adieu to you first Louis, and that is my reasoning for tonight. I’m sorry Louis I am to put you through this but I must leave by later tonight and nothing, not even you, can stop me.” He said, tone warning the other in the final part before a hand brushed over the clipped hair, longing for the satin feeling of the beautiful hair. “Oh Louis… why did you cut your hair on this night of all nights- do you intend to have me weep?”

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“Cat… Neko-san, I’m going to go for a walk, okay boy? I’ll be back home later. Now don’t you go dieing on me while I’m gone.” A voice had said, holding a bit of a childish hue among the masculine tone. The words had been spoken lovingly, teasing; and they had spoken in all truth and worry, worry for the old grey canine that lay upon the large pillow in front of an electric heater, the dark eyes turned up to see the figure of his master, of the one human who had cared and loved for him all of his life since the two had been but a pup and a boy. He made no sound, simply letting the weary, sight-less eyes fall to a close once more as a hand had came to stroke the elderly mastiff’s ears. “Night boy, I’ll be back in a little bit.” The voice was shushed now, a whisper as if in fear of waking the dog up, foots soon echoed through the house as they hit the hard wood flooring within the foyer.

Cat, as the dog was called, had been the faithful pet of a person named Taji Conner Kanichi for fifteen years, fifteen long years. He had came into the boy’s life when he had been four, now just barely on the fringe of life as his master had been taken into the age of nineteen, bordering that of an adult and yet still a teenager, a rebellious and frustrating age. He had watched the boy struggle through life by himself, his mother having died the same year the child had received the mastiff, his father missing in action for well over seventeen years now. And he had lived by himself with his loyal canine, running from social services, from humans who tried to take him in, he had ran from everything that tried to break his cycle of life. And he had seen the boy dream of a family, always coming so close to getting one only to run away in fear as the dream had turned into a horrid nightmare. It had happened many times over and the elderly mastiff could remember quite a few accounts, perhaps a bit more then the mortal himself could. But then again, his memory had begun to fade and his master’s was getting sharper.

Taji had finally been taken back into the normal ways of society, working two part-time jobs at a café and then again at a night club, one by day and one by night. Rarely would he be off work, always working as much as he could to earn more money, to be able to relax and not have to pinch dollars. But tonight was one of the few nights that he didn’t have to work, that he was forced NOT to work by his boss who worried the boy was working himself to death. And with such free time, he had not a clue what to do with himself… And thus he had gotten the idea to go for a stroll, to just aimlessly wander about the city and perhaps find something to pass his time until he grew weary and would trek home.

The teenager stepped from the small apartment, shoving a key into the pocket of pale blue female jeans. Yes, they were woman’s jeans- but they formed perfectly to his slender frame and looked quite good on him, to tell the truth. His torso had been decorated in an orange shirt, black symbols running up the left side to vanish beneath the arm. Over it, to block away in chilled wind was a thin black jacket, the zipped part-way up and the hood down behind his neck. His shoes were simple shoes, black with black laces, loosly tied as he headed through the complex and out onto the streets. Black nailed hands were shoved into his pockets, slender fingers curled slightly together to form an eased fist in the depths of the pockets. His hair was odd, black and purple tossed together. The under-layer had been dyed purple, the top black, clipped just enough to brush over his chin, eyes hidden away .

He hummed softly as he paced forth into the city, casually contemplating what he might do on this walk. He didn't have the need to look for vampires anymore, that urge having died down after the second night he had ran into Marius about a year back. He was satisfied onw, knowing they existed, knowing he had spoken to one. And so now his eyes never darted about in hopes of catching a pale face, sharp teeth, graceful movement. No, he didn't look for these anymore. If he came upon one, he came upon one. Simple as that. And now with shoulders hunched forward slightly he trekked on down the pathways, smiling softly as the humming continued, droned out by the nightlife of the city.