dushasoul
Making a name for themselves.
Posts: 71
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Post by dushasoul on Apr 22, 2013 14:45:09 GMT -7
Louis was careful not to look at the door until it had closed with a clap behind Lestat and the two vampires attached to each of his arms. His eyes flicked towards the wooden slats nailed together then back down to his hands, which he seemed to be scrubbing furiously. The little rag would be torn to bits before Louis was satisfied. He didn't feel afraid of the blood that covered him, but he hated the scent of it. Strange, unnatural, even for a being such as he. He avoiding making eye contact with the woman who claimed herself to be a Pure Blooded vampire, but he could feel her eyes on him. Louis did his best to ignore her presence as he rinsed out the rag and started on his arms, then face, the silence between them thicker than a midnight fog. "Louis." A soft, gentle voice called his name as a child-like hand touched his arm. Startled, Louis jumped away from her. He hadn't heard her move at all, hadn't felt her near him. He looked at her, wary of her intentions. The rag clung tightly in his hand as if it would ward off a spirit. Anya laughed melodically, one hand to her mouth. "I apologize, I hadn't meant to startle you." Anya stayed where she was, not coming any closer as Louis took his time to relax. He had learned during his life as a vampire to be wary of others like himself. Some only wanted power, others money or sex. Each one could look like they had good intentions, yet strike with such sudden conviction that he wouldn't know he'd died. "Not at all, M'lady." Louis responded in some strange form of awe, watching her a moment more then looked to the torn rag in his hand. He sighed, dropping it to the counter and leaned both hands on the edge, staring at the old, paint shipped slabs of wood. Why had she approached him, for what purpose? He could feel her watching him again. His back arched upwards, tensing each muscle. Louis cleared his throat and spoke, his face turned down. "Was there something you needed of me?" Anya stepped toward him, one tiny foot clicked quietly against the floor. She extended her hand to him. "Come, let me show you to a proper bathroom."
Anya's eyes watched him, bright blue, kind. Much different than how she'd looked at Lestat earlier. The small hand offered to him seemed to pull his own from the counter until his fingers had wrapped around hers. She reminded him of Claudia. Her fragile appearance and doll-like features. He felt his heart lurch slightly as she turned, her slender fingers coiled around his palm. She lead him to the stairs and up to the room which she'd used earlier. Though she didn't stop at the door as she continued to a smaller door inside. She pushed it open and showed him a basic of water and fresh towels. "Please take care of yourself." Anya smiled at him then bowed her head slightly and turned to walk away, leaving him to himself.
Louis stared after her. The strange behavior setting him a little on edge. Several minutes passed in silence, Louis still hadn't moved from where the small woman had left him. He glanced at the water basin and slowly stepped towards it. The water was cold, but it didn't matter to him. He could barely tell the difference. He dipped one of the fresh towels in the water and ripped his shirt away with the other hand. The fabric dropped in pieces to the floor as Louis glided the towel over his skin, cleaning away the blood and grime.
Downstairs in the lobby Anya sat in her chair once again. She found Louis to be an interesting man, though not one she'd planned to meet. His outlook on vampirism was the same as some other humans who were turned against their will. Some rotted away in despair, others relished in their sorrow until they lost what gave them human nature. She sighed and picked small bits of dust from her laced dress. The man would certainly need new clothes, but she didn't feel the need to find any just yet. Perhaps a guest of the inn would be so gracious as the give his clothing to the Creole. Anya smiled, it would only take a little persuasion.
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Post by Princess Of Hearts on Apr 29, 2013 15:22:38 GMT -7
Jinx patted Lestat’s arm with her free hand. “You say that as if people aren’t usually willing,” she teased. “But this town is, eh, a little wrong. Do you know why, or are you just playing with us?” she asked, looking up at him and meeting his bright eyes. She felt suddenly stronger looking at him, challenging him to tell them, taking his bait and testing him just as he was testing them. Reflecting on the past hour, she thought it might not be that challenging an equal—or thereabouts—that made her feel better. Just stepping out of that cramped space with so many people openly talking about their pasts and laying their rank above each other made her breath come easier. She hadn’t noticed how tense she was until she was walking with these two: Anne, who she’d grown to like, and Lestat, who she at least could understand. No glowering hunter, no terrified and armed monk, no unhappy friend/enemy/lover/child of Lestat’s, and no foolish ‘royalty’ sticking their nose in the air. Even in this rancid town—and Lestat was right, just as Van Helsing had been earlier, it was sick—the air seemed clearer away from all of that. Still, even if she liked the two she was with, she wasn’t about to let her guard down. Breathing was one thing. At least Lestat seemed to want to play. Playing and teasing were what Jinx could truly breathe freely in. Her smile came a little clearer, a little more genuine as she waited for Lestat to return the taunt. Her eyes flicked to Anne and she leaned forward a little to speak to the girl while they walked. “I’d put my money on him playing around. He’s handsome, but I bet he doesn’t know north from south.” She grinned at the girl, hoping she would play along a little. Lestat couldn’t be the only one baiting.
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Post by Mother of Dragons on May 1, 2013 13:36:29 GMT -7
“Playing?” Lestat repeated innocently. “I would never assume to toy with the mind of a respectable lady. What I mean when I say they are willing villagers… well, you’ll see. Why ruin the surprise?”
“Are you talking about compulsion?” Anne asked as they walked, eyeing the black, empty windows of the tall buildings with suspicion. “I’m afraid I don’t have that power…”
“Ha!” Lestat laughed, a warm, deep bell of a sound that carried far beyond their position. “You are a beautiful woman, mon cherie; compulsion is in your nature. No, I was speaking of a spell of sorts, a deep, old magic that none but a practiced ancient may perform. I doubt much further explanation would make sense to either of you.”
They rounded a bend in the cobblestone road and came upon a large barn and stable. The stalls for horses here were much bigger and expansive than the small hut on the edge of town where they had left their own mounts. Several horses slept in their respective spots, not noticing their presence as the three approached. Anne almost jumped when she saw people milling about between the stables and barn, bushels of hay and armfuls of tack burdening them on their journeys. To her, these folk looked plain and simple, poor but hardy, and… normal. Nothing seemed odd about their movements or attitudes, and Anne couldn’t tell what Lestat had meant by magic. Instead, she inhaled deeply, taking in the scents of those that barely acknowledged them: blood, fresh blood, so much of it flowing perfectly and neatly just under their thin skin… I want it. Now.
Lestat had said to prove herself, to show him that she wasn’t just a lost child without any skill. Instead of speaking, Anne pulled her arm away from Lestat, glanced at Jinx and gave her a smile, then stepped forward.
“Hello there,” she began confidently, putting her hands up to her mouth to project her voice to the strangers. Several looked up at her and lowered the hoods on their cloaks to reveal their faces; two looked like young farmhands, tall yet muscular boys with pale faces and thin blonde hair. They may have been brothers, accompanied by a third that couldn’t have been ten yet. The small lad’s jaw dropped when he caught sight of Anne and her tattered dress.
“How can we be of service, my lady?” one of the older boys spoke up, his arms full with several saddlebags and heavy blankets.
Anne gave him a smile, and put a hand up to the top of her head to run through her hair. Dark, thick strands fell in front of her shining eyes, framing her smooth jaw line as her grin widened. One of the older boys as well as the younger stared at her as she came closer, though the third glanced over her shoulder at Lestat and Jinx.
“I’m looking for a horse,” Anne began, lowering her voice as she stopped a few feet from the boys. “I need a strong, reliable mount to take me north.” She dropped her hand to her skirts, rustling their layers till the tinkle of metal sounded through the air. There were no coins in her hidden pocket, only bits of debris she had gathered and carried with her for such a trick, something Henry taught her a long time ago. Their attention was caught by the noise immediately. “I can pay well… if I’m satisfied with what I find.”
“We have several geldings that are well-seasoned you can look at, my lady,” the same boy responded, his eyes anywhere but Anne’s. He wore rough, faded wool pants and a thin, stained tunic that opened in the front to the cool night breeze. “Though you shouldn’t go far north without an escort for protection. The roads are extremely-”
“Oh, maybe you misunderstood me, love,” Anne cut in smoothly, pitching her voice down to a low, easy whisper. “I want a stallion. Whether he’s well-ridden or not, I doubt any of your geldings could meet my expectations.” She put a hand up to the young man’s chest, touching her thin fingers to his bare skin. Anne licked her lips when he shuddered, and dug her nails down, feeling his veins pumping delicious blood just under her hand. She glanced sideways at the other youth standing next to them, and winked as her eyes flashed a hungry shade of red. “Maybe you boys can show me where to find what I’m looking for?”
The farmhands exchanged glances for a moment, then the first nudged the little boy to his right. “Ricken, go get some more firewood. We’ll be back home later.”
No, you won’t, Anne thought happily as the child gave his brothers one more odd look before running off. She grasped the corner of the young man’s tunic and pulled him forward toward the barn and its open side door, motioning for the other to follow as well. She was slightly surprised how easy it had been to get them to go to a secluded place with her, but Lestat had said it wouldn’t be a challenge. Anne figured that such mortals were always willing enough, especially in her current outfit and with how thirsty she found herself right now, but she didn’t question any further. As the second man ducked his tall head to move through the doorway and Anne gently pushed the first in front of her after him, she glanced over her shoulder to give Lestat a smile. The Frenchman did not give a clear response, but Anne caught the glimpse of bright, deep gold in his eyes. She shut the door of the barn behind her a moment later, lowering a heavy latch into place for good measure.
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dushasoul
Making a name for themselves.
Posts: 71
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Post by dushasoul on May 9, 2013 23:51:17 GMT -7
Louis remained in the small room for nearly a half hour. His shirt and vest lay in tatters on the floor around him. Louis looked in the mirror that was mounted above the small wash basin. His wet hair dripped onto his pale, bare chest leaving tracks as they drops slid down his body. Louis was clean, yes, but he didn't see what others called him. "Beautiful Louis" as Lestat and many others had said upon meeting him once he'd been changed into the monster he saw in the mirror now. Louis sighed and turned away. His hands raked through his damp hair, combing it out into long, smooth strands that draped around his face, framing it. A squeaking sound reached Louis' ears once again. The man in the room next door had turned over on his bed for the third time since he'd been up there. Louis supposed, by the way the bed protested the man's weight as he moved, that he was similar in stature to himself. He kicked a shred of the once beautifully silken vest from his path as he moved with silent grace towards the door.
Louis stepped into the hallway and was a little surprised to not sense the small woman whom he assumed went back downstairs. He trained his ear for a moment but didn't pick up sounds of movement from below. Though he wasn't too surprised as she'd managed to sneak up on him once before. Another squeak and the man settled once again just behind the door that Louis now stood in front of. The sullen vampire turned the knob and swung open the door slowly as he stepped inside the room. Louis' sharp vision was able to see the room easily despite the darkness inside. The tenant who rented the room hadn't put much thought into organization when he walked into his room leaving a trail of two worn out leather shoes and stockings from the door to the bed. Papers scattered on the small table in the corner, pants lay on the floor at the foot of the bed and other articles of clothing and luggage scattered around the room in enough chaos to make Lestat cringe. Louis scoffed silently to himself at the tenacity of the man whom he'd been connected to at the beginning of his second life.
It took only a moment for Louis to decide upon the suitcase that lay open just under the window. At the very least, the clothing inside was clean and fresh, and even a little to Louis' taste. He plucked a laced and frilled shirt then a light blue vest with silver buttons from the suitcase. Louis draped the clothing over his arm and slipped two fingers into his pocket as he moved towards the door. He deposited two gold coins on the table beside the bed before he was gone, the door closed tightly behind him. Seconds later, Louis sighed again, his body now covered in the soft, silky texture of his new clothing and his hair tied back at the nape of his neck. He felt better to be relieved of the horrors he'd seen earlier that night. Even as a vampire, he was able to be frightened. Immortality did not take such fears from oneself.
With nothing left to do, Louis descended the stairs into the lobby. His eyes searched for the woman and finally found her in the darkest corner of the room. She lifted her head and smiled at him when their eyes met then turned away again. She didn't seem to show much interest in him, nor his new attire. Instead she focused on a small object in her hands. She turned it over once then back again, a stray beam of light from outside flickered across it's surface.
"I see that you're feeling better, Louis." Anya said looking at him again then slipped the object back onto her finger. Louis nodded in silence then bowed to her, one arm across his stomach.
"Yes, thank you." Louis gave his polite response but did nothing otherwise. He simply looked about the room wondering when it would be filled with bickering immortals again. He rather enjoyed the peace of the place. The humans slept, the woman seemed content with silence and peace as well. Which in a way, intrigued Louis. She clearly didn't shy away from picking a fight with Lestat, yet now she was silent and gentle in appearance. Even after a few hundred years, there were still surprises in the nature of vampires.
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Post by Princess Of Hearts on May 20, 2013 21:18:43 GMT -7
Jinx nearly broke out in applause after Anne disseapeared into the barn with her two lovers and meal. “Magnificent!” she laughed instead, elbowing Lestat. “I think I actually care if she finds her brother, lover, person; I like her. ” She continued, almost thoughtfully. For a moment she stood looking at the barn door, letting her laughter die out and silence stand between her and the blond man. “Are you hungry?” she finally spoke up, turning her stance so they stood face to face and see each other seeing each other. “Because I’m not. I’ve already had my fill for a while. And so have you, I bet.” She winked at him. It wasn’t a big secret, being able to tell when a vampire was full or starving. Anne, for example, had been practically radiating blood lust and dripping fangs. Lestat might be lusty, but he looked more like the cat that just ate the family parakeet than in any physical need. “So I imagine we can find a better way to spend the evening than over filling ourselves on cute farm boys. Maybe some honesty, for example, is in order.” She suggested, hinting that he should share more of the information he’d indicated he had.
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Post by Mother of Dragons on Aug 2, 2013 9:55:56 GMT -7
The barn smelled as warm as it felt. The air was full of the scent of hay, horse hair, and old, damp wood. A building like this, in a town like this, must have been erected a long time ago, yet Anne still had a feeling it would have been within Henry’s lifetime. She was still used to comparing the wonders and horrors of Gothic Europe to the immortal age of her lover. He would tell her tales of the days when he was human, but such did not compare to how he gauged the years and the events of the decades he spent living off of the darkness. In her current situation, however, Anne found the sting of regularity burn like bile in the back of her mouth: they are food. Nothing more. Henry taught me that survival cannot be tainted with weak emotions such as guilt. I have no regrets. I am a monster… and I like it.
“So where are you traveling from, pretty lady?” one of the stable hands spoke up. The air in the ancient, high-ceilinged barn seemed to push back as the silence broke, and Anne spun on the spot, her skirts rippling around her. She gave the boy a sweet smile. He stupidly beamed back.
“Far from this little village,” she replied casually, and stepped forward to walk a slow circle around the two. Their eyes were glued to her as she moved, playing with her tangled bunches of dark hair, swinging her hips from side to side. “They teach girls like me some wild things where I come from.”
“What the hell are ya doin’ here, then?” the younger of the two asked, though the demand in his voice was a placated murmur as he watched Anne slow her circle to stop behind him. The older boy elbowed the latter in the ribs.
“I need that ride to go back home, love,” Anne replied, placing a hand on the back of the younger lad’s neck. He tensed, and she dug her nails lightly down, blue veins springing invitingly to the surface of his skin as she squeezed. “Though…” she continued quietly, loosening her grip to trail her fingers down the length of his spine. Muscles sprang and contracted to her touch, and she couldn’t help but widen her grin at the reaction. Anne shifted her gaze to the older boy over the shoulder of the first, and was surprised to find her held the eye contact without flinching or balking. “I would hate to spend all my coin on one strong stallion. Won’t you help me?”
They still stare like they know what I really am… or they’ve just never truly seen a girl like me. Lestat said this village was under the spell of a powerful undead creature, and when Dracula’s brides were taunting us, they spoke of a Goddess that contested this land and the ownership of its humans. Yet I still don’t understand… they are weak, they are easy, yes, but… why is it so simple? What’s been done to them that their basic instinct of fear is eliminated? Could they possibly know anything helpful, these poor, useless servants?
I’ve had enough of this. I’m hungry. I want to make these boys bleed and cry while I touch them.
Anne gripped the belt of the young stable hand she stood behind and spun him to face her. His eyes widened and he jumped when she put one hand on his cheek and brought his mouth to hers. She kissed him slowly, gently, till his entire body shivered in her grip. The urge to rip his tongue out with her sharp teeth and drink deeply at the gushes of blood that would follow was strong… but Anne bided her time, knowing the second may panic and find a weapon while she was so enthralled with feeding. Yet she brought them both in here with her alone for a reason.
The older of her two victims became bold, and reached out a hand to touch her. Without glancing his way, Anne caught his wrist tight in her fingers. She slipped her grip so her sharp thumbnail cut a shallow line across his soft palm. He swore and pulled back, but Anne crooned and brought his fingers to her lips. Still holding tight to the first boy’s belt, she lightly kissed the first’s palm, trailing the tip of her tongue across the thin line of blood in his hand. He relaxed, but Anne had to shut her eyes; gold and crimson sparks flew in her vision, making her head spin with delight despite the tiny amount of blood she’d swallowed. She assumed her face bore an expression of lust and submission, because the boy pulled his cut from her reach with a stronger arm. He yanked Anne away from the other’s reach, and she let him crush her in his arms, careful to keep her eyes shut till she wanted him to see how red her irises had become.
Try harder, dear, she thought maliciously as her pulse quickened, demanding more blood to sustain her heightened heartbeat. The stable hand yanked clumsily at the laces on the back of her dress. He groped and squeezed and pinched her all over, and she let him, biting the edge of her lower lip. Turning his head so his throat was exposed was simple, and placing her mouth just above his collarbone was child’s play. He did not even flinch, and the younger lad that stood behind her seemed unable to do more than tentatively touch her waving black hair as if in a dream.
Anne sunk her teeth in fast and hard, biting till the entire piece of tender flesh on his neck broke off and spurted fresh blood into her mouth. She moaned happily, her bloodshot eyes shooting open as she wound her free hand up into the boy’s hair. He shrieked and flailed in shock and agony, but she held him still through that handful of hair, yanking his gushing throat open. Blood flew in bright arcs over her loosened bodice and face. Anne released her jaws, laughed, and licked dripping red off her lips.
The older boy sputtered and lunged at her despite how white he’d become. She easily side-stepped his reeling advance, still dragging the numb second lad along by his belt. When he fell to his knees, holding the gaping hole in his neck with trembling hands, Anne stuck out a boot at his chest and kicked him over. He died twitching on the barn’s floor, covered in hay and drying sweat.
“Monster!” the poor younger boy gasped, his voice a husk of terror as he stared at Anne. He flung himself away in panic, but she held tight to the leather around his waist, and used his own momentum against him to whirl the lad back into her grasp. He swung wildly, screaming, and connected several times with the side of her head and her chest. Anne barely felt the blow as she caught both his wrists and tightened her grip till the thin bones there cracked and splintered. The boy howled in anguish.
“Hush,” Anne grinned, and she was sure she looked as petrifying as the boy’s face suggested when he shut his mouth. Blood clung to her hair and cheeks in fresh strikes of red while blackening lines of gore glistened on the pale skin of her chest and arms. Her eyes burned bright, eyeteeth extended and bared beyond her full lips. I’m still beautiful even if I look like a horror. Henry said I was always beautiful…
“Help!” the surviving stable hand shouted desperately, his voice weak and cracking. He whimpered at his broken wrists. “Please, someone! Jesus in Heaven, help me-”
“Enough!” Anne snapped. She shifted her grip on his belt to the front buckle of his pants, and yanked the boy forward against her. He shook and cried, but she held him so their faces were inches apart. Vaguely, Anne was aware of the pool of blood spreading from the body at her feet, touching the heels of her boots. That was a hasty waste, one she was sure the Brat Prince would have laughed at if he could see her now. “There is no God to pray to, darling. If you’d just settled down a little, I may have even gotten the ride I was looking for. Pity.”
“You bitch, you killed my brother. Stop touching me-”
“But you like it,” Anne giggled, her red eyes flashing as she licked the dry blood from the corners of her mouth. She rotated her hand on his belt to grab firmly between his legs. “At least part of you will die happy.”
Anne bit and drank slowly this time, drawing thick mouthfuls from his neck as the boy’s whimpers and cries diminished and his strength failed. His knees wobbled, and as he became limp, Anne let go and drew several last, satisfying swallows from the hole she’d made below his ear. She dropped him unceremoniously next to the first lad, a dust cloud of old straw and dirt puffing from the ground.
I haven’t done that in much too long, Anne thought as she straightened and reached behind her to fix the laces of her bodice. I need a new dress, and that little prick had the nerve to land a good punch on my cheek…
She muttered to herself as she righted what was left of her outfit, kicking straw over the congealing pools of blood at her feet. As she moved, another voice came into her mind, one she tried to ignore, one that was what remained of her human conscious: You are one twisted girl, Annie. Henry taught you well, but he never wanted such lustful violence from his soul mate. Getting your kicks from teasing some poor villagers will not gain you information or salvation. Keep it together, till you find Henry and can go home…
Anne ignored her inner-musings, but the high she’d gotten from the two boys’ blood dipped slightly as one last stab of doubt flashed in her head: Henry is gone. I’m chasing the corpse of a corpse, a dream of a nightmare. I’ll never find him in this wasteland. I should give up now.
“No,” she insisted aloud, and hastily ran her tongue over her fingers, cleaning away any drop she had missed so far. Anne let out a deep breath, centered herself, and walked over the warm bodies on the barn floor back to the door. She used one hand to fling away the heavy crossbar she had set in place not ten minutes ago. As she reached forward to push the tall, heavy door open, Anne hesitated: her fingers shook despite the fresh, vital blood coursing ecstatically through her veins. Just a minute longer, she thought as she shut her eyes and leaned forward against the splintered wood. A few more breaths alone, then I can face them all again.
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Lestat watched Jinx for a moment after Anne made her exit. The latter girl wanted her approval or attention or something, because she gave him quite the look before shutting that huge barn door. He wanted to laugh, but instead gave Anne the straightest face he could. His eyes may have given away a glint of gold, but as much did not bother the Brat Prince. Young, fawning vampires were creatures he had dealt with before, and, save for the little thrill their admiration gave him, they meant nothing.
“Honesty is a very dangerous word, my lovely,” he spoke up smoothly when Jinx began conversation. “Though I can be tempted into divulging secrets every few decades or so. Maybe you’ll get lucky if you ask the right questions.”
He couldn't help but grin a little when the smell of fresh blood suddenly filled the air, coming from inside the barn. Lestat offered Jinx his arm in the proper gentlemanly fashion, trying to ignore a slight bit of trepidation in his stomach at the thought of walking back to the Inn and finding Louis still there.
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dushasoul
Making a name for themselves.
Posts: 71
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Post by dushasoul on Aug 2, 2013 11:03:14 GMT -7
Anya settled lightly in her chair and crossed one thin, pale leg over the other. Her legs were a little more exposed than deemed appropriate, though the men never really complained. She contained a giggle that bubbled up in her throat for no real reason. she just felt elated to be around so many vampires. In truth she hadn't seen so many together in hundreds of years. And even then, not some that didn't tear at each others' throats for power. One dainty finger tapped lightly on the table while ice blue eyes flitted about the room, taking in everything once again. She'd long since memorized it all but didn't mind looking again. She could see the dust settling on the ground from Louis' careless feet. Though that really didn't matter either, dust was nothing but dust. Left to roam on the will of others and the breath of wind. What a pitiful existence. Though in truth, what life wasn't affected by the will of others? She herself knew that all too well. And she could tell, both by the way Louis acted and spoke, that he too had experienced such fate. "Tell me, dear Louis. Why does your heart harbour such sorrows?" Anya's voice lilted softly like music in the quiet air. The distant cries of a terrorized farmboy perked both of their ears but neither really paid much attention. This town was filled with vampires after all.
Louis once again turned to look at the petite woman. How could she really see so much of him when he wished to keep such things away? In admittance he really wasn't very good at hiding his sorrows and with his display the moment he entered, it was only natural that she would see through his current facade. One, two seconds and Louis walked with a soft clack of his heels towards the corner in which the woman sat and asked silently for permission to join her. Anya nodded with a sweep of her bejeweled hand and smiled.
"I'm afraid the tale is long and tedious. Though I suppose a fast summary would suffice for you?" Louis recounted in minute detail how he'd become such a being. Turned at first against his will in the middle of his humanly sorrows. Then a quick tale of Claudia and how the divide between he and Louis had grown. though it seemed that only Louis believed the wall to be there. He didn't say anything to Anya, but seeing Lestat here, now, had been a bit of a shock. Even more so when Louis realized he was more relieved than repulsed to have thrown himself at the man in his despair.
"What a strange pair of creatures we are. I myself have suffered great loss, thus I understand. But sorrow can only damn you to misery." Anya reached out her hand and laid it atop Louis' larger one. Her thumb stroked back and forth in a form of comfort. She offered a gentle smile at him then lifted her hand to pat his cheek much like she would have done with Michael had he been there. Though her feelings were merely that of a person trying to comfort another, Louis couldn't help but feel a sort of kinship with this woman. Not romantic, heavens no. But it was nice to have someone understand him, rather than insist his emotions were unfounded.
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Post by Princess Of Hearts on Nov 22, 2013 0:35:06 GMT -7
Jinx took his arm, enjoying the feel of his soft clothes and cold skin. It was a nice contrast to the more common texture of a warm human in scratchy, poor clothes. Not that Jinx much cared about clothing. Half the time she couldn’t remember if what she wore was real or glamoured. And either way it was usually plain and forgettable. Still, that and his vampiric body were a nice change, along with the fact that Lestat was actually old enough to be something of her equal without that overbearing superiority that the little girl in the inn gave off. His superiority complex was much more palatable... or perhaps it just tasted more like her own. “The right questions…” she started up again, tasting the words and then laughing at how evasive he was. “You’re as bad as me, aren’t you?” She rested her head on his shoulder while they meandered. “But something’s already come out from the wood work, hasn’t it?” Her voice now dropped low and she looked up to see his reaction. There had been worry written across his face a moment before, but he’d hidden it quickly. “Not that it matters. I won’t pry into your love affairs or whatever it is… for the moment. I’m more concerned with what madness has infected this oddball group. I have no idea what’s happening, to be honest.” She paused and tapped his hand pointedly with her finger. “I’m being honest right now. So pay attention.” Another pause. “I don’t know what’s going on or why I feel like I should stay. So here’s my question. What do you know about this insanity?”
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