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Post by Armand II on Dec 19, 2006 19:45:50 GMT 1
Marius had left recently to deal with some mortal affairs, which had left Armand alone in his home. He had just been settling down to watch a movie he wasn’t particularly interested in when his mind had been bombarded by telepathic screaming.
“Armand! Marius! Help me! Someone!”
Sybelle’s voice, loud and clear in his head. He stood abruptly, but couldn’t even begin to determine where he should go when a second wave hit him.
“Help me Armand! Save me please! Oh God. Don’t ignore me!”
It was so plaintive, so desperate. And to think she would even consider that he might not come to her assistance. That stung, the more so because her worries were somewhat valid. He had been neglecting her, caught up in his own affairs. Well, she had been his mortal child and he would not allow her to come to harm if he could prevent it.
More calmly he seated himself to work through the collection of words and images that had been sent to him, so that he could determine where to begin. She had been in New Orleans, he realized soon enough. And it was Santino who had captured her. Santino… the name gave him a moment’s pause. But if Santino was in New Orleans and had captured Sybelle, surely she was not the only one who had been in danger? Lestat, he knew, could take care of himself perfectly well, but what about beautiful, green-eyed Louis? No. He had to go and speak with Lestat to make sure Louis was safe, and to enlist his help, if he decided he needed it.
That decided, he wasted no time leaving his villa and stepping outside. He hated taking to the air- he felt small and insignificant enough on the ground with his comparatively short stature, and being lost amidst the stars only amplified the feeling, but there was no time to waste on going to the airport and getting his private jet to take him, so closing his eyes he took flight.
The best that could be said for the flight was that it was short. The distance between his island near Miami, and New Orleans was, comparatively, nothing. And he was very relieved to feel his feet touch the ground again. Quickly, he moved from the alleyway where he had landed unnoticed a few blocks from his destination and moved quickly towards the Rue Royal.
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Post by Lestat II on Dec 20, 2006 6:21:03 GMT 1
This was it, really. The last proverbial straw. The end of my rope. At my wit’s end. And cliché… and cliché…
It was my key that did it. It was a useless key, really. I had no need for it; I could open the door with my mind quicker than I could with a key. But, what can I say? I’m a creature of habit, I suppose. The movements of opening the door with the key were so effortlessly ingrained in me I could do it blindfolded. But tonight of all nights, even the most deep-rooted instincts failed me. My trusted key jammed in the lock and refused to budge. Granted, the lock was well over a couple centuries old. And yet, really, couldn’t it just have waited? One more night was all I asked for. I needed the comfort of some stable force in lean against. And now…I couldn’t even open a door properly without destroying it. I had half a mind to just burst the door into flames. What should I care? I was insane anyway, wasn’t I? Listening to dead vampires, hunting through the entire city on a hunch…insanity!
It was that terribly, hot fury that burned somewhere deep in my chest and spread through my veins like wildfire. The same burning sensation that had taken hold of me that night I, transformed into a pathetic mortal, set Louis’s little house aflame. The feeling unraveled me and itched underneath my skin. It was moments like these in which I gained a renewed empathy for Dr. Jekyll. Or was it Mr. Hyde I pitied more? To hell with it, I could never keep them straight.
I jerked the key back, hoping it would pop out of the keyhole. Oh, but no, I wasn’t getting off that easily. Half of the damned key stayed jammed in the door, the other half came off in my fingers. Merde! Merde, merde, fucking merde!
I set my jaw tightly and drew in a hissing breath through my teeth. What was the point of it, anyway? I could sense neither Louis nor Sybelle were in the house. I would have been able to felt her mind and heard his shuffling. Perhaps there was a reason the key didn’t work. Perhaps this wasn’t the Rue Royale after all. Whatever it was, there was one thing for certain. It was not my home. Without Louis, it was just an empty house.
However, while beautiful symbolism might be enough for someone like Louis, it still didn’t change the fact that my key was broken. All it did was prove that if there was a God, he was laughing at me. Oh, laugh away, laugh away. We will see who gets the last laugh in the end.
But then I felt it. Or him, rather. Felt his presence like a crawling sensation at the back of my neck. The feeling of being watched, of no longer being alone.
I turned around casually, despite the fact that I was positively fuming. Armand. I couldn’t tell whether I was enraged or relieved to see him. Relieved because it was Armand, it was a face as familiar as time, a man whom I’ve known nearly my entire immortal life. On the same token, enraged because it was Armand, the imp himself, and if ever there was a sign of danger, if ever there was a broken key, if ever there was a reason I would wish I had never woken up…he was, in fact, the perfect culprit of more than a few of my problems. Sybelle, his precious “child”, gone. Louis, his once-time companion (though mine now, mine!), gone.
And enter the imp. Center fucking stage. Strolling down the street as though he owned the place. Funny how I’ve never taken to believing in coincidences.
I flashed him an actor’s smile. I tried to keep it semi-civil (I swear), but I could feel the menace leaking into my eyes.
“Armand,” I said. I hooked my thumbs in pockets of my black pants so I could slide the half-key discreetly into a pocket and out of sight. I made no move to meet him; I would wait until he came to me. I liked it better that way. “Fancy meeting you here. Funny place to take a midnight walk, non?”
I wasn’t about to let slip any details about Louis or Sybelle. Wasn’t about to let him know I was on to him and his tricks (not yet, at least). And I definitely wasn’t about to let him get a whiff of how desperate I was, how infuriated, confused, exasperated, and completely helpless I was. I lost Louis, I lost Sybelle, I even lost the keys to my very house. I was not about to lose my pride.
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Post by Armand II on Dec 22, 2006 4:11:58 GMT 1
Lestat appeared frustrated and distracted as I drew nearer. Either he knew that something was wrong as well and thus it might actually prove to have been useful to come, or he was fighting with Louis again and all was well (and I could end my trip with yet another vain attempt to steal the Beautiful One away from him, just to spite him).
Either way, it took a few moments for him to notice me and when he did he turned and gave me such a chilling look that if I were any lesser immortal I would have backed away, then quickly fled. I, however, was not a lesser immortal, but rather one that could easily consider himself a peer and equal to the Brat Prince himself. Besides, Lestat would never truly harm me, just as I would never truly harm him. We would dance around each other, taunt and injure each other for centuries upon end, but at the heart we loved each other and thus would always pull back just in time to prevent any too permanent harm. Though the look glinting in his eyes made even me wonder if I might not want to play nice for the night.
I smiled back, innocent, cherubic smile, eyes cold as diamonds. “Lestat. I assure you, there are many places I would prefer to be walking tonight, such as, perhaps, at the bottom of a Venetian canal. However, the fish cannot give me the answers I seek and so I was forced to come here and confront you.”
I stood in the gateway, glanced slowly from his forced casual stance to the locked door. A glint of silver in the lock caused me to smile somewhat slowly, almost viciously.
Sad that our old rivalry made us go through these motions, these acts of loathing and distaste when what we truly needed to do was speak freely and openly so that we could discover where our precious children were and how we could save them. I suppose it can be said that the habits of centuries are not easily broken.
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Post by Lestat II on Dec 24, 2006 4:54:16 GMT 1
If Armand was an Botticelli angel, he was nothing short of fallen. With his auburn curls delicately framing his face, the curve of his lips red like dried roses; an immortal brothel child. I hated the way his eyes gleamed with mocking innocence, the way he pulled off a boyish boldness if only because he could. He was infuriating, how he stood in the gateway and spun words like Rumpelstiltskin in reverse. I was too tired to play this stupid game of sticks and stones, moving glances and mouths like intricate marble chess pieces. I needed answers, I needed answers now. And here Armand was, living proof that nothing, nothing was free.
“You should have stuck with your fish,” I told him, crossing my arms and leaning my back against the unyielding door. “I am feeling particularly stubborn tonight and not in a mood playing twenty questions, especially not with you. If you have questions go to Marius or your precious reporter boy, I really can't bear your sass tonight. Unless you have something useful to say to me, go back to your little hovel under the rivers where you belong.”
If only my door had been open I could have ended my little soliloquy with a flair of much-loved dramatics by stomping inside and slamming the door. Instead I just kept my eyes locked on his and simmered silently. And yet I was almost glad that it was Armand that happened to come here and not any other vampire. With my mind focused on dancing the right moves and attempting to keep the leaders role in this tango my anxiety had stopped tearing me completely apart. Fighting was always better than worrying. It offered less room for vulnerability anyway.
“Armand,” I sighed irritably and crossed one foot over the other, “just tell me what the devil you want from me so we can both be on our merry ways. I’ve got things to do and people to kill and the night is not getting any younger.”
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Post by Armand II on Mar 13, 2007 2:05:21 GMT 1
I made him wait a good, long moment. Perhaps not entirely prudent given the circumstances, yet I could not help but attempt to anger him further. What we needed, if things truly were as bad as I believed, was to work together, but nothing could be so easy.
Finally, I mimed a sigh and lowered my head slightly, but kept my eyes still trained on him as I raised my hands, palms up. "Lestat, allow me to be frank with you, for I fear your mind cannot comprehend anything more elaborate. My mind was struck, this night, by a hysterical screaming for help on the part of my dear Sybelle, who was lately seen in your care. This cry also implied some harm had come to our mutually dear Louis. It seemed, thus, prudent to come here and verify that they are safe, or find out that they are not and from here attempt to track down their location, as it is from this, your city, that they were stolen."
I raised my head again and stared him square in the eyes. "So, do tell me, is it something you were expecting, to find your home empty tonight, or do we really have reason to worry?"
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Post by Lestat II on Apr 24, 2007 21:43:17 GMT 1
Armand’s words caused me a moment’s pause. Truth be told, I wasn’t sure where to start. I felt like a poorly abused instrument. I have no idea how he does it, but somewhere along the lines of our relationship he must have spent a good amount of time studying me, pushing all my buttons like a unruly child in an elevator and observing which ones got the best reactions. If ever Armand had a talent it was that of manipulation, and he couldn’t have proven it better than he did just then. There must be a manual on this, some memo he received and I did not which I imagine to look something like this:
Step one: play with him, answer questions only in an indirect manner while you continue to hint at some grand knowledge that you know he’s just dying for.
Step two: finally give in, but only on your own terms. Add insult for bonus points.
Step three: Mutually dear Louis. Mutually dear. No, bastard, my dear Louis. Take your mutually and go dig a grave with it. Louis hasn’t been mutual for years, don’t pretend he is now.
Step four: wait…did he say harm had come to Louis? Louis? Louis and Sybelle? Sybelle and hysterical screaming? Stolen? Stolen? You mean…like the way a purse is lifted from an elderly lady, or a fancy watch from an inattentive mortal?
I felt something like a frayed quilt quickly becoming unwoven. There are, in fact, times when I know I should swallow my pride. However, more often there are times when my pride is shoved down my throat, my head yanked back, and my jaw held firmly shut. This was one of the latter times.
No...this was all entirely wrong. Maybe it was another ploy of Armand's...a terrible trick he was pulling on me. Louis...Louis never got into trouble. Louis stayed at home and sat on the couch and read books. I was the one who prowled the nights looking for action; I was the one who started all the chaos. I was the one with the rock band, with the small genocide of male mortals, with the temporary mortal body, with the feud with the Talamasca, with the mouth that could never keep closed. Me, come after me, but leave Louis alone.
And what would someone want with Louis anyway? My mind was working a mile a minute. Was it some Talamascan plan? Or other vampires perhaps? Did he offend them some way as Claudia had offended Armand's pathetic theater coven? Or was he the bait and I the real catch? Or had Louis simply up and left on his own accord for some reason he would try to explain later in the heat of a parlor brawl?
Why? Merde, why? What was he doing right now? Was he alright? Was he hurting? Was he in the company of friends or enemies?
Stolen. The word kept repeating in my mind. And I burned with unspent anger. It was good, though. The anger. I needed it. Being angry was, after all, much easier than hurting. Hurting because Louis was in harm. Louis, the one who had spent the night in my arms not hours ago was in distress and I was not with him. Mon dieu. I didn't want to think about it, but it wasn't about to leave my mind either.
I would kill the bastard who did this. Rip his head clean from his shoulders. Shove him inside a wooden coffin and nail the lid shut. Light the coffin aflame and listen for his screams.
Maybe anger was a bit of an understatement.
Claudia. Oh dieu. I felt suddenly as though the floor beneath me was sinking. So this is what Claudia had attempted to warn me about. Sleep, and when you awake you will wish you hadn’t.
You were right, my golden haired angel, my smirking devil child. I wish I hadn’t.
“We really have reason to worry,” I said and raked a hand through my thick hair, an involuntary and pathetically mortal gesture.
“Do you have any clue as to where Sybelle was when you heard her call? I’ve been all around New Orleans tonight and spotted neither Sybelle nor Louis.”
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Post by Stirling on Apr 26, 2007 18:51:45 GMT 1
***Continued From...New Orleans Our Lady Of Mercy Hospital, "The Morgue".***
After I dropped Cassandra off at the Motherhouse, I parked my car several blocks away, walking down a familiar street. Nothing had changed, I observed, but then the vampires liked it that way. Yes indeed. They liked their surroundings to remain the same, but they welcomed new inventions and fads of this current century. The Talamasca were known for being discreet when embarking upon vampire territory. That certainly hadn't changed. Imagine me. Pulling up in the driveway and honking the horn like a long lost buddy then having my throat ripped out for drawing the neighborhoods attention. What an undignified way to die. This was one hell of a dangerous business I was in. That's for sure. And don't think for one second that I enjoy the possibility of being a tasty snack tonight for the fanged creatures. Been there. Done that. The experience has taught me to seek a face to face confrontation only when absolutely necessary. And this was definitely necessary. Any lesser Talamascan would be pissing his trouser pants right about now and running scared. Thankfully, I have enough wits not to get myself killed or so I'm hoping. Although, I have to admit that if I had Lestat's phone number I could have announced my visit the oldfashion way, all proper like.
By now, the night breeze should have picked up my scent and carried it their acute senses. Yes. There was two. I stood in the shadows, just right outside the gates and heard the conversational exchange between the vampires. I wasn't or didn't mean to eavesdrop, but then I couldn't bring myself to interrupt. Their eyes reflecting back and forth in the moonlight was dazzling. It was rather odd to see them carry on, but then I couldn't mistake Lestat with his blonde mane, but the other one? Who was he? He was shorter with darker hair and very young looking. Did I know of this one too? It was hard to tell because all I could see was the side profile.
Stolen. That was the key word here. I could feel Lestat's anger rolling off him in waves. To my astonishment, I learned that Louis, Lestat's dear friend and Sybelle, the piano player that had at one point brought Lestat temporarily out of his sleep, was stolen. Good heavens. The connection was getting bigger. And I was guessing that right about now I was the link to helping them.
"Gentlemen, if you would allow me to be of some assistance." My face was momentarily illuminated by the flame of my golden lighter as I lit a cigarette and flipped it shut. Taking a long drag I also added. "I think I know where Louis and Sybelle are being held." I waited patiently for him to invite me in. Any hope for tea and crumpets was probably nullified.
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Post by Lestat II on May 18, 2007 20:04:25 GMT 1
I had been so deeply involved in my own thoughts and Armand's distracting company that I hadn't noticed the presence of another until I heard his soft footsteps against the hard ground.
"Gentlemen, if you would allow me to be of some assistance." There was a flash of light which momentarily illuminated the familiar face, shadows flickering across the sharp curves, and illuminating his grey eyes and dark hair as he lit his cigarette.
Stirling. Oh, Stirling. British, old world politeness, but with a hint of audacity that matched my own. I spotted it in him that first night when he had broken into my flat like an impulsive child (Mother, look what I can do!). That little spark of...well...that little spark of me hiding under layers of worn civility and sincerity.
There was certainly something that had always intrigued me about Stirling, something similar to what had drawn me to David Talbot but not quite the same. David was patient and just downright endearing. His academic curiosity laced with a bold excitement never failed to keep me entertained. I loved David for the simple fact that he loved me and because of it he—more or less—was forced to put up with me.
Ah, but that's the catch. That's the real danger. It has nothing to do with these sharp fangs, this lust for blood, these hands that can snap bones and splinter skulls. Non, ma cherie, if only it was so simple. The real danger is this: spend enough time in my presence, and you will fall in love with me.
Blue smoke curled from his lips. Stirling continued.
"I think I know where Louis and Sybelle are being held."
Short and almost insultingly simple, but nothing could have fired me up more.
I needed to know what was happening to Louis. I needed to know where he was, who he was with. I needed to know if he was alright. I needed to know what was going on. And most importantly? I needed action. I needed to put a stop to all this standing around and talking at once. I was silently going mad.
A small spasm in my mind, small pain in the side of my head, and the lock yielded and my door parted slightly. I had intended not to invite anyone inside as I simply wanted to get out and searching for Louis as soon as possible (not to mention it was always fun to keep Armand outside like a messenger boy). However, common courtesy which Louis had all but drilled into me with his scolding looks and the paranoid fact that if Stirling had heard us talking many other open ears very well could have as well kept me in check. I opened the door and stepped aside so they could pass.
"Come on in then and tell me everything you know. And make it quick, if Louis and Sybelle are in danger we've already wasted too much time.”
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