“Just so, one loop over the other, then under and through…” he said, the laces of Claudia’s shoes forming into a bow under his nimble fingers. “And pull tight, ma chérie. Simple as that.” Without a moment’s hesitation, her little fingers tugged the laces back open and tried now, for the very first time, to tie them on her own.
They sat on the carpet, her body curled forward in concentration, whispering the directions again to herself as he smiled down above her. He reached out and tucked a stray golden curl behind her ear and she spared him not one bit of attention.
In the warm light of the lamps, I watched them from across the room. We had been together now for some four years, Lestat and I. In that time, I had rarely seen this expression on his face. When he seduced his victims it was with rapt attention, his tongue flicking at his fangs imperceptibly to them, so vulgar to me. He would slink towards me catlike after killing and it was similarly intoxicating. I would let him take what he wanted, and there was lust for him, his wandering hands and whispered praise, but was that love? It left me satisfied, guilty, confused.
This was new, he was patient with the child, embraced her not to consume but with compassion. Their laughter lent a sparkle to the space I had shared with him alone. Together they brought things out of me I assumed I did not have.
“I did it!” said Claudia, her face upturned to him brightly. “Bravo!” he applauded with polite clapping as if at an opera. She shifted position, undid her bow and busied herself with tying it again.
It was in that moment that he glanced at me, his smile still tender and gentle, I felt my heart trip and stop for an instant. He waved me over and I came, entranced. He gestured for my foot. “Oh no, it looks as if,” in one fluid motion he hooked a finger in and opened my shoelaces. “Papa Noir’s laces need tying, whatever shall we-”
“Me,” said Claudia, starting already for the laces. “I’ll fix them for you.” I felt Lestat’s hand on my ankle, his nail lightly stroking my skin, then move up, squeezing my calf as we watched her together. That was the moment I fell in love with him.
“Mon cher, Lestat.” Claudia sighed with a sweet smile. “I may have left the nest but my home is with you.” Biting her lower lips she shook her head only to continue smiling. “I think of you too often and I miss you more than you think. You may be a Brat Prince now but you were mine before you were many of theirs….”
♛It’s probably for the best that he doesn’t know how much he captivates us all, how even his prone and unconscious form strangles my heart.
He also detests being praised for his physical appearance unless he put his own effort into it; after all, he didn’t give himself those piercing green eyes or the tender crease that appears between his brows when he’s worried about me. His beauty lies not just in his features, really, but the way he aches for the beauty of the world around him, his openness, his dignified demeanor even when I’m testing every last bit of his resolve. And I don’t think he considers any of that to be effort on his own part, it’s just the way he is.
♛Spandex-clad muscled men running back and forth on a field, wearing some protective gear, and slamming into each other at full speed? I love it. It’s like modern-day jousting!
(^//ooc: oooh I got to dig an oldie up from the archive, I made this for @gairid / @vampchronfic ages ago!)
//ooc: Louis loves Drew Brees from the NOLA Saints bc of course he does.
Don’t gamble on anything with Louis. Even sports. He keeps up w/ stats, but more importantly, he can size up a team pretty quickly and estimate their odds with a lot of accuracy.
♛You know, it took me some time to embrace having a tree indoors at all, you have to remember that it was immigrants who brought that tradition over to the New World; it was probably the early 1800′s that it was widespread enough that we simply had to have one, too.
Having a living tree indoors, shedding pine needles and sap and possibly serving as a Trojan horse to spiders and such, was not something I wanted! All that kindling, it was the same fire hazard that it is today. But Claudia wanted it, and so we started having them for her. In those early years, we made ornaments by hand to go with those given us as gifts by friends and neighbors: crystals, blown-glass baubles, figurines… Our own handmade ones were always more valuable to us than the finest artisan ones, Louis still has a few of them, and we handle them with great care.
…Got a little distracted there.
Fake trees were a thing in the mid-1800′s, I recall some that were made with goose feathers dyed green. Other artificial tree methods followed, but we continued with the real thing. The scent of pine was endearing to us by that time.
Currently? I would think that Claudia would lose her shit, as they say, over the myriad synthetic versions of the holiday tree, the LED lighting running cleverly through the branches.
So to answer your question, it varies on the year, but I think there’s something to be said for getting an artificial tree that’s flame-resistant, and can be easily recycled after use. There’s something deeply depressing about walking the streets the month following Christmas and seeing all the corpses of trees that were invited into people’s homes, loved briefly, and then tossed out on the curb like so much trash.
I suppose that puts me on the side of artificial, so there’s your answer.
♛Well if it were up to him, he’d wrap gifts in brown paper or newsprint and twine, as he likes to recycle. What a waste of an opportunity to add a little flair! His gifts are always perfectly chosen, and I suppose it’s what’s inside that really counts, with gift-giving.
… but if you must know, I prefer it when he’s unwrapping~me~.
♠ (Louis) *sighs* “Lestat cries far more than I do, it’s been thoroughly accounted for in his voluminous memoirs… his “wahmbulance” treatment consists of an enormous amount of ego stroking and retail therapy. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.”
I-want-my-IWTV 