6: Gentle PeckOn the Path to Sonoma:
He’d been weeping in his sleep—even the deathsleep couldn’t keep him from having nightmares, and she’d realised as soon as she’d awakened that he was struggling against them. The effects of the deathsleep being what they were, there was no way for her to rescue him from them—he would have to ride them out until he awoke.
Twenty or so minutes later, he awoke quite suddenly with his head in her lap. He was still weeping, his face stained with blood tears, but now his eyes bespoke confusion and embarrassment. She did not release him, instead humming softly as she placed one hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently as he closed his eyes and grasped at the fabric of her coatsleeves. She leaned over him, placing an almost invisible kiss upon each eyelid, releasing him gently back to fight his monsters alone.
Tag Archives: such feels
Sometime last autumn I read a post where one of the Lestat role-players of the site answered a question/prompt about crossdressing with L’s fond reminiscence of a lady with whom they sometimes swapped clothes. So I sketched this on my 14 min morning train to school. Found the sketch yesterday and finished it, but now can’t find the original post or remember who was the writer. Anyway Lestat enjoying a corset (and yes that corset has a weird double lacing or smth)
Anon: What was the most arousing moment you’ve ever experienced Lestat?
Mortcharmant: “My— What an intrusive question, étranger gris. But I shall humour you none the less… I would have to say it was the night I allowed a delightful mademoiselle to put her corset on me. How it tightened and constricted was glorious and suffocating. I looked like ‘pure sex’ according to her as she added more to my “ensemble”. By the end of it I was dressed up more like a tart than she and it was exhilarating. I let her live after that moment and frequented her regularly for those games of ours. It’s a pity she died three months later at the hands of a violent pick pocket.”
[X]
Aww yes, that’s exactly it! Thank you! Apparently my imagination added some details. : D
Your imagination added some fiiiiiiine details ;]
“If goodness does exist, then I’m the opposite of it. I’m evil and I revel in it. I thumb my nose at goodness. And if you must know, I don’t play the violin for the idiots who come to Renaud’s to make them happy. I play it for me, for Nicolas.” – Nicolas de Lenfent, The Vampire Lestat
So if you read this, read it for that reason that Lestat is talking again, that he is frightened, that he is searching desperately for the lesson and for the song and for the raison d’etre, that he wants to understand his own story and he wants you to understand it, and that it is the very best story he has right now to tell. If that’s not enough, read something else.
If it is, then read on. In chains, to my friend and my scribe, I dictated these words. Come with me. Just listen to me. Don’t leave me alone.
Lestat de Lioncourt, Memnoch the Devil.
How did you react when you found out Armand had gone into the sun?
vagabonddaniel-recordedarchives:
How do you think? I broke apart. Whatever small pieces of my brain were clinging to sanity lost their grip in a flood of grief and loss so profound that it made the sound rush out of the world. The air was sucked from the atmosphere. Everything stopped and I was sure, so sure, it would never start again. And worse, part of me didn’t want it to.
When it did, I ran. Not from anything – there was nothing but ash to run from. And not to anything – there was nothing but ash to run toward. So I ran aimlessly across the globe as if I could escape the grief, but it was inside me, clawing at my bones, scraping at my soul. Tearing down whatever shreds of lucidity were left in me until I was a hollow, wandering thing, useless and doomed.
You’ve been one of my favorite people of 2014. Send this to everyone who has had an impact however big or small on your life this year (っ◕‿◕)っ♥*:･ﾟ✧!!
Awwww thank u ♥! The feels are mutual *u*
You’ve definitely made my fandom experience SO much richer w/ your beautiful writing.
(you can pretend that’s Nicki/Louis in the gif there, hehehe…)
Folks have called you cold (especially as a mother), maybe sometimes unfairly, so I was wondering if you might share a happy memory of Lestat as a wee boy? Pretty please?
-sighs wearily-
I have shared many already, have I not? But, then, you want a happy memory. There were so few in that house.
Lestat mentioned briefly in his book that I used to show him picture books of the places where I’d travelled before I was wed to the Marquis: Rome, Paris, Madrid, Athens, etc. And I do remember doing this, when he was very, very young—his little body tucked into my lap as I sat, cross-legged, upon my bed, a large book spread open before us.
He was always very taken with the colours of the paintings in the books—he has always had a great love for colour—and his small fingers would trace the images of ships, mountains, animals, running down and over the pages as I explained to him (sometimes in French, sometimes in Italian) what each place was and what it was like there.
Can you imagine it? Are you a mother? That sweet weight of his little body against my own, the smell of babyhood still in his hair, his voice forming words that were a charming amalgamation of French and Italian as he attempted, as toddlers do, to ask questions of me. The small gasps he might elicit at certain images as the pages turned, the trills of laughter at the animals, the way his body would shift as he would lean back to look in my face, as if searching to make sure these places were truly real and not some fairy tale I was constructing.
Very few of his companions are aware, I think, that that child still exists. That child is ever-present, hidden just behind the eyes of the man, waiting to be thrilled or wounded. I’d hazard to surmise that the few who see it are the ones who tend to stay by his side, despite his failings.
siriansiren replied to your link “The Little Christmas Angel (Tree, Lights, Gift, Sweater, Party) -…”
I could kiss you
What’s the most romantic gesture anyone has ever done for you?
My definition of romance may be slightly skewed compared to most mortals. I have no need for material possessions. Romantic dinners are lost on me. Flowers wither and die before my eyes. Candles and fires are better for sex and death than romance. For something to be romantic in my eyes, it has to be spectacular. It has to be amazing. It has to be paradigm shifting.
For me, that moment occurred one night not long after I had told Daniel of my love for him. I had not lied; I did love him as a vampire can love a mortal. I thought it might be a fleeting infatuation, one that would fade as he faded in front of me. I knew what he wanted from me, that the blood and immortality was what he sought more than companionship. Yet I loved him, I followed him around the world, completely fascinated by the way he saw things and how he navigated this modern world which confounded me still, yet ever expectant of his impending death.
I was sitting on the sofa, staring at nothing and utterly still as vampires could be. We had yet another fight about him wishing for me to turn him and my absolute refusal to do so. He was still in the house – his heartbeat sounded strong and true nearby – but I had blocked my mind from his, not wanting to hear his angry thoughts about me. I do not know how much time had passed but it must have been significant because the sky was starting to lighten when I felt him climb into my lap. You must understand that my Daniel is a tall man, to situate himself in such a way was awkward and uncomfortable for him. But he did so, bent at strange angles in order to fit our bodies together.
Automatically my hands came to his waist, holding him in place while I waited for the apology that almost always came following one of those fights. However, I did not hear those words. Instead, he brought his neck in front of my throat. “Daniel,” I growled lightly, wondering what he was thinking to put himself in such a position. That I would lose my resolve and give him what he wanted?
“Drink,” he offered, his voice sounding hollow and broken. “If my life and mortality means so much to you, take it all. I have belonged to you since the night in New Orleans. If you will not make me one of you, take everything you can and carry my memories with you forever.”
The most romantic gesture anyone has ever done for me? My Daniel, my lovely Daniel, offering me his entire life, everything that he was and would ever be. A man who wished for nothing more than to live forever, offered his life at my lips. I do not know if he meant it as a romantic gesture but I took it as such. That was the night my love for him shifted to something more, the night I realized that losing him was not an option I was willing to entertain, even if I was not yet strong enough to bring him over. The night he truly became my lover, my beloved, as I was already his.
“I had a dream about you. I dreamed that we were moving through the world together, you and I, and we were both serene and strong. I dreamed we fed on the evildoer as Marius had done, and as we looked about ourselves we felt awe and sorrow at the mysteries we beheld. But we were strong. We would go on forever. And we talked. `Our conversation’ went on and on.”
-Lestat, on Nicolas de Lenfent, The Vampire Lestat
I-want-my-IWTV 