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[deathoftheauthor]

USERNAME: @louis Louis de Pointe du Lac The Vampire Chronicles TEXT • AUDIO • VIDEO • ACTION • OVERFLOW

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text; un: yomiko

[blackwaterchild]

Hey, it's Miu. From the mall.

Are you busy?

[deathoftheauthor]

Miss Miu. It's lovely to hear from you again. I'm not busy at all, is there something I can help you with?

Text --> video

[blackwaterchild]

Nah.

[There's a pause as she debates on if this is something she should say over video or not before she changes it to video]

Well, I'm not gonna beat around the bush. I ran into some people from your world recently. Some other vampires.

voice, un: thevampirelestat

[perfectdevil]

[ He can't deal with those typing keys a moment longer, or he might have sent a text instead. ]

Louis. How feasible do you think it would be for the pair of us to get a couch up those narrow little stairs...?

[ Hello, it's been maybe twenty minutes since last they spoke. Did you miss him, Louis. :) ]

[deathoftheauthor]

( Louis is worried for a moment when he sees Lestat's name pop up on his little screen so soon after they've parted, and it's a relief when the reason for it is so benign.

... also, yes, yes he did. )

I wonder. We've gotten coffins up narrower stairs than those, haven't we?

Why, did you find one you like?

[perfectdevil]

Mmmm...

[ A noise of thought to most but Louis will surely recognise it more as the sound of him completely making up his mind. ]

The time period of the style here is confused, to say the least. I wonder if other people have brought the furniture they found in their apartments and replaced them with items here.

[ A muffled sound, like him getting to his feet from sitting. ]

It isn't a legitimate Chesterfield, but it will do.

text, un: displayname (after the diner network post)

[strongroots]

Hey. Here's your list.

[ And as promised, Robby sends a list of all the questions and answers here. ]

text; username: mr. chandler (October 24th-ish idek)

[lupusintus]

Lliis

Lpjiw

Lo uis

[ Oop! Almost got it that time. Were he sober, he would have remembered he could backspace on that and fix typos. ]

text; un: louis

[deathoftheauthor]

That is close enough.

Are you all right?

[lupusintus]

Fkne.

I sprry? Louis. For waht I did to yiu both.

event log continuation; backdated to 10/27

[deathoftheauthor]

( continued from here. content includes: aftermath of a stab wound; blood, mild gore, vampire-adjacent topics; probably horny hurt/comfort. )


( Louis is too tired to protest for the sake of his dignity; he has very little of that left to be concerned with, and besides, Lestat has seen him in worse states than this. Not more injured, but worse off in other ways, certainly. Lestat had carried him just like this once before, hadn't he — the night Louis had burned down Pointe du Lac and left himself to perish in the flames.

He swims in and out of consciousness as Lestat carries him out through the third floor and the party, spared the knowledge of whatever uneasy looks they might get in this state. He's not asleep, not really, but he isn't entirely aware. He doesn't realize it's raining, or even that they've made it outside, until the first cool drops hit his cheek.

He looks up from where he's tucked his face against Lestat's jaw, breathing in the fresh air, the cool scent of the rain-soaked city streets. )

Ah... we'll be in a state when we get home, won't we?

[perfectdevil]

[ Lestat smiles at the sound of Louis' voice as he starts the on the path toward home; his speed more than that of a humans, his body moving so that the wind seems to whistle by them as he goes but without any kind of jostling, keeping Louis close and his steps even. It's a relief to hear his voice, his mind seeming to flood with it as though he'd been in some dark place until he spoke, though in truth he can't really remember what he'd been thinking about at all. ]

I dread to think. I'll have to avoid the mirrors. At least it's fitting for the time of year.

[ It's supposed to be a joke, but there's a certain amount of truth to it. Lestat can taste blood when he licks his lips, can feel it against his fingertips, so he knows that he must be covered in it. He feels revulsion at the thought of what he must look like, but resolutely he only allows his nose to wrinkle a little, focusing instead on their path home, and the man in his arms.

Home, that word again. Home. As vampires they have a habit of finding and making new homes for themselves quite often... and though nothing will ever compare to New Orleans, there's something about this littl spot they've carved out for themselves in this strange place that has Lestat feeling almost tender toward it. Like he'd be miserable if it were taken away. ]

We'll be home soon, Louis. Just a little longer.

[ He picks up his pace. ]

[deathoftheauthor]

( The rain seems to be rousing Louis a bit, giving him something less comfortable than Lestat to focus on. It's coming down steadily, the droplets pattering down against his face and hair and hands and quickly soaking through his clothes wherever his body isn't shielded by Lestat's. Lightning flashes, illuminating Lestat's face in stark white, and a distant growl of thunder follows on its heels. )

Oh, but you're always beautiful, even like this...

( Perhaps especially like this, Louis thinks to himself. But the thought is a dark one, and he consigns it to the realm of mild delusion brought on by severe blood loss. Louis knows how vain Lestat is, and how fastidious about his appearance, and how precious he considers the blood to be. He'd taught Louis that very early, and they had agreed upon that much, at least — that the blood is a sacrament, not to be wasted.

But Lestat only looks like such a perfect horror because he'd come to rescue Louis, and when Louis looks at him, faintly awestruck, he sees not a monster, but a glorious avenging angel. )

Thank goodness you were with me.

TXT | un: theonewhogifts

[gripper]

Merry Christmas and a happy Noel to you! I'm here to announce who you'll be a secret Santa to... Your giftee is: Netzach!

Congratulations! Here's a few notes to help you pick or make the perfect present for them.

LIKES: Art, nature, cute odd creatures, friends, blank jigsaw puzzles, surfaces to use as a canvas, sleep, sunlight, the color green, various types of alcohol.
DISLIKES: Cruelty, senseless violence, uncomfortable clothing, stringent standards of organization.
HOBBIES: Painting, sketching, naps.

Remember we'll be having a Christmas party on the 25th, so if you want to give it to them then or just drop it off by the tree for them to find, well, you can do just that! We'll have a lot of traditional Christmas foods, plus smores, and I'm sure it'll be a wonderful little time for us to gather, sing carols, and be merry this cold winter season!

If you've got any questions, comments, concerns, or desires for clarifications... You got one chance to ask them, because I've got a bunch of people to contact and I don't have a bunch of time to entertain conversation! :)

:) backdated to christmas because i can

[perfectdevil]

[ Waking up in the evening of Christmas Day, Louis will find a box where his lover should be. Inside, Louis will find a pair of imitation 19th Century jardinières in black iron, alongside a lovingly folded set of impossibly soft green silk pyjamas, complete with a matching robe.

It's wrapped in crisp black paper, with golden ribbons tying the lid. Atop it is a note, which reads: ]

I would not wish
Any companion in the world but you,
Nor can imagination form a shape
Besides yourself to like of.

I love you, Louis.

P.S: I'll be in the living room, come to me with the ribbon tying this box if you'd like to unwrap a more intimate gift, hm?

[deathoftheauthor]

( Louis startles momentarily when he wakes up to an empty bed, tucked up against a pillow instead of the heartbeat he's familiar with. But the feeling doesn't have time to grow into panic or worry; the gifts in Lestat's place are explanation enough. That's right, he thinks, it's Christmas Eve — and the first time he's felt like celebrating in a century. 

He sits up, reading the note first, a sleepy smile on his face; he can almost hear Lestat's melodious voice in his thoughts. The jardinières are a lovely surprise, something he hasn't seen in an age, and the pajamas are so soft that he gets lost running his fingers over the material. Louis suspects that this was a gift for Lestat as well, and he shivers at the thought of his companion's appreciative hands on him, and Louis unwrapping his final present... His cheeks burn, his pulse quickening. Oh, Lestat will be so pleased with himself.

He takes a moment to re-dress himself in his new clothes, for Lestat and for the both of them, the belt of his robe tied loosely around his waist. He almost makes it out the bedroom door before he doubles back and checks his hair in the mirror, frowning as he runs his fingers through it until it looks attractively sleep-mussed instead of vaguely bedraggled. Finally, with the gold ribbon wound through his fingers, he goes to meet Lestat in their living room. )

Joyeux Noel, Lestat.

( He smiles, soft and sweet and awaiting Lestat's approval. )

[perfectdevil]

[ Lestat is sitting on the couch, his hand idly toying with something square and plastic, his head bobbing ever so slightly along with the faint sound of music meandering through the room from the small tape player on the coffee table. He's in his housecoat, his hair hanging in free, perfect curls around his shoulders, and his eyes closed as if in blissful sleep right up until Louis speaks.

He knew he'd been approaching, of course, but like a child on Christmas morning he'd been exercising extraordinary restraint and had been quite determined not to peek... and oh, he isn't disappointed at all. He's pleased that Louis had changed, but he never could have imagined how good he'd look in such a rich colour and such soft fabric that drapes so beautifully on his slender body. It's a sight distracting enough that Lestat almost forgets the grand scene he'd planned to set, and nearly carelessly drops the little plastic item in his hand as he rises to meet Louis in his approach. ]

Joyeux Noel, yes - you like them, do you? You look wonderful, Louis. I realised I've given you a wardrobe full of things to wear outside, but left you practically barren when it came to sleepwear. Something soft like this, it suits you perfectly. And the ironwork, you like those too? Imitations, of course, but as near to what I wanted as I can get in this place, you understand.

[ Is he babbling? Yes. He seems to notice, or at least seems eager to move things along as he takes Louis by the hand and pulls him toward the couch where he'd just been sitting... though he doesn't encourage him down just yet. That ribbon is still wound in Louis' clutches, and Lestat fiddles with the end between where their fingers are woven together. ]

... I think that's the first time I've written in my own hand that I love you, did you realise? I would have liked to have written it so much more than that, but... Well, I suppose I haven't had much opportunity before now.

[ He brings their entwined hands up, as if he's about to romantically kiss Louis' knuckles, but presses that strange plastic object into Louis palm instead.

It's a tape case, and on the track listing in Lestat's hand, is written those three words in Old French. If Louis takes this moment of silence to listen to the music still trailing through the apartment, he'll pick up on Lestat's vocals, the sound of his jewellery tinkling as he moves his body to strum a guitar, the sound of his foot tapping the ground. The song is about love, and about loss, of finding oneself in the eyes of another and wanting more than anything to stay in the wake of that gaze forever. Imagery of butterflies and of grains of sand in an hourglass, of eternity stretching out like an ocean. The feeling of being lost, and found. The feeling of flying. ]

I wanted to show you those songs I wrote for you before we were reunited, but all of them held in them some thread of sadness. So I wrote you something new.

text ; @thundaga (backdated to 1/3 late night) [1/2]

[astraphilia]

Liuis

Louis*

are you awake? I heard vanpires don't sñeep at nught, is that true?

[2/2]

[astraphilia]

hahaha whoa how'd I make the n do tgat, that's Weird

[deathoftheauthor]

( well. this is unexpected. )

It's a very festive N.

Yes, I'm awake. I usually am at this hour. I don't typically go to bed until sunrise... though I have been known to nap from time to time.

Are you having a good night?

text | un: paphiopedilum

[playing_human]

Monsieur de Pointe du Lac,

I recently learned you see visions with the blood you drink, and I have questions about what you saw in mine. I understand you may not wish to meet me in person if we are alone, so I would be glad to have this conversation over text, provided you do not show our messages to Monsieur de Lioncourt unless I say something to make you feel unsafe. Thank you for your time.

Mr. Dorian Gray

[deathoftheauthor]

M. Gray,

Most certainly. I understand the sensitive nature of what you're requesting of me, and I can assure you that our conversation will remain between us. Would you prefer to have this conversation face-to-face? It can be difficult to accurately discern tone through such an impersonal medium, though it does provide a certain amount of privacy.

[playing_human]

I will always prefer to speak in-person. Is there a time and place you would prefer?

action;

[miyagimagic]

[ It's not really too uncommon to find someone looking like they're deep in thought about something at the diner - and definitely also not uncommon for the thing they are thinking about to not seem particularly great.

And with how much attention Daniel pays to the people around him, it's not that difficult at all for him to realise Louis must be dealing with the latter, judging by how much he's found the other frowning in troubled ways lately.

And ignoring that? That sure isn't something Daniel ever does, not when he's fond of Louis. He doesn't want the other to keep having to look that way.

So even though he doesn't imagine he can definitely help whatever might be troubling the other, the least he can do is hear Louis out, Daniel figures. So he approaches the other at the diner with a small, but warm smile on his face. ]

Hey, Louis. I hope you don't mind me saying this, but.. it sure seems like you've been thinking about something tonight. Do you maybe want to talk about it?

[deathoftheauthor]

( Despite his preternatural senses being more than sufficient to detect almost anyone sneaking up on him, Louis still looks mildly startled to be pulled so abruptly from the churning depths of his worry. He looks up at Daniel, first wide-eyed and then, after a sigh, a little rueful. He's never been any good at concealing his darker moods, and tonight he's spent the last twenty minutes or so staring down into his full mug of coffee with his hands cupped around it for warmth, hardly moving, his expression pinched into a frown. It couldn't be more obvious. )

Ah... Daniel. 

( His expression softens into something vaguely like a smile, and he gestures to the empty booth across from him. )

It's grim, but I've been thinking about how fragile all of this is.