perfectdevil | the city: inbox

[ It's tempting to argue the phrase "fell to pieces," solely because Lestat looks so smug, but given the amount of bourbon on the floor back over there, she can't really say he's wrong. Brat.

Instead, she looks up at him, trying to gauge whether that ease is genuine or not. She knows plenty about downplaying old loves. None of hers are a couple centuries in the past, though. She can't get a read on it -- could go either way. ]

He's very beautiful.

[ She pauses, and then reaches up to brush his curls off his face, cups his cheek in her warm hand. ]

Thank you for it.

[ At the feeling of her warm palm, Lestat does a little double-take visible only in the way he blinks rather rapidly for a few seconds, his body otherwise staying completely still. It's an understandable surprise, this tender moment of softness from her, and it makes his heart feel warm too, as if the heat from her palm travelled straight through his chest. That seasick feeling he'd felt after their last conversation is all but forgotten, replaced instead by a genuine fondness. ]

Of course; I like to surround myself with beautiful things.

[ He turns his head ever so slightly, to kiss the dip of her palm, just above the pulse point of her wrist; just a closed-mouthed and quick little thing, and then he smiles. ]

Thank you for this, and for only teasing me a little.

[ He hands it over to her as if it's something he has very little regard for. The only reason he's kept it and not left it on some table somewhere is that it's often a very convenient way of speaking to Louis, and because it's fun to scroll the network and see what people are talking about when the world is painfully quiet of an evening. ]

I can take in people's experiences and learn what they know through feeding, and I can pick up on methods used while I hunt. [ He explains it kind of matter-of-factly, as he folds his arms and regards her with a patient expression. ] I am very perceptive, I can watch from a distance and learn the movements simply enough.

Though, I cannot learn everything by spying. This copy-and-paste, I don't think I have ever seen anyone use it before.

[ A very understandable surprise. But Jo's tired, and as lonely tonight as she ever is. The closeness that wound through the memory was tempting. The details are fading as minutes pass, but the urge she felt in the moment to hold Lestat and share her body heat the way he remembers his violinist -- that lingers.

And it was just a memory. A fantasy to enjoy, like her visions of teasing Lestat. She's grateful for it and she won't forget it, but--

The little flutter his kiss causes her is something she desperately needs to ignore. So she does. ]

Don't get used to it.

[ She pats him on the cheek. The way she puts her armor back on is almost visible, the cocky smirk returning, the insouciant tip of her chin. ]

Do you want to walk me home? You can quiz me about human sex if you like.

[ It is indeed impressive how she steels herself to the world once again, how easily she slips into that haughty bravado, but oh... if it's designed to make Lestat feel closed off, it does the exact opposite. On the contrary, he feels a strange kind of understanding when he watches her mood shift, away from tenderness and towards flippancy because it's easier and it's safer; the same way that Lestat leans so heavily on being an unfeeling monster should the issue touch a little close to a nerve. Their meeting really was a fateful thing, he thinks, as he feels the challenge of pulling more tender moments from her settle somewhere in his chest. ]

Of course, mademoiselle. Anything you wish.

[ So much for the mess, he figures; he's never cleaned anything up in his life and doesn't see why he should start now. Especially not when the City kind of cleans up itself.

He slips an arm around her shoulders as he pulls her toward the door, and can't resist joking: ]

So, it vibrates?

[Just as she was about to show him what to do, she slowly turned her head toward the vampire. Immortals had a different way of thinking and doing things but it was a little strange to know that one could obtain memories simply by eating mortals.]

...Then it's a good thing I am willing to show you how it is done in person! Especially when I highly doubt you want to want to eat me.

[She said before showing him the phone and pushing a word down before a blue box surrounds it. Grabbing on corner of said blue box and dragging it across the sentence, there was a small table under it. There, she clicked the word copy.]

I'm afraid I'm rather foul if I'm being honest.

[ Lestat snorts a laugh at her comment, but watches her closely as she copies the word - it looks simple enough, though the method of highlighting the text in the first place seems a little fiddly - and nods when she's complete. He might have to try it a few times by himself to pick up the technique, but there's nothing too complicated to it all so far. ]

What makes you think you'd be foul? Other than your habit of scrabbling around in the dirt, I suppose.

[ Though the taste of flesh is nothing compared to the taste of blood; he's a very single minded kind of monster. ]

[Based on the look he was giving, she could only assume that he got the gist of it. As she gave a small nod, she handed the phone back to him before pointing to it. Almost as if she wanted to see if he would be willing to mimic what she did.]

Because I work with the dead. Wouldn't my body be rather foul tasting given the amount of rotting flesh I deal with?

[Not that she was being serious but she wanted to see his reaction.]

Edited 2023-11-05 16:18 (UTC)

Well, you know I'm not sure.

[ Of course he gives it a go; his hands are quite larger than hers, but his fingers are elegant and careful, he manages to highlight and copy the text after only a few attempts. He looks very proud of himself. ]

I have sampled a few people in your line of work, but the blood is still the blood just the same. The life experience and the strength in a person is what flavours it, to use a human word.

[ He holds the phone out for her to show him the paste part of this routine. ]

I don't remember any particular stench of death, nor do I smell one on you now... and I doubt that you've been near a corpse recently, hm? [ He grins. ] Except from me, of course.

[Should be weirded out by the both of them having a very causal conversation about drinking blood? Perhaps but she's seen enough gruesome bodies, this kind of topic didn't seem to bother her that much.

Looking at how he managed to learn what she did, she couldn't help but give a small clap.]

Well, you never know. Even if you have sampled people from my occupation, there is always that one chance no? Of course, I'm not sure if trying my blood is a good idea anyway unless you want to gain the abilities of fast rhyming poetry!

[She said with a sigh before clicking on a blank page. As she held a random spot, there was the same table as before. However, this time, there should be a copy button. Pushing it, it showed the same sentence as before.]

And there! Now, that wasn't too bad, right?

[ Lestat chuckles a little at that, thoroughly endeared by the idea of picking up the talent of rapping through her blood, as if he needs that particular kind of inspiration. He probably could rap perfectly well if he cared enough to put effort into it; it's just that he much prefers the showmanship of rock music, that's all. ]

I see, it's the same movement again, just with a different option selected..

[ The upside to Lestat seeming to be a technology adverse old dude is that at the very least his vampire mind is capable of actually understanding what he's being taught. He takes the phone and pastes the same message a few times so that he gets familiar with what to press. ]

And now I have to copy your curse and send it to others, isn't that right? Or face... what was it, eternal body odour?

[ His body doesn't have a scent as it is, so having a bad one for the first time in two hundred years isn't really something he wants to experience. ]

[With that, she gave a giggle before nodding to herself.]

Indeed, you will need to send it to five people or else you shall deal with body odor! Now that is something you wouldn't want to happen to you, no?

[She said before leaning a little closer toward him to see just who he would copy and paste said words. As she smirked to herself, she raised an eyebrow to see if he was able to do such a a task without her help.]

[ He nods to indicate he understands before taking a moment to consider who he might send such a curse onto. Armand, for sure, but that's only one person out of the eventual five. ]

Was this a curse that was sent to you, and I'm one of the people you're using to save yourself... or has this curse come from some kind of ability you have?

[ He seems genuinely curious, in a way, wanting to get to the bottom of the nature of this magic before he goes passing it along like a bad cold. ]

You could say that it was a little something I did. Although, you need not worry about it.

[AFter all, this little curse of hers was something she and Xingqiu did out of pure boredom. It was just amusing to see who would take such a thing seriously.]

Even if you didn't send it out to five people, the curse may or may not give you bad body odor. However, given how random it is, you might need to send it anyway.

[ Will isn’t panicking. Not at all. Not even a little bit okay. He’s being perfectly rational and reasonable and not internally screaming about how he’s an idiot and he should have said he wasn’t interested in going to black tie party at all. Nope. ]

You know stuff about fashion, right?
I figure you’re the best person to ask about it.

What do people wear the black tie events? How would I find something in not very much time at all?

[ Listen he’s been to one singular school dance and his mom put him in a sweater vest for it. He’s clueless and he needs to not be at very short notice. ]

Ah, the Gala? Of course you already know it, but you've come to the perfect place. I'm actually hosting a fashion boutique of sorts at the event itself, so I have plenty of outfits at my disposal. Would you like to come over? I'm actually sorting through them now. That, or I can bring some options to you. I'll just need a sizing estimate and a few other bits of information, like your favourite colour to wear and whether you prefer a full piece suit or something more casual.... Or, if you'd like me to make that decision for you.

Yeah, I got asked and I said yes before I thought about clothing at all…

I’m a little bit wary about walking around at night at the moment or I would come over.

I’m a medium in most things, my jeans are a 30, does that help or do I need to measure myself or something? And I like yellow but that might be a bit much and my mom always says I should wear more green.

[ Lestat is five seconds away from replying to ask what's wrong with walking around at night before it clicks that there was an actual literal god damn werewolf prowling around a night or two ago. That, and Will is a teenager and the City streets are dangerous even in a place like this. Arguably more so in a place like this. ]

I see. How romantic...! Don't worry about it, mon ami. I, as they say, got you. Medium, 30 leg, yellow and green. I'll find a few options for you. To maximize efficiency, why don't you come to the Gala a little earlier, and head straight to my set up? I'll put some time aside for you, and by the end I'm sure I'll have you looking snappy for your date.

[ at lestat's doorstep sits a paper-wrapped gift blooming profusely from its seams with long-stemmed paper flowers in dizzying greens and reds and oranges splayed along the painted watercolours of a rising, winter-morning dawn pale with still-visible pinpricks of mourning stars.

the package is no larger than two palms put together, and when picked up, weighs no more than standard flashlight. when unwrapped, within is a miniature version of the stained glass kaleidoscope that adorns the roof of the planetarium. the handcrank generates the power needed to bleed light through the opening, upon which its patterns are cast across the ceiling: a setting sun, a golden field stretching endlessly framed by two, towering trees that spiral into the cutting dusk of a weeping sky. pinpricks of silver light seeps through along the cracks of the sky proper, but not a star is to be seen.

the world is complete; the world is empty.

the card reads thus: ]

To Lestat,

With time constraints, I could only make but a pair of these devices, so you must forgive the quality of the imagery. However, I've always wondered if an image cast inside the lid of your coffin would bring you pleasant dreams. These devices can be mounted for ceilings as well, though I will need time to find the right images and stain the right kind of glass to compose it.

Lastly, if I may ask you for a favour: wait twenty-four hours, then tell Ghost the words 'pigpen', then ask her for me what took her so long, hm?

May your coming year be as sweet as watermelon, and as fruitful as pomegranates.

Regards,

Kaveh

[ There's a package that will find its way into Lestat's hands one way or another.

Inside, there's a box of 36 pearlescent shades of nail polish and a drawing of... one assumes is Lestat and Louis, sketched carefully but it's very hard to make art when you absolutely are not an artist and it won't capture their beauty but maybe it's charming? There's a note with no signature: ]

I don't think you need help looking more beautiful but I saw them and thought of you! Say hi to Louis for me too!

[Unfortunately for literally everyone, Ghost's idea of what makes a good gift is...sometimes. It's. It's really questionable. And often brightly-colored. And almost always ridiculously tacky.

Case in point: the box that Lestat receives contains TWO OF the world's tackiest snap bracelets in whatever hideous pattern you feel is most befittingly atrocious. Unfortunately, he'll likely discover that there's a note beneath.

Feel special, Lestat, you got the only sonnet in the whole bunch:

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
I wouldn't dare. It'd be too cruel of me
To call up images of sunny May
When sunlight's something you can only see
Through borrowed eyes. Could I be so unkind
To leave you to rely on memory?
Those faded echoes paling in your mind —
A dream, at best; at worst, facsimile.
But neither shall I liken you to night,
For all that one might think it'd better fit;
For all you claim your darkness smothers light,
Those claims are, to be candid, full of shit.
What are you, then? This secret I entrust:
My fangs, my claws; my safety and my trust.

Merry Christmas! 🎄]

( Hidden around the apartment on Christmas Eve is an assortment of wrapped gifts for Lestat to find: warm leather gloves, a cashmere scarf, a set of combs and hair oils, a detective novel, CDs and films that sounded interesting or at least tolerable to watch together. The main event, however, is a Polaroid-style camera with instant film, and a scrapbook bound in soft red leather. On the inside cover, in Louis' neat cursive hand: )

For the memories we've yet to make.
Yours eternally,
Louis

[ He said any night, so don't mind if he picks the night right after the gala. Fatigue isn't something that usually obstructs him. ]

Are you ready for that spar? You can pick the location.

[ The next time Lestat stops by the diner, he'll get a box shoved into his hands by Daniel - who will give him a smile, but otherwise say nothing about it, conveniently disappearing into the backroom to grab some stuff for the diner..

Sorry, Lestat, seems like you'll have to check out what this is all about by yourself. Though it probably speaks for itself, given that it's definitely wrapped like a present. If he opens the box, he'll find an empty scrapbook inside.

There's also a note, which reads: ]

Thank you for your thoughtful gift. I actually had to think quite a bit as to what to give you in return, especially since we can grab practically anything we want ourselves in this place.

Still, I felt like this might be something you wouldn't think of yourself, but something that I think would be good for you. I don't think I told you before, but I love scrapbooking back home - gathering photos and other mementos of my family and putting them all down into one place. Perhaps this would be a good way for you to keep your memories of you and Louis safe too.

I wish you a good year too, and nothing but the best. This place may be cruel, but I know you'll make your way through it.

- Daniel

[ Have the recent revelations about this place been sticking in Daniel's mind like crazy, threatening to drive him crazy? Yes. Especially when he doesn't know what to do about it. Daniel definitely is someone who likes to take action when he's got worries about a very specific thing, but what do you do about a city that's very likely to kill both you and everyone you love sooner or later?

.. maybe the only thing you can do is checking up on said people. So-- ]

Hey, Lestat. Sorry for the sudden message.

I was just wondering how you've been lately. Has everything been alright?

the city: inbox

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text message ; a few days before the gala

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delivery. backdated to whichever day was the winter solstice in this city!

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→ delivery, christmas day

ho ho ho 🎄⚰️

Backdated to night of Dec 4, Text. un: Hat Guy

backdated holiday gift!

text; un: d.larusso