perfectdevil | catch all open post

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for anything else, including plotting, put it here!

[ One of the greatest inventions of the twentieth century, in his opinion, has to be the karaoke machine. He's seen a lot of fads come and go over the years - pet rocks and mood rings, really, who would have thought - but nothing quite swept him up like the rage of the karaoke machine. It started small and modest, as most things do; a little network show with a man named Mitch and lyrics on screen you could sing along to with your family, and steadily blossomed into something households across the globe were desperate to have for their entertainment and in the palm of their very hands. At one time, dinner party entertainment had been down to the quality of conversation of those attending and perhaps a game or two if you were lucky, and now groups crowded around a tinny little microphone with heady dreams of being the next Jackson 5.

The modern era had only worked in the favour of the humble karaoke machine. Far from the hulking box of black plastic with endless cords of microphones, now the people sitting at the bars could access thousands upon thousands of songs on a system connected to the internet. Fascinating stuff. No idea how it worked. Fascinating nonetheless.

Countless tables full of people flicking through the plasticy sheets of songs available for request, and he chooses this one to sit down at, a tumbler in his hand of something dark with ice in it. He peers at the sheet with shining eyes that seem to reflect the gaudy spinning lights from the disco ball hanging above. He taps a finely manicured nail at a song about half way down the page -- Primal Scream's I'm Losing More Than I'll Ever Have. ]

That one is good, have you heard it?

01. zombies, argh (zombie au)

[ The lumbering dead scrape their feet along the ground, groaning and grunting in apparent distaste and honestly? He can't blame them. To be as mindless as this with only the innate instinct for food to guide you... Well, that particular similarity between them doesn't bear thinking about. Is this what Louis had seen in Europe, he wonders. Horrible stuff.

Even at this strange reduced capacity his powers still give him a leg up - though he's sure an infant could outrun the clumsy ambling of these creatures - but there inevitably comes a time when he senses vaguely through the haze that is the state of his Mind Gift in this place someone who is not quite as lucky.

A heavy thwak and the animated corpse hits the wall, congealed and blackened blood spraying as the skull cracks like a rotted fruit. He upturns his nose more at the disgusting state of that once so coveted substance than the actual killing itself, then looks at the figure the creatures were advancing on. ]

You ought not to turn down alleyways too often. So many of them have gates at the end nowadays, and unless you can fly, I don't think it would end terribly well for you.

02. ride in the sky on our ship fantasy (space/reincarnation au)

[ Space travel. What a ridiculous idea. He's seen plenty of films detailing the venture, even read a few novels set in space -- hell, when he woke from The Sleep he read up obsessively on America's great achievement in putting man on the moon -- but he can't help but feel entirely disenchanted by the whole affair. What is up there, after all? According to the photos of Armstrong's small step, there isn't much to be found other than dust and rocks. ]

[ Well, that's how he thought before arriving here. A space station, fitted to the rafters (or, metal roof as the case may be) with everything a person could want on Earth and an extraordinary array of alien wares too, designed for those who have died to have a second shot at life by helping to save neighbouring planets from peril. The only problem is that Lestat is not dead - well, not dead in the sense that everyone else here apparently is - and he has no interest in playing the hero. ]

We're to be a team. [ He announces with no shortage of distaste in his voice. ] For the next mission in a few days. I hope you're strong.

03. and the truth shall set you free (survival/fantasy au [truth serum])

[ The worries of eating poisoned berries and nuts in a place such as this is not a concern that Lestat needs to worry about. While the people around him pick and prod at their bounty of the forest while others search to find adequate places to build shelter, Lestat watches with mild contentedness and wonders when he might start to feel hungry. It will be difficult, everyone here is already afraid, but it won't be impossible. And he loves a challenge.

A group of them go on a small hike up a nearby patch of hilly planes, and Lestat joins. Less people, more opportunity. He tries to scan their minds, but his powers are muddled here. He'll have to get to the bottom of things the old-fashioned way. So later, when they sit by a small fire to talk, Lestat begins his assault to determine which of them might be an ideal meal. However, when someone throws herbs onto the fire, a sickly sweet smell attacks his senses, making him cough up air he doesn't need, and suddenly something painfully true bubbles out of him: ]

a. I have killed everyone I have ever loved.
b. I can't decide which of you to eat first.
c. I am so lonely my heart might break.

04. who will you become when the day is done (transformation/fantasy au)

[ Lestat is vain enough that even a small forced change in his appearance might be enough to end his world. He hasn't seen his handsome face change in over 200 years, so it's understandable he's a little attached to it; right down to the length of his hair, the fine lines near his mouth, the bristle of his sharp eyebrows, the strength in his hands...

Having wings is not that bad. To a point, he understands why his power might have presented in this way, though he wishes it could have been any other of his vast array of abilities that decided to physically manifest. The tail is interesting, a long white and gray thing, incredibly fluffy and seeming to move of it's own will. He watches it with careful eyes now, before he glances at the person standing beside him at this gathering for new arrivals. ]

Do you know what kind of animal tail this is?

[Everyone is confused, afraid, and on edge. Who wouldn't be, waking up in some Light-forsaken wilderness that may as well have never have been discovered by civilization? No matter how tall the trees they climb, nobody can see even the slightest hint of humanity. No buildings, no smoke, no roads..... It really is just them out here. Them, the forest, and a big fat lot of nothing.

It's hard to get organized wen nobody is in charge, huh? But the need to survive out here without even the most basic of tools means they've got to divide up the work somehow. Demyx is quick to volunteer for fishing duty--a little too quick, anyone who actually knows him would say. But can you really blame him for wanting the job that involves a whole lot of kicking back and chilling out, rather than the hard manual labor of building shelter or foraging? Besides, he doesn't need a rod and hook to reel in some sweet catches. A subtle bit of magic to control the currents and freeze the fish in place mid-swim, and he can just pluck them out of the water with his bare hands.

Hanging out around the fire is a well-earned rest to cap off the day, in his opinion. And whatever herbs the others found..... well, they kind of remind him of lounging on cushions and passing around a hookah in Agrabah, to be honest. Cloyingly sweet, heady, intoxicating--his head is swimming pleasantly as he breathes deep, something tightly coiled inside him relaxing to flow free. Even the alarming revelation the dandy sitting next to him drops doesn't make him as tense and wary as it should; Demyx just holds a warding hand up, leaning pointedly away from Lestat.]

Woah-ho-ho, I know someone who's not taking a turn standing watch tonight. Seriously, dude, you don't want a piece of this. I'd just give you food poisoning, y'know?

[ The truth leaves his mouth so quickly that for a few moments he isn't sure the words were his own; he could be hearing someone else's desires, or it could simply be that he's so very aware of his own thoughts that at that moment they seemed deafening, perhaps? But as he looks around to the stricken faces of the mortals around him it becomes all too clear that he has, indeed, let the proverbial cat out of the bag. It should have been obvious, really, it's not like eccentric French accents are ten a penny, is it?

He's about to attempt to charm the mortals surrounding him so completely that they will be convinced they heard him wrong - something he can do as easily as a human might breathe in his own world, he can't imagine it being much more difficult here despite the faint cloud to his mind gift - when the one beside him speaks up for the group.

He pauses for a moment, letting the words hang in the air. This one is more confident than the others. His tone is light, airy, as though it were perfectly normal to be preyed upon by one you thought part of your group. He is mortal, isn't he? ]

Poisoning... [ Not to be That Vampire, but he's going to be That Vampire. He can't exactly go rummaging around in Demyx's head, so dumb questions it is. ] What do you mean by this, food poisoning?

[Eccentric French accents may not be ten a penny, but he at least doesn't associate them with potential cannibals--or werewolves, or vampires, or whatever this guy is. He sounds like Lumiere, for Light's sake. What could possibly be intimidating about a singing, dancing candelabra? What's he gonna do, set his coat on fire? He's never actually talked to the little guy, but still--that's because they have to sneak around that Beast's castle, not because he's afraid he's gonna get eaten

No, that fear usually takes hold in Halloweentown. It's perfectly natural to assume you might get eaten whenever you visit a place like that, right? He doesn't usually expect it could happen anywhere else, but..... Well, you never know. The Organization is just a big pack of alarmingly dangerous weirdos who nearly all seem to have it out for him. Who says Saïx wouldn't tear his throat out someday in one of his freaky berserker rages?]

Uh..... Y-y'know, like eating something spoiled or poisonous and getting really sick? Spewing from both ends?

[Demyx clutches his stomach and mimes vomiting. Hell of a Charades prompt, huh? What kind of guy has never gotten food poisoning before, if he routinely eats people? People can be super gross! You never know where they might've been!]

[ Lestat can't help the slightly amused expression that comes across him as he watches this mortal perform for him. So animated, such a vigor even in the wake of his own fear, which Lestat can almost sense, like a shark tasting blood in the water. It's commendable, really. Especially since the others are starting to gather themselves up to try and slip away unnoticed. No matter. ]

I haven't heard of it, though it makes sense.

[ He just wasn't aware they had a word for it. But then humans were always doing this, weren't they; making words for things that could simply be described as what they are. If you're poisoned, you're poisoned. If you're sick, you're sick. As a human, that had been how it was for him, at least. But food was so scarce in that time that if it made you sick you still thanked God for the opportunity. ]

And you believe you will make me, spew from both ends? [ He laughs a little, clearly very pleased with the mental image. What a freak, right? ] That you are poisonous?

[He had better be getting so many brownie points for doing this. These guys had better think he's a big damn hero, distracting this predator so they can sneak away! Seriously, he's putting his whole entire ass on the line here. There's no telling what Lestat is, or how fast he can run; for all they know, he could warp after them and pounce as long as he's got some kind of line of sight, no matter how far they've already gotten.

If he's lucky, maybe someone will come back with whatever weapons they've managed to slap together for hunting and rescue him. Or maybe he'll be able to slip away through a quick Dark Corridor before Lestat can follow him; hopefully, the guy can't track him even through one of those. For now, though, he'll just be glad he doesn't have to figure out how to pantomime or explain explosive diarrhea for Lestat, too.]

W-well..... I guess? Probably? Maybe? You've seriously never eaten something that went off before?

[Demyx laughs nervously, even as he's mentally kicking himself. Why isn't he being more authoritative about this? Why can't he just say something like "Yes, absolutely, you'll definitely collapse in a pool of your own bodily fluids praying for mercy if you eat me!"? Somehow, though, it just doesn't feel like he's allowed to say that unless he's super-duper sure.....

He really wishes his eyes hadn't glazed over every time Vexen had tried to explain all this complicated science-y Nobody stuff. It's not his fault that it's so complicated and Vexen doesn't know how to talk like a normal person, right? He just remembers that exposing people to the Darkness was supposed to be really bad for them.]

[ Lestat watches and oh, it's so tempting to dip into his mind and know how those cogs and gears are turning. This mortal is unlike anything he's ever seen - probably because Lestat hardly ever has conversations with those who know what he is, there isn't often much time for it before they bleed out - and not for the first time in his long life he finds himself enraptured by his sheer energy, despite how much of it might be nervous. His powers aren't as strong here, something is definitely dulling them somehow, but nevertheless he focuses in on what thoughts may be at the forefront of this human's mind as he distracts himself with talking.

He sees a jumble of strings at first; then, it's like looking into a deep pool with no bottom. Fear pushes through the rippling waves of his mind, and an unmistakable kind of darkness lingering at the edges. Interesting. He figures there's only one way to get to the bottom of this - his masquerading as an ethereal human will have to go by the wayside for now. ]

I drink blood, mon ami. If it is your body that is tainted, I won't feel any effects unless that infection is in your blood, too.

[ He gives him a long look, as though sizing him up, even despite the almost warm smile on his face. He uncrosses his legs, then recrosses them the other way and sits back casually. ]

But you needn't be so afraid. If I were going to feed on you, I would have done so already. [ A little shrug. But then he catches his chin with his hand and considers. ] I still might, but you won't feel it. Tell me more about this blackness inside you.

I, uh.....

[He..... doesn't know.....? Vexen must be complaining about how stupid he is all the way back at the Castle right now, and not even knowing why. But look, not all of them can be scientists! Not everyone has a good head for understanding this kind of thing. Maybe his blood is perfectly normal and refreshing. Maybe it's all..... gross and sludgy from the Darkness. Maybe he doesn't even have it anymore; he can't actually remember the last time he bled, now that he thinks about it. For all his complaining, the black coat is actually pretty protective.

There's a momentary flicker of hope, hearing that he might be getting out of this scot-free after all--only for Lestat to dash it seconds later. He looks a little like a deer in the headlights, with Lestat suddenly holding his face and gaze alike like this; quite abruptly, the only thought in his mind is Saix is going to kill me if I ever make it back.

Something tells him he can't just offer a glib excuse the way he'd like to. How does this guy even know? He's not supposed to say anything, but if he can't just explain it away, or change the subject, or something.....]

Wh-what do you mean, I won't feel it? Wouldn't that hurt?

[ It's too perfect, the way he seems to freeze under his hold and his attention. It's like it is with every human that Lestat enchants in this manner; whether the mortal be searching for romance or for such a simple thing as someone to hold them close and tell them it will be alright, to make them feel safe… it is always this way. He wonders which one Demyx is. Does he crave comfort, is he afraid and clinging to what little control he has of his own life, or is he - like so many of his kind - secretly craving the kiss of death? ]

I have extraordinary vampiric prowess. I could feed from you now and be gone so fast that you would believe it all a dream. There wouldn't be so much as a mark on your throat as proof I were even here.

[ His voice has gone low, almost a whisper, his thumb slowly stroking over the chin of this interesting little mortal, feeling the heat of his skin from such a slight touch. ]

Now. Tell me of this darkness. I won't repeat myself a third time.

[He isn't actually afraid.

That's what everyone in the Organization keeps telling him, anyway. How can you feel fear with no heart, after all? It's just cowardice, just an excuse, just laziness, just an act he puts on for his own benefit, just willful stubbornness, just self-preservation instincts that he associates with the memory of fear..... Anything they can call it, so long as they can blame him for it, instead of actually addressing the issue at hand. As if any normal, sane person wouldn't be terrified of the sort of things they demand that he does! Even if he apparently can't be scared, that doesn't mean he shouldn't be.

He feels much the same way now, unable to tear his eyes away from Lestat's gaze. This is..... bad, isn't it? He doesn't feel like this vampire is going to suddenly start joyfully singing about Halloween and how much he loves scaring people. He feels like this one is more likely to leave him dead in a ditch somewhere before anyone else even could come back to help him, instead. How does that compare to whatever punishment Saïx (or maybe even Xemnas, Light forbid it) might bring down on him, for violating their rules about secrecy?

He's heard rumors that Xemnas could bust them down into Dusks if they displease him. Dusks! Awful as it sounds, getting drained dry before he can so much as blink and left to die of blood loss might actually be the preferable option, here. Would he really do that just for talking about Nobodies, though? Wouldn't that sort of thing be saved for real traitors?

He..... doesn't feel like he could run. Even if he could trust his legs to hold him, that "extraordinary vampiric prowess" probably means he'd barely get to his feet before he'd get recaptured. It's weird how much of a relief it is to start speaking, in spite of how dire the situation is; with that strange, sweet smoke filling every breath, even dragging his heels on explaining feels like an impossible weight settled over him.]

I-I guess it's..... inside me? Maybe? L-like..... filling up all the empty space that got left behind? Even though nothing can really fill it anymore. Or maybe it's a part of me, now? Um. I..... never really understood the explanations, myself. It's all way too complicated for a guy like me, haha. You know what I mean, right?

[No, actually, he probably doesn't. Lestat seems powerful, cunning, confident, commanding, in control--nothing like a guy like him. Demyx laughs, awkward and nervous.]

[ Lestat can feel such an interesting mix of feeling from this one. Humans are so typically loud in their thoughts that it's quite easy for Lestat to encourage their pages to unfurl and read them as plainly as though they were a book, but this human in particular is strangely... guarded? No, that isn't the word. It's more that he has a vagueness to him, or a blankness; one that Lestat hasn't ever come across in any kind of mortal he's met before. It's fascinating, and it's why Lestat is having a very hard time putting this one down. ]

I understand what you mean. Or rather, I understand the feeling you are explaining. You speak of this darkness as though it were a sentient thing, rather than just a metaphor for something. Is this true? Hmmm..

[ He tilts Demyx's head this way, and then that, trying to look for any difference in him that might make it clear how this aforementioned darkness came to be within him. ]

And when you say.. empty space -- what exactly left you to make it so empty, hm? Your soul?

Yyyyyyyyyes? Maybe? Is it sentient? I guess maybe X-Face and the boss man must think it is, I don't know.....

[Saïx and Xemnas actually talk to Kingdom Hearts like it can really understand them, can answer their prayers. It's kind of weird, to be honest. Creepy, to think this phenomenal cosmic power and force of nature in general might truly be alive and aware in its own right. He gets how individual hearts are sentient, so how does that translate to all hearts, and by extension, all Light, being sentient as part of a greater whole?

More relevantly right now, what does that also mean for Darkness itself? For the Realm of Darkness, and for the Heartless that spawn from and are consumed by it? Are they sentient? Does it matter if they're actually born of people's hearts or not? Does that sentience get snuffed out by the process of being overwhelmed by Darkness, and becoming a slave to their instincts and hunger? Where is his Heartless right now? What is it doing? How is it feeling? Does it miss him? Miss being a part of him? Does it know him at all, or even understand its own situation?

Damn, his head hurts. This sort of high-flying philosophy stuff is so not his forte. Why's Lestat gotta ask him such hard questions? Why couldn't Vexen or Zexion or Xemnas be here instead? They'd probably love talking the guy's ear off over it for hours, right down to every last excruciating detail. They'd probably be powerful enough to not get bitten, even! Yet again, he's the wrong guy for the job..... At least he knows the answer to that last one. That's something he'd wondered himself, right from the start.]

I still got my soul! It's just my heart that's gone, that's all.

[ Holding onto his chin like this, close enough to be able to feel the warmth from his breath as he speaks, Lestat finds it all too easy to slip into his mind once more while he deliberates his answers.. What he sees there, strangely enough, is almost familiar. There's a mixed up feeling, a feeling that it would be so much easier if he could just willingly believe like everyone around him could, that things would be simple were he just a little more patient, a little less resistant, a little more ignorant.

More than that, there's the poignant sense of inadequacy. Self-doubt is something, perhaps surprisingly, that Lestat is all too familiar with. It's a delicious haze that tints everything else in this sprawling mind -- a mind that has potential, yes, that could be great, perhaps not in learned might but in resourcefulness, in instinct.. He seems twisted up, somehow, torn apart by expectation of what he should be and who he is. Like this, Demyx almost reminds him of Louis when he was a human; desperate for someone to pick him up and take control, tell him what to do, take the difficult choices from his hands entirely. ]

Your heart? [ He laughs, slipping away from rummaging around in his mortal consciousness for a second so he can resume their conversation. He's not rude, after all. ] How do you walk and talk and live without a heart?

[It feels like Lestat is staring straight through him, somehow, searching for something he doesn't know how to offer. Creepy. He's not used to getting this much focused attention, honestly--not used to anyone really paying him much attention at all these days, unless it's to either demand things from him, or get mad at him over not doing those things well enough. Why do they even bother giving him such rotten missions, if they already know they'll get mad that he's no good at them?

He's not sure what's so funny about it, but Demyx laughs along anyway, tense and uncertain. In spite of the precarious position he's in though, there's no racing pulse under Lestat's fingers, should he try to find it--nor even a pounding heartbeat, more to the point. And yet, he's just as warm and animated as any prey the man could hope to find, isn't he? Give him a minute to try and remember the lecture he'd gotten all those years ago, back when he'd freshly woken up incomplete--back when the gaping, empty spiritual wound inside him was still raw and bleeding, when he'd been so numb with shock and bewilderment that he'd only barely started feeling the depths of his loss.]

Uh, well..... Vexen said you gotta have a lot of strength of heart and willpower to survive? As long as you hang onto your soul tight enough, I guess you can use the power of Darkness to hold yourself together and keep going, or..... something. Or maybe it was your sense of self, or your memo--wait, no. That doesn't make sense. Then there wouldn't be any Dusks, right?

[ Lestat listens to that explanation, and gives him a few befuddled blinks in return. He finally lets go of his chin, retracting his hands and instead folding them almost politely on his crossed legs. He looks the picture of a gentleman, which is kind of what he is if you ignore the whole.. feeds on human blood part of his whole operation. ]

I don't know what you mean by this dusks, but the other thing you speak of is something I can relate to in some way.

[ He supposes it's story time. And why not -- they're in a strange place, away from most things that are familiar, sitting around a slowly dying campfire, with nothing better to do. And Lestat does love to talk about himself. ]

When given the dark gift in order to become a vampire a soul must be strong enough not to give in to the swoon and die themselves. They must want immortality enough, have a strong enough sense of self, to be able to hover at the precipice before death in order to become what I am.

[ He talks about it with a strangely enchanted look on his face, like an actual weirdo, then turns his intense and bright-eyed attention on Demyx once more. ]

This must mean you are strong of soul in the same way you would need to be to become a vampire. You are one of these things without a heart, yet you are strong. This Darkness must be a very powerful ability, indeed.

[ He glances at Demyx's throat and the jugular vein there. Just, y'know, browsing. ]

They, uh..... they're all empty? Like, sure, they lived--but none of what made them themselves lived. Does that make sense? We can boss 'em around and stuff.

[This is a weird conversation, to be honest. He's gone from a potential dinner entree, to being interrogated about aspects of his soul that this guy should have no way of knowing just by looking at him, to being an audience for..... what? Singing the praises of the metaphysics of turning someone into a vampire? He looks..... really happy about it, for some reason. Why? Had he been happy to become a vampire, back when he'd first gotten turned into one? Does he like turning other people into one, like..... like some kind of undead version of becoming a dad?

He's not sure he likes the implications of that possibility. Just because Lestat let go of him doesn't mean the guy is going to let him go. Demyx hunches his shoulders under the focused gaze as he listens, an awkward counterpoint to Lestat's elegant poise. So what exactly is this "swoon" thing, anyway? Fainting? Falling into some kind of abyss? Falling in love? Whatever it is, it obviously kills you, if you can't handle it. Does he really want to know? Would keeping Lestat talking be useful somehow? It would probably keep the guy in a good mood, at least.....]

W-well, maybe..... I dunno if I want to find out, though. Swooning sounds..... bad.

I guess it is pretty powerful, but the guys say it's nothing compared to the power of the heart.

[Who knows? Maybe you need a heart to be able to resist swooning, and then he'd just be a body without a heart or a soul--that'd just be a corpse, right? He wonders if someone who's already a vampire could actually learn to manipulate the Darkness without losing theirs, though. Spooky thought, huh? Lestat must be powerful enough already, but if he could add that on top of his vampiric powers..... he'd be like Maleficent tier dangerous, wouldn't he? You don't want to fuck with a fairy that commands fae magic, the powers of Hell, and the Darkness.]

The swoon is the best part, mon ami. It's euphoria, utter and complete pleasure, contentedness in a way your mortal brain cannot comprehend. It forces anything you've ever felt before to pale completely; it's an extreme you cannot imagine until you have experienced it.

[ He watches Demyx closely, watching for the tick of his pulse to increase as he feels the fear of a vampire with intention... but as he sits and listens, he hears nothing. No flex of blood, of muscle being flooded from the heart -- ah yes, that makes sense, doesn't it? No pulse because there's no heart to beat in his chest. Lestat suddenly wants to press his hands to his chest and his throat to be sure for himself. He holds off though. For now. ]

You are right to be afraid, but not of me making you as I am. There are conditions to such a thing; I have to want to do it, and I must have your permission.

[ A pause, then he laughs a little, very low, almost like he's telling an inside joke. ]

But you know, there are ways to feel the swoon without becoming like I am. Just a taste, that's all.

.....Oooookaaaaaay. Got it!

[Says the man who's not sure he gets it at all. When Lestat puts it that way, it sounds..... nice? He guesses? And maybe even weirder than he'd thought before. If you fail to become a vampire, it's because you got happied to death? How does that make any sense? Is he even capable of feeling the swoon at all, given his..... condition? You aren't supposed to have emotions at all without a heart, but nobody had ever told him about emotions imposed by an outside force. (That he remembers, anyway. His eyes might have glazed over while Vexen was explaining, if they had made note of it before.)

That gaze on him intensifies, and Demyx is suddenly acutely aware that his coat doesn't have a high collar. Even if he's not considering turning him, it seems as though he may be back on the menu after all. Shit. Isn't there anything he can do?]

I dunno..... I'm still not sure either of us would be happy with the results.

[ Lestat may not be able to sense a pulse in Demyx that might give him any indication of his current state - excited, nervous, scared, intrigued, can he even feel anything without his heart? - but he does notice the body language getting a little tighter. So Demyx isn't an idiot then; he can at least pick up on Lestat's intention like this. That's good, it always makes the bite more interesting when mortals know it's coming. ]

Well, there is only one way to truly find out.

[ Ultimately, the combination of this strange and dark power in him and the fact that Demyx clearly has many things he isn't telling Lestat about his history, whether through omission or pure lack of understanding or memory, proves much too enticing for him to resist. Just a little drink. Just a sip.

So fast his body seems to flicker, Lestat has one hand on the back of Demyx's head, and with extreme strength that doesn't seem to match up with his slender frame, he pushes Demyx's head to the side to give himself a little more room when he sinks his fangs into his throat.

As the blood fills his mouth and they are connected as one being for a brief moment, Lestat can see any of Demyx's memories that he likes, in brief little flashes -- perhaps Demyx being created as this Nobody, perhaps him half asleep during an important conversation, or perhaps something softer and more tender -- and in return, Lestat assumes, Demyx will feel the very swoon he previously described. ]

I--!

[Demyx doesn't even get a chance to protest before Lestat pounces, let alone try to defend himself, eyes unable to even follow such fast movement. It's not quite blood that fills Lestat's mouth--cool, smoke-like Darkness billows out instead, brimming with a strange power ripe for the taking. (If Lestat can stomach it, if he dares drink deeply and seize it.) It's at once unspeakably bitter yet intoxicating, burning like the most potent liquor as it goes down; no doubt an acquired taste, if one is determined to acclimate themselves to it.

(The sun makes the water shine like pure jade, the foam spraying around him glitter like diamonds. He's weightless as the waves launch him up-up-up, high enough it feels like he could almost touch the clouds, laughing in pure joy as he reaches for the sky.)

(The bonfire's flames burn bright in the cool night air, the cocktails are flowing freely, and tonight's tipsy tourist crowd is feeling the festive luau atmosphere. Demyx struts and preens on their little beachside stage, smile dazzling as he strums his guitar. Soon, he's coaxed the entire party to start singing along; a few people even dance, once he starts taking requests.)

(Nani and David managing to squeeze out enough time for a date almost always means he's gonna get tapped for babysitting duty. Good thing he's one of the cool babysitters, right? He even has his own secret handshake with Lilo--and with Stitch, though that one's especially difficult. Having four arms gives you an unfair advantage with stuff like this, doesn't it?)

(He's never felt pure terror like this before in his life. Everywhere he looks, people are screaming, fighting futilely for their lives, dying, changing around him..... It's no use hiding behind locked doors when these things can melt into the shadows and simply slip right through the cracks. All he can think to do is snatch his surfboard up and swim out as far as he can, pray they can't follow him--only to realize with growing horror, that even completely adrift, he's not alone. One Sea Sprite clamps onto his leg with razor sharp fangs, then another, and another, and another.....

Cold seawater fills his lungs as he tries to scream, dragged beneath the waves by innumerable writhing creatures. He struggles in vain as the swarm (school?) converges on him, but even the pain of being ripped apart like this is merely a pale shadow of the incomprehensible agony of something indescribable being torn from him.)

('Look deep inside yourself, and reach for the power the Darkness has granted you. What did the echoes of your heart leave behind?' is easier said than done, but he tries his best. He focuses on that hollowness inside him, that void, that inescapable yearning for what was lost..... and when he opens his eyes, a sitar rests in his hands. He starts to play, with nothing to guide his melody but instinct; soon enough, plumes of water manifest to leap and dance around him, twirling and shaping themselves as naturally as breathing. This..... is what was in his heart? It feels..... He thinks he should say it feels right? Like he knows it's a part of him, right down to his bones.

But to be honest, he feels nothing at all. No rightness or belonging, no elation, no satisfaction. Instead, he just keeps playing, waiting for a sentiment that simply never comes. What else can he do?)

("The time has arrived. Look to the skies!" Xemnas raises his hands high, reaching for the heart-shaped moon overhead. "There hangs the heart of all hearts--Kingdom Hearts--shining down on us at last. See the countless hearts that have gathered? Hearts full of rage... hate... sadness... and bliss. There, in the sky, hangs the promise of a new world."

Xemnas turns to face them all. "My friends! Remember why we have organized--all the things we hope to achieve. The strength of the human heart is vast. Soon, though... we will have gained power over it! Never again will it... have power over us."

He watches the latest speech with thinly veiled disinterest, gaze distant, only barely paying attention to the Superior's words. Is it really the promise of a new world? The promise of being recompleted, of regaining all they had lost, of being human again? They've been working for this for so many years, slaving away for a goal that felt both impossibly unreachable and ridiculously improbable. And now just because they have the power of the Keyblade on their side, suddenly the end is drawing near? He doesn't even understand how exactly they're supposed to use Kingdom Hearts, once they've completed it. How is it going to give them back their hearts, when it's made out of everyone else's hearts? Can something like that really just be made out of whole cloth? Can they really accept a new heart, if it's not their own?

What a joke. This is never going to work, is it? He's going to be stuck like this, in this Light-forsaken place, with these Light-forsaken people, doing this Light-forsaken job, for the rest of his life. What he'd give to get out of here.....)

The connection is intense, Demyx will give him that. He expects being bitten to hurt, not..... not feel like this. It's thrilling in all the best ways, more intense than any orgasm he's had in his life, sets all his nerves aflame, leaves him achingly hard as he moans and clutches at Lestat's shirt..... But he doesn't feel content or euphoric? There's nothing to lose himself in, the way he'd expected there might be, just the catharsis of climax.]

Y-you weren't kidding, huh?

[ Immediately Lestat recognises that the blood on his tongue is wrong, and as instinct forces him to swallow around the taste he starts to doubt whether the substance is actually blood at all. It feels viscose but without any weight to it, no body and no texture, it's almost like a fog, like a cloud. Lestat makes some strange noise of distaste against Demyx's throat, but like a wild animal that has latched on to its prey he finds it hard to dislodge himself now, and harder still when the visions come.

The warmness of the sun is blinding, and Lestat is enraptured by the sight he hasn't seen in over 200 years as he feels Demyx experience a poignant moment with those he cares for. Only, like most times of joy, it's cut terribly short by something violent and - quite literally - heart wrenching. Lestat had thought him some strange Frankenstein's monster, or some kind of creature in the guise of a human like himself... Lestat hadn't realised that Demyx was just a boy taken against his will and forced to become this thing, this slave to Darkness, this nobody. As the group in Demyx's memory look up at the heart and fruitless questions race through him, Lestat realises something that makes him feel a drop of horror somewhere deep in his chest.

It's so similar in theme to what he has experienced that it's off-putting. Lestat was taken against his will, turned into this monster and expected to embrace every part of it without being told the truth of what he is or given any real reason for it. He's supposed to relinquish his hold on humanity, be the apex predator he was created to be, and to not ask questions about the why and the how because they aren't his place to know.

He forces himself backward. There's no pulse to warn him of danger, there's no blood to sate him. He has only an acrid taste on his tongue and the recoil of so many thoughts hammering through his mind all at once.

He puts a hand to his head, fingertips pressing into his temple, trying to reground his senses. He can smell arousal, he can feel Demyx's fingers twisted in his shirt, but he can feel no desperate want from this human as is usually the case. He's been taken by the swoon, that much is certain from how his body has reacted, but that is the only part of it.

Lestat studies him for a long moment, then raises his hand to wipe at his mouth as though he can remove the bad taste that way. He can't, and instead he just tightens his expression into something sour. ]

I saw your creation into what you are. [ He looks Demyx up and down, then. Such a bright mortal to say that there is no joy in him, no wonder and no hope. ] What a terrible thing.

[It's almost a let down, in a way, that the swoon doesn't fully claim him. It would have been..... nice, riding that sort of high again. Even if it wasn't really him feeling that euphoria naturally, it still would have been worth the break from the constant emptiness. Unless the come down would be even worse, having what he wanted for only a moment before it was snatched away again? Not that he's meant to feel disappointment or relief these days, is he.....

Oh well, at least it's better than being eaten alive, or bleeding out alone. He should have expected as much, really. A deep, shaky breath to settle his rattled nerves again, and Demyx lets go of Lestat to feel his neck with a gloved hand. Does he really not leave any wounds behind at all? That's not unsettling at all, is it? It seems like a more pressing issue than his arousal, at any rate.]

Y-yeah, uh..... it-it really sucks, huh? I told you I wouldn't be good eating.

[Lestat looks like he'd just bitten into a lemon, honestly; that immediate karma might actually be funny, as long as, y'know, he wasn't the lemon in question. But isn't there something more important to think about than reminiscing about his transformation?]

Sooooo..... what does biting have to do with seeing the past, anyway?

[He can't help but think of Naminé biting someone to do her thing, now. That'd make for a lot scarier memory witch, huh? Though he guesses her not even needing to be there for her art to work its magic is actually pretty scary in its own way.....]

[ Lestat watches Demyx feel at his neck, and realises only then that in his haste he didn't seal the wound with his vampire blood before pulling back... It's so strange to see tiny whisps of that black smoke spiralling from the two little fang marks instead of the dark scarlet blood he's so used to seeing.

He's momentarily distracted by staring at it, and by mourning the lack of close contact. He didn't realise how nice it felt to have hands clinging to him like that. Usually his victims fell away into death and any loss of contact would quickly go cold as Lestat ran from the product of his feed... but this one is still moving, still enticing despite his lack of everything that Lestat thinks makes a human what they are.

Lestat licks his lips, trying to find where the taste still lingers there and get rid of it. If only there were some critters around he could drain to wash the terrible taste away. ]

We become one in the moment of the drink. He explains like it's so obvious. Our heartbeats join in time -- or they would, if you had one. We connect body and spirit and mind. I can see anything in your mind that I want to at that moment. You could see mine too, if you had any kind of mental prowess.

[ He looks a little troubled still, a little weirded out by the taste and the lack of blood and what he'd seen. He hadn't been kidding when he called it terrible. His heart kind of hurts. ]

general open

karaoke | feel free to approximate the year, i left 'modern' vague!

tdm esque openers

3B

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