perfectdevil | catch all open post

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[ 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. ]

[He expects dark blood shining slick against leather. He expects pain, dizziness, weakness--like the inescapably bitter aftertaste of medicine, no matter how many spoonfuls of sugar you add. Even prodding at delicate torn skin barely stings at all; for a moment, Demyx simply looks from Lestat, to the twisting tendrils of darkness, and back. The guy really does seem to be taking this hard.....

Weirdly hard, actually. Why is Lestat so shaken up by this? Sure, his blood might be bizarre and undrinkable, but he can't say he's used to people having anything like empathy or compassion. All of the Organization would have just told him to walk it off and stop being a whiny bitch about it.]

Haaa..... yeah, nobody's ever accused me of being smart before. I..... guess that means your secrets are safe with me! Pretty good, huh?

Oh, uh! S-sorry if it..... I dunno, hurt or anything? You're not supposed to expose yourself to that stuff unprotected.

[Demyx makes a broad, sweeping gesture to indicate his uniform. A little too late for that now that the calls are apparently coming from inside the house, so speak. Too bad it doesn't protect against the swoon's..... time mind magic stuff, too. Should he be worried, having everything exposed so effortlessly like that? He feels like he should probably be worried. Seriously, dude, he's taking "you are what you eat" waaaaaay too literally.]

[ Lestat's eyes fall to that wound again while Demyx speaks. How would it heal without blood to clot? Would it seal over with that darkness until the flesh formed back into place? He itches to know, fascinated and horrified in equal amounts by how this strange substance has changed this sweet hearted human into something so powerfully different.

When Demyx apologises, Lestat lets out a bark of incredulous laughter. He can still smell that arousal in the air - how does that work without blood, he wonders? - and he just attacked Demyx, and yet he's apologising for hurting him? The fact that he thinks he could is funny enough already, but this idiot's priorities are what really makes him laugh. ]

Don't say such things. You aren't an idiot. And I'm not hurt.

[ But is that true, he wonders. His heart feels like it's being stabbed, tight and mournful in the wake of what he'd seen. He wants to do something, but what can be done about this strange situation that the both of them know so little about. That's the harm with being taken as they had, often times you're alone even if you have someone who wants to help you.

The least he can do is heal the wound, so he lifts a hand to his mouth and nicks his thumb with a sharp eye-tooth until hot scarlet blood spills over his hand. Then, he presses it to the wound on Demyx's neck, and holds it there for a few seconds until withdrawing and inspecting the fully healed wound. ]

If you say so, man.....

[He can't really imagine that's wholly true, somehow. A vampire still has a heart, right? Just..... not a soul, if he remembers what Lestat said right? And Darkness is dangerous to anyone who has a heart, no matter how powerful. Or..... are vampires creatures of Darkness to begin with, instead of just creatures of the night? It seems doubtful, with how Lestat had recoiled in disgust, but it's probably still possible.

The whole idiot thing, though--that isn't even worth consideration. Of course he is. Even if everyone didn't say so, if he wasn't, wouldn't he understand more about..... well, everything? What he is, what they're working towards, the whole ridiculous situation he's found himself in?

As much as Lestat's questioning how anything about his body works, Demyx finds himself doing much the same. He tilts his head as he watches, eyeing Lestat as he works.]

I thought vampires didn't have blood? That's why you guys need other people's, right?

[Did. Did you think it just goes straight through the stomach lining to reach their veins, Demyx? Really?]

[ Lestat waits for the blood to work, then nods his satisfaction and retreats. His thumb has also fully healed, the skin almost resetting as though nothing had ever happened. Despite the fact that Lestat is no longer all up in Demyx's space, he finds it's difficult to fully retract his contact. Where they sit, Lestat's outer thigh is pressed to Demyx's, and when he inhales he can still smell the taste of his skin and the scent of his momentary arousal lingering in the air. It's a heady and intoxicating combination of experiences, and one Lestat can't resist the urge to bask in for just a little longer. ]

Don't have--?

[ He quirks his eyebrow, then his sullen expression breaks into a helpless laugh. ]

Of course we have blood. I am undead, yes, but despite what I can no longer do, I can still cry, bleed, sweat. I still have a pulse, which is more than can be said for you, mon ami.

[ He levels a look at Demyx, studying him again for a moment or two. It's still mind-boggling that he's so vibrant, seemingly without any of that powerful emotion Lestat adores. ]

I do not know why we drink blood, only that we have since the first of our kind. We are blessed with our powers in return for taking human life.

[If nothing else, Demyx doesn't seem inclined to shrink away from Lestat's touch anymore? The worst already seems to have happened, after all--and even that wasn't bad at all, was it? It was actually..... surprisingly nice, somehow? As long as he doesn't seriously piss the guy off, it's looking less and less likely that he'll be mauled.

Demyx laughs sheepishly instead, raising a hand to rub the back of his neck. Ask stupid questions, win stupid prizes, huh? Look, he's not from Halloweentown, or a necromancer, or whatever! This is all new territory for him. He can't reasonably be expected to know about undead biology, right? .....Right?]

I guess you're right..... Hahaha, maybe I'm actually even deader than you. Who'd ever think? Weird.

[And yet, Hades most decidedly is not the boss of him, hah. (Even if that actually might be preferable.) Demyx reaches for one of the fish on a stick abandoned by the fire; after a brush with death like this, he deserves a second helping. And whoever's dinner he's stealing, they deserve it too, for ditching him like this instead of hanging together as a group.]

Sounds like a fairy curse, if you ask me. What can't you do anymore, anyway?

[ At that comment, Lestat gives him a different kind of look, one that says You might be onto something there. Even though Lestat talks a big game with all his fancy words, he is no genius and is nowhere near so set in his ways that he can't appreciate a good theory even if he has no way of moulding it into something that can be easily explained. Louis was always so much better at theorising than him. ]

A fairy curse? [ He quirks his eyebrow again, a bemused smile lingering at his lips. ] The little creatures in storybooks for children? You do say some strange things.

[ Vampires, totally normal. But fairies? Get outta here. ]

As for what I cannot do, let me think.. [ He taps a finger to his mouth, stretching out his legs as if getting comfortable for a long story. ] I cannot eat human food. It tastes awful and bland and makes me feel ill. I cannot go out in the day time, the light from the sun burns my skin. I cannot have sex in the mortal manner any more. I can't ever age, die of natural causes, or change the way I look. If I cut my hair, it will be the same again after I wake the next night. The same with my nails; you know, they were a little too long when I died, and now I file them every night before I go out? It was maddening at first, now it's something like muscle memory.

[Did he actually say something right for a change? Now there's a shocker. Maybe he's got a point, after all; it had certainly felt as though he'd died, at the time. Or at least..... the part of him that had made him truly him had.]

What? Fairies are bad news, man. You don't want to mess with that. Giving people power at a terrible price sounds like exactly the sort of thing Maleficent would do..... or Ursula, I guess? She's not a fairy, though.....

Whatever. Anyway, even if it wasn't, it still kinda sounds like you guys got ripped off.

[Kind of like how he did, to be honest. Controlling the Darkness has tempted plenty of mortals. Losing your heart is certainly an effective way of ensuring that power is at your fingertips, but in exchange.....]

I suppose we did. There are plenty of upsides to the Dark Gift -- our preternatural senses, our mind abilities, the ability to fly or cast fire with just our thoughts... the ability to see beauty in the mundane, in things we previously had no time for.. But its downsides are just as numerous. You won't find a single vampire who doesn't crave the human existence like a wound in their side.

[ Lestat's mouth twists like he's trying to keep a laugh bottled up. This is the first time he's ever divulged what he is to a human and had a negative reaction to it, and it's as bemusing as it is strange. Normally mortals are begging to be turned; he can think of at least two he's witnessed himself even if he didn't do the turning. ]

I don't know these names, but I suppose you're right. The fairies in Shakespeare are all quite tricky. La Belle Dame Sans Merci springs to mind more than all.

[ But then he looks at Demyx and leans in, almost conspiratorially. ]

Do you mean to tell me you know of fairies personally?

Sounds great..... except for the part where you lose all the other stuff that made you happy before you got the cool powers, y'know? It'd take a pretty miserable life not to miss what you can't have anymore.

[Everyone thinks they can have their cake and eat it, too, don't they? But seeing the beauty in the mundane probably makes them realize the beauty in everything they gave up. Flying probably makes them realize they'll never be able to watch the sunrise from those dizzying heights. Those potent senses and mind reading powers probably reminds them that they'll never taste food the way it's meant to be tasted again, never share a lover's touch again. Food and sex are awesome.

It's not hard to imagine that longing, that craving Lestat describes--he feels it himself every day, after all. As much as he knows he'd have been thrilled by the magic he has now as a human, none of it was worth losing his heart. Not even close.]

Oh! Uh, Ursula is a sea witch. She grants wishes for a steep price, but you're pretty screwed if you can't pay up when she comes to collect. She's not too much to worry about, as long as you don't sign any fishy contracts. Maleficent, though..... she's a Dark fairy queen. I've never actually met her, but we keep tabs on her, just in case. I don't know why the other guys aren't scared of her.

[Is he babbling? He kind of feels like he's babbling. But just recognizing the influence over him doesn't mean he can stop. If anything, he looks about as intimidated now just thinking about her as he had when the sheer force of Lestat's presence had been bearing down on him.]

I mean, come on! The Darkness doesn't even seem to touch her. She can control basically everything about it without any ill effect, even lesser Nobodies and Heartless--I heard she even commands demons and hellfire, and her curses are basically unbreakable unless you're playing by her rules. She's destroyed hundreds of worlds. She even totally reshaped one just to suit her. The Keybearer managed to like Capital K Kill her, somehow, and you know what it took for her to come back? A few people remembering her. That's it! How isn't that terrifying?

[ Lestat listens as attentively as he can, but it's very difficult to be an engaged and responsive conversation partner when you are distracted so thoroughly by your companion's ability to just... speak, to ramble, to let everything he's feeling out to the point where Lestat wonders if there's really any need to try and get into his mind and fish out the finer details. Thinking of it brings him back to what he'd seen when he'd bitten Demyx, the torment and the heart-wrenching scene of something precious to him being stolen.

Demyx is right, it is impressively like his own situation in some ways, but he can't help but wonder if it isn't reversible for him. A vampire can never be reborn as a human - to his knowledge - but someone without a heart can surely regain it through the right set of circumstances, right? Is it foolish to have hope that such a thing might be possible? Is it strange that Lestat feels strangely protective of the idea, this dream?

He tilts his head in consideration at what he caught of the description of this dark fairy queen, and makes a soft sound of thought. ]

I can see why you might feel that way, it's quite an impressive roster of achievements, but I don't make a habit of feeling fear very often. I should like to meet her some day.

[He would probably laugh it off, if Lestat brought the thought up. They've been working towards the idea for a decade now, after all--and to what end? Now that Roxas and Xion are with them, it should in theory be possible. But it hasn't happened yet, has it? If Kingdom Hearts is completed now, then what are they even waiting for? Why haven't they already started executing the finale of this grand master plan Xemnas is so enamored by?

He bets Xemnas doesn't even know how to do what he's been planning for so long, or just doesn't want to admit that it didn't work when he tried. Lestat may have hope for him, but he doesn't--wouldn't even if he was capable of it, in fact. It's one of the few things he doesn't so readily prattle on about, in fact; nobody expects a guy like him to be cynical, do they? It just doesn't fit his image. Besides, more importantly, he doesn't want to harsh anyone's vibe. Just because he could make it rain doesn't mean he wants to rain on people's parades!]

I don't know..... You probably don't if you want your world to stay intact. There's no way you'd be able to miss her if you ever do meet her, though. Green skin, yellow eyes, black robes, horns.....

[She doesn't exactly sound like the little fairies in children's stories, does she? Swirls of smoky darkness curl around his hands, and Demyx's sitar materializes. For a moment, the air feels heavy and humid around them as he starts strumming, the tune soft and menacing. The drops hanging in the air gather to give shape to a water clone; soon enough, Maleficent's figure is looming over them where they sit, regal and imposing, sceptre in hand and raven perched on her shoulder. She (it?) smiles down at Lestat, sinister and smugly superior.]

[ Lestat listens to the warning with a slightly tilted head, caught in consideration for a long, long moment while Demyx continues to speak. She certainly doesn't sound like a typical fairy - green skin, whoever heard of a fairy with green skin? - but the description of her prowess and the fact that whole worlds aren't safe with her around... It reminds him all too much of Akasha, and with a slight uptake in his pulse due to either fear or exhilaration or both, he wonders what kind of presence she might command.

He doesn't have to wonder for much longer, as soon enough Demyx is conjuring up an instrument Lestat doesn't recognise and begins plucking some foreboding sound from it, producing an image of her lit faintly by the light of their fire.

Lestat raises to his feet as though in a trance, his eyes wide and drinking in her horrifying beauty and wicked smile. She's much taller than even his impressive height, and he finds it entirely impossible to even consider looking away.

He understands that this is magic, some sort of apparition from Demyx's power, but even so he still reaches out a reverent hand to touch her. ]

[Enchanting, isn't she? And this figure he's called forth with his song is merely a pale shadow of her beauty, of the sheer, overwhelming power of her presence. A fairy queen is beyond such things as good and evil, as awe-inspiring and implacable as a force of nature; she even seems to be beyond such a simple dichotomy as life and death. He can't help but wonder what Maleficent would think of meeting a vampire like Lestat, another creature who transcends death. Would they be peers? Would she find him a worthy servant, like Pete? (How the hell did a guy like Pete ever manage to keep company with Maleficent, of all people, anyway?) Would he be a rival to be crushed?

The figure inclines her head graciously and extends a hand to Lestat in return, a queen ready to receive her due devotion. A rippling cascade of notes, and water bubbles around Lestat's feet, glistening tendrils shaping themselves into a facsimile of thorned vines to climb and twine around him. Were they actually Maleficent's, perhaps he might be ensnared and rooted in place, plunged into a cursed magical slumber from the very first prick. She had reshaped the whole of Hollow Bastion with them, after all, hadn't she?

But Demyx's imitations have always been fragile, as easily dispersed as they are created. Lestat hardly needs to move to shake off the vines' cool embrace; even Maleficent's figure would disintegrate after being dealt a few blows, no matter how imposing she may look.]

[ He takes her hand, lifts it to his mouth to kiss the back of it, and the chill of the water seems to make sense - how could such a foreboding and powerful otherworldly creature be anything but cold as the grave, as marble?

This interaction, perhaps more than anything else, makes it all too clear how easily swept up Lestat's soul can be by the might of a powerful being, by a creature that commands respect, by someone looking at him like they know what kind of things he is capable of and not being afraid of it.

Akasha had stolen him away at night, kept him as her own, her prince, made of him her accomplice in the ending of his world and the rebirth of her own. She might have been successful too, if Lestat had stayed caught up in her thrall. How lucky he is that it dissipated when it did, that her disdain for innocent life bucked so violently against his own desperation to make something good of his evil existence.

It's that thought that has him staggering backwards suddenly, the vines he hadn't even noticed splashing around his feet, his hand lashing out as if intending to push her away from him, or push himself away from her-- but she falls in a cascade of water around his feet, and Lestat stares at the place she had been with a strange amount of sadness considering he always knew she wasn't real. ]

[It's a good question, isn't it? Would her touch be as cold and inhuman it seems it should be? Passionate and alive as the blazing hellfire she commands? Tingling and otherworldly like the strange green lightning that so often accompanies her power? He's never approached her closely enough to find out, and with any luck, he never will. Where Lestat is enthralled, he's more liable to simply cower--not unlike he had in the face of Lestat's superior vampiric might. Someone who carries themselves with such utter confidence, like they have the entire world at their command..... odds are good they have the strength to back up their bravado. Far smarter to retreat before they ensnare you, if there's any opportunity. Better a living coward than a cocky corpse who gambled with their life and lost, yeah?]

.....Uh. Are you okay, dude? You seem kinda..... y'know.

[Out of it? Weird? Off? Freaking out? ~~Tripping balls?~~ Lestat is clearly having some kind of Capital-M-Moment over this little puppet of his, at any rate. Maleficent's figure dissolves into a floating music note, then breaks apart entirely under the force of his shove. The music stops abruptly, leaving the puddles to lay where they fall; the idea that he should probably be concerned about Lestat feels kind of..... backwards, to be honest? But to be fair, it is kiiiiiind of his fault, too. Sort of. Maybe.

Too bad he's no more sure about what he did wrong than how to help fix it. Nobody could possibly mistake a water clone for the real thing, right? So what's even the problem? Lestat has no possible reason to be upset over just a little visual aid. They may as well have been listening to a CD while playing pretend with dolls, for Light's sake.]

[ He thinks of the sight of the Queen falling to dust, her head severed, her thick blood running out across the marble floor. He thinks about the look in her eyes when she'd approached him with the intent to kill him for disobeying her. He thinks about the taste of her blood on his tongue, the fact that he could taste the undeniable proof that she thought he could be useful, that she had in her hands the purpose that he'd always been looking for... that she loved him.

Looking at the pools of water, it's very difficult to mistake them for blood, and so he slips easily from his reverie and back to the present. Back to this strange world that neither of them can call home, and back to the fire that forces them to be honest. ]

... It brought back.. memories. Of a time when I met the Goddess of the Vampires, the Queen of the Damned.

[ He doesn't think he has it in him to say her name, so instead he takes a step back and then another, until he can sit himself back down beside Demyx and push out a long, hollow exhalation from lungs that no longer need breath. ]

I didn't expect it to feel that way. For my heart to... ache, this much.

catch all open post

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the gifs you posted... i'm dead

:3c

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I couldn't resist >.> /dumps a bucket of Disney over his head

what a wonderful phrase....

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