perfectdevil | catch all open post

[ 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.

You met a goddess? It sounds like you two were..... close?

[That's..... kind of impressive, actually. In his admittedly limited experience, the gods tend to be dicks, to be honest. They're hardly ever interested in mortals unless it directly involves their own self-interest, or they could use them as pawns in whatever divine game of chess they're playing with each other..... Yes, he's looking at you, Hades. He's probably also considered the ruler of the damned, and when has he ever inspired that kind of devotion?

He can't imagine anyone staring at Hades with the same sort of mournful yearning Lestat had stared at the water with. What kind of person was this goddess-queen? And what had happened to her, to make Lestat so sad? Is an entity like that really able to die? Have an awkward arm pat, Lestat; even if he did have a heart, he probably still wouldn't be sure how to be comforting, here. This is waaaaay above his paygrade. ~~Read as: he doesn't get paid at all. Help.~~ Hell, it probably still would be even if he was allowed to spout some falsely comforting nonsense.]

[ Lestat can't help but let out a snort at Demyx's comment, but also at his own ridiculous behaviour; he's acting like some pitiful and heartbroken fool in front of him, and isn't that just embarrassing? He isn't even certain how he feels about her in retrospect, given everything that happened to him when he was at her side, and yet here he is looking miserable at being reminded of her?

What happened to the unflappable Vampire Lestat - the one who had lured Demyx into a sense of security so perfect that he could feed from him, the one handsome and confident enough to be an appealing consort to that Goddess in the first place?

We were lovers, is what he means to say, but what comes out is: ] She stole me away in the middle of the night to be her Prince in a new world of her own making.

[ He can feel himself saying the wrong thing, but somehow he can't stop; all he can do is inhale the scent of the fire. Cursed thing. He groans as though frustrated with himself, running a hand back and through his hair. ]

She is gone now, either way. No use mourning what is no more.

Uh.....

[~~Bro, what the fuck.~~ That. That's just called kidnapping, Lestat. Kidnapping and Stockholm Syndrome. It doesn't matter what kind of crazy romantic promises she made you to try and keep you complacent, Demyx is pretty sure that's just straight up a hostage situation. He's gonna go out on a limb here and say Lestat definitely isn't okay? Yikes.

At least it explains how weirdly compelled Lestat seems by the idea of Maleficent, someone on nearly the same level, able to all but make a world of her own. Were he a year or two older, Demyx might even actually be able to sympathize, to a degree--when Xehanort puts his final plan into motion, and revives him to become one of his vessels in his bid to remake the multiverse to his own liking..... Well, it isn't as though he'll exactly be able to say no, when the time comes. But that's a lifetime away, and hardly so romanticized as it sounds like Lestat's gilded cage must have been.

He may feel compelled to tell the truth, but that doesn't mean he can't tactfully keep his mouth shut so he doesn't cram his foot in there. Even he can manage a little restraint, sometimes. But what else can you even say about something like that? "Sorry for your loss"? He's really not, though. If anything, that was probably a lucky break for Lestat. "Bummer, dude"? Tell Lestat something he doesn't already know. How much worse would this be if he could actually feel how awkward it is?]

I..... guess not? You'll always have the memories, though.

[Unless Lestat's world has a Naminé equivalent of their own, of course. Then it's probably possible to break that chain, for better or worse. Whether those memories are actually worth having or not, though, that's on Lestat to decide.]

[ Lestat's sigh is a weirdly forced sounding thing, as though he's forcing all bad energy from his body with such an exhalation. Demyx isn't wrong in his first impression, that it's kidnapping and that Lestat is deluding himself if he tries to say that his position at Akasha's side was anything other than a power play on her part as she'd used him to connect to the modern world. He's sure he loved her once, but that love soon turned to revulsion as he realised she was everything he was so deathly afraid of becoming.

The last shred of goodness in him had sung out like a dying star, and for his troubles all he got was her looking at him with disappointment and fury, ready to destroy him just for denying her what she decided was rightfully hers.

But admitting to all that makes him a victim, doesn't it? And a victim is the last thing Lestat will ever allow himself to be. He settles on the log a little more, his eyes pinched and focusing in on the fire. He deliberates his answer for a long while, and then the fire seems to pick it for him. ]

Yes, mon ami, her memory will always haunt me.

Edited 2023-10-18 19:04 (UTC)

[Silence is fine, if Lestat needs it after his little..... episode. Remembering all that has obviously shaken him up; they don't have to talk, if he's not up for it. But Demyx's fingers do move in the space left by Lestat's musing, improvising a meandering melody that builds on itself as it goes. Gotta do something with himself while the guy has his war flashbacks, huh?

In the end, he only really has one piece of advice to give. How's he coped with his own situation? ~~Denial. It's not just a river in Egypt!~~]

Yeah, I bet. But hey, hakuna matata, right? She's gone, now; try not to let her get to you too much.

[ Lestat listens to the melody and lets it take him away from here for a moment, to let Demyx's words sink in and to follow the instruction wilfully. As if it's that easy.

Yes, she is gone, and yes Lestat no longer has to worry about the haunted Queen scooping him out of his resting place and spiriting him away to some unknown location to trick him into committing genocide at her side. But she is still with him every day; her blood has changed him so much that sometimes he doesn't recognise himself, and that is something he can't simply forget about.

Akasha had been the first of their kind, the Queen of their race, and her closed mind and cold heart is all that awaits those of his kind who live to reach her age. His soft and diffused beauty will one day fade into something hardened and sharpened by time, and his mind will lose its wonder to the ennui of immortality. It's inevitable, it's inescapable, it's--

Lestat pauses, opening eyes he doesn't remember closing, and frowning slightly. He turns that frown on Demyx. ]

Haku-- What? What did you just say?

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waterintowhine - 2023-11-04 23:04 (UTC) - Expand

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perfectdevil - 2023-11-05 12:34 (UTC) - Expand

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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