#⁎﹝ ⁱᶜ ﹞ —— louis de pointe du lac.

[morbyds]

p.: you were unholy right from the start .   /   @sanguilt​ ᵇʸ   ˡᵒᵘⁱˢ  ᵈᵉ  ᵖᵒⁱⁿᵗᵉ  ᵈᵘ  ˡᵃᶜ

at first glance,    there was something beautiful in the religious guilt that weighed my louis’ shoulders,   in the shame that tinted so many layers of his damned existence.   yet somewhere inside,   i had quietly hoped that he would outgrow it,   that he would learn to see the beauty i see in the destructive nature of our condition.   if nothing else,   for i knew how that story went otherwise:   the flames calling his name as they once did my second creation.   i understood guilt only when i thought of nicki.   it was not the same.

“    oh,   louis,   you say it as if it's bad.    ”       i snarked with an arched brow and a preening grin,   analyzing every shift in his expression with feline attention.   unholy.   i liked the sound of that.        “    what a flimsy concept,   that is.   there is no such thing as holy.      ”       a chuckle followed my words and i leaned closer to share it in a secret.        “    they only mean to control you with the blame placed on your back for faults they all,   too,   possess.   how is that fair?   would you not say,   mon cher,   that it’s better to be honest than hypocritical?     ”

[morbyds]

c.    /   @enternecers​   ˡᵒᵘⁱˢ ᵈᵉ ᵖᵒⁱⁿᵗᵉ ᵈᵘ ˡᵃᶜ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵉʳᵃᵖʰⁱⁿᵃ ᵇʳⁱᵃʳ

age brought with it knowledge,   an awareness that no one young could ever share.   i had been roaming this earth for long enough to know that those with danger in their eyes are to be avoided.   those that don't question the violence in our nature.   if they don't kill you in their territorial rage,   they will eventually lead mortals to you which is just as dreadful to consider.   locked away in cell,   a vampire can't escape the sunlight and i would be a pile of ashes before afternoon struck,   for i didn't have the means lestat did to avoid its damage.   i had yet to meet one as powerful as my maker.

“    you're not from here,  are you?    ”       perhaps it was guilt,   perhaps i had grown careless in my grieving,   or i had been on my own for too long,   but i smiled at her anyway.   putting out the cigarette that only left a lingering bitterness on my tongue,   i gestured at her.        “    you have blood on your hair.    ”

[morbyds]

c.    /   @coeurz​​​​​​ ˡᵒᵘⁱˢ ᵈᵉ ᵖᵒⁱⁿᵗᵉ ᵈᵘ ˡᵃᶜ ᶠᵒʳ ˡᵉˢᵗᵃᵗ ᵈᵉ ˡⁱᵒⁿᶜᵒᵘʳᵗ

as i sat there,   a book in my hand and with my head bowed as i read,   i could feel his crystalline eyes boring holes into the side of my skull.   for a moment,   i grieved not being allowed to peek into his brain.   i wondered how i looked to him then.   painfully human,   hard cover clutched in hand,   without the energy and strength that he had solely because of our dietary differences.   i wondered if he regretted me,   and saw the positive side of our minds' connection being torn at once.

i barely realized i hadn't read a single sentence in its entirety in the last ten minutes though my eyes still grazed the lines swiftly,   only without absorbing its words.   a sigh escaped me then.   alright,   i'll bite.   i placed a bookmark on the page before closing it with a faint thud and finally met his gaze,   glaring back at him with patient curiosity instead of annoyance and anxiety,   though i felt both.        “    ‘something wrong,   lestat?    ”

[morbyds]

p.: i have seen death over and over and over and over again. it’s boring.   /   @coeurz​ ᵇʸ   ˡᵉˢᵗᵃᵗ   ᵈᵉ   ˡⁱᵒⁿᶜᵒᵘʳᵗ

despite my attempt to conceal it,   my shock was probably obvious to his ever attentive gaze.   i could not conceive the day i would ever call death boring,   for i never expected to be entertained by it.   that was the difference between him and i.   to him,   feeding was an art,   one of which he was a master and i,   his pupil.   my refusal to succumb to the evil nature of my new being was interpreted by him as a defect,   though he would not say it out loud nor could i read it in his thoughts,   i could see it clearly in his grey eyes whenever i returned from a “hunt” or he began one of his own.

“    then stop killing altogether. . .   how 'bout that?    ”       it was partially a joke.   i didn't expect him to change his mind when we had this conversation before,   yet i can't say that i wouldn't have liked it if he did listen.   i glanced back at my book,   hoping to get swallowed by the words so i could ignore the weight of the guilt i still carried for the desire i still felt.   the more we spoke of human blood,   the more my body was reminded of its undernourishment.        “    i personally don't wanna get to that point myself,   and i'll do my damned best not to.    ”

[morbyds]

p.:  stay with me!   /   @coeurz​​ ᵇʸ   ˡᵉˢᵗᵃᵗ   ᵈᵉ   ˡⁱᵒⁿᶜᵒᵘʳᵗ

there was so much i wanted to say,   dancing on the tip of my tongue,   begging to be unleashed with all the grievances i sat with alone at dawn.   i have given you too many chances.   i cannot live with your secrets anymore.   you have taken too much away from me.   but nothing came out.   not a single word made it past my lips.   i simply stared at the man i once trusted blindly enough to follow into eternity,   realizing i still clung to that feeling of refusing to see what was in front of me.   but not claudia.

no,   claudia had seen it clearly when i could not,   and that was why she left.   unlike me,   she knew that she deserved a better life than the one lestat offered us.   her search for meaning in the eternal curse the dark gift carries,   unlike mine,   was nuanced and detached.   she had never been under lestat's spell as i had.   as i still was.

so i swallowed around all the words that clogged my throat,   my expression blank as i felt the familiar numbness in the depths of my chest.   a black hole for all of the thoughts that haunted me,   one shaped like claudia.   i couldn't think of anything else.   and i knew that lestat didn't care.   not about me,   not about claudia.   his only resentment was that i had not been giving him enough attention.

it did not matter i was broken,   it didn't matter if she was lost or hurt either.   as if he expected me to wake up one night and feel whole again,   then got pettily disappointed when that wasn't the case.   he left me every night,   often slipping in at the crack of dawn without a single sound as if i couldn't hear his heartbeat from a mile away.   and now he asked me to stay.

the worst part was realizing that a part of me wanted to comply.   so i kept my mouth shut as i turned away and stepped out of the door.

[morbyds]

p.: you didn’t really think you were safe, did you?   /   @altarcup​ ᵇʸ   ᵃʳᵐᵃⁿᵈ

safe.   air escaped through my nose without my noticing,   and a strong bitterness lingered on my tongue.   i bit it down,   as i always seemed to,   and offered him a tight smile instead,   as if he of all people should know better than ask.    safety,   to me,   had never been more than a brutal illusion.   i hadn't been safe ever since lestat set his mind on me,   in an unpaved street in new orleans with my blade to my own brother's throat.   i could only ignore that for so long,   even as i gazed into such familiar eyes.   even if it felt like a fully different life.

“    no,   i didn’t. . .    ”       it was an admission of sorts.   the truth was i did not care anymore.   perhaps it was the fear of facing paul in the afterlife,   with the weight of the guilt my mother placed on my shoulders so many decades ago and which i took too gladly,   but i would not condemn myself.   perhaps,   though i would never admit it,   i was still searching for a loophole in the faith that stubbornly crept on me despite how many times it had failed me.        “    did you really think it would matter?    ”