#rs ;; a drop of blood & now you’re taken for all time { louis&lestat }

[odysseusnostos]

@philtatoshetairos || cont. 

“Oh, no, no, I...” Louis looked at him surprised. Fuck. He hadn’t noticed the edge on his words until he’d said it out loud. At least Lestat seemed to have taken it lightly. “I don’t want you to miss class just because of... Well. Me.” His cheeks turned almost pink. Louis didn’t want to give himself more importance than he actually had, if he even had any.

“You better not be in trouble,” he said with a little smile, before sliding down and facing his... Friend. “I have one later, after lunch.” In all honesty, he didn’t want to leave that bed anytime soon, lest the moment faded taking their friendship with it. “I was hoping you’d join me?”

[odysseusnostos]

read between the lines ; l&l

@philtatoshetairos || continued from x & x 

The loud sound of the door closing made him jump and he ran to it, determined to lock it, and never allow Lestat to come back. He was going nowhere, this was his own house, damn it! He could burn it down if he so wished, and with him inside! No one comes in or goes out. The vampire would have to be the one to sleep out in the sun, who would care? No mortal would notice! None of the vampires existed, for all the world knew. 

Louis rushed headed to Lestat’s room and kicked the doors open, took his coffin with some difficulty and threw it out, across the parlor, the bottom splitting in two and the lid flying against the wall. There, his sinful body would turn into a crisp under the sun and it’d be quieter, yes, that was what he needed, some peace and silence without the vampire screeching into his ear. Absolute silence for all eternity. 

But it only lasted a moment, and then he could hear the murmur of some passers-by, and through the window he could see some heads popping out the balconies across the street. He kicked the coffin and noticed scattered around him what once was a ceramic vase. He crumbled there. A broken vampire among broken things. 

Was absolute silence what he truly desired? All he could hear were the muffled whispers of the people outside. That would be the only thing accompanying him through eternity, endless whispers of suspicion behind his back, endless black nights of solitude and hunger without a single understanding soul. Paul crossed his mind briefly, as he did sometimes, and Louis couldn’t help but to wonder if this was what he had felt when his own brother turned his back on him, laughing and diminishing what he thought was true. 

And Louis had done it again. He pushed Lestat out. Louis really doubted the outcome would be the same, but it would have the same effect on him. He’d be left alone.  

His hands went to cover his mouth to contain a scream of terror, but no sound ever came out. It only felt as if wound had suddenly grown in his throat and leaving him unable to speak. His fingers then clung to his chest. He had finally tired Lestat. So many times he had wanted to leave him, and now that there was a chance, he was paralyzed. It all felt unreal, as if it had been some kind of illusion, but the pain he felt in his fingertips and in his heart were undeniably authentic. 

Louis had to find him. He had to find Lestat. No, he said he’d come back. He unlocked the door and went back to sit on his chair, eyeing the mess he’d left. What a fool. There was not much he could do now, and so he took a book and read. 

[odysseusnostos]

@philtatoshetairos 

His hand moved across the piano mimicking the movements he’d seen, his fingers softly brushing against the white ivory keys without pressing. Music was something Claudia and Lestat shared, while Louis was always comfortable being part of the audience. He enjoyed listening and praising the little vampire’s quick learning and, from time to time, he even praised her tutor as well. During his mortal days, his sister would be learning music while he attended matters of Pointe du Lac, and he was quite content merely listening from another room or during social gatherings, but he had never tried it himself. 

Louis had no such interest, but ever since his partner taught Claudia a new melody, he had been unable get to rid of it, and had found himself replaying the melody in his mind at the most inconvenient times. He knew, however, if he played a single note, Lestat would materialize in front of him and would be as annoying as the song had become. Or perhaps he wouldn’t acknowledge it. Or even worse, he’d become jealous of him taking upon an activity that was his and Claudia’s. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be worse than daily life with him. 

And so he began playing. Quietly, clumsily, and not sure of what to do with his feet and the pedals. The melody was infantile and the voice and meaning of the song fit Claudia perfectly, but that Louis wouldn’t do. He refused to sing. 

[odysseusnostos]

✧ (from one pretty vamp to another bc we wanna see this mess of emotions)

SEND ME A ✧ AND I’LL BOLD ALL THAT APPLY TO YOUR MUSE.

italics: ¿¿¿¿ / bold: ???? / strk: ?!?!??!?!

I would kill you. ✧ I would physically hurt you. ✧ I would attack you unprovoked. ✧ I would manipulate you. ✧ I dislike you. ✧ You annoy me. ✧ You scare me. ✧ You intimidate me. ✧ I hope I intimidate you. ✧ I pity you. ✧ You disgust me. ✧ I hate you. ✧ I’m indifferent toward you. ✧ I’d like to get to know you better. ✧   I’d like to spend more time with you. ✧ I’d like to be friends with you. ✧  I’m unsure what to think of you. ✧ I’m unsure how I feel about you. ✧ You are my friend. ✧ You are my best friend. ✧ You are my mentor. ✧ I look up to you. ✧ I respect you. ✧ You are my hero. ✧ You inspire me. ✧ You are my enemy. ✧ You make me happy. ✧ I want to protect you. ✧ I would fight by your side. ✧ I consider you an equal. ✧ I think you are beneath me. ✧ I think you are above me. ✧ I would lie for you. ✧ I would lie to you. ✧ I would sleep with you. ✧ I would sleep by your side. ✧ I would hug you. ✧ I would kiss you. ✧ You are family to me. ✧ I would die for you. ✧ I would kill for you (???????). ✧ I would trust you with my life. ✧ I would trust you with my most precious belonging (except pointe du lac). ✧ I would trust you with a secret. ✧ I would trust you with my biggest / darkest secret. ✧ I love you (platonically). ✧ I love you (romantically).

[odysseusnostos]

❝ You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you have never had the courage to commit. ❞ //swamp jesus couldn't resist it

‘the picture of dorian gray’ sentence starters

“The courage!” he repeated, loud and unbelieving. Whether the vampire had calculated his words, or if they had just been spat out without a single thought -- which wouldn’t be at all surprising --, that had to be the wisest thing Lestat had ever said, even if half of it was merely part of his fantasies. “You have to be the only creature who takes pride in such a thing!” 

Louis stormed out of the room and into the parlor, not really trying to escape because he knew Lestat would soon be shadowing him like some cat chasing a mouse. Everywhere he looked, Louis saw this man’s words reflected, as if each sin had been written in blood on every surface of the house. Lestat was pride itself wearing those expensive garments and carrying himself in his god-like manner, in his own greed the vampire had bound him to a life of murderous gluttony, and the Chinese vases Louis smacked off the shelf only to turn them into a hundred little pieces were merely an example of all the luxury that surrounded them. All that was vain and meaningless had Lestat’s name branded on it. 

Even the sins of the flesh. All those moments where loneliness became a weakness with which he had trusted Lestat in intimacy were now used against him. Nothing was sacred to him, not a single thing!

“You know damn well why I stay with you and fondness has nothing to do with it, sir, I hate you!” he yelled, walking towards a window as if a thought of jumping through it had crossed his mind. It was mutual dependency what had kept them together, but Louis had enough of it. He had satisfied every whim of his maker, and he was receiving nothing but mistreatments in return. "All I wanted were some answers but you are unable to deliver. You used to stir my imagination. Now you don’t even stir my curiosity.” 

[odysseusnostos]

Jouska (@ louis, from the hottest vamp to ever walk the earth)

obscure feelings drabble prompt meme ;; accepting forever

Jouska: n. a hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head—a crisp analysis, a cathartic dialogue, a devastating comeback—which serves as a kind of psychological batting cage where you can connect more deeply with people than in the small ball of everyday life, which is a frustratingly cautious game of change-up pitches, sacrifice bunts, and intentional walks.

The sun was setting and Louis could smell the rain drops wetting the Parisian streets, even from inside his coffin. He had been awake for hours, interrupted by the muffled sound coming from a piano being played in the rooms next to his. It had been happening around the same time for several evenings, and it was making him miserable, as if a ghost haunted him and him alone by playing the same infernal melody every single night. But it wasn’t just a random ghost tormenting him. Louis had faced many of those already and they were just voices in his head. Except for one, that had been living beside him for the last few decades. Someone that, like many others, had died by his hand, and whose name hadn’t been spoken out loud in years.  

Lestat. 

His mind wandered off as if he had gotten out of his coffin without even opening it, and as if his soul had escaped him and had rushed out the door and to the neighbor’s room to find his dear ghost, his maker, his mentor, his lover, playing the piano just as he did in the house they shared in New Orleans. 

Louis slouched on a chair with a book he had read many times before, his eyes scanning the pages, word by word and line after line, but his attention was somewhere else. On the other side of the room, the curtains danced around Lestat as his pale white hands played the music that would torment Louis for the years to come. He stared at the other vampire every once in a while, for short periods of time, dreading. Claudia was planning to get rid of him and he didn’t know when or how. But Louis had another idea. 

“Claudia and I will leave,” he blurted out, his eyes staring at Lestat against his own will. Louis would rather be looking at the ceiling, or the book he was holding, but he couldn’t, and all he could see were those grey eyes behind the piano. Even though the melody faltered for the briefest of moments, Lestat recovered and kept playing, throwing only a glance and a smirk at Louis the coward. 

“Ran out of rats already?” the blond vampire teased, and even though his body looked poised from where Louis was staring, the music became more energetic. Angrier. He proceeded to ask questions without leaving time to answer them, and Louis grew more and more impatient. He shouldn’t have said a thing, he should’ve listened to Claudia, but he had to let him know. Lestat deserved at least that.

Claudia must have heard the music from her own crib, and she either had the similarly horrendous thoughts, or she simply found it annoying, for he heard when her little steps faded in the hallway before the music stopped abruptly, followed by a deaf smack against the floor that was drowned by the loud, pouring rain outside. That was the last time Louis heard music coming from the neighbor’s room. Claudia never spoke about it and he never cared to ask.

[odysseusnostos]

philtatoshetairos‌: 

There was a subtle shift in the air, the ruffling of fabric, a coiled tension threatening to break out. Lestat’s eyes were fixed on the wall opposite to the couch, but he could see the shadow of Louis’ arm against the light of the oil lamps, still as a statue in midair. He recognized the intent in the gesture and waited for it to lower, but the touch never came. A pity, as he had hoped that the earlier desperation in the pleas for him to stay would have kept Louis more affable for the rest of the night.

Lestat closed his eyes, swallowing down whatever complaints he might have about it – if he mentioned that he had seen the aborted movement, his companion wouldn’t ever try it again. With that in mind, he focused on the foreign passage, only random words making sense for their likeness to French and what little Creole Spanish he had picked up at the taverns and high society balls.

He had studied a bit in the hopes that he could further connect with Louis, wondering if things could be better if they communicated in another language, but he hadn’t dared to say anything yet. It could be taken as mockery or he could say something foolish and give Louis yet another reason to consider him uneducated. Easier to keep it to himself with the other secrets he had to hold inside, another notch in a long line of feelings that he wished he could pour out of his heart, if only he knew that someone was willing to drink it in.

One thing, however, couldn’t go without comment.

“Reading about love?” He questioned as he raised his head again, luminous eyes intent on Louis’ face. It couldn’t be a coincidence that the word was showing up again on the same night, after years of skirting around it. He wondered how often Louis tried to make sense of what he was feeling with written words rather than allowing himself to act on it. Lestat couldn’t comprehend why anyone would look into books for something that could be found in real life, but in the end he didn’t have the answers the other was looking for anyway. “What does it mean?” He asked softly, in genuine curiosity for more than just the translation of the passage.

Silence fell strange and heavy around them, stranger after their quarrel, and heavier still than in his moment of solitude. Louis’ lips parted slightly, but no words interrupted the quietness, and he found himself merely staring at Lestat, spellbound by the expression of innocent curiosity and almost angelic tenderness that suddenly brightened his face.

A sensation not unlike vertigo seemed to make his insides swirl, and in his weariness, his imagination drifted and he fancied their roles were reversed. Louis became the maker and mentor with all the knowledge, and Lestat the student in search of answers. One look into his iridescent eyes and whatever secrets Louis kept would flow from him unrestrained. If it was a sign of weakness of will, or strength of heart, he wasn’t in the right mind to decide.

“Love seems to be contradicting in its demands,” he answered with some amusement. It had been foolish to think Lestat, despite his lack of education, wouldn’t be able to understand a language so closely related to their French, especially when the lines possibly implied the slightest affection for his person. “And the poet fears such love might end abruptly. And painfully.”

It was as if Louis had fallen into his own trap, one that he had unawarely set. But perhaps he wanted Lestat to understand, even if it meant discovering this was just another game for him and all he had said and done were part of an act.

His gaze fell to where Lestat’s hands rested, and a fleeting thought reminded him of all the times Louis had let his need for affection overpower him, as if each caress was a petal being pulled off a flower.

“Do you think it possible?” He asked after a beat, as softly as he managed, trying not to let his own suspicions tint what should be a simple question. “To love until you simply don’t?”

read between the lines ; l&l