semi- hiatus @angelic-vittorio - Tumblr Blog

fr. “Selected Poems” by Carol Ann Duffy

#;; let's talk about fight // let's talk about misery ( mastema )#;; look in the past // tell me what you stare ( ramiel )#;; sin after sin // damage is done ( setheus )#;; find inner peace // and to repent ( queue )

shadows-from-the-north

#;; i will decide // who can come in ( queue )

izzy:

[txt; vittorio] I like the idea of cuddling with you. I don’t care about the movie. When should I come over?

[txt;; izzy ] I couldn’t ask for better. Come over as soon as you’d like. The blanket is washed and soft.

#c; spent all night just tryna' get closer // that was june and now it's october ( izzy )#au; hey look ma // i made it ( college )

lestat:

“Hard to tell if you mean to insult me or simply state a fact. I would rather believe the latter, since the other option would have to be accounted for.” He let the appreciation in his eyes subdue slightly, expression hardening. Very easy to do so with his ancient blood, his face as blank as a white mask.

“But you’re not wrong, I really am both blinding and loud, or so I’ve been told by anyone who has spent more than five minutes in my company.” Yes, he chose to continue being flamboyant and dramatic, unable to accept the fate of becoming still as a statue. Lestat de Lioncourt wouldn’t lose himself to be the Sacred Core, he made sure of that.

“Ah, you have your own memoir!” He let out when the stranger mentioned his name, delighted by the discovery. “I’ve thought yours could be one of the fake ones. There are plenty of those and it was odd to me that you hadn’t shown yourself to us before.” Lestat wanted to know more, yet the offhand comment about his lack of company made him purse his lips. “I’m not a prisoner of my own court, I can do whatever I damn well please,” he replied a bit hastily.

This one was pretty, that much was true, but he also seemed to be quite smart, which could be a dangerous combination. “Oh, I do not mean to argue, please. I welcome the chance to talk to someone that has kept to himself for this long. Perhaps I do need a chaperone, if you’d give me the honor.”

Vittorio could shrug, leave the other to guess his intention with the comment. Does not matter now, as Lestat’s continuing to prove those words. Hard for the elder to see if the Prince really was just-- an idiot. A narcissist even. Even saying that all in all, Vittorio was right about how he came off to people around him. The hardened expression did not a thing to sway his original thoughts.

How unnerving it was that Lestat’s attention was easily enough drawn back to his memoir. Ah, so people have read his story. Even the grand one himself. Was this ease he was feeling? Or was it that this author was actually unsettled further by the note. Shake of his dull locks in response. No, he was real. Those were the hard facts he typed out himself. Still nothing bright when compared to those original tales of the Articulate. Ah, yes. He had kept himself hidden from sight. Plenty of reasons but he chooses to settle with--

“I feel uneasy in large company. I’d hate to be another immovable in this crowd.” His tone is not unkind. He’s still testing the waters in which he is allowed to speak and how much. But with Lestat’s ever changing mood in just these few minutes... He’s going to have a hell of a time trying to figure him out. However it was Louis and the others had kept hold of this wild creature, he will never know. Other than their known stress and gray hairs from this devil.

A curious smile to his own lips. This Prince really was a brat. Well. Something Vittorio can at least lead off of. His figure relaxes, and there is a lazy nod to his head. He is willing to accept this invitation, “Of course. I’ll be your chaperone on this night. You just lead the way.”

#c;; winter was the coldest // you know you still important ( lestat )#thr; dressed in designer clothes // for crying out loud ( lestat )#v;; frail state of mind ( pl )#you're trying to make him behave and tori is testing his limits

hildegardavon

Paolo De Matteis, 1662-1728

The education of Love [Venus], n/d, oil on canvas, 180x122

Private Collection

#; heard you preaching // the gospel you held ( art )

grandrieux

Absences répétées (Guy Gilles, 1972)

#; don't hold your breath // the bottom's all i've found ( musings )

kuutamosonaatti

Nicolas Régnier: Saint Sebastian tended by the Holy Irene and her Servant, 1626-1630 (details)

#; heard you preaching // the gospel you held ( art )

freshsl

die-rosastrasse

Charles Amable Lenoir

French, 1860-1926

‘The Flute Player’ | ‘Love’s Whisper’ | ‘Meditation’

#; heard you preaching // the gospel you held ( art )

memoryslandscape-deactivated202

“You’re wearing your armor to protect your heart. / Who could blame you? / It only makes sense in a world like this one.”

— Frank LaRue Owen, from “All Around You Now,” The Temple of Warm Harmony (Homebound Publications, 2019)

#; spinning a web // with your fantasies ( self )#c;; winter was the coldest // you know you still important ( lestat )

artist-angelico

St. Peter Martyr, 1440, Fra Angelico

Medium: panel,tempera

relatablepoetryandquotes

“Sometimes people put up walls, not only to keep people out, but also to see who cares enough to tear them down.” - Leisa Rayven, Bad Romeo

#; jesus save us // modernity has failed us ( thoughts )

philtatoshetairosx

continued for @angelic-vittorio from here

It should have been cause for embarrassment that he wasn’t talking to any vampire in particular, but merely chatting out loud with the Core residing within him. Lestat didn’t realize that there was another being watching him closely enough to reply to his question and once he laid eyes upon the newcomer he stopped in the stairs. What fine dark hair…

How odd it was that there were still older vampires he didn’t know, immortals who had lived for centuries and somehow managed to avoid his presence in the past few decades of worldly adventures. This one looked young in appearance, perhaps just as young as the cherubic Armand, but he was also certainly just as old in the Blood.

Lestat’s eyes glinted under the light of the chandeliers as he walked the few steps down to meet the stranger. “I may be at disadvantage here, however. You could think me evil and I wouldn’t correct you on it, as my name is famous throughout our kind, but I do not know who you are.” A slow smile blooming on his face. “If you would care to introduce yourself, I’d be delighted to make your acquaintance.”

angelic-vittorio

“Your face and your words. One is blinding, the other is loud.” He is aware of the sizing up, yes he was. Clothes were neat, his hair was left with it’s flyaway and randomly spread curled tight locks. Nothing too terribly special-- as he was told earlier by his personal birds of prey. Be aware, Lestat. For he is watching you just as closely. Taking in these full details of delicate crystalline hair, faceted eyes refusing to show age. God had built this one well. Dammit.

The physical look over is nothing. It’s his mind that he’s keeping locked up tight. Every step down and Vittorio feels as if his stomach will concave. Shoulders fall, but his back straightens. Not too much taller than Armand either. Angelic appearances. How different they were from the widely known cherub.

“Vittorio.” That beautiful Italian accent. His pride in it. Much as he did not want to share it with this jester of a man. Brows knit together, gaze still stuck fast on the Prince. That smile had killed people. Well, not literally. But pretty damn close.

Eyes up to the chandeliers. Far too bright. Just like Lestat. Back to that smile, “You seem... Out of place, here without your Court. Did you tire of the company? You hardly are, pardon me, the type to leave without a chaperone.”

#c;; winter was the coldest // you know you still important ( lestat )#philtatoshetairos #oof finally #tori is trying to be stronger