#foifolie

[leliowolfkiller]

foi-folie:

Lestat? 

'What have you been doing?'      ——It's much less a question than a demand. A demand of why have you not called, where have you been, why, why, why, why. As if Louis should read his mind, as if Louis should know that Lestat wants him just by the turn of the wind.

[everlastingporcelain]

(☉_☉)

Send (☉_☉) and my muse will have to explain why they have no clothes on.

”You see, Louis…”She said throwing her hair to cover her bosom and lightly moving to a side. ”New Orleans is very hot in this time of the year isn’t?”

[bloodanddye]

There had been a time, not very long ago, where acquiring just about anything was quite difficult simply because the shops were never open at night. The wide spread use of electric lighting helped things a little, allowing shops to stay open just a bit later, but after a long day of work most still wished to return their homes, with their families or their friends or simply in bed, once the sun had set. If they remained out, it was in bars and pubs and places of far lesser repute, which had never allowed the night be an obstacle.

It had been worse when she was young, as she was sure it had been for all vampires at one time or another. She had often awoken with hunger gnawing at her, almost immediately drawing her to feed. By the time she had her fill, even those shops which had remained open past the setting of the sun had closed.

But this was the 21st Century! Now, nearly anything that one could imagine could be purchased online. She had actually bought a custom made coffin, no questions asked, from a small company Louisiana when she had been living in New York. It was a truly wonderful thing. Even still, there would always be something that would draw her to the rare gem of a shop that remained open late into the night. The sort without neon lighting, that is.

Tonight, it was a small book store. Inside, the walls were lined from floor to ceiling with books. Old books, new books, books in every sort of language and on every sort of topic. They even had a section full of blank, beautiful journals, ready for the aspiring writer. At the end of each row of shelves were boxes filled with even more books. There were even books behind the counter, rare editions kept under glass. The place smelled of old paper, leather and ink, as well as people. Who could not love such a place?