Rogue and Legend || rooftop-walker & gorgeous-fiend
Since the purges shortly before the turn of the century, New Orleans had been widely considered to be occupied territory. It was because of this that Lestat enjoyed relative peace and quiet, free of meddlesome rogues. Of course, every once in a while some ignorant fledgling vampire would wander too far into his city, make some sort of commotion, but no matter. Lestat always took care of them promptly, whether to chase them out or deliver a swift death; it always depended on how irritating they were.
Tonight was one such night that he could feel the presence of an unfamiliar vampire. It was that dull and muted pricking sensation at the back of his head that always came with indirect contact with others of his kind. This was the third night in a row he could feel this particular presence. Too long to be just passing through. He considered letting the creature be for now, to wait and see what he chose to do, but tonight they felt closer than they had previously. Whoever they were seemed to hover a safe-distance around his flat, curious. Did they have a death wish? When Lestat decided he could no longer ignore this being, he flicked off the television with a dramatic sigh and grabbed his coat before stepping outside.
He walked out into the middle of the street calmly, hands shoved in his pockets. Stopping abruptly, he looked around him, up on the rooftops of the buildings, and down either end of the boulevard, unsurprised that he could not see anybody. With his mind, he broadcasted a signal. “Show yourself, rogue. What do you mean by coming here?”
