#thechildeath

[evilanew]

Big eyes and cheeks puffed in a little pout before brightening with an idea. Just cause Daddy Lou was still sad over his Momma didn't mean they couldn't go out. "What 'bout City Lights. Heard it still playin' at the theatre. Chaplin's a real stitch."

@thechildeath

ㅤㅤTeeth graze against his lower lip to scantly hinder the emergence of a smile,  admonishing  animated eyes widening in feigned warning as a finger is brought up to Lestat’s lips, gesturing for the youngling to quieten with an inquisitive cant of the head, concentration veering ceilingwards with a faint tremble of the light fixture - Louis may be upstairs pacing and busying himself with the search of paperwork required for the notary, posturing nonchalance that saw him rapidly sifting between rooms with a confident gait, but the Maker knew deep down that the little confrontation at the wake had somewhat rattled him, the trio’s appearance and swift departure sending tongues wagging. A morose atmosphere was commencing to descend upon the household  (  intangible, mais évident  ),  and while Lestat and Claudia both experienced an odd detachment that made it difficult to fully reconcile with the sensation, the blond was mindful of it regardless of a supposed carefree attitude, brow lightly knit as the steps overhead grew heavier and steadfast.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“ Cheri, it would be deemed insensitive if we were to depart during his hour of need. ”  The clock strikes nine and lips purse, violet eyes following the tremors of movement, thoughts concernedly meandering to unfortunately let slip:  “ Besides, I have already seen it— ”  The words fall from him altogether far too readily, any sense of discretion faltering as features instantaneously fall and perk up in rapid succession of realisation, a spark of guilt present upon a visage that’s far too expressive for its own good. A pause with a tension about the jaw, line of vision lowers towards  accusatory  inquisitive eyes.  “ With a friend, ”  Lestat clarifies, the slow breath drawn out towards the end indicative of an acknowledgement of his own fumble, shoulders shifting as spine readjusts within the seat  (  ce n’est pas un sujet à aborder ce soir  ).  Palms clasped upon the Maker’s lap, an interlocking thumb presses down a little too hard against a rounded knuckle, a faint pop ringing out before the grasp is promptly prised apart, a hand decidedly patting the armrest while arising from the seat.

ㅤㅤ“ Get your coat—  Not the red one. ”  Striding across to find a loose sheet of paper near the chessboard with its paused game and the notes Lestat had been keeping, ink meets with the page while idly muttering aloud.  “ I plan to include red in my ensemble. I do not wish for us to clash. ”  The note is slipped into the hardcover currently being read by Louis, the wearisome book whose subject and long-winded prose were enough to bore the blond to tears, setting it upon the other’s favoured reading chair.

On revient bientôt, MC. Bisous.

[evilanew]

ㅤㅤ“ Le résultat d’une élevage timide. Le résultat de compromis… ”

[evilanew]

"You were right 'bout others of our kind. Doesn't mean I regret leavin'. Doesn't mean I regret killin' you."

@thechildeath

ㅤㅤCeci, encore une fois—  A frustrated pocket of breath is relinquished from the back of the throat, the tattered bundle of pages hurled onto the coffee table for the umpteenth time, the force of the spine hitting the surface sending a sonorous crack through the dimly lit space. Subdued growl bitten back, crimson droplets seep into the edges, a stained patch upon fair veneer avariciously clinging to porous layers, venomous anecdotes emblazoned at the back of the mind developing a richer hue in petulant contrition. Irritated and conflicted, distant laughter and cruel words spark at an ear, the flicker of lamplight indicating an additional presence, the artifice of a new beginning commencing to fracture, stripped back like peeling varnish in the Louisiana sun. The blond’s temperament akin to a coiled spring with no outlet beyond a descending weight  (  ‘ une enclume attachée aux chevilles, plongeant vers le fond de l’océan— ’  ),  long strides traverse the threshold in a feigned attempt of creating distance, the stylish decors of proud walls growing as cold as textured Lutetian limestone.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“ Regret— ”  The Maker chokes on the word with a quiver of his features, lips retracting as if burned by the brightest of flames, unsettled countenance contending with emotions so readily present on the surface in their extreme splendor  (  il est inutile de cacher ses sentiments  ).  Taking in a deep breath, Lestat gathers from the very depths of his resolve, a hardening about a pointed iridescent gaze giving way to abruptly snap back.  “ It is the foundation of our kind’s very being. ”  Voice elevated in anguish, the only response is the resonance of his own words ricocheting through the rooms, its sole company one that he’d grown accustomed to over the decades, footsteps of passersby in the street below highlighting a world that continued to revolve regardless of such torments the vampire may encounter. A flash of yellow lingering within the periphery of red dappled lashes, an echo of imagery is illuminated by footlights, rivulets trickling from open wounds pooling onto creaking stage floorboards, the musty scent of powdered wigs hanging over him like a foreboding curse—

ㅤㅤLestat winces a touch, printed chapters in all their inadequacies conflating to coax at burgeoning recollection, searing at nerves that had once settled, fingertips brushing over his forehead to prise aureate tresses that had spilled forth, as if the very nature of the distracted gesture would be capable of pushing the thoughts aside. Violet line of vision lowering to a chessboard and its displaced pieces across black and white squares, it trails across to the empty spot opposing the table, index finger lowering to poise upon his queen.  “ If you lack regret, you lack a soul. ”  The piece is promptly toppled over and subsequently followed by the king, the Maker having lost his appetite to finish the game  (  il en a assez  ),  the semblance of a sneer encroaching upon his visage.  “ But what else can be expected of one of my blood. ”

[evilanew]

Claudia, in a dramatic sigh fit for the daughter of a thespian, plopped to the ground. "I can't go on walkin' no more. You'll have't go on without me." - claudia in the early days

@lorelodge

ㅤㅤQu’est-ce qui ne va pas?  The Maker and fledgling are already several paces ahead when the sudden flop comes around, the former still in mid stride as the group’s adjoined gait grinds to a halt, traces of impatience impinging upon features as line of vision darts skywards - a veil of clouds masks the expanse of the sky, but there are streaks commencing to form that are indicative of sun-up in a few hours, a brief glance at a timepiece confirming as such, a factor that isn’t so much of a problem if their little troupe could move along in a timely fashion  (  ce serait plus facile s'ils pouvaient tous voler...  ).  Lestat takes a few steps back and peers at the youngling, the presence of such theatrics befitting of the grand stage of Nouveau-Théâtre in Paris, the irony not lost on him as arms fold with a supposed air of indifference.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“ Mm, I propose a solution. ”  The blond’s approach is slow and carefree despite the poise of a steadfast frame, a faint breeze creating a gentle sway about freshly trimmed tresses, words imparted with an interwoven cadence of humour.  “ It is a lost cause, of course. We shall have to leave her here for the sun to despatch with her— ”  The faint outline of an elbow makes contact against Lestat’s arm, a quiet groan ensuing with hands flung up in mock surrender.  “ Assez. You have the blood of two men coursing through you, ma petite. How can you be this lethargic? Hup— ”  Palms grapple with a purposefully limp body, nigh strong-arming the child to be raised onto her feet, awkwardly manoeuvring into giving her a subsequent piggyback. A few paces are taken before a comment is aimed back towards the precious load, mindful of where her visage is currently precariously nestled.  “ Let this be a warning: you bite me, I drop you. Do we have an understanding? ”

[solilacquist]

take care.

@thechildeath

the room still hums with it. a trembling in the bones of the parisian apartment, as if the act itself has left a residue in the air. louis feels it in his teeth, in the back of his throat. in the slow, sick churn of something that isn't hunger and not quite revulsion either. madeleine stands near the doorway. doesn’t fidget. barely breathes. she simply is, in that new, terrible way. too still, too present, her gaze fixed on him with an intensity that feels like a hand pressed flat against his chest. her eyes are bright, unblinking. alive in a way that feels wrong. no–

alive in a way that feels like his. his fledgling.

the feeling comes unbidden, frantic, scraping against the inside of his ribcage. he needs to get it out. the blood. his blood, now in her, and hers running through him like a constant echo that won't settle. ringing around his skull, this room. the church. lestat de lion-fucking-court crumpled and radiant all at once, something feral and exultant and wounded in the same breath as he collapsed back onto the altar floor. louis hadn’t understood it then. now he understands too much. the bond is… obscene in its immediacy, its intimacy. a tether pulled tight between him and madeleine. like a second pulse layered over his own. like a feeling that isn't his but refuses to be separated.

he doesn’t want this. he doesn’t want any of this. did it for her regardless, like a towering debt that could only ever be settled in blood.

she, who stands a few paces away, small and terrible and resolute. his claudia. unchanged in form, unchanged in that defiant set of her shoulders. but there's distance there now. a space that didn’t used to exist. it stretches between them, quiet and undeniable. he had called her daughter once. sister, too. a companionship born of his desperate necessity, forced and sharpened into love. a love that is worn down, frayed at the edges, like fabric handled too roughly for too long.

he searches himself for the grief he knows should be waiting. for the devastation, the tearing, the impossible weight of this moment. of losing her, truly losing her, not in anger or distance, but in finality. it doesn’t come. not the way it should. the bond thrums again, low and insistent, and louis almost recoils from it, his jaw tightening as if he can grit his way out of the sensation. it bleeds into everything. he looks back at claudia. guilt lands where grief cannot.

he thinks, dimly, that he should cross the distance between them. that he should take claudia’s hands, her face, something. that he should mark this moment in a way that means something. he doesn’t move. his body is occupied entirely. shared. he thinks he says something about them being even now. she may or may not agree. the end of it all arrives without ceremony. no flourish to it. no dramatics. she’s there, and then she isn’t. 

and he does not care.

he needs to get it out. his world narrows to the sick, overwhelming certainty of it. the blood, the bond, this thing lodged inside him. out. out out out–

[evilanew]

Claudia has hidden one of Lestat's slippers. Just the one. Why? Good question. Unfortunately, she has already forgotten his misdeed.

@thechildeath

ㅤㅤOn some nights, it turns into a game, one imbued with knowing grins and playfully confrontational gazes, an undertow of laughter filtering through the space as downy feathers drift in the air from the impact of pillows being hurled at one another—  But then there are occasions such as this where the accursed child maintains a cold air of indifferent innocence, the Maker’s confused mien irrevocably hardening with each passing minute, unlikely crevices he finds himself grasping and fumbling into met with emptiness or alternative footwear  (  il a trouvé des chaussures de bon goût qu’il n’avait pas vues depuis l’été dernier  ).  Lestat had been firm with her earlier that evening, the request to hunt alone denied despite an influx of new labourers in the Quarter ripe for the picking, the elder wanting to spend some time surveilling to learn the ins and outs of their employer and place of business, a minor tactful delay before they could ascertain who was safe to indiscriminately snap up.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“ Claudia… ”  Weary yet emphatic voice carrying through the townhouse, the blond stands upright with a huff after a palm withdraws from under the couch  (  rien, encore une fois  ),  incensed line of vision darting around the room in a fit of paranoia regarding his surroundings, agitated fingertips pushing back a few straggling tresses behind an ear - the fair strands had escaped from the binding of a hair tie, the hold increasingly loosening with the ongoing effort over the course of an hour, silk pyjamas creasing with each awkward pose of the form. Retracing his steps through the rooms once more, a hand clutches onto the other black slipper by his side as if it was a lifeline, thumb brushing over the decorative tassels, the risk of setting it down for it to simply disappear as well suddenly far too great. Lestat can’t sleep without the complete pair and he isn’t overly keen on the paltry substitute of socks, a distinctly irate demeanour commencing to filter about his countenance, one which heightens in correlation with the abundant fatigue setting in while nearing his time of rest.

ㅤㅤ“ Alright, petit lutin. I have had my fill of these games. ”  Form blocking the entrance of her coffinroom, arms sullenly fold before the Maker as he leans into the wooden frame, a visage of thunder nigh permeating the very air.  “ Where is it? ”

[evilanew]

👫 - claudia & lestat

@lorelodge [ ℒ ]

He’d caught her wearing his rings from time-to-time, but they awkwardly looked like overly large fidget toys as opposed to wearable jewellery, considering his fingers are very broad compared to hers. When noticing how she would prefer a few in particular, he got them resized to fit her.

Before the atmosphere in Rue Royale soured, he’d spend a lot of time teaching her the piano, favouring duets for them to play together. The development of her skill over the years mirrored the state of her independence, and he switched to primarily recommending and guiding her to play solo pieces.

The necklace given to her on her first birthday in their household belonged to Gabrielle. While the chain was readjusted for Claudia’s smaller neckline, there was no way for him to have the gem or its encasing altered too. Apart from telling her it was a cherished heirloom, he never outright told her who it belonged to barring the mention of a “marquis”, elements of his background having been kept from the family due to a need to maintain some distance from it.

The nights in which he taught her how to hunt were strangely the proudest and most fulfilling experiences he'd had in a very long time, and possibly at that stage of his vampirism - the way she took to it so seamlessly was seen as a reflection of his parenthood, something that he had been tussling with following her being first turned. This marked the start of him accepting her in their household, as well as their respective roles in the family.

[sanguisprince]

💞

Send 💞 for me to describe 5 ways my muse says ‘I love you’ to yours.

Lestat isn't opposed to just saying "I love you" directly but I do think he's more likely to say "Daddy Lou and I love you" or "of course we love you" than a one on one super serious declaration, not because he doesn't mean it but because it's less intense if it's a shared sentiment, and he doesn't need to think too hard about his own personal feelings. However, here are five other ways he says it:

1. He learns what she likes, engages with her in things she likes to do, learns about her passions and her hobbies, encourages them and fosters them. It's nice when it's things they both enjoy but Lestat would take part in things just for her sake, to make her happy. He's done this since day one, despite his wariness about what might come of her turning. Lestat never had a sister and has had very limited exposure to teenage girls but he actively wants to be part of her life. He teaches her chess and piano and French and whatever else she wanted.

2. One of Lestat's love languages is gift giving and Claudia is no different. Whatever she wants, she gets. He spoils her from the very start. Whether it's clothing or trinkets or books, he loves to shower her with gifts.

3. It may seem a little trivial but Lestat is an old white guy and had no idea how to do Claudia's hair. He could have washed his hands of it and let Louis deal with it, or have her taken to a salon, but he learned (probably from Louis) how to help her with her hair when she wanted braids or whatever else. He learns how to best meet her needs, instead of expecting someone else to do it.

4. Lestat encouraged her to learn. Louis knew how to read and did so better than Lestat, who by this point is also doing fine with most books, but probably isn't the best teacher. Assuming Claudia didn't have a formal education, he (and Louis) made sure she could read and do math etc. This is something Lestat's parents never did for him and he didn't want that for her.

5. Taking her hunting and bonding with her as maker and fledgling, as mother and daughter father and daughter. He encouraged her to be the most true to herself and not to hate or regret her new nature. He fostered in her a very healthy self esteem, and worked very hard to make sure Louis didn't pass on any of his hang ups. He tried to set a good example and guide her through things, and it worked, in the beginning.

Lestat loved Claudia and I will fist fight God about it.