#vilentines

[tueurloup]

@vilentines ❦ cont'd.

with gabrielle having joined their little ragtag coven on the road, lestat's teetering journey to fame across the not - so - great country felt at least somewhat stabilized by a mother's presence ; someone who, on some level, understood just how deeply the music they composed rang in his damned soul – a support to rest on, should his boundless emotions, or rivaling locals, or even daniel's relentless questionings actually manage to run him weary when he was not reclaiming his rightful spot onstage. over two and a half centuries of age, & beneath all that bravado & glamour, they remain in their heart of hearts, a child from auvergne in need of his mother – every bit as beautiful in her cold & brutal nature as she'd been when last they'd crossed paths.

           ❝        hundreds,      ❞        answers lestat, raising gabrielle's hand high to spin her ‘round with grace.            ❝        some with lyrics, some without. most of them scrapped. none of them quite stage ready. you will know them when you hear them, love. and there will be hundreds more, i’m sure. you were, after all, my first muse.      ❞       

[tinyleavesdream]

Oh man, I forgot to post this one! These two were baking together all through the valentines event. It was so cute!!

[lorelodged]

[immobiliter-a]

       It was not her most glamorous of disguises: a standard, if nicely fitted black top and pants that marked her out as one of the production team on this documentary. Someone who could anonymously walk around both venue and tour bus as a ghost, granted access where groupies or other mere fans of her target would be stopped by security personnel. Attach a microphone here, lug camera equipment there, relay messages between director and producer... it was a dull job but it was the only way she could get close enough to this particular vampire to go for the kill.

       As for the how? Villanelle was still working on that. The Talamasca had advised that this was not a job where she could enact a swift end and be out with her pay check in a matter of hours. Naturally, she disliked that a great deal— however, if she successfully pulled this one off ( which she would ), then the rewards would fund for her a lifestyle of the true elite. Nice clothes, a luxurious apartment — perhaps in the Caribbean this time: it was all within her grasp.

       The main obstacle she'd identified so far was Lestat's mother. Everywhere Villanelle went, even as the unassuming mid-western runner called Amy, Gabrielle seemed to be there, loitering or watching or simply willing to make conversation. It was a test of her ability to stay in character, though so far she could safely say that her performance had been flawless. “ I keep mistaking you for the man himself. ” She let out a soft laugh, picking up a stack of files from a nearby desk. “ How did the interview with Daniel go? ”

@vilentines

[sanguisprince]

Lestat felt empty and numb, like everything that made him what he was had been drained away and only a shell was left. An echo of a man, who had burned alongside Nicki. That poker through his chest, Armand's immense strength, keeping him there and burning him alive. Lestat felt like perhaps he'd burned, too. Why hadn't he? He could have laid down alongside him, held him, sacrificed himself to the fiery end with the man he loved. But he hadn't. He had just watched as the flames lapped at Nicki and scorched and burned and the smell overwhelmed him and he was brought back to the tower and Magnus' self immolation. Strange that he should lose Nicki the same way.

He watched and did not look away and he felt nothing, not really. He should have felt horror, grief, something... anything. And then he felt a hand on his arm, and he tore his gaze away, as the outline of Nicki's body collapsed into ash, and there was Gabrielle. She looked almost sad. His unshakable maman. And then she was speaking, though he could not hear, and she was leading him away and he frantically shook his head, tried to turn back to the fireplace, but she stopped him, and he allowed it. He had no strength to fight. It was all gone, just like Nicki. And so he followed her, to the room where they stored their coffins and she was still speaking but he only caught fragments of it.

It was like someone had stuffed cotton in his ears. Something about sleeping, together. His body moved like it knew what to do, stepping into her coffin. Laying down. Her on top of him, as he clutched at her smaller body, like she too might be lost. And she closed the lid and the darkness surrounded them both as she tried to soothe him and he gazed at the inside of the lid until the deathsleep took him. His dreams were full of wolves and fire. The witch's place and the tower and now Nicki, burning, pleading for help. All his fault. He woke, gasping and crying out, reaching in the darkness for nothing.

starter for @vilentines (Gabrielle)