SOMETHING DEAD THAT DOESN'T KNOW IT'S DEAD.
» THE CITY — INTRODUCTORY NOTES
Now that Halloween is just around the corner, the city is starting to come alive with seasonal cheer. You start to spot decorations scattered around the city: plastic skeletons sitting on benches, jack-o-lanterns decorating front stoops, and even a few places in the park near City Hall where the trees themselves have been decorated. It's clear that the autumn season is in full swing and the city is making the most of it.
From the morning of October 19, you also start to notice flyers hung up around the city that advertise the local university's homecoming Halloween party. They're cheerfully decorated much the same as the newsletter that was delivered to residents earlier in the month, and they're hung from light poles, pinned to bulletin boards, and occasionally fluttering on front stoops of apartment buildings. There might even be one taped to your door when you open it in the morning.
The flyer announces that the Halloween party will begin on October 22 and will run through October 31. It runs every night from sunset to midnight, and residents are encouraged to attend in costume! If they have their own costume, perhaps found at the Halloween Superstore, that's perfect—if they don't have a costume, though, one will be provided to them by the party organizers. Doesn't that just sound like fun? And the flyers really are everywhere, and that makes it hard not to take notice—but once you take notice, you really can't stop noticing.
Indeed, once you read one of the flyers, you just can't help but read the flyer every time you encounter another one. And every time you read one, you find yourself feeling a little more curious about the party being advertised. Will it be anything like the Halloween I know? you may think. Or, I don't even know what Halloween is, I wonder what it'll be like. It's not quite enough to compel you to pay a visit to the address on the flyer, which is one of the dorm buildings on the university campus, but it's definitely enough to get you thinking about Halloween. Maybe you ought to go find a costume…
But Halloween parties and costumes are not all you're thinking about. It's easy enough to write off at first, as tricks of the light or a figment of your imagination: flickers of shadow at the corner of your eye, cold spots in your apartment, creaking footsteps in your empty living room. There's nothing there when you turn your head to look, nothing there when you flick on the lightswitch to see if someone's in your house—but somehow, that doesn't reassure you.
By the evening of October 21, every resident in the city has been visited by some sort of entity haunting their house, and every resident of the city has been left a gift: a dorm room key, each differently numbered. You may find the key in your pocket, or on your bedside table, or in your favorite coffee mug.
Should you decide to attend the party, it will be up to you to decide: Is this just the City getting in the spirit of the season? Or is it something more… malevolent?
The flyers will be strewn about the city in various locations beginning on October 19. Characters who read them will find themselves feeling oddly compelled to go check out the advertised Halloween party, which will run from October 22 to October 31 between sunset and midnight. For the most part this will just feel like a sense of curiosity about the party, and astute characters may be able to pick up on the fact that they're being emotionally manipulated a bit.
Characters who choose to go can wear a costume of their choosing from the Halloween Superstore, or the City will provide one if they don't have a costume of their own yet. (Read on for more information about how characters can get their hands on a costume!)
Lastly, every character will find a dorm room key somewhere on their person before the party starts on October 22. This key may or may not correspond to a room in the dorm where the party is being held—of course, characters are not obligated to use the key, but they may want to know what's hiding behind those closed doors.
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ALL THESE GHOSTS COME STREAMING DOWN.
» THE CITY — GETTING THE PARTY STARTED
On the morning of October 22, every device in the city starts to buzz.
The screen illuminates, displaying a white page not unlike the orientation survey that welcomed you into the city. Unlike the orientation survey, though, there are no questions—only a single phrase in bold, dark text. THE GOOD OF THE MANY, it says, with a single "OK" button below.
For a minute, nothing else happens. You try to turn the device off, but the screen stays lit; you try to reboot the device, but the screen stays lit. It seems that the only way to get rid of the screen is to press the button.
…Have you done this before? Or are you having déjà vu?
At sunset that same day, the Halloween party will open for the first time. The party's entrance is located on the ground level of a large three-story dorm building in the western half of the university campus. The double doors into the building are fully decorated with folded-paper bats and ghosts, cotton batting pulled apart to make spiderwebs, and a cut-out sign that says "HAUNTED HOUSE" in bright red, dripping-blood letters. The decor looks almost… corny, hokey in a way that can't possibly be threatening. Right?
But the decorated double doors aren't the only way that residents may enter the party. Of course, the organizers would prefer that you use the front doors, but if you'd prefer not to, they have other ways of getting you inside.
After the party begins on October 22, any door in the city that you walk through has the potential to become a door into the first level of the dorm building. You may exit your apartment and find yourself standing in the darkened lobby; you may walk out of the bathroom and run right into a handful of cotton spiderwebbing. Unfortunately, there's nothing to indicate whether or not a door might lead to the party until you're through it—and once you're through it, there's no turning around. The only way out, as they say, is deeper in.
Were you wearing a costume in preparation for the party? Fantastic, you'll keep that costume on! But if you weren't wearing a costume, don't worry—the party's organizers have you covered. You look down and find that no matter what you were wearing before, you are now wearing a costume of some kind. Maybe it's one you would have chosen for yourself, or maybe it's totally not to your taste. If you truly hate it, you can try to take it off… although you may not find it easy to remove.
Once the party begins on October 22, as stated above, any door in the city has the potential to become a door that leads directly to the first level of the haunted house. Characters will not be able to tell by any means whether a door is pointed there or not; only once they're fully through the door will they realize that they're actually standing in the lobby of the decorated dorm building and not in whatever room they intended to enter. Once characters are inside, there's unfortunately no way to get out, not without making their way through the haunted house itself.
Whether a character enters the haunted house via the main double doors or through another door somewhere else in the city, they'll need to come in costume. (Their own canon clothes do not count!) If they're already wearing a costume, they can keep it on arrival; however, those who enter the haunted house costumeless will be assigned a costume at random by the city. The actual costume is up to the player's choice. It may end up being something that suits the character, or it may end up being something totally embarrassing—that's completely up to the player.
Regardless, characters will have a difficult (but not impossible) time removing the costume until they have exited the haunted house. This includes both physical difficulty (feeling as though the costume is fused to their skin, feeling physical resistance to undoing zippers/buttons, etc.) and mental difficulty (an overwhelming sense of dread or vulnerability). Characters are able to overcome both of these difficulties to remove the costume if they're dedicated enough; the clothes they were originally wearing may be still on under the costume or might be awaiting them at home when they return.
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THEY GO TO GROUND AND ROT.
» THE HAUNTED HOUSE — LEVEL 1
CONTENT WARNINGS: One image containing fake spiders, mention of spidery feelings; mention of zombies (but no images)
The ground floor of the dorm is decorated much how one might expect a haunted house at a university to be decorated. The entrance to the haunted house proper is through a tunnel of cotton spiderwebs filled with little plastic spiders, so narrow that it forces you to hunch down and squish together to get through. Although it feels claustrophobic, and you may imagine the sensation of little spider legs crawling over your body, once you make it through the tunnel it becomes clear that the spiders never actually moved. Whew!
The tunnel lets out into the first-floor dorm, a long (too long?) stretch of hallway with doors leading to rooms on either side. Some of the doors are closed and locked, but many are open, allowing you a glimpse as you pass. As you walk down the hallway, you make sure to peer into each of the rooms. Some of the doors lead to total blackness; others lead to rooms decorated like an elaborate Victorian haunted mansion, and yet others even lead to perfectly normal dorm rooms, like someone forgot to get around to decorating. And sometimes—not every time, but often enough—when you peer into one of the rooms, there's something peering back.
Most of the frights you get on the first floor come in the form of animatronics, realistic-looking ones that jump out at you as you pass and give you a fright. There's a man with a bloody knife, or a zombie with flesh hanging from its teeth, or a clown with sharp, venomous-looking fangs—they leap out of the doorways with a startling quickness, but never come close enough to touch. They just brandish their weapons, then retreat back into the room they came from as if satisfied with the scare they've given.
There are also a handful of real scare actors on the first floor as well, perhaps even some faces you recognize. They lurk in the darkened rooms and leap out with growls or shrieks, then chase you a few meters down the hall before leaving you to run away. Just like the animatronics, though, they never get close enough to touch or harm you—they just want to get your blood racing.
The rest of the scares come from paintings that abruptly change form to show a ghost's face, or candles that swoop down across your path and then move back up. And behind it all are the spooky sounds of groans and screams and tearful begging, a solemn soundtrack to your trip through the haunted house.
Oddly, you never do see a speaker. And even more oddly still, none of the rooms on the first floor match the number of the key you're holding…
The first level of the haunted house consists of fairly cheap scares, mostly relying on animatronics, voiceover tracks, and tricks of the light or optical illusions to deliver scares to the residents. Players should feel free to use their imaginations to come up with potential scares or animatronics—think something moderately more scary than Haunted Mansion but less than Halloween Horror Nights. The animatronics may feature enemies or monsters from characters' home worlds, or may be simply generic creatures you would find at a Halloween store.
In addition, the first level is also populated by characters working as scare actors. These characters may be those who attended Robby and Tsuruno's house party, or may simply be characters with a sense of humor who enjoy making other characters jump and shriek a little. Either way, these scares are harmless and non-contact. The scare actors won't harm anyone going through the haunted house, even if they do a little chasing down the hall.
Although the hallway looks oddly long and is perhaps a bit more winding than it ought to be, there doesn't seem to be anything particularly odd about the dorm building itself. Characters may, however, find that the trip through the haunted house feels shorter when they're accompanied by another.
For characters who don't wish to venture up the stairs to the second level, there is a well-hidden emergency exit tucked out of sight behind the staircase that leads upward. This is the opt-out for players who don't wish to engage with the events in the second and third levels of the dorm.
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WE WILL NOT REMAIN UNSCATHED.
» THE HAUNTED HOUSE — LEVEL 2
CONTENT WARNINGS: Generally spooky images including some ghostly ones; mention of hanging. Prompts include violence (such as mutilation) potentially leading to serious injury or death. As always, please warn appropriately!
It's once you reach the second level that you realize something has shifted.
The metal door at the end of the hallway swings shut behind you, and you immediately realize it's far too dark and far too cold. Even with your eyes wide, you can barely make out the shapes of the decorations around you; they are lit mostly by the flickering orange of electric candles and the glow of the emergency exit sign above your head. Your breath condenses into steam as you exhale, and although you rub your hands together, you can't quite seem to gain any warmth. You feel a little bit dizzy and off-kilter, and from the distance you can hear the sound of a voice murmuring in quiet, urgent tones, interrupted by brief bouts of sobbing. You try the door behind you, but it doesn't give: you are stuck here, and must make it out.
The hallway is decorated, but even the same decorations that felt corny downstairs now give this floor an air of discomfort and desperation. As you make your way down the hall, you notice that many more of the doors on this level are open, and in the sickly, dim light cast by the fake candles, you're able to catch glimpses of what's inside: shadowy figures moving in the blackness. These are creatures that seem made of the dark itself, congealed into something more or less resembling a person. There's one sitting at the desk like a good student, its too-long fingernails rasping over the surface as it scratches something into the wood. There's one sitting on the windowsill, its too-long limbs hanging out into the night. There's one hanging from the ceiling, its feet at eye level, swaying slightly in an unfelt breeze. There's one standing dead in the middle of the room and staring straight at you, its eyes two embers in its featureless head.
You lock eyes briefly and the creature starts to move: this ghost is coming after you, and this one means it. There's no animatronic rigging to stop it and pull it back into the darkness of the room, and it's no scare actor that will stop after a few meters of pursuit—no, its hands reach for you, for your hair, your throat, fingers clutching and grasping. You turn and run, but it pursues, and that voice you heard murmuring earlier is now a fever pitch of syllables behind you, half-whispered, half-screamed in a language you can't understand. The noise of it draws more ghosts out from their rooms, and they follow as you sprint down the too long, twisting length of the hallway. You can see the glow of the exit sign at the end lf the hallway, drawing closer as you madly dash for it—
And then you trip. Or maybe you're pushed, you're not sure. You hit the carpet hard and then the ghost is on you, its hands scrabbling at your throat, fingers prodding at your eyes. Of course you fight back—if you don't, you're going to die—but as you fumble blindly for something with which to beat the ghost off, you realize that this ghost has weight to it, that the fingers trying to tear out your throat aren't incorporeal and ghostly but rather the fingers of a pair of very human hands. As you blink, eyes straining in the darkness, the features of the ghost begin to resolve into those of a person.
And it is a person. It's a person you may even know, a friend of yours, a fellow resident of the City. Not a mannequin facsimile, but someone real, someone who fights you with everything in them as you struggle to break free.
Your grasping hand grips something firm, maybe a flashlight or a fire extinguisher, and you swing it as hard as you can at their head. You don't want to, this is your friend, but what choice do you have? After all—it's either them or you.
Once characters enter the second level of the haunted house, those attuned to energy flow will immediately be able to recognize this as a place full of negative ghostly energy. Characters may sneak extremely carefully and quietly through the hallways, avoiding every single ghost; they may be pursued by ghosts, but ultimately make it to the exit, beyond which the ghosts will not pursue; or they may be caught by a ghost (or "ghost") and be forced to fight for their lives.
Not all of the "ghosts" on the second level are truly ghosts. Players may opt to have their characters participate in the event as the considerably more deadly "scare actors" of the second level. Only they won't be acting: to these characters, anyone who passes by in the second-floor hallway (the "partygoer") is an absolute threat that must be dealt with immediately. Scare actor characters will be possessed by an irrepressible need to hunt down and attempt to injure or kill any partygoer or other scare actor they encounter, and can only be stopped by either death (of either the partygoer or the scare actor) or being knocked out and removed from the hallway.
These characters may also be those who attended Robby and Tsuruno's Halloween house party and ended up getting a little too in-character in a negative way (see their plotting post for more information). However, characters do not have to attend the house party in order to participate in this mechanic. Any character who enters the haunted house can become a second-floor ghost if the player so desires.
Either the scare actor or partygoer may be seriously injured or even die. If this happens to the partygoer, the haze of bloodlust will immediately lift from the scare actor and reveal to them what they've done. (If the scare actor is knocked out or dead, obviously this realization will take place after they've returned or regained consciousness.) Killing and death as a part of the October event is not subject to murder or death consequences.
If a character chooses to sneak through the second floor and avoid the ghosts, and does so by entering any of the decorated dorm rooms, they may find shorthand messages scratched into the desks, closets, or doors. These messages might just be names, familiar ones belonging to people from home, or might say things like HELP ME or ITERATION 4█ or LOOK BEHIND THE APOCALYPSES. Characters may also find small, non-magical, recognizable personal effects belonging to people from their home worlds, tucked into drawers or kicked under the bed or in some otherwise unobtrusive location, easily overlooked.
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WHEN YOU HAVE NOTHING TO SAY, SET SOMETHING ON FIRE.
» THE HAUNTED HOUSE — LEVEL 3 AND CONCLUSION
After the second level of the haunted house, the only way to go is up… assuming you survived, that is. Exhausted and battered, you make your way up the stairs—perhaps alone, perhaps with a friend, or perhaps dragging the unconscious body of your assailant-friend—and let yourself into the third-floor common area.
This is where the Halloween party is taking place! Congratulations, you made it! There's a bass-heavy soundtrack throbbing in the background, and the room is decorated once again in the cheesy Halloween decor of the entryway. A large casket full of ice holds beers and sodas, and a table in the middle of the room bears all sorts of spooky snacks: peeled-grape "eyeballs," candy corn "teeth," sour gummy worms in brownie dirt, and any other kind of snack one might imagine.
If you made it through the haunted house with a friend, you will find a letterman jacket in your favorite colors, with your name embroidered on the back, hanging on a peg on the far wall of the room. You can take it with you now, or when you go home, or you can leave it on the peg forever—it's your choice, but it is a symbol of having survived the haunted house, so it might be nice to have. Don't you think?
You may have to do this again, you realize. Now that the doors in the city occasionally open straight into the haunted house, there's no telling how many times you'll have to survive this before the Halloween party draws to its close. Maybe you do need a beer after all…
Oh, and you still don't know what dorm room that key goes to. Maybe you had better just hang onto it for now.
The topmost floor of the dorm building, the third floor, is where the "party" part of the Halloween party is taking place! The food and drink is abundant and, of course, free. There's just about any type of drink or Halloween-themed snack imaginable, so characters can help themselves. When they're through partying, there's an outside staircase that leads directly from the common room back down to ground level.
Characters who survive the haunted house in a group of two or more will find that that there is a custom-made letterman jacket with their name on the back, perfectly their size, hanging on a coat rack on the far side of the room. While wearing this jacket, characters will be less susceptible to the scares in the haunted house, and the ghosts of the second floor will not pursue them as intently (although it has no effect on scare actor characters). To any characters who are particularly sensitive to this sort of thing, the jackets do have a moderate protective effect against various negative status effects, so to speak; this effect does not diminish after the event is over. Characters can only get one jacket, their first time through the haunted house; subsequent trips through will not result in additional jackets.
The dorm room key is not a usable item during the October 2023 event, but will become usable in November and December, so characters are advised to not lose them.
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WILDCARD.
The city is by no means small, and there are plenty of things for you to see. There's no rush in exploring, so feel free to take your time looking around and peering into various nooks and crannies and alleyways—and don't worry, you're not very likely to find anything peering back.
If none of the above prompts appeal, feel free to check out the Locations and Maps pages and write your own freestyle prompt using one or many of the available locations.
This month's event headers come from "Landscape with Fruit Rot and Millipede," a poem by Richard Siken.
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citylogs2023-10-19 09:00 pm
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"Drink, my prince."
The swoon lingers in him still. Akasha's hand reaches to him and takes his wrist in her palm. She is the same size as him, no small woman, no tiny creature he can control; she is power and she is intention, she means to have what she wants and she will force any that refuse her to bend. Lestat adores the fire in her, is entranced by her gentle beauty and her smile, but his heart feels timid and bird-like in his chest. He's afraid of her, and for a man who doesn't allow himself to be afraid of anything, the realisation is like a lead weight in him.
He struggles against the memory, against her hold as she cradles his head and guides him to her throat.
"Drink, Lestat."
The voice is different now. Male, accent more rounded, softer spoken. Armand. Armand is here, so why can he only see her? Awareness comes back to him in slivers of recognition. He hears the plea in Armand's voice, he feels the pressure in his veins, blood being pulled from him by an insistent body and a wanting soul. This isn't Akasha forcing him to become enslaved to her, this is Armand wanting to share with Lestat something they'd never experienced together before, to bring them both closer in the blood; brothers in eternity, love in a fellow child of darkness.
He doesn't let her entrance him. He won't let her force his heart to speed, force his body to reject this offering, or cause another rift between himself and those who he loves. She'd preyed on his lonliness once before, but never again will Lestat allow himself to be the victim.
What's more, this is Armand, and despite his ire and their insistence to make the others life difficult, he loves him and he always will.
Lestat looks the vision of Akasha in the eye, and bids it a bitter farewell before he opens his mouth against Armand's throat and bites down. ]
no subject
The visions come unbidden as they always do and Armand tries not to fight it, tries not to flinch away. He knows that there's probably too much of him on show for Lestat - always the worry with this - but what's visible now, is love.
What else could be pulled from him in response to Lestat's fear and vulnerability? Wanting to gentle him as much as Armand does?
It's the mortal years in Daniel's arms, it's the fights but also the laughter, the safety, the understanding, the acceptance. Armand found a home in a boy, in flesh and blood and made him eternal and it's them both wound tight in one coffin, hunting together, training Daniel's mind, simple mortal intimacies and then this - the blood, the bite - sharing each other every night before Armand woke up in that accursed station.
It's everything Armand is now, but it's also his deep love for Lestat, his unflinching need to be at that concert, to be by his side no matter what happened, no matter how frightened he was or how protective he was of Daniel.
He shudders at being so bare, so open to Lestat's regard, but still he drinks, is consumed in return and lets the perfection of it sooth his frayed nerves and the deep wrought physical wounds marring his body. ]
no subject
Love in the arms of another. Safety in someone else for a creature often forced so brutally to be alone. The knowledge that you don't deserve such bliss, but digging your claws in regardless. The joy of sharing life with someone, of sharing the gift, of having a companion to wake up to.
The pain of waking up to find him not there.
Lestat can't imagine what kind of thing he might be were he stuck in this place alone, without Armand and without Louis to see him for who he is, to know him. He finally understands every outburst, every clumsy attempt at reconciliation, every sour look and every cold front he's experienced at Armand's hand. He didn't understand, how could he; and even now that he's seen and felt the gaping maw open in Armand's chest, he still doesn't have words to describe it that don't fall short.
Lestat falls, pushing Armand back into the bed with his weight, head tucked close to the flesh of his throat as still he swallows the ichor of life flooding through him and back out again. His hands brace his narrow little shoulders, bird boned, vicious like a jungle cat, delicate like porcelain, strong as marble. A wet tear dribbles off his nose and stains the sheets below them a pale red colour. ]
no subject
Armand finally pulls from the wound with a gasp, head falling back against the sheets as breaths heave through him. He's still cradled by the swoon, still hazy and shivering, staring at the ceiling above, unseeing, and clinging to Lestat's shoulders like he might be swept away.
His injuries are glossy with new skin, barely sealed and sensitive, but a miracle of the blood regardless. He lays there, let's Lestat drink, shudders through each draught and savours it - commits this embrace to memory for the days ahead and let's himself drift. ]
no subject
And then Armand draws back, the pressure shifting but not releasing entirely, but some clarity returning to him as his focus moves to the bite and away from being bitten.
How long he stays like that is anyone's guess; a few minutes, an hour, a day... Time slows to syrup as Lestat drinks in languid gulps, savouring the taste with every tense of his muscles, every pulse of Armand's heart against his body. When he finally draws back, it's only because he can't suffocate the urge to pet Armand's hair like he'd seen those pale mortal hands do, brush his curls from his forehead and cup his cheek with his larger hand, hold him. Just hold him.
He does exactly that, and brings their lips together in a bloodstained press of mouths, there and then gone, but full of meaning. Perhaps it's thanks, or perhaps it's simply because he wanted to do it. ]
no subject
Blood, there's blood still on both their tongues and Armand chases the presence, licking insistently into Lestat's mouth and kissing with a passion that twists warm through his limbs. Words are too clumsy, minds too vulnerable, but this? In the physical he can show himself, can kiss Lestat like he's always dreamed about - see? Steal the unnecessary breath from his lungs, cling to his broader frame, press up into his marble body and be held, be desired - just for even one moment more.
I want you, I never stopped, you will never be mine, but I can be yours for this moment, for a while longer, if I don't let you go.
It's desperate and crass and a great many things, but Armand is still raw to his bones in the wake of the swoon and for once, Lestat is here, he's still here. ]
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[ The sound falls from Lestat as Armand's open mouth presses to his, but instinct has him kissing back before surprise can take over and make him pull away; it's forced, a surprise, but it's not a bad thing. It's Armand, and with every pass of his blood stained tongue trailing across his lips and teeth he can feel how badly Armand wants him like this, how badly he covets this kind of intimacy, how truly heartbreakingly lonely he has been this whole time.
No wonder his face soured to see Lestat so close to Louis with seemingly no effort — Lestat had thought it was something to do with the strange dissolution of their relationship, but now he sees that rather than being envy over either of them, it was envy for the relationship itself, the joy of having someone close that he could call his own, having been so recently dragged away from his fledgling.
Armand's insistent hands on his shoulders and jaw make him shudder just to witness, feeling the need in him even without the rolling of Armand's spine up against him. He kisses back with matched fervour, pulling Armand's tongue into his mouth and sucking every trace of blood from its surface before starting up the same motion with his lips. ]
no subject
He's a mess of feelings, perhaps unrecognisable from the stone faced creature he so often presents as, but that hurt, lonely part of him doesn't care, intent on being soothed for as long as he's not shoved away. Lestat will no doubt be kind about it, sweet from the swoon, from the warm embrace of a willing body, but this moment isn't infinite - an anomaly in their timeline at best - and they will part and Armand will not know this again.
Or that's what his frenzied mind whispers, poisonous, vital, because Armand drowns everyone he touches - he knows no other way - and Lestat is so full of light... A light that shines so much brighter at Louis' side. Still though, he clings, kisses, feels tears touch his ruined cheeks again and imagines he can catch this moment up like lightning in a bottle, to keep for the months ahead. ]
no subject
Lestat gets a little lost in it, as is easy to do between creatures as strong as they are. He revels in Armand's memory of how warm Daniel's skin is, and slides his hands along Armand's arms to feel the contrasting chill of the older vampire, before he's pushing himself up a little so that his hands can stray toward Armand's shoulders and chest. The robe is quickly hassled out of the way so that Lestat can slide fingers along his collar bone, down his clavicle, along his ribs. Lestat feels out every inch as though he intends to commit him to memory like this, with touch alone... and all the while he continues to kiss him, never once drawing back for air or for pause. ]
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Being touched, being kissed, half naked under another immortal body, it's second nature to catch his tongue on Lestat's fangs, let the blood blossom between them and indulge the rush from the little tastes of it. He makes soft noises, gasps, all bubbling up from the press of Lestat's questing hands and doesn't protest for even a moment. ]
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He drags Armand's tongue into his mouth about the same time his hand finds one of his nipples, palm skidding over his hardened skin and down to the concave of his stomach, the lines of his ribs, pressing in, feeling the resistance, his body unchanged by his blood and--
His body unchanged. Armand still has a softness to him, still goes white when Lestat's fingers bear down, still feels like something that could have been human once, rather than something now made from stone... but how could that be? He'd shared Akasha's blood now, he should be changed in the same way he is, surely? ]
Armand.. [ Lestat manages, breathlessly against his lips, eyebrows tensing, reluctant to pull away but desperate to examine, to ask, to know. ]
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Still, Lestat hasn't pulled away, but that utterance had the sound of a question to it and there's still the heavy pressure of his large hands against Armand's skin, low on his belly, his side - what could be the matter? ]
What is it?
[ His voice sounds ragged, accent thick with the presence of tears, but he doesn't look upset, merely curious, wary - head tilted in question - trying to discern the reasoning and hitting just left of the mark. ]
You don't have to stop..
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I don't want to, but... Your body, do you feel..?
[ He draws off, his mind spinning between a tumult of raging thoughts; berating himself for stopping when Armand clearly needs this and so does he; wondering why Armand is letting him do this after everything he'd done; wondering why he wants to do this to Armand after everything he'd done; wondering what Armand is thinking about, feeling... wondering what, if anything, Armand feels in his extremities as Akasha's blood soaks in to his body through his bloodstream. ]
Tell me.. do you feel any different? I have to know, Armand. Please.
no subject
Physically he feels less fatigued, feels warm from passing blood back and forth - not the unnatural heat of feeding from a mortal - but warm nonetheless. Perhaps there is a strength there, but he is old already, tempered by his master, by centuries of mortal blood and without Akasha's influence, Lestat is his junior in the blood.
It takes a moment, but slowly, Armand shakes his head. ]
I feel... healed? More so than I could have been with mortal blood and rest, but no change. [ He purses his lips, considering ] It is perhaps as I had guessed...we are diminished here - without her, there is nothing in me that is not already tempered by time that your blood could alter..
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Overjoyed and unable to form a single thought to act upon, Lestat falls back into his earlier rhythm with a ferocious fervour. It's almost as if he's discovered he can move his body like this for the first time; experimenting how it feels to press against Armand, to touch the soft skin of his belly, to kiss him so deeply it's as though he's trying to swallow him whole. ]
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With that in mind, Armand's touches are gentle, less targeted, and though he's certainly not going to give up the chance to feel Lestat under his hands, he doesn't push the way he might usually - content to let Lestat explore under his own steam.
He runs his hands across Lestat's shoulders, fingers slotting through the mesh of his shirt to feel chilled skin and lets his nails skate from his lower back up to his shoulder blades, light enough for sensation, not injury. He takes his time, but he's easily distracted, letting blood seep into their kisses with an eager tongue. ]
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And Armand... infuriating, maddening, frustrating, beautiful Armand.. He's seen Lestat at his worst and at his best — hell, he's been to blame for some of it — and here he is, meeting Lestat's desperation with an intensity all of his own, and holding him through his quivering to sate his anxieties in return, and kissing him as though to stop might mean the end of life for both of them.
Lestat knows they should stop, that Lestat should focus on getting him out of the haunted house rather than making out with him, but it feels so much easier to simply bask in this until time unspools around them. ]
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His thoughts aren't guarded, his control slow to return to him, so it's there to see in his mind. The desire, but also the simple, almost childish intimacy of wanting another by his side when the dawn comes.
Armand nips at Lestat's mouth, kissing away from it finally, to suck kisses into the sharp edge of his jaw, the marble column of his throat, squeezing his thighs around Lestat's hips and try to pretend that it might be possible, that they don't have to leave this moment so soon. ]
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With each sliver of the blood that passed between their lips and tongue Lestat could feel that helpless fear of being alone, something he himself can relate to all too well, and he feels his heart shatter at the idea of making Armand hide away from the dawn alone and wake up just the same. A ferocious need to protect rises in him, the desire to save and to be the one to do it-- He has all these suggestions in his mind, but when Armand kisses his throat like that, squeezing him so intently, Lestat can only groan quietly into auburn curls and pull the smaller body beneath his closer. ]
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The blood has worked a small miracle, but that doesn't change the fact that Armand has been mostly underfed for the past few days and sustained a terrible injury. He's running on a deficit and only the blood and his own desires are holding the realities of that at bay.
He kisses the skin under his mouth in apology, turning his face to kiss Lestat's cheek and look at him properly, the look of discomfort clear on his face. ]
Lestat..I do not wish to push you away...
[ 'but my strength is fading' is passed between their minds, something vulnerable he can't admit out loud. He doesn't mention the pain either, though it's probably clear without saying it. ]
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Lestat exhales, slowly, and nods. He thinks he should be feeling some kind of remorse for getting so carried away with someone so injured, for being so delighted with his own physical traits — or lack thereof — that he forgot Armand's current state entirely.. but he doesn't, and what's more he's somehow entirely certain that Armand won't mind in the slightest. ]
Alright, ange. Let me help you.
[ He draws back but doesn't halt their touching entirely, somehow reluctant to cease contact in case Armand is whisked from his side again. He helps him to rearrange that ridiculous wrap-around tunic he's wearing before ultimately giving up and shedding his golden letterman so he can bully it carefully around Armand's shoulders. Their size is decent enough that it rests on his hips, not saving his dignity entirely but at least softening the blow. ]
Do you think you can stand?
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He'd stumbled before, been made weak by his injuries and now his limbs feel like lead weights, even the movement of his arms feeling too slow and ponderous. He shakes his head 'no', even as he tries to gather the strength and barely makes it off the mattress before sinking back down. ]
No, I don't think I can..
[ Armand's gaze falls away, fatigue settling into his frame like those moments before dawn when he can barely keep his eyes open. The only thing that keeps him from drifting off right here, is the sight again of Daniel's handwriting on the desk and how he can't help but reach out weakly and trace the letters. ]
Is it true? Do you think anyone knows we are gone?
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[ Lestat says firmly, his gray-blue eyes watching the progress of Armand's fine little fingers trailing the words. Lestat doesn't have to work very hard at all to figure out the particular meaning behind them without needing to ask, but he does read over them a few times to make sure he's committed them to memory. ]
I choose to believe that we are here and that time will continue for us the minute we return, as if nothing ever happened.
[ It's just like Lestat to make sure that there's no way he could possibly be the victim in this, in any way, shape or form. His stubborn bullheadedness has got him through much worse with minimal trauma, and he's not about to let this ridiculous city ruin his record. ]
It tried to get to me too, you know. With gifts and messages left in these dorm rooms. I was lured inside and found it smelling so powerfully of cyprinium that I thought I had been transported back there with her, or that she might have arrived here. Her jewellery sat on the bed. But it was all fake, all nonsense to trick me into getting distracted while Louis got hurt.
[ His jaw twitches, but not with concern, it's more like anger, at being used so easily. ]
This place does not have good intentions. It is designed to make us hurt. It knows our deepest pains and our greatest regrets and it will use them against us. If not now, someday. We can't allow it the opportunity.
[ He's very carefully choosing not to mention the graffiti scratched into a wall that had called him Father, after all. ]
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It should make him want to cast them aside, but the raw feelings inside him won't allow him to, not right now at least. He let's his hand drop away from the words though, carefully turning his back to them to face Lestat instead and nods. ]
I have heard this, seen things on the network. I did not, however, expect it all to be so... convincing.
[ Armand looks briefly lost for a moment, fatigue sweeping in once more across his shoulders and he reaches for Lestat, brushing the back of his hand gently. ]
Will you lead us from here? Please?
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I'll get you out of here, ange. I've done it enough times by now to know how.
[ Without warning so that there is no time for complaint, Lestat hooks his arms beneath Armand's legs and around his torso so that he can lift the older vampire securely into his arms. He makes sure to keep his hold away from where he knows the wounds on his back are, a strange display of attentiveness that almost seems uncharacteristic of him, but he chooses not to dwell on it.
He also shows that he was certainly not exaggerating earlier when he said he knows his way around. He navigates the final floor with ridiculously well-timed speed and agility, fuelled by Armand's powerful blood as he is, and reaches the party floor in no time. He doesn't leave before retrieving a beautiful dark blue and gold (of course) letterman with Armand's name embroidered on the back, which he lays across Armand's lap before taking him down into the fresh night air and descending the fire escape to start them on their journey home.
It's only then he realises something quite crucial. ]
Where is it you live, Armand?
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