citylogs | [open mingle: the sunlight at midnight gala]

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[open mingle: the sunlight at midnight gala]

WHO: Anyone attending the Sunlight at Midnight gala!
WHAT: KISS PEOPLE AND DANCE IDK
WHERE: The freshly-renovated Planetarium in District 4!
WHEN: Saturday, December 2
WARNINGS: None for the log itself; please warn responsibly in individual top-levels!

THE VENUE

Upon entry to the newly-renovated venue space that was once a planetarium, guests will quickly notice that the space has been transformed into a three-layered affair, ranging from the very well-lit upper level down to the more romantic ambiance of the dance floor and performance space, with a comfortable tier of seating and standing tables in the middle.

Not intended by Ghost (

badfeyth) and Kaveh (

fussiest), yet still mysteriously appearing at random places throughout the venue, are sprigs of magical kissing mistletoe!

The mistletoe will cause characters to at least pause underneath it, and will give them a mild compulsion to kiss whoever they're with, but the compulsion will not be unavoidable and characters can easily break free of the "hold" the mistletoe has on them. Even so, partygoers will quickly learn to be mindful of what's overhead — or not!

UPPER TIER

On the well-lit upper tier, guests will find plenty of generalized mingle room, including two patios with casual seating on either side of the space. Throughout the center are a variety of stations and attractions, as well as some helpful resources for the discerning partygoer.

For the fashionably un-forward, you may wish to visit (or find yourselves forcibly dragged into) Lestat's on-site fashion consulting lair, which boasts a small and curtained-off space where partygoers in need can receive last-minute fashion advice, do wardrobe finishing touches, and address any other aesthetic concerns under the discerning eye of LESTAT DE LIONCOURT (perfectdevil). This is also where a selection of basic cosmetics and beauty supplies can be found, in case of a need for an emergency touch-up, safety pin, or spot removal!

Continuing onward, guests will find four individual food stations, each with their own set of color-coded disposable dishware! Perhaps they'd like to take a sampling of:

• STATION #1 — TSURUNO (fanstheflames): Fried rice in the shape of Christmas trees, dumplings with carrot reindeer antlers and red pepper noses, and fortune cookies that tell you to go dance with somebody already!
• STATION #2 — ROLAND (gradenine): Hotpot with mild and spicy soup bases plus a variety of vegetables and meats, and KBBQ with chicken, pork, and beef cuts, plus sides!
• STATION #3 — RENO (astraphilia): Whipped goat cheese figs, brie and prosciutto stuffed dates, and sprouting cauliflower with brown butter and lemon — paired with a couple of simple cocktails (a negroni and a Bombay mule)!
• STATION #4 — WANDERER (featheradrift): Samosas, panipuri, Japanese-style sandwiches, and a lot of sweets and desserts like chocolate truffles, pâte de fruit, candied nuts, madeleines, and custards!

Champagne (alcoholic and non-alcoholic) is also circulating around the venue under the watchful eye of KANEKI (anthropophagite), and a small selection of coffee is available at a nearby station as well!

Finally, at the far end of the upper concourse, one can find a partitioned-off space for photo opportunities featuring a black-and-gold backdrop, an arch aglow with fairy lights, and a few idle props like chairs and small movable tables that partygoers can use to coordinate their souvenir photos. PROMPTO (burstmodes) will be around to do formal event photography, but there'll also be a Polaroid available so that people can take their own photos and develop them instantly!

VISUALS: AESTHETICS & ETC.

MIDDLE TIER

On the mid-tier halfway down the stairs that flank the venue on either side, partygoers will find a landing with an assortment of standing tables covered in black tablecloths and tied with gold bows, where guests can enjoy their refreshments, engage in conversation, and people-watch the goings-on taking place below them on the dance floor! To prevent any mischief or accidental spilling of food onto hapless dancers below, each landing is lined with a courtesy railing, and immediately below the railing is an arrangement of tasteful decor.

Between the two landings, guests can find the remnants of the planetarium seating — fold-down auditorium chairs with comfortable cushions arranged in gently circular rows, giving the people relaxing there a perfect view of the dance floor and the spectacle of lights taking place below it.

VISUALS: AESTHETICS & ETC.

LOWER TIER

The lowest level of the venue, at the very bottom of the stairs, is the most dimly-lit of the three levels and is mostly comprised of the dance floor. Along the back wall and parts of the sides runs a slightly-raised platform stage upon which are arranged a piano, an electric guitar, a stereo system, and a few microphones for the convenience of any vocalists in the house. The stage is wide enough for one or two people to walk around comfortably, but generally is fairly modest to leave the majority of the room for the dance floor.

It's on the dance floor that the real "sunlight at midnight" theme takes its shape, as this is where the bulk of Kaveh's artificial lighting technology has been put into play. Along with standard party enhancements like a few spotlights and an overhead disco ball, the perimeter is also dotted with round arrays of stained glass with light fixtures behind them, causing panels of colored light to cast onto the hardwood of the dance floor. These arrays can also be rotated like kaleidoscopes, allowing for the patterns of light to change throughout the course of the evening — adding an element of renewable interest in the continuing aesthetic.

VISUALS: AESTHETICS & ETC.

ENTERTAINMENT

Throughout the course of the evening, music will be provided by a rotating set list of performers, interspersed with prearranged playlists courtesy of the new media store. Entertainers will be informed of their set lengths, obligations, and timeslots well in advance of the venue by Ghost, and any necessary instruments or microphone hookups will be ready and available at the time of the performance.

Performers on deck include:

• HYTHLODAEUS (nomoresharks) and EMET-SELCH (recreator): Jazz piano bops along with some ragtime arrangements.
• EDDIE (thefreak): A mix of slow rock ballads and hard rock dance numbers, on electric guitar!

In addition to the live performances, the venue will also be treated to some traditional mid-2000s party favorites such as:

• BLORBOLICIOUS, by Gurgi (feat. Bill.i.was)
• HIPS SOMETIMES LIE, by The Kira
• SANDSQUALL, by DaNice
• MAYBE GONNA GIVE YOU UP, by Rickard Dastley
• MAMBO NO. 4 AND A HALF, by Stu Vega
• THE CHA-CHA HUSTLE, by DJ FriendlyGhost
• VIRUS, by Boo Boo Dolls

VISUALS: AESTHETICS & ETC.

LIVEBLOG

Looking to add some network spam to your gala experience? Check out our dedicated IC NETWORK POST!

credit.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ When Lestat blinks and looks to his side, it's almost as if he's waking from a dream. His soft, blurred expression clears into something more like curiosity, and his bright eyes focus sharper, apparently glad to have something to pay attention to. Oh, and how he loves to look at Louis, especially like this.

He smiles, eyes roving his chest and shoulders, his face, his hair; it's like he's seeing him for the first time, as it always is. ]

I was just getting lost in the stars.[ He explains, nodding his head toward the vast expanse but not taking his eyes from Louis, not willing to return quite yet to the places his mind had ventured to in that moment of silence. ] I feel almost foolish for it now, what with you looking the way you do tonight.

[ He leans in, bestowing a kiss on Louis' cheek and pulling back with an almost catlike grin. ]

You really do look beautiful, you know. I should put you in green more often.

( Louis smiles, letting out a slow breath as his eyes drop demurely to Lestat's chest. He makes his token gesture of righting Lestat's collar, an excuse to touch him and now a small cover for his own near-blush at the sweet compliment. It still makes his heart swell every time, no matter how he tries to pretend that he's above caring about such trivial things as his own appearance. )

Yes, you've done a spectacular job of making me presentable.

( But he's only teasing, and he punctuates it by leaning close to nuzzle his nose against Lestat's cheek. )

You've always had an eye for such things. I know I don't always have the patience for it, but it really is wonderful watching you work. You shine so brightly when you're happy that I hardly miss the sun.

[ Lestat is pleased when Louis spruces him up, even if it's entirely unnecessary, and when he leans in close to put his head to Lestat's and brush so sweetly against his cheek, it feels almost natural to slide his arms around Louis' waist, to sway a little with him to the faint sound of music drifting through the open door from the stage far below. ]

Ah, mon cher, such sweet things you say to me. You'll make me weep.

[ He teases, but he buries his lips in Louis' hair as he does. How can it be so easy for his heart to feel sore one moment, only to feel warmed through and protected the next? And all it took was Louis' presence, Louis' touch. He exhales slow, reluctant to part now that he has this, and so deciding to keep him close. ]

Have you enjoyed yourself so far? It's been some time since we were at a get together like this, hasn't it?

( Louis shrugs slightly in answer, not actually certain yet whether or not he's enjoying himself, but his arms slip around Lestat easily as he lets himself be moved to the rhythm of what seems to be some romantic rock ballad. )

I'm a bit overwhelmed with it, just as I've always been with these things. You know how I am. And between my duties and yours, I've hardly had any time to get you alone.

( Which isn't the point of a party, he supposes, but he doesn't feel much like dancing, and he's made a mental note of which places have mistletoe that he ought to avoid. )

But it is beautiful. A marvel, truly. I never would have thought it possible. ( A soft chuckle. ) I still remember when I was astonished by gas lamps.

[ Lestat listens, and his soaring heart is softened by Louis' honesty, by the idea of him busy with his tasks and his responsibilities but yearning for just the sight of his lover if not the chance to speak to him... Just as Lestat had stood by the changing rooms as he waited for his patrons to emerge, and gazed at the archway of the door, hoping that Louis might poke his head in to check everything was running smoothly… ]

To your credit, they were quite astonishing.

[ Lestat chuckles, his step getting a little wider, encouraging Louis to spin ever so slightly with him rather than just swaying gently in place. It's not dancing, not really, but it's something. ]

And now you have me all to yourself, for as long as you want me, and no-one is paying us the slightest bit of attention. Like we're in our own world, hm?

[ His hands find Louis' trim waist, and he adds a little flair to their steps but still keeps them slow, easy, no real pattern, just following the music, following intuition. When he speaks, his voice is low, for Louis' ears alone. ]

I was thinking about the last event we went to together. Not the concert, before that. You were wearing that double-breasted waistcoat I liked to see you in, you had your hair tied back. You'd look over at me every so often, amidst talking or while you danced with her. I thought you were checking that I was still there, still watching you like a hawk.

[ Every time he'd met Louis eyes without fail. Every time he found himself distracted by the sight of him in those shining colours, getting lost in the music, in the debates, in making her happy every time she pulled on his arm when another song she recognised started to play. ]

I couldn't look away. All I wanted to do was dance with you.

( The memory catches Louis by surprise, but he doesn't fall out of their rhythm. He knows Lestat must think of her just as often as he does, but it's the first time either one of them has actually broken the silence that lays around her. He'd expected pain, but instead what he feels is a bittersweet sort of relief. )

Lestat...

( With a sigh, he settles his arms more fully around Lestat's shoulders, leaning into him in the close, unstructured way that he's seen modern couples dance. His gaze falls away to one side, unfocused, not truly looking at anything, simply letting himself get drawn back through time and memory, with Lestat as his tether to the present. He can almost hear the rustle of her petticoats and her musical laugh, almost picture Lestat kissing her little hand as he promises to return Louis to her quickly.

In their own world, indeed. )

I used to imagine it often, though I thought the idea was even madder than you ever kissing me. ( He lets out a soft laugh. ) What hopeless young fools we both were. I ached for you to ask, and yet I probably would have declined and stormed off.

[ Louis against his heart in this way is almost too good to be real, and Lestat holds him all the more close as if the slightest opportunity might whisk him away and leave Lestat standing on this balcony alone, just as he had so many times in the past, before soothing his woes with whatever beautiful creature next caught his attention... What a wicked thing he was back then. How little he would have deserved to hold Louis against him in this way even if he'd had the chance to do it.

He presses a kiss to the top of Louis head, like a silent apology. ]

You probably would, and I probably would have laughed. [ Louis wasn't a peach either, but oh, Lestat can't blame him for it. ] But a fantasy doesn't have to be true to what would have happened, does it? That's the point of a fantasy.

[ Lestat's body circles Louis' so that his lover stays in place while he slides his hands downward and takes up Louis' wrists in his grasp. It's easier, then, to knit their fingers together and continue their little dance with raised hands, their pose almost that of two nobles in the midst of la belle danse. Well, how can he resist? They've played at being mortals before, what's to stop them from playing at being better to each other in times long since passed? ]

The night is as beautiful as we are, [ He murmurs in old French, head dipped low and expression as playful as the one he uses on his mortal victims, but with a warmth to it reserved for Louis alone. ] Perhaps we scared the other dancers away. What do you think?

Edited 2023-12-04 20:58 (UTC)

( Louis' pulse quickens as Lestat's fingers encircle his sensitive wrists. He takes in a soft breath, almost a little gasp, and his heart swoops in his chest when Lestat pulls him into a much more formal dance. His expression is awed, astonished; the moment is more romantic than he'd ever imagined it would be, and certainly far beyond what he'd ever felt with any mortal partner in his arms.

It's an older style of dance than Louis actually learned growing up, not by much, but a decade or two, and it's one of the rare times that Louis feels the difference in their ages. But Lestat, despite his noble birth, had surely never attended such lofty celebrations, except perhaps in Paris as a wealthy young vampire, and that hardly counted. So this is make-believe for both of them. )

And I alone with you.

( He smiles, warm and playful, giving in to this dance of their minds just as willingly as he's so far allowed Lestat to guide the movement of their bodies. )

Now, what could have frightened them, monsieur?

[ Louis is as malleable as worked clay like this, rapt on every word Lestat says and so ready to receive the next; just how he likes him. If they could have had this in their time together in New Orleans there would have been no hope for their story of being familial in laws, because Lestat doesn't have the first hope of reigning in his expression to anything that doesn't speak at length of how truly, madly and fatally in love with Louis he is in this moment.]

Perhaps the cold of the evening, I've seen more than a few not dressed for the weather.

[ He continues their little three step dance, encouraging Louis to follow the almost waltz-like rhythm that should at least be a little familiar to him even if the position is not. His mind is completely in the fantasy of days gone by, imagining Louis in lace and something pale in colour that makes his eyes shine, their feet sliding lightly over polished floorboards, the music light and airy, the winter night still relatively warm and the air close despite the season, her sitting at a table and watching them, her little feet swinging delicately to the music.. ]

Or perhaps they found the light in your eyes too dazzling to withstand, my dear. I, myself, am truly captivated by it. You are so handsome, you almost don't seem real.

( Louis exhales a breath shaped by the smile on his lips, falling so easily into the steps of the dance it's as if he's always known it. Surely some of that is due to his vampire nature, quick learners that they are, but he's never felt as effortlessly graceful as he does when he gives himself over to Lestat and lets his beloved tease out the calm and confidence Louis never knew he possessed. )

I can see my own reflection in your eyes... Your attention flatters me like no mirror ever could.

( His heart skips as Lestat's eyes catch the moonlight; they turn, and suddenly Lestat is entirely backlit by the false sunlight spilling out of the balcony doors from inside, his suit gleaming silver, his golden hair a burning halo framing his handsome face. Even the blood beneath his skin seems made of light, and Louis looks as if he might weep from the beauty of it. )

Oh...

( It's the only thing he can say, all his words stolen away by the sight of the radiant creature before him. )

[ As Louis stops and their dance comes to a natural pause, Lestat is quick to assume that his companion's mind has been completely taken over by thoughts of their long-lost daughter, that such a fantasy could only ever be so heartfelt the longer you stay foolish and Louis has never been truly foolish enough to let himself dream so freely, and now he's looking at Lestat and remembering her and remembering what happened to her, as if it ever left his thoughts, as if forgetting her for even a moment were possible — it isn't for Lestat, how could it be so for Louis?

But then he realizes that the expression on Louis' face, while emotional, is not necessarily sad; he looks like he's about to weep, yes, but Lestat recognizes this expression and recalls with sudden clarity walking in on Louis with his fingers softly caressing the oil marks of a large painting Lestat had purchased for the hallway of their flat in New Orleans, the pads of his fingertips tracing over the drawn sunset as though he might feel heat from it.

Louis is looking at him now the same way he looked at the sun then, like he can't believe such a beautiful thing could be real.

Lestat's expression falls into something tender. He'd wished for Louis to look at him with that level of emotion then, and to have it now, without any warning or chance to prepare for it has his heart hammering for freedom against his ribs. He takes up Louis hands in his own, brings them together, and then up to his mouth to kiss the line of knuckles on each hand. ]

My heart..

( There are blood tears hovering in the corners of Louis' eyes, but he couldn't explain why he wants to weep. His heart feels so full, as it always does lately when he's near Lestat; he's sure that something deep inside of him is expanding to contain this ever-growing love, this sense of wonder, this hope he's never felt before... )

Ah... forgive me, Lestat. You look like an angel, but I didn't mean to spoil the fantasy.

( He doubts Lestat minds, really, when he's looking back at Louis like that, kissing his hands and making him feel lighter than air. In a low voice, almost confessional, almost guiltily happy: )

Lately, you see, I find myself dwelling much less often in the past.

[ Seeing Louis start to tear up only makes Lestat's eyes prickle in return, and where a normal man might have been reluctant to allow the evening to peak with the two of them standing on a patio and weeping in each other's arms, Lestat is far from a normal man.

He kisses his hands again, as though he might need to recall the exact shape and feel of them against his mouth at a later date in some crucial moment. His spirit feels so light, his body almost weightless, to hear that Louis has a reason to forego his usual melancholy reminiscing... and he feels especially happy to know that the reason is him. ]

An angel, hm? I'll remember that one the next time you narrow your eyes at me and call me a fiend.

[ He says around a smile, drawing Louis in by those hands enough that he can kiss his mouth and blinking hard to clear his vision. ]

And as for the past, let it be just that. I have no intentions of wasting my second chance with you by thinking too much of what once was.

( Louis' fingers tense, holding tightly to Lestat's as much as the delicate positioning of their fingers will allow, and pulls them down near their collarbones to give himself room to kiss Lestat on the lips. It's nearly chaste, lips parted only slightly, without the barest hint of fangs or even ordinary teeth to spoil the perfect gentlemanly illusion, though of course Lestat knows well indeed what passions Louis keeps banked behind that polite composure.

He pulls away, and then it's his turn to bring Lestat's fingers to his lips and return the kisses, treating each knuckle in turn as if it's worthy of individual affection. He doesn't want to spoil this perfect moment; he means what he'd said about not getting lost in the past. But it wasn't all painful, was it? And no one else knows what it was like in those days but Lestat, no one else knows that they were happy sometimes. Indeed, until he'd found Lestat again after a century apart, those nights in New Orleans had been some of his only happy memories. )

I was watching you from the shadows... I heard you talking to her.

( His heartbeat quickens, a current of anxiety running through him, and he holds tighter to Lestat. It's difficult to speak of her; they've addressed her absence only obliquely, a pain that they have both avoided, likely for each other's sake as much as their own. But it feels safe to say it now. )

I always find myself wondering what she would think of things, just as I did with you when you were gone.

[ Lestat watches with the attention of a man mesmerised as Louis' soft lips press to each one of his knuckles with the attention, care and patience only someone as precise as Louis could ever apply. He feels treasured like this, and he's a mere handful of moments away from catching Louis about the waist and dipping him into a kiss in some ridiculous dramatic show of affection-- when he speaks, and Lestat finds himself caught completely off guard.

It isn't a bad feeling that settles in his chest; it feels more like something coming home, returning to him after a long time away, and the pieces of his heart shifting ever so slightly to make room for it once again. ]

There isn't a moment I don't think of her. [ It's a relief to hear Louis say it, almost as much as it's a relief to admit his own truth out loud. Then, with a wry little laugh: ] I'm sure she'd hate it here.

( Louis laughs too, though it's little more than a soft rush of breath. )

Undoubtedly.

( He sets their joined hands against his chest, his fingers running absently across Lestat's, dipping into the small grooves between his knuckles and re-learning the shape of his hands without a half-dozen rings in the way. There's only the one tonight, the one he'd put on Lestat's finger himself, and he finds his thumb tracing idle circles around the stone as he speaks, grounding himself in the present.

Louis had never questioned Lestat's love for Claudia, even when he was certain that Lestat could never love him. She was Lestat's daughter as much as she was his, Lestat's little lion cub and his pupil in all things vampire, and the two of them had shared in both the thrill of the hunt and their love of luxury. If they weren't so similar, she never could have tried to murder Lestat. )

But the mortals here— the people, I mean— have been so kind to us. ( Kinder than we deserve, he doesn't say. ) I know it's only wishful thinking, but I would like to believe that she could have found someone who understood her, too.

[ Lestat watches the light of the moon and twinkling stars reflect in the shining surface of Louis’ nails as he traces over and over that ring in a mesmerising pattern. He watches and wonders what he might be thinking about, though he can make an educated guess; if hearing Louis mention her had soothed fractures in Lestat’s heart then surely it must have done something similar for Louis, since the last time the three of them had been a family together Lestat had faced a great betrayal at her hands, and had every right to never want to speak of her again. He thinks of that, and it’s like he can feel that little yellow dress clutched tight in his burnt and broken hands again. ]

I think you’re right.

[ He sighs, quietly, expecting tears that don’t come. He feels more peaceful than sad, and honestly doesn’t see the point in crying over her despite how he loves to weep. She wouldn’t want to see it. ]

This place brings all manner of people into its walls. Now and again I’ve wondered if the dreams I have of her here might come true someday, if one day the blonde curls disappearing around the corner might lead to something other than an empty street.

[ It says more about Lestat’s experiences wandering this place than he’s ever confessed to Louis, but this moment between them feels safe. He continues with that in mind, his voice dropping almost to a whisper, words seeping through directly from his heart. ]

I know she must be at peace now, and that any reunion between us is romanticised in my mind, and yet I still selfishly wish I could see her again.

( She must be at peace now. The sentiment tightens Louis' throat, and he feels a nearly overwhelming tenderness for Lestat, who has never been one for any kind of religious sentimentality as long as Louis had known him. Louis, who fears the thought of endless nothingness nearly as much as the idea of Hell, can hardly bring himself to imagine any peaceful rest for their kind after they perish, but if any among their number ever deserved such compassion from a higher power, surely it must be the innocent child that they brought into this.

Louis' grip on Lestat tightens subtly, worry stirring him to movement; his head tilts to one side, and he looks wonderingly into Lestat's moonlit eyes. )

You've seen her here?

( He asks softly and without judgment, well aware that anything is possible but trying to be reasonable. His first thought isn't of the phantoms and visions that twist their minds now and then in this strange city, but something else: the way Lestat had looked when Louis had found him standing in their burned-out flat, staring into the darkness as if seeing something that wasn't there, someone that hadn't been there in a century. )

[ Lestat's eyes search Louis' for the second or two that lingers before he speaks, trying to discern where this sudden look of worry has come from in such a tender moment, and when it's finally revealed, Lestat feels a strange twinge ripple through his heart.

He can recognise it easily enough as his natural reluctance to be weak in front of anyone, the same reluctance that had him brushing Louis off with a hand so many times in their past, too terrified to show him even an inch of vulnerability for the fear that it might crack and splinter and become something he had no hope of ever repairing or coming back from. Now, though, in this place where their relationship has blossomed into something Lestat had never even dared to imagine was possible for them, Lestat pushes through the initial fear, swallowing his inhibitions just enough to meet Louis' gaze firmly enough that it steels his resolve.

Louis has only ever wanted to know him, after all, and isn't this particular pain as much of a part of him now as Louis is? ]

Yes. A trick of this place or of my mind, I don't know. Sometimes it's just the patter of her slippers on the paving stones, sometimes it's the sound of her laugh. Sometimes I see her curls, as I said, disappearing around a corner or whipping past me as I walk, just out of my vision and out of my reach.

[ A small pause, and though Louis is holding him so tight already, Lestat returns the hold even tighter, as if he needs it to get him through his next confession. ]

I dream of her, too. I talk to her sometimes, when I'm out alone or, before you wake in the evening.

[ His brow twitches, frustration or something else flickering in his expression. ]

I know it's foolish.

( Louis shakes his head immediately and emphatically, an ache spreading deep in his chest. )

It isn't foolish.

( He sighs, and leans his weight against Lestat, and brushes his nose against the curve of Lestat's cheek. )

These flawless memories of ours are a gift and a curse. I can recall the sweet sound of her laugh as if she had just left us... and yet I've forgotten my brother's face. It's simpler for mortals in some ways, I think. Time does a kindness to them by softening the edges of things. We don't have the luxury of forgetting. I wouldn't want to, even if I could.

( Another quiet exhale, and he looks from Lestat to the stars overhead, slipping an arm around Lestat's waist as he does. )

I don't... see her, at least not in the way that you describe. But the reflex remains, and I still think that it might be her every time I spot a small head of blonde curls in a crowd.

( There are no little children here. That makes it easier for him. )

Oh, how she'd laugh if she could see us desperately chasing after shadows and ghosts in a crowd like hopeless parents.

[ His laugh is more tender when it comes now, a soft little chuckle pressed against the side of Louis head before he applies a kiss there.

Lestat is comforted somewhat by hearing that he isn't alone in his reflex of thinking she's still here - though she haunts Lestat's mind in a different way to how she lingers in Louis' thoughts, it's good to know she is indeed still there, that she isn't something they can't bear to think about, that she won't be forgotten.

It must be difficult for Louis to talk of her, Lestat thinks, since they were indeed so much closer toward the end than she and Lestat were, but in a way he wonders if it's cathartic for him. Lestat was always so quick to assume nothing was wrong, to let them alone to do as they wished once Claudia was old and wise enough to no longer listen to his instructions. Toward the end, all he'd wanted to do was punish them both for making him so miserable. He hadn't wanted to listen to Louis talk about her then. ]

It's a relief. Talking about her. I don't know if it's wrong, and I don't care, but I don't regret it.

[ I don't regret her goes unsaid. She isn't here to tell him that he has no right to regret it or otherwise, that it's his mistake and her life. But he can't wish it never happened.

Louis is right about their memories being a blessing and a curse. Lestat can only slightly remember the anger he'd held toward his father, or the faces of his older brothers, the smell of his bed and his dogs and the fire. But he can recall with perfect clarity how Louis had looked as a human, and if he focuses intently, he's sure he can feel her little hand in his. ]

I can't apologise for it, for any of it. I won't. But I wish I had been kinder.

( It should hurt, Louis thinks to himself, talking about her so freely like this. It should feel like a knife to his ribs, but all he feels is guilt and that bittersweet ache. It's a relief to speak of her, just as Lestat said, like letting out a long-held breath. Like sharing a secret with someone you trust with your whole heart. )

I wish I hadn't been so cold to you. We can forgive each other that, I think.

( Louis accepted his part in their struggle long ago, and though he is excellent at holding a grudge, he finds that he can't hold much against Lestat now that he knows what he knows. He falls silent for a long moment, pensive as he leans against Lestat's side, head tipped toward his. )

I regret how it ended. And yes, it was wrong what we did to her.

( We, Louis says, because it was Lestat who gave her his blood but Louis who brought her to the edge of death, and Louis who sat by and allowed it all to happen, and Louis who loved her from the moment he laid eyes on her. )

Wrong, but not a mistake. I can't bear the thought of never knowing her. I'm sure we're both selfish for that, but it's the truth.

[ Lestat feels every inch of weight in that ‘we’, and he hears without needing to ask nor expand upon it exactly what Louis means by it. Lestat has always assumed the position of guilt Louis was happy to pin upon him for what happened to Claudia – for her continued existence as well as her unhappiness for it – and though Louis was merely speeding up the inevitable when he almost took her life, he was not guiltless in wanting her nevertheless. Lestat is sure this might be the first time they’ve stood on equal footing when it comes to their shared blame.

He lets out a low, quiet exhalation as something like relief floods his body, a tension he didn’t realise he’d been carrying for centuries leaving him like a bird taking flight; like a child being pushed on a swing, momentarily weightless. ]

Give sorrow words: the grief that does not speak, whispers the o’er fraught heart and bids it break.

[ He presses another kiss to Louis temple, then closes his eyes to press his forehead into his hair and inhale his absence of a scent. Just the gentle perfume of laundering from his suit, the faint coppery tang of the tears, the clinging smoke from candles. ]

Thank you, Louis.

( Macbeth. Of course.

Louis sighs, and he lets them linger a moment like this, peaceful and close and away from the hum of the crowd just inside the warmly-lit building. Eventually, he shifts, pulls back slightly, and turns his eyes to Lestat, who looks exactly the same as he did to awestruck mortal eyes two centuries ago, and yet somehow completely new. It takes Louis a moment to realize, and then his heart softens, expands, and he sees it so clearly: this is the Lestat that Louis had always longed for him to be in those old years, the Lestat who he wished to be his confidante and companion on this dark and endless road. He thinks of an ancient statue buried beneath the sand, waiting for the wave that will finally reveal it for what it had always been.

Louis lifts a hand to Lestat's cheek, head tipped slightly as he looks at him with wonderment and soft curiosity. What would their Claudia have made of this Lestat? Would she have been kinder, more human, if her fathers had been like this from the beginning? Or would she have cursed them both for their sentimentality? )

What are you thanking me for?

Edited 2023-12-17 20:15 (UTC)

[ Lestat's mind is so fast to run away to fantasy at times like this; to think of what things might have been, how they could have changed, who they might be had it all turned out a different way. But with Louis' arms around him, the soft breeze of night air against their faces, the slightly subdued sound of merriment at their backs and every night in their future theirs for the taking, to hold one another like this without the barrier of misunderstanding or a lack of trust... Lestat is reluctant to do anything but bask in it, to let it linger, to force it to spiral as long as he can in comfortable silence.

It's only when Louis cups his cheek that his eyes flutter open, and he looks down at his lover who gazes back up at him with such earnest eyes that Lestat is momentarily caught quite off guard by the tender curiosity in his eyes.

He's about to ask what he's thinking of when Louis speaks, and Lestat finds words caught in his throat. ]

For… Well, everything, I suppose.

[ His answer feels like it falls from him dumb, and he purses his lips in the wake of not being quite as eloquent as he'd like to be. ]

For loving me, even though you tell me plenty how you find it hard not to. For giving me another chance. For not holding my mistakes against me, though you have every right to. For not wanting to forget her, even if it hurts.

[ He shakes his head, not at a loss, but clearly finding it hard to describe exactly how much there truly is in him to thank Louis for. ]

For everything.

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