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

( 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.

( Louis' lips curve into a slow and gentle smile, his heart warmed by Lestat's uncharacteristic lack of eloquence. It's so sincere, so utterly without any kind of pretense or artifice, that for a moment Louis can almost feel as if he actually deserves it. It could be enough, Louis thinks, no more words than this, just the sight of Lestat so sweet and almost boyish in the moonlight. But when he finds the words to explain himself, oh...

Louis wills himself not to weep again, but the rapid blinking of his eyes gives the attempt away. His thumb brushes across Lestat's lips, the minute creases like a fingerprint that Louis has come to know by heart and by touch; he's certain that he could identify Lestat by this alone if he were tasked to touch a thousand Cupid's bows to find his lover's lips.

Louis nods his head, his throat tight and voice soft as he answers: )

In that case... thank you, Lestat, for every word you've spoken could have come from my own heart. You've done all of those same things for me, don't you know?

( Perhaps that's why they can forgive each other so easily. Louis shifts in Lestat's embrace, fingers sliding to the back of his neck, toying with the velvet ribbon in his hair, and with a quiet sigh he brings their lips together in a kiss. )

[ Louis truly is an indescribable vision when he smiles, and Lestat can be confidently certain that this kind of smile is his favourite one to see on him. He looks almost unaware of it at first, his expression impossibly unguarded, vulnerable and yet not sparing a single fraction of thought for anything like safety or what anyone might think. As it grows it feels warm, and fully realised it's so beautiful that it's almost hard to look at, like what Lestat remembers of sunlight through thin curtains, the golden hour at the peak of dawn.

His words are sweet, sweeter than Lestat deserves and yet his selfish heart clings to them desperately, wishing beyond anything that he will never be someone who isn't made up of what Louis sees in him. Hopelessly he wishes - prays, even, though there surely isn't any God who will hear him - that whatever lies in store for their future, that he will always have Louis looking up at him like this, that he will always feel as loved as he does right now. ]

...

[ He's moments from saying something stupid, clearly, because it starts with a hesitation.. but that moment of pause is just enough time for Louis to anchor him in to a kiss, and Lestat goes more than willingly.

Louis' lips are soft, but their kiss is insistent and firm; Lestat pushes it a fraction deeper, teasing Louis' lower lip a little before kissing him with a closed mouth again in a dizzying back and forth of affection, until he finally pulls away to reveal a dazed smile on his face that soon pulls to a point as his mouth runs away without input from his mind. ]

I'm sure that this is where, were we impulsive mortals or perhaps characters in some play, I would propose and then whisk you away from the festivities to enjoy taking up your time for myself.

[ One of his fingers toys in the V of Louis' beautiful waistcoat. ]

I have missed you tonight.

I've missed you.

( Once again Louis mirrors Lestat's words back at him, his voice still soft and slightly breathless from the kiss, or perhaps simply from Lestat's proximity. There's relief in it, too, because it's still tragically natural for Louis to assume that Lestat is having a grand time without him, and ever moreso at a grand event like this one, with Louis scurrying about with his papers and notes, seeking out brief, aching glimpses of Lestat, who seems entirely in his element. Shining like the sun itself, just as he always does, the blue of a lost summer's day in his eyes.

He's felt vaguely out of place for hours, grateful that he's volunteered to keep busy; he isn't above a pang in his chest when he sees Lestat twirling someone else around the dance floor, or catches his hands eagerly caressing another underneath the mistletoe. He had been a good sport filming Lestat's effusive speech for Ghost, because of course Ghost deserved all of the praise in the world for her efforts, but it didn't escape Louis' melancholy notice that he couldn't even throw Lestat a simple birthday party.

But all his doubt and discontent vanishes like mist when Lestat speaks those words, foolish and impossible though they may be. His pulse quickens as if his heart is leaping toward Lestat's long, clever fingers. Armand's voice comes back to him: you really are a romantic at heart, aren't you? And oh, yes, he is, because Louis knows that if Lestat were to ask for his hand in some form of marriage right now, his answer would be an immediate and enthusiastic yes. After all, hasn't he already promised himself to Lestat in every other way?

He smiles, soft and warm and so tentatively hopeful, and loops his arms loosely around Lestat's shoulders. )

And what would you do, monsieur, if you and I were vampires instead?

( He toys with Lestat's ponytail, looping a curl around around his finger again and again like cool silk. )

[ Even when Lestat is completely certain that he understands exactly how Louis’ mind works, to the point where he’s sure he an predict with perfect accuracy how their conversations might go, he still somehow manages to surprise him - and isn’t that the most appealing part of Louis? The fact he’s so very much Lestat’s opposite that he can keep him guessing, keep his attention, inspire him and surprise him, drive him mad and render him wordless and thoughtless with just the right combination of words and brushes of contact.

This is one of those very times, where Lestat had assumed Louis would bluster and perhaps even roll his eyes at his lavish romanticism, but with a helpless blush staining his cheeks as he did… This reply shocks him, then, enough that he struggles on formulating a reply for long enough that it’s quite obvious he’s caught off guard.

Mentioning the possibility of a proposal suddenly makes it quite real in his head, and though Lestat has never held any lofty desires to be a husband after having only experienced enough happy couples in his long life to count on one hand… he thinks, now, that he perhaps finally understands the intention behind it. To want to keep one person by your side forever, to have them know in no uncertain terms that you pledge yourself to them and to have them pledge themselves to you in return, to become bound in a ceremony as an unbreakable unit of two souls. It has always sounded so performative before, but in this framing he can see the appeal.

The impulsive part of him wants to ask if Louis would want that, is already deliberating what his reaction would be to such a question… but the part of Lestat that is still, somehow, afraid of rejection and doubts he could survive something like that, doubts that he deserves it and is certain he’d do something to break it before its wings had chance to fly, keeps a hand clamped firmly over that part of his heart. ]

Well, I suppose if we were vampires the point still stands.

[ He glances behind them, at the dwindling party, at the lights and the music, but finds his gaze wandering back to the only thing he wants to look at right now, and he smiles at Louis in a mischievous way, hands winding firm about his waist. ]

I could still whisk you away, you know. Do you think you and your little clipboard are still needed in there?

( The point still stands. Louis has only moments to wonder what that means, but it strikes him that Lestat isn't entirely teasing: that the idea occurred to Lestat first, and he isn't laughing about it the way he would if it were something completely ridiculous. The knowledge takes root in his chest somewhere near to his heart for him to think on later, in the quiet hours of the morning, when the two of them are tangled together as sleep softens the edges of Louis' thoughts and Lestat's heartbeat lulls him into peace.

But Louis lets out a brisk, sudden laugh as Lestat's hands settle at his waist, and he slinks obligingly closer. Their chests are nearly touching, hips lasciviously close; the absurd phrase leave room for Jesus springs to mind, and Louis almost laughs again. He sighs, his breath ghosting across Lestat's lips in the cool air, and the sides of their noses slide against each other in a near kiss. )

Oh, but I shouldn't...

( In a tone that absolutely means: I need you to convince me to do it. Tempting the devil to tempt him back. )

They'll need me back at the end of things, I'm sure.

( But the food and drink preparations have wound down, and cleanup won't be for a while still... )

[ As Louis comes close but not close enough, Lestat is reminded of the pull between two magnets desperate to fit together, held back by force but straining to be one. It’s similar to the way they work, after all; he and Louis both trying desperately to be patient with one another given their newfound relationship, not wanting to rush things, wanting to give themselves time as much as the other… but ultimately failing and finding themselves tumbling into further and further familiarity. This entire month spent wrapped up in each other, exploring and discovering, means that now the separation between them feels so much larger than it is when they aren’t pressed up side-by-side. Lestat wonders how he ever managed to stay away for hours on end in the past, when being with Louis is so much better. ]

If I were a vampire, monsieur, I wouldn’t listen to your reasons, would I? It isn’t exactly clambering in your window at night as you sleep, but it’s almost as good.

[ Lestat’s smile is sultry, like a cat waiting for the bird to turn its back. His fingers flutter against Louis’ waist, as if describing exactly how easy it would be to pull him in close and ruin this ridiculous barrier of space between them. ]

But since we are both vampires, well… You already know all my tricks, how easy it is to sway a partner, especially when they’re willing.

[ Lestat is under no doubts that Louis has seen him flitting to and fro tonight, his hand on countless waists, kisses paid against skin, his eyes flashing when he sees something he likes… but he’s equally sure that Louis must know that this very particular sparkle currently dancing in Lestat’s eyes now is reserved only for him. ]

And equally I know just how willing you are.

[ His resistance peters out, and like a whip cracking he draws Louis against him; chest, hips, lips together. He kisses him firmly enough to tell him without words how impatient he’s feeling, how much he wants him, how much he missed him. ]

Come with me, somewhere we can be close, even for a little while. The dancefloor, or below this balcony in the shadows you like so much, I don’t care. I’ll simply go mad if you refuse me – the idea of waiting until tonight is impossible.

( Ah, there it is. Louis has always been a passive creature; his willpower is strongest when he can blame someone else for the initial momentum. There isn't a single thing for Louis to feel guilty for tonight, though, and surely slipping away with his beloved for a few kisses (and perhaps a light snack) won't bother anyone.

And if anyone asks Louis where he'd disappeared to afterward... it was Lestat's idea. Everyone knows how difficult he is to resist.

Louis sighs deeply, contentedly, pressing the long line of his body against Lestat's and searching for the familiar drumbeat of his heart beneath those lovely clothes. Two centuries he's known that rhythm; he was always aware of Lestat's presence in their old townhouse, the sounds of his comings and goings even with those silent steps, attuned to his maker's pulse with a sense that seemed deeper than even his preternatural hearing should allow. )

If you'll promise me the last dance of the evening, we can slip away into the shadows now.

( His voice is a whisper against Lestat's lips, as if he can't bear to stop kissing him even to speak. )

It’s yours, my heart.

[ Like a hound given permission to run, Lestat’s expression turns from sultry to excited; he scoops up Louis’ hand in his own and, bemoaning the lack of certain abilities from his home world that would make lowering themselves down from this balcony to the waiting grounds below a simple task, and instead dragging his lover back into the building so they can sensibly descend the stairs and slip out of a side door instead.

Once in the dimly lit exterior of the building, with nothing to keep them company other than the soft breeze and the glow of the moon, Lestat easily crowds Louis against a wall, his arms and hips pinning him in place, his eyes glittering with intention as he gazes down at him. His expression isn’t hungry – not exactly, not yet – but there’s some trace of satisfaction in it, clearly pleased with this turn of events, as if Louis required all that much convincing. ]

You’ll have to keep your head for the both of us, Louis. There’s very little stopping me from keeping you here for the rest of the night. Your responsibilities be damned.

[ A finger curls beneath Louis’ chin, lifting his face to the slight angle he needs to seamlessly press their lips together. When he speaks, he barely moves back, the brush of his lips a perfect mirror of how Louis had been reluctant to let their kiss break earlier. Each word is like the beat of a moth's wing, and his voice is as soft and sweet to match. ]

I like having you under my attention like this.

( Louis melts against Lestat, their two bodies becoming one in the velvet shadows. He wraps himself around Lestat as if he could consume him with his embrace alone, each syllable of speech a soft kiss that makes him shiver. Their chests touch, embroidered vests rasping softly as they brush together, but Louis can feel Lestat's heartbeat beneath the layers of fabric. Oh, God, it's going to be difficult to go back inside. )

And I enjoy having your attention all to myself.

( Louis whispers the words against Lestat's lips, letting the point of a fang tease the bottom swell just lightly enough to give himself plausible deniability and hopefully drive Lestat slightly mad with desire. And if some of Louis' flirtation is spurred on by his own petty little insecurities, well, at least he's making something useful out of the feeling. )

... I'm sure quite a few people are wondering why you don't have your precious Ghost on your arm for the night.

( Louis is one of those people, and he feels grateful and guilty at once that Lestat chose him instead. )

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