lestat de lioncourt. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
perfectionner) wrote2023-08-08 03:54 pm
perfectionner) wrote2023-08-08 03:54 pm
inbox for saltburnt;
WELCOME TO THE SALTBURNT NETWORK
USERNAME:
LESTAT
text ❖ audio ❖ video
WELCOME TO THE SALTBURNT NETWORK
USERNAME:
LESTAT
text ❖ audio ❖ video
[ armand, who hasn’t been in his head for years on end, is suddenly there now; lestat can only guess why. but that doesn’t mean he isn’t increasingly curious about the discovery of that answer. ]
Clearly. [ polite, but also somewhat pointed. ] Or else why not simply wait to find me in person?
[ that in and of itself is more goading, since he’s no stranger to prodding at armand unnecessarily. ]
Clearly. [ polite, but also somewhat pointed. ] Or else why not simply wait to find me in person?
[ that in and of itself is more goading, since he’s no stranger to prodding at armand unnecessarily. ]
[ lestat’s first instinct is to question whether armand’s gone mad outright, given the current hour and the setting he’s all but demanded they occupy. ]
Now?
[ there’s a distinct lack of shade on the rooftop, if memory serves. ]
Now?
[ there’s a distinct lack of shade on the rooftop, if memory serves. ]
The real answer to that question — [ just how tired he is. ] — is much more complicated.
[ but he can’t pass up a challenge as direct as that, and they both know it. ]
If this is your plan to seek revenge, it’s uncharacteristically transparent.
[ but he can’t pass up a challenge as direct as that, and they both know it. ]
If this is your plan to seek revenge, it’s uncharacteristically transparent.
[ There may be a small stream of cursing, specifically in French, that follows that declaration — certainly thought hard enough for Armand to pick up on.
Beyond that, it will take a little while for Lestat to appear — namely because he won’t just come at Armand’s beck and call, but head up to the roof on his own terms, in his own time, but also because he’s not entirely convinced that Armand doesn’t intend this to be some sort of trick.
Once he does emerge, stepping out onto the roof with an attempt at masking his own trepidation, he stretches out a hand toward the sunlight first — pulling it back abruptly, anticipating the excruciating pain of burning, but when it doesn’t come he looks minutely surprised, pleasantly so, and then dares to step out from beneath the shadow of the doorway, and then further, his familiarity allowing him to track Armand to the very spot he’s been in. ]
You knew the sun had no effect here before you even contacted me. [ It doesn’t surprise him — maitre Armand, the orchestrator, wanting to direct every part of this encounter to his own liking. Lestat’s gaze is scrutinizing, even as his features remain relaxed. ] Which begs an entirely separate question.
[ One that passes between them unspoken; why is he here? ]
Beyond that, it will take a little while for Lestat to appear — namely because he won’t just come at Armand’s beck and call, but head up to the roof on his own terms, in his own time, but also because he’s not entirely convinced that Armand doesn’t intend this to be some sort of trick.
Once he does emerge, stepping out onto the roof with an attempt at masking his own trepidation, he stretches out a hand toward the sunlight first — pulling it back abruptly, anticipating the excruciating pain of burning, but when it doesn’t come he looks minutely surprised, pleasantly so, and then dares to step out from beneath the shadow of the doorway, and then further, his familiarity allowing him to track Armand to the very spot he’s been in. ]
You knew the sun had no effect here before you even contacted me. [ It doesn’t surprise him — maitre Armand, the orchestrator, wanting to direct every part of this encounter to his own liking. Lestat’s gaze is scrutinizing, even as his features remain relaxed. ] Which begs an entirely separate question.
[ One that passes between them unspoken; why is he here? ]
[ There are fine views from the rooftop. The grounds, the drive twisting into the trees, green English countryside rolling away in every direction, warmed by the summer sun. Armand stands on the edge of the roof in the morning sunlight, dressed plainly, in dark slacks and a linen shirt rolled up to his elbows and open at the collar. Unlike the younger vampires it's no new experience for him to be outside in the day, but after centuries scrabbling in the darkness of sewers and catacombs, he still takes the time to appreciate it.
He's well aware of Lestat's arrival, though he doesn't turn to watch him. This moment of rediscovery doesn't belong to him; he keeps his gaze averted, watching young mortals at play around the lake instead. The faint sounds of splashes and laughter drift up to them. Only when Lestat starts to approach does he look around at him, his expression taking on a soft and regretful quality at the sight of him, skin warmed and golden hair gilt around the edges. ]
You are beautiful in the sunlight, Brat Prince. [ Armand's gaze takes on some of his old affection. ] That doesn't surprise me. But then, you are always meant to be exactly where you are.
[ He glances away, out at the grounds. ]
It seems as though our circumstances may keep us here for some time. Therefore, I propose a truce.
He's well aware of Lestat's arrival, though he doesn't turn to watch him. This moment of rediscovery doesn't belong to him; he keeps his gaze averted, watching young mortals at play around the lake instead. The faint sounds of splashes and laughter drift up to them. Only when Lestat starts to approach does he look around at him, his expression taking on a soft and regretful quality at the sight of him, skin warmed and golden hair gilt around the edges. ]
You are beautiful in the sunlight, Brat Prince. [ Armand's gaze takes on some of his old affection. ] That doesn't surprise me. But then, you are always meant to be exactly where you are.
[ He glances away, out at the grounds. ]
It seems as though our circumstances may keep us here for some time. Therefore, I propose a truce.
[ He realizes Armand has been standing in wait for him, just as he's aware of the fact that Armand has known of his presence in the house relative to their agreed-upon meeting place. It's an awareness all vampires hold of each other, whether they can search for their minds across a greater distance or not. Lestat wouldn't be able to reach Louis that way, not as his maker, but Armand would, and that knowledge is one he prefers not to dwell on if he can help it.
The estate looks different in the daylight — as does the vampire who stands atop the roof in observation of it all. The sun alerts him to the different hints of color in Armand's hair, faint threads of bronze and caramel amidst the darker curls. And they are curls, soft and thick and practically inviting the carding through of fingers — though Lestat pointedly keeps his hands to himself, this time around.
He keeps having to squint, anyway, his eyes not very well-adjusted to the brighter cast over everything, the glare of the sun against some of the roof's metal fixtures. It's a meeting that puts Armand in control of everything, while Lestat has no understanding of this meeting in advance, and surely Armand doesn't have to enter his mind to sense the discomfort he feels about being in a position of having things revealed to him. ]
A truce. [ He echoes it, rather than giving voice to it as a question, amused and almost disbelieving. ] Do the circumstances of my leaving still hold that much of a sting, Armand?
The estate looks different in the daylight — as does the vampire who stands atop the roof in observation of it all. The sun alerts him to the different hints of color in Armand's hair, faint threads of bronze and caramel amidst the darker curls. And they are curls, soft and thick and practically inviting the carding through of fingers — though Lestat pointedly keeps his hands to himself, this time around.
He keeps having to squint, anyway, his eyes not very well-adjusted to the brighter cast over everything, the glare of the sun against some of the roof's metal fixtures. It's a meeting that puts Armand in control of everything, while Lestat has no understanding of this meeting in advance, and surely Armand doesn't have to enter his mind to sense the discomfort he feels about being in a position of having things revealed to him. ]
A truce. [ He echoes it, rather than giving voice to it as a question, amused and almost disbelieving. ] Do the circumstances of my leaving still hold that much of a sting, Armand?
[ lestat is, admittedly, still trying to work out the intricacies of the device he's been given, so it takes him longer in terms of typing out a response. ]
Do I have a minute for what?
Do I have a minute for what?
I'm a writer, employed by Mr. De Pointe Du Lac. I'm also endeavouring to put together why and how we're here in the hope of expediting a return home. To that end, I've got some questions. You can use the phone to record your answer if you'd prefer to speak, or we can do a call, or you can take them away and get back to me, not like there's any rush.
[ a writer — hired by louis, no less. it speaks more to lestat’s own awareness of the situation that his first thought is about whether louis just so happened to find this man here, on the estate, and has now enlisted him for the purposes of… documentation of some kind.
but the fact that this writer, this “DM” is reaching out to lestat means that louis has already named him as a source of information. which is curious on its own.
the suggestion that he can speak into the device and record his words rather than continuing to hunt for the right letters is appealing enough that lestat finally assents. ]
Very well. Ask your questions.
but the fact that this writer, this “DM” is reaching out to lestat means that louis has already named him as a source of information. which is curious on its own.
the suggestion that he can speak into the device and record his words rather than continuing to hunt for the right letters is appealing enough that lestat finally assents. ]
Very well. Ask your questions.
[ Ah. It's awkward, this not knowing. Armand is all too aware of what Lestat has missed, what still somehow lies ahead in his future. He's careful to close his mind and keep it from his expression as he looks over at him, this rakish young vampire who is nonetheless capable of terrible things.
How alike they are.
He's heard Louis' stories of what Magnus did to Lestat. He hadn't considered Magnus capable of such cruelty, but then again he never knew him well. It makes him think of his days with the Rome coven and Santino's poisonous attentions; how he would have loved to watch that creature burn. ]
It would make things easier. [ He holds Lestat's gaze for a moment more before glancing away. ] For everyone.
[ For Louis. ]
How alike they are.
He's heard Louis' stories of what Magnus did to Lestat. He hadn't considered Magnus capable of such cruelty, but then again he never knew him well. It makes him think of his days with the Rome coven and Santino's poisonous attentions; how he would have loved to watch that creature burn. ]
It would make things easier. [ He holds Lestat's gaze for a moment more before glancing away. ] For everyone.
[ For Louis. ]
[ So much of Armand has often been inscrutable, the ancient who has had much more time than any of them to hone himself as an enigma. Here, there are few answers for Lestat to glean, fewer still when he allows himself a better look at Armand's face through that fleeting glance between them.
There's only one person Armand could possibly be referring to without actually uttering the name aloud — someone they seemingly share, though it certainly makes a case for more of a likeness between them. The truth, at its very core, for why Lestat had left; they almost have too much of an affinity, at their best and their worst. ]
I hadn't realized the two of you were so well-acquainted. [ Naturally, his assumption stems from evidence acquired here, with all of them inhabiting the same hemisphere — this strange estate, their gilded cage, trapping them within an invisible boundary. ]
I can hardly fault you for being pulled into his orbit, as I was. He has the uncanny ability to draw someone in. I suspect it's his pain, or perhaps his impressive capacity for self-loathing. He presents an irresistible challenge. All those broken pieces simply waiting for the right person to come along and assemble them back together.
There's only one person Armand could possibly be referring to without actually uttering the name aloud — someone they seemingly share, though it certainly makes a case for more of a likeness between them. The truth, at its very core, for why Lestat had left; they almost have too much of an affinity, at their best and their worst. ]
I hadn't realized the two of you were so well-acquainted. [ Naturally, his assumption stems from evidence acquired here, with all of them inhabiting the same hemisphere — this strange estate, their gilded cage, trapping them within an invisible boundary. ]
I can hardly fault you for being pulled into his orbit, as I was. He has the uncanny ability to draw someone in. I suspect it's his pain, or perhaps his impressive capacity for self-loathing. He presents an irresistible challenge. All those broken pieces simply waiting for the right person to come along and assemble them back together.
Edited 2024-06-17 16:23 (UTC)
Okay. Thanks.
1. Same question I've been asking everyone, with a lot of different answers: what year is it, last you checked?
2. Since you got here, can you still do everything you've always been able to do? That includes the vampire stuff, which yeah, I know about. More hungry? Less hungry?
3. What happened to Nicolas de Lenfent - my sources say Armand tortured him in 1781, before you turned him. Interested in your take on that, and why you'd continue to entertain Armand's affections after.
4. Paul de Pointe du Lac. You ever whisper to him like one of his little birdies? Play the angel or the snake? This isn't an accusation, just something I've wondered about.
5. Interested also in what motivated you to turn Claudia, aside from a pair of pretty green eyes. I let my first wife have a kid because I didn't wanna go back to tv dinners, so I might be projecting my own assumptions on that whole fuck up.
6. Claudia's diary was missing a few pages that I think you could probably clear up, but I'd understand if as her father you'd prefer to keep the details off the record.
7. Did you deliberately keep the extent of your gifts from Mr. DPDL during your time together?
That'll do for starters. Again, take your time, answer however you like, in whatever order you like.
1. Same question I've been asking everyone, with a lot of different answers: what year is it, last you checked?
2. Since you got here, can you still do everything you've always been able to do? That includes the vampire stuff, which yeah, I know about. More hungry? Less hungry?
3. What happened to Nicolas de Lenfent - my sources say Armand tortured him in 1781, before you turned him. Interested in your take on that, and why you'd continue to entertain Armand's affections after.
4. Paul de Pointe du Lac. You ever whisper to him like one of his little birdies? Play the angel or the snake? This isn't an accusation, just something I've wondered about.
5. Interested also in what motivated you to turn Claudia, aside from a pair of pretty green eyes. I let my first wife have a kid because I didn't wanna go back to tv dinners, so I might be projecting my own assumptions on that whole fuck up.
6. Claudia's diary was missing a few pages that I think you could probably clear up, but I'd understand if as her father you'd prefer to keep the details off the record.
7. Did you deliberately keep the extent of your gifts from Mr. DPDL during your time together?
That'll do for starters. Again, take your time, answer however you like, in whatever order you like.
[ what very few know about lestat is that he was illiterate, as a mortal man, and did not possess the ability to read until he had been gifted eternity through which to learn. he's never been much of a reader in comparison to louis, who would gladly pore over books at home in lieu of entertaining company — in fact, the extent of their library back in new orleans is almost entirely his doing.
but he can read now, and he does — and with each word his eyes pass over, he becomes more, and more, and more incensed.
this is not some writer louis happened to meet prior to their arrival here on the estate, and whatever he claims, none of these questions have anything to do with verifying their whereabouts. this man, this mortal, knows too many secrets to have acquired them by outside means. conversations have taken place — long, exhaustive conversations — to have reached points in their history such as this, claudia, and paul, and nicolas, who louis himself barely has an awareness of.
lestat has finally discovered the button to record himself — conveniently adjacent to the one that sends these messages — but his hands are shaking, ire barely contained, before he finally jabs at it, more than once, with his thumb. ]
It seems you are correct in that answering any one of these questions would require time, but I also do not make a habit of divulging private truths when I cannot see the person I am speaking with, let alone lacking their name. Therefore, monsieur, perhaps it would be best for us to meet face-to-face. [ if it sounds like he's all but speaking through a grinding grit of teeth, that's because he is. ]
You've already acquired an impressive perspective from one vampire, it seems. Allow me to provide you with another.
[ message sent. ]
but he can read now, and he does — and with each word his eyes pass over, he becomes more, and more, and more incensed.
this is not some writer louis happened to meet prior to their arrival here on the estate, and whatever he claims, none of these questions have anything to do with verifying their whereabouts. this man, this mortal, knows too many secrets to have acquired them by outside means. conversations have taken place — long, exhaustive conversations — to have reached points in their history such as this, claudia, and paul, and nicolas, who louis himself barely has an awareness of.
lestat has finally discovered the button to record himself — conveniently adjacent to the one that sends these messages — but his hands are shaking, ire barely contained, before he finally jabs at it, more than once, with his thumb. ]
It seems you are correct in that answering any one of these questions would require time, but I also do not make a habit of divulging private truths when I cannot see the person I am speaking with, let alone lacking their name. Therefore, monsieur, perhaps it would be best for us to meet face-to-face. [ if it sounds like he's all but speaking through a grinding grit of teeth, that's because he is. ]
You've already acquired an impressive perspective from one vampire, it seems. Allow me to provide you with another.
[ message sent. ]
Edited 2024-06-19 13:55 (UTC)
[ He expected the outrage, hoped by playing like he has better cards than he does on some of these points he'd get a diatribe back. It sounds like that might still be the case, if he's willing to take a big risk. ]
Best for who? Keeping in mind I like all my blood to stay inside my body.
[ But who is he kidding, he's taken this risk twice before. It's not a no. ]
Best for who? Keeping in mind I like all my blood to stay inside my body.
[ But who is he kidding, he's taken this risk twice before. It's not a no. ]
[ daniel, you've created a monster — because now that lestat knows he has the option to simply speak into the device instead of typing on it, there's no going back.
he laughs, but there's something... not entirely reassuring in the sound. ]
Let me be clear. I have no intention of killing you, monsieur... [ he trails off, with the clear aim of trying to earn more to refer to this writer by. besides, there's no point in draining him dry when lestat clearly needs to discover how much he really knows. ]
You would prefer to speak in person as well, would you not?
he laughs, but there's something... not entirely reassuring in the sound. ]
Let me be clear. I have no intention of killing you, monsieur... [ he trails off, with the clear aim of trying to earn more to refer to this writer by. besides, there's no point in draining him dry when lestat clearly needs to discover how much he really knows. ]
You would prefer to speak in person as well, would you not?
In that way, a flawed vessel can be beautiful. But one can still mourn that it is broken, and wish that it were not so. [ It's too easy to rise to Lestat's bait, especially when asked to tolerate insults to the man he loves. Armand's expression grows colder, harder. ]
You took him from the street, plucked him from his life like a careless gardener. Bound him to this cursed existence, to a life he never asked for, to a life he can hardly stand. [ He turns to face Lestat properly, eyes flashing as his own temper rises. ] Why, Lestat? A replacement for your poor fragile Nicholas? Don't tell me it was simply the challenge that beckoned you. Why him, why that boy? Did you truly want to fit him together, or did you just find in him the perfect victim for your cruelty?
You took him from the street, plucked him from his life like a careless gardener. Bound him to this cursed existence, to a life he never asked for, to a life he can hardly stand. [ He turns to face Lestat properly, eyes flashing as his own temper rises. ] Why, Lestat? A replacement for your poor fragile Nicholas? Don't tell me it was simply the challenge that beckoned you. Why him, why that boy? Did you truly want to fit him together, or did you just find in him the perfect victim for your cruelty?
And what has wishing ever achieved? [ How easy it is, for both of them, to slip back into this, as if the detachment constructed by time had never even mattered. If only Lestat were aware of exactly how much time, but there is no evidence of that present in Armand's features, nothing that betrays the passing of years. To look at him, he is still as untouched, as beautiful, as he was the day he was turned, as all of them are, caught and preserved forever in amber. ]
I spared him from an existence that would have consigned him to a mere footnote of history, Armand. [ His accent, always present, becomes even thicker as his voice builds on itself, though he hasn't crescendoed to yelling just yet. He isn't withdrawing, either, beneath the intensity of Armand's gaze. ] And in the end, I left the final choice as his to make. I offered him the gift, and my eternal companionship, and he accepted. Though time, it seems, has given him a different perspective on that particular memory.
I spared him from an existence that would have consigned him to a mere footnote of history, Armand. [ His accent, always present, becomes even thicker as his voice builds on itself, though he hasn't crescendoed to yelling just yet. He isn't withdrawing, either, beneath the intensity of Armand's gaze. ] And in the end, I left the final choice as his to make. I offered him the gift, and my eternal companionship, and he accepted. Though time, it seems, has given him a different perspective on that particular memory.
Oh! [ Armand laughs, bitter and painful. He should have known it would turn into this, should have known he could never control himself in the face of the vampire Lestat. Not after everything. ]
Oh, of course you would claim it is a gift! [ Bitter, so bitter. As a child, he had thought it was a gift, too. Had begged for it from his Maker's hands. Only to discover how dark that gift really is. ]
Such vanity, to assume that he had any choice, once you entered his life, once you had decided to spare him the banality of a small, mortal existence! And what did you give him, what did he receive from your hands? Cruelty, violence, pain! None of the discipline you could have taught him! No true guidance to sustain him through the years! Nothing he truly needed, as a child of darkness! Only destruction, rejection, and you call it love! [ He scoffs. ] Magnus begat you in horror and you have inherited it in your blood. You are a poisoned chalice.
Oh, of course you would claim it is a gift! [ Bitter, so bitter. As a child, he had thought it was a gift, too. Had begged for it from his Maker's hands. Only to discover how dark that gift really is. ]
Such vanity, to assume that he had any choice, once you entered his life, once you had decided to spare him the banality of a small, mortal existence! And what did you give him, what did he receive from your hands? Cruelty, violence, pain! None of the discipline you could have taught him! No true guidance to sustain him through the years! Nothing he truly needed, as a child of darkness! Only destruction, rejection, and you call it love! [ He scoffs. ] Magnus begat you in horror and you have inherited it in your blood. You are a poisoned chalice.
Edited 2024-06-19 19:38 (UTC)
[ Lestat does have the passing thought, somewhere in the middle of all this, that this is what reminds him most of the years they'd spent together — Armand, so impassioned, so much of that careful veneer rapidly crumbling away until one can bear witness to the truth beneath it all. Has Louis already observed such naked candor, Lestat wonders? Or has he only been able to observe Armand as he prefers to be viewed by the world — careful, deliberate, and always in control? ]
How much could I successfully teach him when he rejected my instruction at nearly every turn? He chose the life I offered and then reached for the rat, the pigeon over what we consider worthwhile. [ In that way, Lestat thinks, he would be the first to admit that Louis had been ill-suited to the existence of a vampire, but he's hardly going to confess to that in front of Armand, who seems to have taken the position of faulting him for all that has transpired since.
But at the implication that he bears even the slightest resemblance to Magnus, Lestat surges forward, closing the distance between them in an instant — or so it would appear to the mortal eye. Armand, obviously, has no trouble seeing him coming, bringing their faces mere inches apart as his jaw clenches tightly. ] And that makes you what, the antidote? Descending from the heavens to be everything that I have clearly been found lacking in?
How much could I successfully teach him when he rejected my instruction at nearly every turn? He chose the life I offered and then reached for the rat, the pigeon over what we consider worthwhile. [ In that way, Lestat thinks, he would be the first to admit that Louis had been ill-suited to the existence of a vampire, but he's hardly going to confess to that in front of Armand, who seems to have taken the position of faulting him for all that has transpired since.
But at the implication that he bears even the slightest resemblance to Magnus, Lestat surges forward, closing the distance between them in an instant — or so it would appear to the mortal eye. Armand, obviously, has no trouble seeing him coming, bringing their faces mere inches apart as his jaw clenches tightly. ] And that makes you what, the antidote? Descending from the heavens to be everything that I have clearly been found lacking in?
[ In the face of that sudden and dangerous anger, Armand remains still, a faint air of distaste in his expression. Ultimately, he doesn't fear Lestat; he has no reason to, except in the arena of Louis' heart. ]
Would that I could simply be your better angel. [ His expression tightens somewhat. When he speaks again, his voice is lower, a genuine note of regret in it. ] Perhaps then I would have no reason to fear that Louis will return to your side, despite it all.
[ His eyes meet Lestat's. If there's pain in him, it's a fierce kind, the sort that consumes everything. He speaks through it. ]
I want him to have that choice again. To make it, freely. So, a truce.
Would that I could simply be your better angel. [ His expression tightens somewhat. When he speaks again, his voice is lower, a genuine note of regret in it. ] Perhaps then I would have no reason to fear that Louis will return to your side, despite it all.
[ His eyes meet Lestat's. If there's pain in him, it's a fierce kind, the sort that consumes everything. He speaks through it. ]
I want him to have that choice again. To make it, freely. So, a truce.
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