Capturing Midnight: A Post Blood Canticle RP

[boo radley]

(wahh! I'm on a writer's block... but I think I'm coming up with some ideas. Will post tomorrow )

[Jacksbonnielass]

Rowan heard the door open, she felt the air begin to stir as he moved below. She smiled silently, her prince had come, her lovely monster, the sun had set and made her pumpkin a carriage again.

But this was dreamy and wistful and not at all her usual thoughts, it was the wine with dinner working in her slowly.

She stared out over the sea, dark save for the small glimmers of boats and the reflection of the moon and stars. It seemed so peaceful and dangerous, and inviting.

She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, the usual warnings from some ancient chromosome on one old, reptilian strand of DNA deep within her, notifying her of his presence though she already knew he was there.

The music that was playing was one of a usual selection of composers, it was unromantic, chiming and falling, almost violent, nearly like frilly war drums.

She turned finally and saw him there. She was out of the sensuous silk suits of the south and in a slim pair of over washed jeans and a pale blue cowl neck sweater. The soft cashmere kept off the night chill here, and was comfortable, familiar in this house. Her eyes were darkened by it to a pale grey blue and her ashen hair had deepened already, from just a day out of the scorching southern sun, and as she ruffled it with her hand it felt silky and was pushed out of her face, only to fall back into it. She looked younger, more delicate in the large sweater with its rolled down neck. Her thinness accentuated against her height.

She looked to him, his long golden mane a frizzled explosion, making him look more wild, with his crazed, hypnotising blue eyes. There was something beautiful about him when he was like this, just woken and a tiny bit starved, it made him looked like a beast ready to pounce, it made him look paler and deceptively weak in her witch eyes.

She couldn't decide what she liked better, him pounding with rich blood, warming her with his touch, with his cheeks red and full and his tan showing through, or like this, slightly gaunt and dangerous.

She raised an eyebrow,"What adventures do you have for us tonight?"

Lestat smiled, embracing her, he played with her hair softly. He caught the smell of her blood, he was hungry, he'd forgotten to feed before coming, just getting up and coming straight here. He sort of liked how he looked after he awoke, feral and wild, like the vampires of folklore, the ones that ran from crosses and garlic and was tracked by the Romanian Villiagers. He kissed her on the forehead, "I don't know," he said, "Whatever we want to do, wherever we want to go."

[alldrenched]

Never had a that statement been as true as when he said it; they could go anywhere, they could do anything. Spain. This came to mind, and a list of places ran through her head before she realised she couldn't leave yet. She wanted to see this city again, she wanted to explore it, to feel changes. She looked out her window, to the right where the city grew; its lights diffused by the fog into a glowing world of towers and bridges.


There was something else she wanted, some deep voyeuristic need. She wanted to see him kill again.

"We can go into the city, roam the streets out there," she said, shoving her hair back from her face once again.

[boo radley]

Pascal entered Hillsborough. They stopped in front of the hotel where he felt Mael's presence... "Take a break." He handed the driver a fifty then sat and observed whatever happened in the room through his mind.

[Jacksbonnielass]

Lestat nodded, he needed to feed, being as old as he was he only need to feed at least once a night, before when he was younger he was constantly in need of feeding. Now it was different, although at times if he put it off to long he got a bit dangerous. He walked over to the door, pulling it open "après vous, mon cher" he said smoothly.

[boo radley]

Louis silently approached Mael. "I have heard... that Lestat is in danger."

Mael smiled, revealing his elongated teeth. "Yes... perhaps. Ah, Louis, it has been too long."

Louis, too, smiled. "But there is no time for such formalities. Everyone has come to Nouvelle Orleans, non? And we are all worried. Please, tell me."

[alldrenched]

Rowan's eyes moved over him, not the beautiful always sparkling streets around them. She tugged on her sweater, pulling it up on the shoulder where it slipped, protecting herself against the chilly wind and cool rain. She moved out onto the damp sidewalk, her comfortable old Nike's cushioning her step.

All of this felt comfortable, to be padding around the pier, which swayed a bit and looking out over the sea and the driveway.

"Will you kill?" Rowan asked as she often asked things, in a businesslike manner that unnerved some people. She thought subtitles were useless and clumsy, she spoke as concisely as possible at all times.

Her icy gray eyes turned to his face as she walked, slowly past the Jaguar in the driveway and up the road, along all of the houses on the water, most which were some classic beach house wood with white and blues, that ran into the winding streets of the city.

She watched the wind pick up his hair, making the wild mane a perfect mess, the look some try so hard for, that made a person looked mussed from sex or sleep.


David slunk down in the corner of a coffee shop. He was happy here, watching the people scuttle around, warming their hands on the paper cups of coffee. A few, like him, had books and laptops out as they sipped their foaming light mochas from the slit on the top of the cup but he had only a peripheral awareness of them, these warm delicious humans, a little girl begging for a cookie, an accountant in the corner who couldn't work at home on some project any longer, a few university students discussing something they had recently read, some newly discovered ancient philosophy.

David gestured for the waitress to bring him another cup of tea, though his last just sat there growing colder and colder. She asked him if something was wrong with it, the next type could be on the house.

"No, Earl Gray, with lemon, no honey, no cream." he said, not looking up at her. He liked the smell of these things, coffee, baking quick breads, tea; they did not disgust him as some foods now did. He couldn't be in the same room as fish, even cooked and fresh now without feeling sick, and cheese, cheese was so wretched that once in it's presence he had run out into the street and let one of those choked, rare, red streams out into the gutter.

These sensitivities were fading, and some things he still found delicious to smell. Rum, tea, coffee, and sweets.

But he wasn't smelling the delicious warm herbs floating in that tiny porcelain cup. He was holding an old file close to himself, reading under the glasses he didn't actually need but loved, and was accustom too.

Just looking at it he thought of two things: his last night in the Motherhouse, and the first day he met Stella Mayfair. Aaron was on the phone, but he didn't greet him with his usual, How are you old man. No, when David said, "Hello Aaron," he had burst out, in the way he burst out, which an ordinary person would not read as rushed or excited at all, " A Mayfair has applied, a District Mayfair, from deep in the fold."

There she was, her father cautiously beside her, eying everyone with a suspicion that made David happy. So many of the teenagers they got in were runaways, or abandoned. But he followed, and it was clear that she had easily talked them all into this, and had baited her father, who believed nothing of the supernatural or the old family rumours, into thinking this was something of an arts magnet school for the.. psychically gifted.

Honestly to this day David didn't know what she had said, just that she smiled proudly as she entered the old London Motherhouse, her eyes running over the dark wood paneled walls, that made it look like a oversized English caricature, not a building at all. She couldn't have been more than sixteen but she was grown, only the slight fat on her cheeks and her smooth skin made her look young.

She had been so easy with him,and in a room full of older men she had commanded attention, even slipping into a seat at the head of the table, vexing her father with a sweet smile as she did so.

Aaron watched them both, his eyes too wide with surprise as we started talking. She had been tutoured beyond a high school level education and she had been taking courses at a local university, but they had bored her. It was clear that she had sold this to her father as a study abroad, or some special secondary education, because they learned as she spoke that she wished to spend most of her time at the New Orleans House.

Somehow at the end of the lunch it was all arranged, she would bypass the usual junior membership for a six month trial as a full member. This had surely been done before, but for who? David wasn't sure, he just knew that Aaron would do anything to bring her into the Talamasca, and the more he heard her quip about having seen the man to Aaron when her father was busy with a phone call, David felt it was worth it.

She was a soft thing in a skirt suit, a miniature lawyer, her father's daughter, that was clear as she hammered out the details. She set up an account through us in which she could deposit her father's "tuition checks," knowing he would distrust any group offering such experience and education for free.

Aaron, how she loved him, for when her father finally left, days later, it was he that led her through the groups of gawking elderly members, he who discussed with her in depth the reason she had left her home, and her family.

She had known Deirdre was going to die soon,"Mr. Lightner, I am a twenty-three fold Mayfair, I have more lines connecting me back to Julien than anyone in my family cares to admit. The baby that Carlotta sent off, she might not be a Mayfair at all now, she might not have any gift at all." Stella looked down, David had understood it, she feared being the next one cursed.

But there had been something else in her, in the way she could be reckless and yet calm and manipulating, perhaps it was just that David was old and easily charmed by her youth and her big almond shaped eyes.

Then he thought of Lestat, of his last night in the Motherhouse, when he had slept so fitfully. He wondered now why there was this chill in his stomach, that low old human feeling of anxiety or danger. He was wondering why others had felt it too.

[boo radley]

Mael shrugged. "Of course." He walked forward. In the back, Louis noticed a woman was standing. "Yes, Maharet is here." Louis nodded. Mael continued, "The fact of the matter is, someone is going to attempt to do something with Lestat. But from whatever he attempts, something worse will follow, something accidental."

"Do you know what it is?"

"No; this is all I know."

[Jacksbonnielass]

"I need to" Lestat said, smiling a little, he ran a hand through his hair, in hopes of controlling it a bit, he knew it was a lost cause, his hair was untamed, wild at times, "Will it bother you?" he asked, he felt like the last time had even though she hadn't said anything.

[alldrenched]

"No," she said looking up and over at him again. "In fact, I would really like to watch again," she responded casually, her eyes moving back to the street. Candy coloured Victorian and Italianate townhouses lined the streets here, their tall front windows and deep set doors making little white trimmed faces. Somewhere a few blocks over a sleek new trolley was shuffling along in the late rush hour traffic.

Lemon meringue and dark chocolate scents flowed out into the street from a small bakery and coffee shop on the corner. Inside people were huddled around their computers and slices of cake, talking and laughing loudly.

As they crossed the street the scent drifted away and the rain started to fall again, very lightly.