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Post by boo radley on Jun 8, 2009 22:58:32 GMT
"I have no reason not to," I said. "Yes, I suppose I can. And Stella too." Stella, I said to her, you are to come with me. I must be with you.
I must have been unblocked temporarily from Lestat's mind - he must have been perplexed by something. Would you...be willing... to be with me forever?"
Oh Rowan, you take my love away forever.
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Post by alldrenched on Jun 8, 2009 23:29:07 GMT
Rowan stared at him, she knew this question was coming, she knew it would someday be asked.
"How many have you asked this and how many of them have failed you? How many of them hate you now, as much as they love you? I can't.." Rowan said with a sigh. She wished she could, but she would not, she would not risk the alienation, she would not cut them off from each other, as she had never been cut off from anyone.
"I can't now," She let slip, despite herself.
"By tomorrow morning I plan to be on a plane to-" When Louis sent his thoughts out to her she stopped.
Stella nodded, she owned perhaps a hundred properties in this city but she couldn't will herself to offer any of them, she would go with Louis and this stranger, she would give him a day, a day to tell her what he would.
(ooc: umm, Louis can't ever read Lestat's mind, fledgling thing, he could have picked it up from Rowan though, since she was thrown off and might have opened her mind a bit.)
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Post by Jacksbonnielass on Jun 8, 2009 23:39:46 GMT
"The ones I didn't asked were the ones that failed me," Lestat said, "Back when I got into the nasty habit of making vampires like Claudia, and Nick..." he couldn't finish the last name, he still held hatred for himself for making Nikki, for turning him and he ended up throwing himself into the fire because of it. He had also debated on asking it of Marius, with his blood she'd be as strong as him, and that wall wouldn't be there, "What if I didn't do it! What if another, granted you thought it over," he asked quickly, and impulsively. He had always been the impulsive one.
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Post by alldrenched on Jun 9, 2009 0:07:23 GMT
Rowan looked at Lestat, could she live forever? She didn't feel strong enough, she didn't know if she could live life forever, she didn't know if she loved life enough. "Lestat," she said softly, she leaned her head against his chest, his cold hard chest. Could she become this? A beautiful statue of herself forever, forever trapped in her body? Her body was fine now, she was fine now, how could she make this decision, she couldn't, ...she couldn't. But that wasn't what she said, she just reiterated in a mumble,"I can't now." She couldn't think in decades really, let alone millenniums. She couldn't damn herself to this forever.
Pieter sat at his file coated desk. The phone was ringing but he couldn't answer it. It was Michael, the digital box on the receiver glowed again and again with each ring. It stopped abruptly, his secretary must have gotten in, it was ten in the morning in London. He pawed at a file, one of the many bulging Mayfair files. And next to it was Stella's work file. He threw it open, then closed it. Stella's Mayfair file, from before and after she became a Talamascan was there. He flipped it open next. A picture of her as a girl, smiling up at emptiness on the porch in front of First Street. He flipped the pages, her school records, her medical records, and then more pictures. His secretary paged him. He clicked the button,"Yes?"
"Michael Curry line one, Mayfair and Mayfair on line two."
He nodded, not responding, but he clicked a button on the phone, answering line two.
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Post by Jacksbonnielass on Jun 9, 2009 0:22:09 GMT
Lestat hated can't, he'd never believed in the word, especially now. He'd seen so much that proved can't wrong in his life that it was hard to believe anyone could use the word can't for anything. He sighed, "If you change your mind" mon dieu, I hope you change it he thought to himself, "You will tell me? Won't you?" he kissed her hair, taking in her scent, it smelled of some sort of shampoo that mortal's used, he couldn't place the scent, it masked her scent, the one he loved. He wanted to spend eternity with this woman. He looked around their surroundings, they were at a street corner, his flat was just a few blocks away, he used the mortal's around them to see if anyone was there, just Mona, typing away in the back room, Quinn was lounging on his couch beside Louis' desk. He didn't know where David was. He debated on sending a message to them, to leave and go to Blackwood Farm, Mona wouldn't like seeing Rowan My little Ophelia, take your Lord and please go to Blackwood, I need the flat to myself tonight s'vous plait
Mona looked up, pausing as she heard her bosses voice in her head, "Quinn, Lestat needs the flat to himself," she said,walking into the lounge room where Quinn was, okay boss....what are you doing if you don't mind my asking?
Lestat laughed that's classified petit he smirked to himself, then looked at Rowan, "Care to retire to my flat?" he asked. He kept a bed there, lately Rowan had been spending the night, he'd also gotten into the nasty habit of watching her sleep before he left for his area he retired to during the day.
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Post by alldrenched on Jun 9, 2009 0:43:17 GMT
"I will," of course she would, she thought when he asked her to tell him if she changed her mind. She knew she was refusing him something, he was not used to that she knew too, but she trusted him not to be brash.
She nodded and started walking slowly in the direction of the apartment, indicating silently that she preferred to stroll, not float or race at his unnatural speed. Soon the the trash and hovels of the ward were gone, the mansions of the Garden District replacing it. The sickeningly sweet perfume of crape myrtles and trumpet vines enveloped them as they walked on, the night breezes making her hair flutter about her. The big Victorian houses were glowing under the flood lights that hung in the trees. The oaks and pecan trees where glowing too, their boughs moved in tight shaking swings as the wind pushed them.So beautiful, what did this look like to him? Did he remember what it was to see as she did?
She listened silently to the streets, to the wind and to the ever creeping vines, the vines that were reaching out to claim this beautiful decaying city. She turned heading slowly towards the Quarter. Now noisy drunks were gathered here and there, huddled in groups, clutching their cigarettes.
Rowan looked up when they finally got there, the ornate cement reliefs and the iron work showing its age beautifully. Geraniums and petunias swung from the iron work in hanging baskets, along with a long, lime green curl of ivy. She looked at Lestat who was bathed in the beautiful golden light that poured from the windows. She wished she didn't have such a distrust of words suddenly, she wished she could speak to him for hours about every tiny thing, about the beauty, and how that beauty was for him.
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Post by boo radley on Jun 9, 2009 0:55:50 GMT
(ooc: I know he can't. He thinks he just has though. He'll figure it out later.  ) You plan to be on a plane to where? The girl noticed we were having a... telepathic conversation. No spoken words, just thoughts. "Erm. Yes. We'll stay at your house, darling." |
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Post by alldrenched on Jun 9, 2009 1:30:16 GMT
(okay sorry, the Ricean freak in me exploded out, hehe)
San Francisco, she thought. Her plan had been to be there to cut them off at the pass, though she knew they were here now, she knew Rowan would want to get to a hospital again soon, and her old one there would be perfect.
Stella pushed her mess of curls back behind her ears. She looked at Jacqueline,"What are you meant to be doing here?" she asked, knowing that Jacqueline wasn't doing what the Talamasca had requested, likely, she had done the same.
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Post by boo radley on Jun 9, 2009 4:41:45 GMT
(haha don't worry about it, I couldn't afford to make that mistake).
"That's my business," I said simply. I thought of nothing at that moment, in order to make things difficult for the both of them to read.
But I got some glimpses into her mind. Lestat. Yes, I knew that one, anything else? Journals. Files. New vampires. Huh. Exposure. Yes, this was getting nowhere.
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Post by alldrenched on Jun 9, 2009 5:00:29 GMT
Anger flashed through Stella, the mildest version of her little trick seeped out, heat. She flushed, her impulse was to call Pieter and ask him, in front of this girl to show that she could find out anything about anyone she wanted too.She took a deep breath and held it, she would not do anything so petulant and childish, no matter how much she wanted to. She looked up, a large wall clock gleamed in the overhead lights. 5 AM. If it hadn't been for Louis she would have gotten up and left. If it wasn't for him she would have upturned this bolted down table with the flare up of her rage.
Why did she even want Lestat? Why was she chasing them at all?
She wanted to hide her face, she wished suddenly that she was at home.
She wanted Pieter, or her Mona. She missed David suddenly, the real David, whose kind eyes warmed her always. David who scolded her. Why was she here, she loved Louis but what was he to her now? What was anything to her?
Stella stared off through the window. She did not hate Lestat, but she didn't know what she would do if she couldn't blame him, or someone.
What would she say to Rowan? What would it matter?
Pieter walked slowly through the room, as though it was a shrine. He glanced over at the wall opposite the bed, which was covered in paintings, there were so many they overlapped, leaning together. He took a few files that were open on the dusty desk and left quickly. He marched through the halls, trying his best to frown and appear very busy while he kept his thoughts concealed.
Stella had gone bamboo, as David used to call it, a long time ago, but he could never bring himself to call her back. Now he worried, as her father had worried and Michael as well. Michael was roaring in their private plane to London now. He wanted to see the files again, and he was picking Pieter up. He leaned back in his big leather, buttoned chair and stared out the window; the sun was high now, and beating through the half opened, sheer curtains.
Pieter gently opened a binder. Pressed between protective plastic were Peter van Abel's files. There were five large white binders and Pieter read them thoroughly as the sun moved slowly through the sky. When he was finally done he gathered all the files in a large leather portfolio and readied himself for the flight to America.
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