The Artist Lestat

[devilish_prince]

It seems the last few weeks, Lestat has been painting and drawing up a storm, and there is no more room in the tower for his artwork. Now along the main hall, dozens of canvasses of every size and shape have been set along the walls for the residents' perusal. Many of the images are from his own memories and stories, but passers-by may be

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[botticelliangel]

Armand drifts along the hallway with that odd way of moving he has when he'd rather not be noticed, from corner to shadow to the shield of someone else's body, examining Lestat's work with an odd, tight expression.

He makes his way to Lestat eventually, large sober eyes still flitting from one painting to the next. "Could the artist recommend me something I might like?"

[devilish_prince]

Lestat sees Armand approach and watches him curiously for a few moments, before finally nodding politely and smiling. "Oui, perhaps I have something you might like..."

He wanders over to the far end of the hall, flipping through canvasses, until he finally pulls a large one out. On it is a nighttime scene of Paris, very clearly set in a time hundreds of years ago. The painting itself is eerily realistic, almost too sharp and too vibrant to be made by an ordinary painter.

"Ici... what do you think of this one?"

[botticelliangel]

"It's beautiful." There's something wistful about the way he looks at it, slowly deepening into sadness.

"What is the asking price?"

[devilish_prince]

"It's yours," he says simply, understanding the sadness in his eyes. "Consider it a gift between old... old friends."

[botticelliangel]

"You are quite an artist."

[devilish_prince]

He shrugs non-chalantly. "I'd been thinking a lot lately about the past, and I remembered Marius' paintings. I wanted to see if I could do as well, so I picked it up a while ago. It's been a rather entertaining affair, as a whole."

[botticelliangel]

"Amazing what skills the Dark Gift can grant one."

[devilish_prince]

"It's merely mimicry, nothing more than that. I find this more satisfying than writing, however. This really brings the images to life in a way that words can't. I made one of you as well, actually..."

[botticelliangel]

"How I wish it were more than that."

Armand has a studio at home, a dim and cluttered space with photographs, sketches and paintings covering every surface and hidden themselves by draped dustsheets.

He'll let the mental image of it hang between them, vivid for an instant.

"One of me? I should like to see it."

[devilish_prince]

Lestat smiles as the image flashes in his head. "Aaah, I wondered how long it would be before you picked it up... I should like to see some of your work later, if you'll permit it."

He smiles again softly and nods. "Yes, one of you..." He goes over to another pile of canvasses and pulls another large one out. The image shows Armand amidst a crowd of candles, looking up at the altar of a cathedral; the first time they spoke. "This is how I always remember you, when I think of you. That first moment when we three had met."

[botticelliangel]

"It is mostly of Jareth.." he replies absently.

The portrait of him draws a soft, amused smile. "A dusty urchin child. There are worse things to be remembered as."

[devilish_prince]

"There are. This is a time I would remember: the beginning of the story. Where I came from. You looked so impossibly beautiful to me then, like an angel..."

[botticelliangel]

He smiles, tone sliding over into teasing. "And I do not now?"

[devilish_prince]

Lestat's mouth spreads into a grin, in spite of himself. "You know you still are, you devilish cherub. You've always known, I need not tell you, do I?"