(no subject)
[ooc: Out-of-Milliways, cross-posted to Marius's journal]
“Here Mojo! Come on, good boy, get Louis!” In the New Orleans townhouse, Louis de Pointe du Lac had, until recently, been lying peacefully asleep in David’s sumptuous double-bed. Suddenly, he found himself staring a large, drooling Alsatian in the face. “Sacre Dieu!” He turned over, evading the drool, and found himself looking up at a smug blonde vampire.
“Lestat! You-!”
“Allons-y! Up Monsieur! I warned you I was kidnapping you.”
Louis blinked owlishly, and attempted to regain his composure. “You did not have to give me such a rude awakening.”
“I didn’t,” Lestat admitted reluctantly. “But it was fun. Now get up and get dressed, or we’ll miss our flight.”
Louis retrieved his clothes from where they had fallen scattered over David’s floor last night and retreated to his own room, telepathically checking the house for its other occupants. As always there was Khayman in the basement, and Gil and Asar-Suti were blissfully watching the New Orleans sunset from their balcony in the largest guest-room. David, he could not find. “Where is David?”
Lestat was waiting by the top of the stairs with his arms folded, making no secret of his impatience. “Probably at that accursed bar already.”
Louis did not need telepathy to know that Milliways was deemed ‘accursed’ not only because of the sentient bar’s seeming grudge against his maker, but also because of the changes it had sparked in David and his other friends. He knew that Lestat tended to take for granted the positive things about Milliways; the way the bar had brought the coven together, and their new friends such as Richard, Gil and Sooty.
“I thought I would find you in his room. He turned me down once, you know, before all this business about being affected by the twenty-year-old body.”
Louis decided it was probably better to drop the subject of David’s whereabouts, and contented himself with thoughts of that same twenty year-old body last night.
********************
The two vampires arrived in Rome in the earliest hours of the morning. Lestat had hired a private jet which lessened the possibilities, should something go wrong, of the plane being diverted to an airport in a country under the daytime sun.
Though Lestat, strengthened by ancient blood, could certainly have made the trip by flying, he had been unsure about the extent of Louis’ powers. Vampires do not generally talk about their gifts; conversing in mortal garb in mortal settings they suffer a curious sort of embarrassment about abilities which made them feel so inhuman. Lestat would no more have asked Louis if he could make the trip by flying than he would have asked to watch him feed. Telepathy, telekinesis, Lestat had known mortals with such abilities, David for one, but to fly, for a vampire to separate himself from the earth was to separate himself from the last pretence of mortality he entertained.
No, Lestat thought, it was much simpler, much more enjoyable just to fly with Louis, Louis who still marvelled at the view of the illuminated Coliseum and the Vatican from the aeroplane. As they stepped out into Ciampino airport, Lestat found himself revelling in the charade, imagining Louis and himself merely to be two mortal men on holiday.
A picture of elegance, with his tailored suit and long black hair, Louis pulled his hands out of his pockets and gestured around him, “So what now? Where do we find him?”
Eyes glinting through his violet sunglasses, Lestat grinned, “He’ll find us. Right now? We’re going sight-seeing.”
********************
Marius was going back to his lair after feeding when he sensed Louis and Lestat in Rome. Well, he did not tend to think of the house as his ‘lair’ per se; not as he had when Those Who Must Be Kept were his charges. The house was a gorgeous, Corinthian-columned construction, unfortunately on the same street as Mussolini’s fascist museum, but such a location gave Marius a view of the ancient Roman forum and the Senate house from his balconies. The house really looked too much like a wedding cake to be called a ‘lair.’
Marius found Lestat scrutinising some of Oscar Wilde’s letters in the Shelley-Keats museum, and spoke to him over the mind-link.
Only you would resort to breaking and entering to entertain your fledgling.
Well, it took you long enough to find us - we had to do something other than shop. And he’s enjoying himself, look!
Louis, melancholy, was staring out of the window, looking down on the Spanish steps below. When this area of Rome had been cheap accommodation for travellers, Keats had rented this room for its view, and here he had died. Shelley had turned this house into a museum dedicated to a friend and fellow poet who had died so young, and it still stands today.
He doesn’t look like he’s enjoying himself. He looks suicidal.
Louis revels in his sorrow. That’s why he’s a fan of the Romantics, and why your fledgling describes me as a ‘Wildean fantasy.’
At least you’re just breaking and entering, not terrorising the Swiss Guard like the last time you were here. They have enough to worry about at the Vatican right now.
There’s still time.
There was something akin to a mental sigh. Meet me on the steps outside.
********************
Outside, Lestat thrust a bag emblazoned with the legend ‘Armani’ into Marius’s arms. “For you. To wear on your trip to the end of the universe.”
“What? Oh, no, don’t think you’re taking me to that bar of yours, Brat Prince. I’ve had enough of your sort of adventures.”
“You’re too old for that sort of thing you mean?”
“Why I ought to-”
Louis interjected. “I think Armand would like to have you at his wedding, Monsieur Romanus.”
“Yes, how often do you get to see your fledgling pledge his troth to a strapping young Scotsman?”
“I’ve met Richard, Lestat, I gave them my blessing. He’s hardly….‘strapping’ now is he?”
“If you don’t come, I’ll tell Armand you said that.”
Marius, walking between the two of them, sighed. “I don’t suppose I have a choice, do I?”
Louis grinned, “And how often do you get to see David in a kilt?”
“Well that changes everything.” Marius peeked inside the bag he had been given. “Mm, red velvet. Nice.”
“You’re so predictable.”
“Says the brat who copied my look.” As Lestat sputtered in disbelief, Marius turned to Louis. “However did you get the boutiques to open at this ungodly hour? Don’t tell me Lestat broke into Armani, as well as the museum.”
Louis smiled. “No, we gave them a telephone call before we got here.”
“It’s amazing where my sort of charm and savoir faire can get you. I have a very persuasive smile.”
Lestat was ignored by Marius. “He showed them his credit cards?”
Louis nodded. “Yes, he showed them his credit cards.”
********************
They spent the daytime sleeping at Marius’s house, and the next night, before they set out for New Orleans, Lestat had a whim. As always with Lestat’s whims, it is really easier to grant them quietly than argue about things, so the three vampires made for the Trevi fountain.
“Honestly Louis, it’s a tradition. You can’t visit Rome without throwing a coin in the fountain and making a wish. If you don’t do it, it means you’ll never come back.”
“You’re sure this isn’t a ruse so you can run away from us and annoy the Pope?” asked Marius.
“I promise.”
Marius, not really a visitor to Rome since he had been here long before Bernini ever built the fountain, stood back and did not make a wish, but admired the stone sculptures and rippling lights. Louis reached a hand in Lestat’s pocket, found a gold Euro coin and threw it in. As always, Lestat felt the silence between a maker and his fledgling, and he wondered what Louis could be wishing for.
“Hey, isn’t that-” Lestat pointed across the water at a blonde figure, who waved, smiling distractedly before disappearing into the crowd.
“Who?”
“Nobody, it doesn’t matter.” Lestat thought he had seen Aziraphale, Crowley’s angel, and wondered if he had been wishing for the Pope’s health. He dug a hand in his pocket and found a coin. What could he, the Vampire Lestat, possibly wish for? Well, lots of things, but he knew what tomorrow’s occasion called for.
To Richard and Armand. Here’s hoping they don’t start a trend.
Louis and Marius were already walking down the street, past the rose-sellers and all-night cafés; Lestat had obviously taken too long to decide upon his wish. He turned to follow them and then paused, feeling an angelic presence, turning to greet Aziraphale once more and seeing-
Memnoch.
The devil raised his wineglass in greeting from one of the tables outside a bar. He is handsome in this human body, flawless, and Lestat remembers his dream,
“Eternity by my side. What do you say, my darling?” and then, without smoke, fire or brimstone, he is gone.
“Lestat? Lestat, are you coming?”
“Here Mojo! Come on, good boy, get Louis!” In the New Orleans townhouse, Louis de Pointe du Lac had, until recently, been lying peacefully asleep in David’s sumptuous double-bed. Suddenly, he found himself staring a large, drooling Alsatian in the face. “Sacre Dieu!” He turned over, evading the drool, and found himself looking up at a smug blonde vampire.
“Lestat! You-!”
“Allons-y! Up Monsieur! I warned you I was kidnapping you.”
Louis blinked owlishly, and attempted to regain his composure. “You did not have to give me such a rude awakening.”
“I didn’t,” Lestat admitted reluctantly. “But it was fun. Now get up and get dressed, or we’ll miss our flight.”
Louis retrieved his clothes from where they had fallen scattered over David’s floor last night and retreated to his own room, telepathically checking the house for its other occupants. As always there was Khayman in the basement, and Gil and Asar-Suti were blissfully watching the New Orleans sunset from their balcony in the largest guest-room. David, he could not find. “Where is David?”
Lestat was waiting by the top of the stairs with his arms folded, making no secret of his impatience. “Probably at that accursed bar already.”
Louis did not need telepathy to know that Milliways was deemed ‘accursed’ not only because of the sentient bar’s seeming grudge against his maker, but also because of the changes it had sparked in David and his other friends. He knew that Lestat tended to take for granted the positive things about Milliways; the way the bar had brought the coven together, and their new friends such as Richard, Gil and Sooty.
“I thought I would find you in his room. He turned me down once, you know, before all this business about being affected by the twenty-year-old body.”
Louis decided it was probably better to drop the subject of David’s whereabouts, and contented himself with thoughts of that same twenty year-old body last night.
********************
The two vampires arrived in Rome in the earliest hours of the morning. Lestat had hired a private jet which lessened the possibilities, should something go wrong, of the plane being diverted to an airport in a country under the daytime sun.
Though Lestat, strengthened by ancient blood, could certainly have made the trip by flying, he had been unsure about the extent of Louis’ powers. Vampires do not generally talk about their gifts; conversing in mortal garb in mortal settings they suffer a curious sort of embarrassment about abilities which made them feel so inhuman. Lestat would no more have asked Louis if he could make the trip by flying than he would have asked to watch him feed. Telepathy, telekinesis, Lestat had known mortals with such abilities, David for one, but to fly, for a vampire to separate himself from the earth was to separate himself from the last pretence of mortality he entertained.
No, Lestat thought, it was much simpler, much more enjoyable just to fly with Louis, Louis who still marvelled at the view of the illuminated Coliseum and the Vatican from the aeroplane. As they stepped out into Ciampino airport, Lestat found himself revelling in the charade, imagining Louis and himself merely to be two mortal men on holiday.
A picture of elegance, with his tailored suit and long black hair, Louis pulled his hands out of his pockets and gestured around him, “So what now? Where do we find him?”
Eyes glinting through his violet sunglasses, Lestat grinned, “He’ll find us. Right now? We’re going sight-seeing.”
********************
Marius was going back to his lair after feeding when he sensed Louis and Lestat in Rome. Well, he did not tend to think of the house as his ‘lair’ per se; not as he had when Those Who Must Be Kept were his charges. The house was a gorgeous, Corinthian-columned construction, unfortunately on the same street as Mussolini’s fascist museum, but such a location gave Marius a view of the ancient Roman forum and the Senate house from his balconies. The house really looked too much like a wedding cake to be called a ‘lair.’
Marius found Lestat scrutinising some of Oscar Wilde’s letters in the Shelley-Keats museum, and spoke to him over the mind-link.
Only you would resort to breaking and entering to entertain your fledgling.
Well, it took you long enough to find us - we had to do something other than shop. And he’s enjoying himself, look!
Louis, melancholy, was staring out of the window, looking down on the Spanish steps below. When this area of Rome had been cheap accommodation for travellers, Keats had rented this room for its view, and here he had died. Shelley had turned this house into a museum dedicated to a friend and fellow poet who had died so young, and it still stands today.
He doesn’t look like he’s enjoying himself. He looks suicidal.
Louis revels in his sorrow. That’s why he’s a fan of the Romantics, and why your fledgling describes me as a ‘Wildean fantasy.’
At least you’re just breaking and entering, not terrorising the Swiss Guard like the last time you were here. They have enough to worry about at the Vatican right now.
There’s still time.
There was something akin to a mental sigh. Meet me on the steps outside.
********************
Outside, Lestat thrust a bag emblazoned with the legend ‘Armani’ into Marius’s arms. “For you. To wear on your trip to the end of the universe.”
“What? Oh, no, don’t think you’re taking me to that bar of yours, Brat Prince. I’ve had enough of your sort of adventures.”
“You’re too old for that sort of thing you mean?”
“Why I ought to-”
Louis interjected. “I think Armand would like to have you at his wedding, Monsieur Romanus.”
“Yes, how often do you get to see your fledgling pledge his troth to a strapping young Scotsman?”
“I’ve met Richard, Lestat, I gave them my blessing. He’s hardly….‘strapping’ now is he?”
“If you don’t come, I’ll tell Armand you said that.”
Marius, walking between the two of them, sighed. “I don’t suppose I have a choice, do I?”
Louis grinned, “And how often do you get to see David in a kilt?”
“Well that changes everything.” Marius peeked inside the bag he had been given. “Mm, red velvet. Nice.”
“You’re so predictable.”
“Says the brat who copied my look.” As Lestat sputtered in disbelief, Marius turned to Louis. “However did you get the boutiques to open at this ungodly hour? Don’t tell me Lestat broke into Armani, as well as the museum.”
Louis smiled. “No, we gave them a telephone call before we got here.”
“It’s amazing where my sort of charm and savoir faire can get you. I have a very persuasive smile.”
Lestat was ignored by Marius. “He showed them his credit cards?”
Louis nodded. “Yes, he showed them his credit cards.”
********************
They spent the daytime sleeping at Marius’s house, and the next night, before they set out for New Orleans, Lestat had a whim. As always with Lestat’s whims, it is really easier to grant them quietly than argue about things, so the three vampires made for the Trevi fountain.
“Honestly Louis, it’s a tradition. You can’t visit Rome without throwing a coin in the fountain and making a wish. If you don’t do it, it means you’ll never come back.”
“You’re sure this isn’t a ruse so you can run away from us and annoy the Pope?” asked Marius.
“I promise.”
Marius, not really a visitor to Rome since he had been here long before Bernini ever built the fountain, stood back and did not make a wish, but admired the stone sculptures and rippling lights. Louis reached a hand in Lestat’s pocket, found a gold Euro coin and threw it in. As always, Lestat felt the silence between a maker and his fledgling, and he wondered what Louis could be wishing for.
“Hey, isn’t that-” Lestat pointed across the water at a blonde figure, who waved, smiling distractedly before disappearing into the crowd.
“Who?”
“Nobody, it doesn’t matter.” Lestat thought he had seen Aziraphale, Crowley’s angel, and wondered if he had been wishing for the Pope’s health. He dug a hand in his pocket and found a coin. What could he, the Vampire Lestat, possibly wish for? Well, lots of things, but he knew what tomorrow’s occasion called for.
To Richard and Armand. Here’s hoping they don’t start a trend.
Louis and Marius were already walking down the street, past the rose-sellers and all-night cafés; Lestat had obviously taken too long to decide upon his wish. He turned to follow them and then paused, feeling an angelic presence, turning to greet Aziraphale once more and seeing-
Memnoch.
The devil raised his wineglass in greeting from one of the tables outside a bar. He is handsome in this human body, flawless, and Lestat remembers his dream,
“Eternity by my side. What do you say, my darling?” and then, without smoke, fire or brimstone, he is gone.
“Lestat? Lestat, are you coming?”