{ scene } gold falling from the ceiling of this world, falling from the heartbeat of this girl
Deep within the Deepmoor's autumn castle, Nuala sleeps and dreams; separated from her brother by battlefields and duties, even her dreams aren't untouched by the clash of steel and fire in their blood, and her slumber is restlessly disturbed. In the morning she will have so much to do, and in the meantime she shares in Nuada's aches and somewhere ( Read more... )
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Being known as the Brat Prince of Blood-Drinkers, there was always the delightful addendum of never having to apologize for doing whatever he felt like because, to Lestat, everything he did had a worthwhile meaning at its core, even if other people couldn't see (or sanction) it. Invading the Deepmoor out of loneliness for Nuala could only be described, by him, as a display of his love for the woman, faith in someone he couldn't bear to be parted from. He did so love good people, after all, craving their company to seem just like them.
Which was how one of the most powerful vampires in recent history found himself meandering around Nuala's private chambers without so much as a By your leave from her or the lady's friends - or Nuada. As the Cloud Gift dispersed ( ... )
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In this room are some of her most treasured possessions; out of place amongst her delicate and sometimes-ancient treasures is the thin plasteel box that Luke gave to her, guarding the seeds of great trees that will one day hold cities. A book of ancient poetry, translated for her by hand, lies atop the box next to a pearl of unusual size and her favourite moonstone jewellery. The half-open wardrobe door reveals the glinting of stars as the nightsky itself swirls across a black gown sewn by the princess, unique among her gowns for leaving her shoulders and clavicle bare. The embroidery hoop she abandoned last night before retiring rests upon the chair by the smoldering fireplace, a needle stuck through it pulling enchanted silver thread spun by her own hands ( ... )
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"Good evening, ma chérie. I'm here to see you, of course, what else could prompt me to make such a visit? Your guards are very well selected, I quite agree with their placement around the castle's grounds." Not accounting for the fact it was wonderfully easy for him to avoid them. "You needn't get up, babydoll. Relax! I don't expect you to be my hostess at such an hour. I've been missing you, that's all, and now I've come to wallow in your den of delights."
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Offhand, Nuala can think of three gentlemen - to start - who won't be pleased if they hear about this, but she worries at the draping cuffs of her thin nightgown's diaphanous sleeves with her fingers and regards him with half-awake thoughtfulness instead of suggesting that this is maybe not the best idea Lestat has ever had. After all she missed him, too, and foolishly or not she gave her trust to some unusual individuals.
Besides, she reasons, Lestat is as likely as any of the rest to do something copiously violent to anyone who threatens her - and so she is even safer for having his company. Pleased with this little bit of rationalization and carefully glossing over the fact she probably won't tell Uther Doul or Lonán that he visited, she rests her chin in her hands and smiles up at him, unaware of how much the toll of this new conflict wears on her visibly. Some days - some nights - more than others, she is weary and ageless. The battle might be out beyond the walls that she tends here, but it reaches her in Nuada's sweat and ( ... )
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