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The Blood of Man

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Chapter 6 [Dec. 14th, 2004|08:57 pm]
The Blood of Man
the_bloodofman
[___lestat_____]
Early Evening
Next Day
Lestat


If things such as myself were capable of dreaming, I fear I would have dreamt that day. I would have dreamt of William. Nightmares I am sure of it, would have wound their way into it, making me see things that were not there. Nevertheless, I have not dreamed since I was a mortal, and those I can no longer remember.

I do not rise to greet the night, but instead lay lethargically amongst my pillows and Jessie. She has not risen yet and I do not wish to wake her. She would only insist on hunting down William. A task I am not yet ready to do.

Such things she must think of him, of me, I can only imagine. She is still young, with room enough to think things are wondrous before they appear gruesome and old through time and trials. She does not know what this...stranger may bring, for he is just that, a stranger. An intriguing one for sure, but he is foreign to us just the same. I do not think she understands that point, however. She thinks one conversation over a century ago is more than enough to remember him by, but he has changed, as have I, as has the world.

I close my eyes again, thinking of that young William and of the image I had glanced upon at the bar. Similarities to be sure, but differences as well. It was the cheekbones, that perfectly sculpted face, that made me certain it was he. How many living statues come to life can there be?

Reaching out with my mind, I let it roam through those mortals living around us and even those not so close. I prod and probe, though that is not quite a good description, for them to tell me where he is. I feed them the image I have of the blond with startling blue eyes. So many have seen him, but know nothing of him. He seems to be everywhere and nowhere at once, like a shadow of a memory, nothing more than what I have. Moreover, maybe it is I feeding them these images so that they are being reflected back to me. I do not know how this works other than it does.

This is more than discouraging. I do not wish to be disappointed so, but more than that, I do not want him to be gone. But there, a flash of him, standing, and smoking, another flash of him laughing. Who is it that knows him? Who is it that knows that face so well to know how it smiles? Something is blocking me from the name of the one who shows me these visions. The face is not available to me. Ah, but they give me something else of value, a place and a time. I would thank them, if they would allow, but it is not to be. They know I am here and do not wish me to stay. So instead, I pull back into myself, shutting away the voices and cries of the many that rush to me. Prayers they think I can answer, but I cannot.

Who is it, the one that knows his schedule, where he will be and when? A friend? A lover? Does he even know that someone knows him so intimately as to know when he will appear next? Surely, he would not just allow random mortals to know his habits. Though, would he? Is that something unique to these other vampires? That they allow mortals into their life? It did not seem so when I met him years ago.

I feel Jessie stir beside me, slowly awakening from the deep slumber that immobilizes even the oldest of us when the sun shows itself. It is like watching a flower unfold from a long winters slumber, stretching out to show its self to the bright spring morning light. Only we wake to the night, the coldness of the moon and stars. We unfold like bats from a cave, seeking food, prey, and blood.

I gaze down at her, the dark red tresses of her hair flow like water around her as she moves. I do so love her hair, and the eyes, the sheer brilliance of them. I wonder if she has looked at her eyes lately, seen the colors that wage war in a never-ending battle for dominance, but always the green seems to shine the brightest. Her skin is pale, though it is not so much paler from that which she bore in life. Her lips are like that of a pale pink rose still in bud form. They quiver at the edges, attempting not to smile at me, I am sure.

"Good Evening, my sweet," I say, leaning down to kiss those lips softly. I do not wish to bruise such delicate beauty such as that. Too many times have I done that in the past.
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Comments:
From: ___jessie_____
2004-12-14 05:59 pm (UTC)
"Good evening, Lestat," I say after his lips leave mine. He is in a mood I have not seen him in for too long. Happy, he seems, or at the very least, content. I stop resisting and smile at him.

"What has you spouting poetry from those eyes of yours?” I ask, watching the violet of his eyes dance in delight. Candle flames can try to imitate this dance, but they would not succeed.

I run my fingers through the spun gold of his hair, gently caressing the scalp beneath. He closes his eyes, leaning his entire body into the simple caress. I wonder, does he know he looks like a giant cat when he does that? All that is missing is the subtle purring to accompany that look of bliss. I wonder if he would allow me a cat. One that I could pet and caress, have lie across my lap on long lonely nights when nothing else holds my attention but the view from the windows.
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From: ___lestat_____
2004-12-14 05:59 pm (UTC)

"We shall be going out," I say softly, a sound of pleasure escaping as she runs her hand down the back of my scalp. Years, too many to count, has it been since anyone has done such things to me. I almost had forgotten the simple pleasure of such a touch; the ways you can feel it run through you even though it is only touching the smallest of sections of your body. It is pleasure beyond pleasure.
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From: ___jessie_____
2004-12-14 06:00 pm (UTC)
"Is that so?” I ask, finally sitting up. Poor Lestat glares at me playfully for leaving his side.

"And don't pout. It doesn't work on me."
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From: ___lestat_____
2004-12-14 06:01 pm (UTC)

"Yes, in a few days time."

I take my leave of the bed, comfortable as it may be, and head to the washroom. I can hear Jessie coming up behind me, looking through the armoire.
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From: ___jessie_____
2004-12-14 06:02 pm (UTC)

"And just where would we be going?” I ask, though I am sure I already know the answer, I think. Could it be that he will now search for this vampire, this one of the others that has so distracted him?
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From: ___lestat_____
2004-12-14 06:02 pm (UTC)
I move through the washroom, filling the massive bathtub with hot water. I wish to soak, relax for it seems to have been ages since I have done so. I let Jessie's question hang upon the air as if it had wings. I do not wish to speak, only relax, close my eyes and mind to this world and live, if but for a second, in the here and now. It seems I have lived in the past for too long these last few nights. Or was it longer? I do not know, and it no longer matters for now.
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