( it's absurd, the two of them here, like this. david catches the images — sweatshirts he'd never consider for himself; accessories that are — mostly fine, actually, even if accessories are a new thing for him; texture that's—. (no, fuck him, the outfit's deliberate. it goes with the commune, with the image-personality-self he's been working on.) )
—I can choose my own clothes. I don't need to dress up. ( he doesn't mean it to sound as petulant as it might to lestat's ears, but it's the kind of defensive remark that's nearly impossible to sound anything else. he doesn't elaborate on what he means by 'choose', whether that's the typical going-to-a-store-and-selecting, or whether it's more in line with the way that his clothes had changed the first time, from this exact outfit to that of a caricature lion tamer.
but it's not the point. that's not why he's here.
he stands. looming isn't something david does naturally, and it's not something he does now. instead, his body language is caught in an odd refrain of both tense and cautious and casual, the slope of his shoulders implying a slow edge towards disinterest, while everything else about him suggests otherwise. walking in a slow circle to lestat's left, david reaches into a pocket and pulls out the lighter he'd taken from lestat's dressing room earlier.
there's a soft clink of metal, and in a pointed effort to move the conversation away from david's clothes— )
I said hi, to your band. They're nice. ( it's clear that david would say that regardless of how they were. ) Open, actually, which I like. But whose is this? I know it's not yours.
[ the returning snort at david's words indicates exactly what lestat thinks about not needing to dress up. a waste indeed - an hour and lestat's expansive wardrobe would easily put that notion to shame.
but david's slow, rounded advance makes the vampire's nerves prickle in warning. instinctual, that pace bringing wolves to mind. maybe it was just the setting, the taste of blood on his lip. lestat licks at it, sucks his lower lip in to dig his teeth into. good timing - the sight of the lighter - adam's lighter - immediately raises his hackles, just as david likely knew it would.]
It is a lighter. There are so many around, likely left by the band members - [ an attempt at nonchalance, a shrug of his broad shoulders.] - who could say?
There are so many in and out of my spaces. Not everything may belong to me. [ tension in his clenching jaw though, claws flicking against the heel of his hand and drawing blood.
adam is a sore spot, just a young mortal man recovering from his own traumas. unfortunate enough to tangle with lestat and inadvertently be sighted by powers much bigger than himself. it's definitely his lighter - lestat can smell it on the warmed metal, below the flint and steel. ]
( david ignores the snort. it's easy to do, with the way that lestat's demeanour changes. if he were a petty man — or at least, if he acknowledged being a petty man — he thinks he'd try harder to pluck the name from lestat's thoughts. he thinks he'd try harder to get an image, a location. he thinks he'd dangle both over lestat's consciousness, a threat and a question: you came out here looking for syd, maybe I'll go looking for them.
but he's not petty! he's not like lestat. he's better than that.
he hums, then, a low noise of loose consideration, and his gaze darts between lestat and the lighter in his hand, held between thumb and forefinger. he pretends not to have noticed anything of lestat's body language, not the tensing of his jaw, not the way his too-bright, too-sharp nails dig and release, dig and release against his skin. eyebrows arched in feigned obliviousness, david settles on, finally— )
Good! ( it's bright and delighted. ) Then no-one's going to miss it. ( and by way of almost immediate explanation, as if lestat's asked, david remarks— ) I have a friend. She'll be pissed that I've gone on a trip without talking to her first, so... Souvenier.
sure, lestat could just let david keep the lighter, but then there's whatever traces he could pick up from the lighter - or rather, what traces he could spurn from lestat's mind upon taunting him with it. then he'd continue to hold adam over him in some sort of returning gambit, and that was a game less fun when it was turned around on lestat.
slowly, the vampire's muscles begin to coil. pale eyes tracking the lazy prowl of the other man as he speaks, now irritatingly animated, chipper. always sardonic it seemed, from what little glimpses of a positive mood he had seen, but more so now with the rising tension between the two of them.
the atmosphere itself begins to feel weighted, air growing still around them in the forest. if david's vision in the low light is sharp enough, he may be able to note the swelling of lestat's pupils. certainly a force exuded, crackling with potential. it's the mind gift - the vampire churlishly forcing time to slow around david in an attempt to guarantee his success in the next moment.
a flash of remarkable speed, with that sudden squeeze of time around the other man - lestat will attempt to topple david over and snatch the lighter from his hand. no intention to wound, just maybe pin to the damp forest floor if he can.
dangerous, certainly. but lestat isn't really concerned about damage to his own person, only to what leaving such a possession in david's hold could mean for adam.]
( does david expect lestat to react? certainly. he'd been counting on it, in a way, but what he doesn't expect — oh, it's fucking stupid in retrospect, because he has read the book, and it's not like there aren't supposed accounts of vampires from over the years — is the sheer speed and raw power. david doesn't see well enough in the low light of the forest, the hazy glow of stars and moonlight, to be able to pick out details.
sure, he can tell lestat's pissed, that's the point. he doesn't need telepathy for that. it's there in the air between them, although david doesn't miss the way it changes beyond that. for a moment, he falters. his eyes widen (slowly), and the furrow of his brows is a sharp question. uncertainty. fear? maybe, in a certain light.
it gives way to shock and pain, the two doing battle with one another as he's shoved to the ground. david may be many things, but unnaturally strong is not one of them, and the suddenness of impact forces his breath from his lungs, a dull cough-wheeze as the pain of it registers. confusion, too, even as he reacts by instinct — not, it's worth noting, to respond in kind, to shove lestat away, not like how he'd quote-unquote greeted lestat minutes before, but to teleport away instead. a handful of feet at most, doubled over on all fours, hands and knees pressed into the cold, damp forest floor.
heavy breaths, in and out for a count of one, two, then three and four before he lifts his gaze, allowing it settle accusatorily on lestat. )
[ you gotta stop doing that, david. lestat's activated, already wired up and ready to react at a moment's notice. much like the big cat of his namesake, the sudden reappearance of his prey has him immediately snapping his focus to david, pupils huge and black in the darkness.
it's a measure of lestat's own restraint that he doesn't immediately pounce on david. though every instinct he has is screaming to follow through, to pin the other man to the floor and see if he'll squirm away once more. he has the lighter, that should be enough. the weight of it in his pocket already makes him feel a bit better.]
Apologies. It seems as if I did have use for this lighter.
[ a mocking tilt of his head, a playful little pout as he regards david's dishevelled appearance. much better. that delightful thrill up his spine was back. ]
My, you do look quite the picture on your knees. Was that too rough for you? Harder, or softer next time?
[ now he's just being a dick. cocky too, relaxing his posture and running a hand through golden locks to smooth it out, remove debris. knowingly inviting more violence, but without the threat to adam, he was not concerned.]
( david shifts his weight so that he's sitting with his legs folded under him. it's foolish, perhaps, telegraphing the fact that he'll be unable to move quickly except by teleportation, but that thought doesn't occur to him. instead, he's taken by lestat's gaze on him, even if he can't see enough for the details, nor does he know enough to guess at where lestat's thoughts are at.
he can track the tilt of lestat's head, it's not too dark for that, not even with the way the shadows are growing deeper and longer around them, not even with the way the light grows more inky. the glint of light against the blood still on lestat's chin helps, even if it's annoying, too. his mouth twitches. not a smile this time, and then he's gone.
and then he's behind lestat, crouched over, breath warm against lestat's ear. )
I was being nice by not finding out who they are. ( a low whisper. ) Even if you can shield your thoughts, bury the little pops of recollection down deep, do you think anyone else around you will be able to do that? Your guitarist, your bassist, the woman that keeps your diary, writes down your schedule and reminds your of where you should be and who you should be meeting.
( abruptly, he stands and steps back, the weight of one footstep then the other eliciting a crack; his tone changes, slides into something more conversational, louder, like it's more than just the two of them there. )
—It's dickish, right? To try and use someone important to you like that? Like they're a toy. Leverage. Like they don't matter.
( his gaze slides sideways, expectant, like he expects an answer. (agreement.) )
[ lestat shivers, suddenly conflicted between a spark of something and agitation at the supposed teaching moment. the disappearing act wasn't terribly surprising, only the intimacy of the breath on his ear left him in a moment of pause. that, and needing to school back the irritation at the implied threat, there.
then he's turning on his heel, fangs flashing pale in the darkness as he grins wide at the other man.]
Is it not fair play? It is, after all - what I have mocked you with.
[ his tone slips into a croon, teasing. he takes a step towards david, narrowing that gap between them once again. enough that lestat can grab the hem of that tacky tunic and toy with it, dark eyes enormous.]
It did capture your attention, did it not? And now you see I am not a creature to be idle entertainment, nor disregarded.
[ someone is still taking that off hand comment personally.]
( david doesn't move away from lestat's grasp, the intrusion into his personal space. there is, for a moment, a flicker of a question, a silent recalibration of expectations and understanding. it's what I mocked you with. his focus leaves lestat, a glance to his left, then the other side, as if searching. as if there's something just out of sight that'll give him the answer lestat hasn't entirely clarified.
it's disquieting to realise that syd may not have been in any danger at all. that this was about him and not her.
back to lestat, and his right hand darts out to grab lestat's wrist, fingers curling around in a grip that's firm though not tight. stop. )That's what this is about? My attention?( one voice, a quiet told you so, interrupted by a don't be stupid, he's a vampire, what does he want with you? other than to suck your blood and get weird vampire-mutant powers. (what does he say to that?)
his gaze lingers, as does the silence. the white of lestat's teeth is bright in the darkness, nearly impossible to look away from. )
[ speaking to phantoms, it seemed. lestat knew that sidewards glance, the slight unfocusing. louis had shown similar traits - still does, from time to time. he doesn't quite understand what it is, only that it's familiar, not uncomfortable. warms him in a way, stirs a protective feeling for the churlish man before him. a little more humanising, less of objectification of a shiny toy he was very interested in getting to know.
in return, lestat offers a very boyish shrug, a wry smile that is less teeth and more imperfect, crooked. his hand gripping the hem does not advance, nor move - just holds there, with david's hand grasping his wrist. rewarded for his misbehaviour.]
I am reasonable with others. You do not seem to be the type I need to be reasonable with.
[ palatable, harsh edges filed off to be amicable, gentle. whatever monstrous thing dwelled in lestat seemed to be dwelling in david too. even if he denied it to himself out of self preservation, it seemed. it was fascinating.
lestat leans in, smile growing with the growing awareness that david was not going to flinch back, nor push him away.]
How rare it is that I am able to find a playmate able to keep pace with me. You are extraordinary, David Haller. An exploding star who's heat I must witness first hand.
( it's clear by lestat's tone, the disarming way he smiles and shrugs, that his remark isn't meant as an insult, but that doesn't stop it from hitting strangely. uncomfortably. unreasonable, like he's incapable of reason. his grip loosens, and the tips of his fingers brush across lestat's skin — cold, colder than david's — until he's let go entirely, while there's a tightening to his posture that suggests hurt more than it does anything else.
if lestat were farouk, it'd be disgust. anger. anything to avoid recognition. it's harder to push that on someone he's spoken to less than a handful of times, no matter the intensity of those times. his mouth twists, not in amusement, but bitterness. familiarity. unreasonable. yeah, sure, david-the-lunatic.
(asshole.) )
—Until what, I destroy myself? ( sharp and sudden, decisive in its disagreement. ) Screw you.
[ that was not the reaction he was hoping for. lestat's first instinct is to tug on the hem of the tunic to draw the other man even closer, but he refrains. lets the material slip from his fingers and even leans backwards onto his back foot, smile falling away.]
Ah. I have offended you.
[ uncomfortable - did david not see the freedom he permitted with his very nature? his abilities? or perhaps the loathing was too great that a veil of denial was yet still required? disappointing, that one did not relish in his own monstrous nature.
a softer hand required, perhaps.]
It would not please me to witness your destruction, mon ami. Not when you have clearly worked quite hard to reach the heights you now sit at.
[ a quirk of his mouth - he's unable to help himself, truly. ill advised.]
But I would not object to being screwed, either. I am quite flexible in this regard, aussi.
[ is now the time for flirting? absolutely. lestat bats his eyelashes, already anticipating david's look of incredulity. so reactive. so fun. ]
You compared me to an exploding star, how is that a compliment? Do you know what happens when stars explode?
( the irony, perhaps, is that david doesn't recognise himself as self-loathing. he knows he's capable of it, knows he's been guilty of it in the past, but these days? no. he actively tries to avoid anything — namely self-reflection — that makes him feel bad about himself. his is a delicate tightrope of being aware that he's done things that aren't good — mistakes! — and finding a way to justify those to himself so that they don't interfere with his narrative of being a good person.
upsetting that is — no.
(perhaps if david's perspective on what makes a monster were a little less black and white, he'd find navigating his own moral flexibility easier. alas.)
his response overlaps with the brief pause as lestat's mouth twitches before adding his final remark, and david's expression slides into the expected incredulity. a sigh-slash-scoff and the barest roll of his eyes, and— )
[ despite himself, lestat cannot help but let amusement crinkle and warp his coyness, a pleased little smile shining through. was there any point in clarification? probably not, but being misunderstood is not ideal either. ]
I have lived centuries. All mortals are exploding stars to me, in some degree. [ he offers, as if that would help in the slightest.
of course, david would be far more destructive than most, far more deadly. in lestat's opinion, more beautiful to witness. the incredulity too, is a familiar song and dance he very much enjoys. comfortable in the role of being the outrageous clown to another's flat affect, reminiscent of louis' fond exasperation to his antics.
it's no deterrent, though lestat takes a moment to school his expression before tilting his head at david, sucking his own lower lip between his teeth to worry before responding. ]
I do. Yet it is not about the act alone, but the chemistry, no?
( it says a lot that lestat's age hadn't factored into david's consideration of why lestat had reached the opinion he had, and now that the information's given to him, it still doesn't placate him. the issue is the half of the statement that he hasn't openly acknowledged: irrational. difficult. )
Is that supposed to sound romantic?
( he means, of course, the all mortals remark, although he doesn't bother to clarify. the second half of lestat's answer doesn't go ignored — his glance at lestat, the meeting of his gaze is sharp, weighted.
the romantic part of david, the parts of himself he'd leant into with syd (until he hadn't), wants to agree with lestat in so much as chemistry's the term for it; the rest of him, the parts that hadn't been satisfied with just a romance of the mind, that'd tried to touch and kiss syd at clockworks, even after she'd expressed her desire otherwise; that'd had one-night stands and ill-advised fuck buddies here and there, a not entirely adequate method of attempting to quiet some of the noise and to feel like he was wanted, thinks no, sometimes the act is enough.
(or, more to the point, it's less about chemistry and more about what he gets from it, even if he wouldn't recognise that.) )
[ a huff of laughter; lestat lowers his gaze, glances aside. willingly taking his eyes off david in a display of trust, regardless of what his senses may tell him otherwise.]
I am not intending to replace your Sydney, David. Nor do I need to fit any particular type.
[ as if lestat didn't worm his way into everyone's type. he was very traditionally handsome after all, and was well aware of it. a blessing and a curse for both his mortal and immortal life - beauty had been the reason behind his murder and undeath, after all. something he didn't want to unearth too much from either, else he may start to unravel.
far easier to continue to use his sexuality as a bargaining chip to be deserving of love and attention. this was no different. ]
It is an offer to fuck, not wedding vows. [ a shrug, lestat's gaze drifting back to meet david's eyes.]
Take it or leave it. I have declared my interest - if I am too much for you to handle, I will not be offended.
[ a little gleam of teeth in a wry grin there. both innuendo and a touch of bitterness there - he himself is a lot, he knows this. difficult to handle with his mood swings and temper, not for the faint of heart. something he is trying to accept about himself, though his own self loathing catches up far too quickly than he'd admit.]
(if I am too much for you to handle, lestat says, and david laughs. ) For sex? Didn't you just say it was an offer to fuck, not to get married.
( —which is to say, there are echoes of david's own words there. an aborted, stop-start admission that he's difficult. the intention had been to say 'date', but it was true in more than that. he is (was) difficult, and for as much as he'd been insulted by philly's insistence that he could be fixed, he'd hoped for it, too. now, it's—. different. it's as melanie said, before she changed her tune: that was the old narrative.
he leans forward. two inches is the sort of height difference that's negligible until you're face-to-face, nose-to-nose, and lestat is larger than david in almost every way. personality, presence, self. his mouth curves into a smile, smug and amused. his hand lifts, index finger extended, like he's convinced he's caught lestat in a lie. )
That's bullshit. ( "I won't be offended." ) How many people turn you down? Lestat, the vampire?
( his gaze catches on lestat's teeth, the way the white catches the light, and part of him wonders if it's deliberate. the rest of him ignores that thought in much the way most of him ignores the awareness he hasn't, in so many words, rejected the offer, he just hasn't said yes (yet).
and then, as if his brain's caught up with the rest of him, a short, sharp shake of his head and— ) —Syd, she's not mine, stop saying that.
[ the sudden proximity, the man's advance closer - david was playing along, not retreating from the offer, the push and pull. wonderful. lestat's eyes drop down to the other man's mouth, that self assured smile. cute. a growling wolf nose to nose with a lion. ]
[ whether he crashes out about it or not entirely depends on the day. but being rejected is oft commonplace with those he loves - seeking out withholding, emotionally distant partners seems to be a pattern - it is not a deterrent in the slightest. over eagerness perhaps, may be.]
Now, I do not know your preferences, mm? I am quite the handful in every aspect - some may find it intimidating. A lot to swallow, one might say.
[ the loft of his brows and the mischievous glint in his eyes is more than enough to get his point across, he thinks. ]
Certainly, you are just a slight thing, oui? And this Sydney - I take it she was not quite as physically demanding as I will be.
[ acknowledging david's request without drawing attention to it, a correction of sydney's independence. all whilst continuing to goad, mouth curled smug as anything.
delicately, lestat grasps the wrist of that accusing pointed finger, cool skin against warmth. taking it gently, as if it were offered to him for a dance.]
( david makes an odd noise at lestat's lot to swallow, something that's almost a laugh in spite of himself, something that suggests he catches himself partway to laughing and doesn't want to give lestat the satisfaction. dirty, crude jokes and innuendo are nothing new, and lestat's aren't quite as blunt as lenny's, and david— though he doesn't reciprocate in quite the same way, it's not something that's ever bothered him.
but he does look affronted, just a touch, when lestat calls him slight, and his head jerks as if to look down at himself, at the shape of their shadows on the floor of the clearing. it distracts him long enough that the suddenness of lestat grabbing his wrist, oddly gentle and yet still cold, still manages to startle him, and he glances back to him abruptly. brows knit, it's as if he's about to disagree with the assertion, but instead— )
We broke up. I don't want to talk about her.
(we is perhaps a funny way of putting it, given there was no 'we' in the decision. david would undo it in a heartbeat, assuming syd would just — you know, forgive him. not try to kill him. not act like he's a smashed toy waiting to be put back together. he intends for the remark to sound like a statement, a matter-of-fact preference, doesn't think of how it might come across otherwise — a little pathetic and immature.
[ ah, that puts a dampener on lestat's flirtation somewhat. certainly, he has sympathy for that petulant hurt heard in david's voice, his tender feelings still surrounding sydney. it has not been long at all since louis had allowed lestat back into his life after all, open wounds and all. he is lucky enough to have snippets of his companion's time back to himself, not left alone to numb himself out with drugs and sex until he cannot think of anything else.
david's rigidity may yet be a reaction to his own wounds caused by sydney, it seems. or it may be simply an aspect of who he is. lestat hasn't figured it out yet. he contemplates this whilst regarding david with a long stare, letting the silence after the man's question hang.
then, a softer offer, his fingers loosening around the slender wrist -]
It is not my intention. [ a beat. ] Would you like me to?
[ there is pleasure in it, after all. the pain, certainly, but a catharsis in giving oneself over. lestat does not think david would offer this, but the man is full of surprises thus far.]
( there is, for a moment, a flicker of indecision. lestat's assumption isn't wrong, but there's momentarily the recollection that for all of the pain and the shock of it, it wasn't wholly, entirely unpleasant — but that's offset almost immediately by david's distrust and dislike of giving over control, not after finally managing to obtain some after a life with so little.
the softness of lestat's words, the loosening of his grip, neither mean that david fully trusts lestat when he says it's not his intention, but they are the reason why david doesn't jerk out of lestat's grasp entirely, why his own words are sharp but not angry. the frustration there, as transparent as it is, is general, not aimed at lestat in particular. )
No. I've had enough things, ( not that it entirely tempers david's word choice — but again, it's less about lestat and more david's refusal to see farouk as a person. ) Feed off me in my life. I'm not interested in having someone else start, not when I've finally—.
( he snatches his hand back, any and all sudden agitation all of his own doing. he takes a step back, attention sliding away from lestat as if trying to find something else in the woods to give his attention to. in finding nothing, his mouth scrunches, then flattens into a line, and then— )
—I grew up somewhere like this. ( he doesn't know if lestat saw that, his childhood home. the house in the country, the fields and the grass and the trees and the mountains. the stars. it's not quite an olive branch, but it's not antagonism, an attempted redirecting of the conversation to something a little more palatable for david. )
[ lestat does not snatch david back, simply watches him move away, observing the way he flinches like a wounded animal. no matter; there was a moment of connection and meaning in not forcing his hand, even as easy as it would be for the vampire. if it were simply blood or sex lestat wanted, it would be another story entirely. he had the strength and the means to get whatever he pleased - this was a delicate balancing act, unpeeling layers off another interesting human the closer he peered.]
As I said, it was not my intention.
[ he offers quietly, before allowing his gaze to sweep around the forest, as if observing with david's context in mind. he did not see it in the man's blood, instead other memories, blurry images of therapy sessions, dark eyes and confusing shadows. fear, mostly. this was a reprieve, evidently something comforting to the other man.]
Yes? I often hunted as a mortal man in similar places. A long time ago.
[ an unguarded offering, a clear image held in his mind's eye of a snowy forest in auvergne. lestat astride his horse, followed by enormous mastiffs, musket strapped to his shoulder. endless woods stretched out before him, the only tracks those of the animals he hunted.]
( david makes a noise that, for all appearances, is acknowledgement of lestat's repeated insistence that he'd had no intention to attack — is that the best word for it? is that what the first time had even really been about? given everything — david. he's not convinced that lestat's as lacking as capriciousness as all that, thinks that it's even there in his phrasing: not his intention. that's not saying he wouldn't or he won't, just that it's not what he was planning.
the thought sits with david, even as lestat offers a memory. for all intents and purposes, lestat doesn't look all that different to how he looks now — marginally younger, perhaps, although maybe there's a degree more innocence there. hope? the determination's the same, the expectancy. whatever being turned into a vampire did to lestat, david thinks that it didn't change him, not really. solidified, perhaps; made him more fully realised—. )
I don't like dogs. ( it's murmured, half meant for lestat, half commentary for david alone. he knows now that king had never been real, that it'd been farouk in a form more palatable for david's childhood perception, and it explained — in so many ways — why david had never seemed to feel comfortable around any others. why, after king had disappeared, (run away? died? doesn't matter, it wasn't true—), he'd never managed to settle on the idea of getting another dog.
farouk, he thinks, explains why none had ever really seemed to like him. )
[ a flash then - the memory twisting to blood on the snow, the terrible shrieking of the dying mare confused and frightened. lestat too, face streaked with tears, surrounded by a pack of wolves all dead by his hand. his two hounds unfortunately also laying still in the snow, killed trying to protect their master.
beloved pets he had hand reared from pups, unconditional adoration for the bright young man struggling to flourish despite regular beatings from his brother's and father. oft snuggled close to him at night for warmth within the cold stone walls of his father's barren castle - now pointlessly slain, never again to gamble alongside him like oversized puppies. the young lestat is almost too shellshocked to register it entirely, cannot do much else but let tears fall. hoist a wolf carcass over his shoulder and begin to make the slow trek back home on foot, lucky to be alive but almost wishing he had died there with his beloved animals.
it's a traumatic memory, one that signals the eventual stalking, torture and murder of the young de lioncourt. even as the mortal lestat did not know he was being watched, the immortal vampire's memory adds a dark looming shadow beyond the trees in an approximation of where the ancient predator may have been watching.
a twist of discomfort over lestat's expression as he recollects this for david's consumption, a beat longer before sealing it away once more. a show of faith, along with the lack of any attempted bites. though the thud of david's pulse is sounding particularly appealing right now - an unfortunately loud surface thought that lestat clears away.]
I do not keep dogs now, as you can imagine. The time with them is simply too short. It is difficult enough to watch mortals fade away, much less innocent animals.
though not inherently squeamish, it's quite clear that david doesn't enjoy what lestat shows him, from the horse to the wolves to the dogs and the blood. lestat's — the younger one in his memories — tears are something of a surprise, and though it doesn't quite mean that david reconsiders his opinion of lestat, it is something he allows to sink in, allows to contribute to a more fully-formed image of the vampire lestat is today.
the memory ends, the abruptness of it fitting for the palpable discomfort, and though david catches the shift in lestat's expression, though he understands on some level that it was a — what? olive branch? an open hand extended if not in friendship, then at least not enmity, that doesn't stop david's immediate, discomforted response of, )
You could've just said they died. That was horrible. ( it's incredulous, lightly challenging only in the sense that david did not enjoy it, and he eyes lestat for a beat before adding, a touch more curious, ) What was the—. ( a vague wave of his hand. )Shadow?( fear? david's not sure what word to use, even if the similarities go unmissed. )
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Date: 2026-03-31 05:23 pm (UTC)—I can choose my own clothes. I don't need to dress up. ( he doesn't mean it to sound as petulant as it might to lestat's ears, but it's the kind of defensive remark that's nearly impossible to sound anything else. he doesn't elaborate on what he means by 'choose', whether that's the typical going-to-a-store-and-selecting, or whether it's more in line with the way that his clothes had changed the first time, from this exact outfit to that of a caricature lion tamer.
but it's not the point. that's not why he's here.
he stands. looming isn't something david does naturally, and it's not something he does now. instead, his body language is caught in an odd refrain of both tense and cautious and casual, the slope of his shoulders implying a slow edge towards disinterest, while everything else about him suggests otherwise. walking in a slow circle to lestat's left, david reaches into a pocket and pulls out the lighter he'd taken from lestat's dressing room earlier.
there's a soft clink of metal, and in a pointed effort to move the conversation away from david's clothes— )
I said hi, to your band. They're nice. ( it's clear that david would say that regardless of how they were. ) Open, actually, which I like. But whose is this? I know it's not yours.
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Date: 2026-03-31 05:42 pm (UTC)but david's slow, rounded advance makes the vampire's nerves prickle in warning. instinctual, that pace bringing wolves to mind. maybe it was just the setting, the taste of blood on his lip. lestat licks at it, sucks his lower lip in to dig his teeth into. good timing - the sight of the lighter - adam's lighter - immediately raises his hackles, just as david likely knew it would.]
It is a lighter. There are so many around, likely left by the band members - [ an attempt at nonchalance, a shrug of his broad shoulders.] - who could say?
There are so many in and out of my spaces. Not everything may belong to me. [ tension in his clenching jaw though, claws flicking against the heel of his hand and drawing blood.
adam is a sore spot, just a young mortal man recovering from his own traumas. unfortunate enough to tangle with lestat and inadvertently be sighted by powers much bigger than himself. it's definitely his lighter - lestat can smell it on the warmed metal, below the flint and steel. ]
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Date: 2026-03-31 06:05 pm (UTC)but he's not petty! he's not like lestat. he's better than that.
he hums, then, a low noise of loose consideration, and his gaze darts between lestat and the lighter in his hand, held between thumb and forefinger. he pretends not to have noticed anything of lestat's body language, not the tensing of his jaw, not the way his too-bright, too-sharp nails dig and release, dig and release against his skin. eyebrows arched in feigned obliviousness, david settles on, finally— )
Good! ( it's bright and delighted. ) Then no-one's going to miss it. ( and by way of almost immediate explanation, as if lestat's asked, david remarks— ) I have a friend. She'll be pissed that I've gone on a trip without talking to her first, so... Souvenier.
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Date: 2026-03-31 06:31 pm (UTC)sure, lestat could just let david keep the lighter, but then there's whatever traces he could pick up from the lighter - or rather, what traces he could spurn from lestat's mind upon taunting him with it. then he'd continue to hold adam over him in some sort of returning gambit, and that was a game less fun when it was turned around on lestat.
slowly, the vampire's muscles begin to coil. pale eyes tracking the lazy prowl of the other man as he speaks, now irritatingly animated, chipper. always sardonic it seemed, from what little glimpses of a positive mood he had seen, but more so now with the rising tension between the two of them.
the atmosphere itself begins to feel weighted, air growing still around them in the forest. if david's vision in the low light is sharp enough, he may be able to note the swelling of lestat's pupils. certainly a force exuded, crackling with potential. it's the mind gift - the vampire churlishly forcing time to slow around david in an attempt to guarantee his success in the next moment.
a flash of remarkable speed, with that sudden squeeze of time around the other man - lestat will attempt to topple david over and snatch the lighter from his hand. no intention to wound, just maybe pin to the damp forest floor if he can.
dangerous, certainly. but lestat isn't really concerned about damage to his own person, only to what leaving such a possession in david's hold could mean for adam.]
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Date: 2026-03-31 06:46 pm (UTC)sure, he can tell lestat's pissed, that's the point. he doesn't need telepathy for that. it's there in the air between them, although david doesn't miss the way it changes beyond that. for a moment, he falters. his eyes widen (slowly), and the furrow of his brows is a sharp question. uncertainty. fear? maybe, in a certain light.
it gives way to shock and pain, the two doing battle with one another as he's shoved to the ground. david may be many things, but unnaturally strong is not one of them, and the suddenness of impact forces his breath from his lungs, a dull cough-wheeze as the pain of it registers. confusion, too, even as he reacts by instinct — not, it's worth noting, to respond in kind, to shove lestat away, not like how he'd quote-unquote greeted lestat minutes before, but to teleport away instead. a handful of feet at most, doubled over on all fours, hands and knees pressed into the cold, damp forest floor.
heavy breaths, in and out for a count of one, two, then three and four before he lifts his gaze, allowing it settle accusatorily on lestat. )
Ow.
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Date: 2026-03-31 07:03 pm (UTC)it's a measure of lestat's own restraint that he doesn't immediately pounce on david. though every instinct he has is screaming to follow through, to pin the other man to the floor and see if he'll squirm away once more. he has the lighter, that should be enough. the weight of it in his pocket already makes him feel a bit better.]
Apologies. It seems as if I did have use for this lighter.
[ a mocking tilt of his head, a playful little pout as he regards david's dishevelled appearance. much better. that delightful thrill up his spine was back. ]
My, you do look quite the picture on your knees. Was that too rough for you? Harder, or softer next time?
[ now he's just being a dick. cocky too, relaxing his posture and running a hand through golden locks to smooth it out, remove debris. knowingly inviting more violence, but without the threat to adam, he was not concerned.]
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Date: 2026-03-31 07:25 pm (UTC)he can track the tilt of lestat's head, it's not too dark for that, not even with the way the shadows are growing deeper and longer around them, not even with the way the light grows more inky. the glint of light against the blood still on lestat's chin helps, even if it's annoying, too. his mouth twitches. not a smile this time, and then he's gone.
and then he's behind lestat, crouched over, breath warm against lestat's ear. )
I was being nice by not finding out who they are. ( a low whisper. ) Even if you can shield your thoughts, bury the little pops of recollection down deep, do you think anyone else around you will be able to do that? Your guitarist, your bassist, the woman that keeps your diary, writes down your schedule and reminds your of where you should be and who you should be meeting.
( abruptly, he stands and steps back, the weight of one footstep then the other eliciting a crack; his tone changes, slides into something more conversational, louder, like it's more than just the two of them there. )
—It's dickish, right? To try and use someone important to you like that? Like they're a toy. Leverage. Like they don't matter.
( his gaze slides sideways, expectant, like he expects an answer. (agreement.) )
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Date: 2026-03-31 07:42 pm (UTC)then he's turning on his heel, fangs flashing pale in the darkness as he grins wide at the other man.]
Is it not fair play? It is, after all - what I have mocked you with.
[ his tone slips into a croon, teasing. he takes a step towards david, narrowing that gap between them once again. enough that lestat can grab the hem of that tacky tunic and toy with it, dark eyes enormous.]
It did capture your attention, did it not? And now you see I am not a creature to be idle entertainment, nor disregarded.
[ someone is still taking that off hand comment personally.]
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Date: 2026-03-31 07:55 pm (UTC)it's disquieting to realise that syd may not have been in any danger at all. that this was about him and not her.
back to lestat, and his right hand darts out to grab lestat's wrist, fingers curling around in a grip that's firm though not tight. stop. ) That's what this is about? My attention? ( one voice, a quiet told you so, interrupted by a don't be stupid, he's a vampire, what does he want with you? other than to suck your blood and get weird vampire-mutant powers. (what does he say to that?)
his gaze lingers, as does the silence. the white of lestat's teeth is bright in the darkness, nearly impossible to look away from. )
A reasonable person would've used their words.
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Date: 2026-03-31 08:18 pm (UTC)in return, lestat offers a very boyish shrug, a wry smile that is less teeth and more imperfect, crooked. his hand gripping the hem does not advance, nor move - just holds there, with david's hand grasping his wrist. rewarded for his misbehaviour.]
I am reasonable with others. You do not seem to be the type I need to be reasonable with.
[ palatable, harsh edges filed off to be amicable, gentle. whatever monstrous thing dwelled in lestat seemed to be dwelling in david too. even if he denied it to himself out of self preservation, it seemed. it was fascinating.
lestat leans in, smile growing with the growing awareness that david was not going to flinch back, nor push him away.]
How rare it is that I am able to find a playmate able to keep pace with me. You are extraordinary, David Haller. An exploding star who's heat I must witness first hand.
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Date: 2026-03-31 08:44 pm (UTC)if lestat were farouk, it'd be disgust. anger. anything to avoid recognition. it's harder to push that on someone he's spoken to less than a handful of times, no matter the intensity of those times. his mouth twists, not in amusement, but bitterness. familiarity. unreasonable. yeah, sure, david-the-lunatic.
(asshole.) )
—Until what, I destroy myself? ( sharp and sudden, decisive in its disagreement. ) Screw you.
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Date: 2026-04-01 01:45 am (UTC)Ah. I have offended you.
[ uncomfortable - did david not see the freedom he permitted with his very nature? his abilities? or perhaps the loathing was too great that a veil of denial was yet still required? disappointing, that one did not relish in his own monstrous nature.
a softer hand required, perhaps.]
It would not please me to witness your destruction, mon ami. Not when you have clearly worked quite hard to reach the heights you now sit at.
[ a quirk of his mouth - he's unable to help himself, truly. ill advised.]
But I would not object to being screwed, either. I am quite flexible in this regard, aussi.
[ is now the time for flirting? absolutely. lestat bats his eyelashes, already anticipating david's look of incredulity. so reactive. so fun. ]
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Date: 2026-04-01 11:43 am (UTC)( the irony, perhaps, is that david doesn't recognise himself as self-loathing. he knows he's capable of it, knows he's been guilty of it in the past, but these days? no. he actively tries to avoid anything — namely self-reflection — that makes him feel bad about himself. his is a delicate tightrope of being aware that he's done things that aren't good — mistakes! — and finding a way to justify those to himself so that they don't interfere with his narrative of being a good person.
upsetting that is — no.
(perhaps if david's perspective on what makes a monster were a little less black and white, he'd find navigating his own moral flexibility easier. alas.)
his response overlaps with the brief pause as lestat's mouth twitches before adding his final remark, and david's expression slides into the expected incredulity. a sigh-slash-scoff and the barest roll of his eyes, and— )
Don't you have groupies for that?
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Date: 2026-04-01 12:25 pm (UTC)I have lived centuries. All mortals are exploding stars to me, in some degree. [ he offers, as if that would help in the slightest.
of course, david would be far more destructive than most, far more deadly. in lestat's opinion, more beautiful to witness. the incredulity too, is a familiar song and dance he very much enjoys. comfortable in the role of being the outrageous clown to another's flat affect, reminiscent of louis' fond exasperation to his antics.
it's no deterrent, though lestat takes a moment to school his expression before tilting his head at david, sucking his own lower lip between his teeth to worry before responding. ]
I do. Yet it is not about the act alone, but the chemistry, no?
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Date: 2026-04-01 06:40 pm (UTC)Is that supposed to sound romantic?
( he means, of course, the all mortals remark, although he doesn't bother to clarify. the second half of lestat's answer doesn't go ignored — his glance at lestat, the meeting of his gaze is sharp, weighted.
the romantic part of david, the parts of himself he'd leant into with syd (until he hadn't), wants to agree with lestat in so much as chemistry's the term for it; the rest of him, the parts that hadn't been satisfied with just a romance of the mind, that'd tried to touch and kiss syd at clockworks, even after she'd expressed her desire otherwise; that'd had one-night stands and ill-advised fuck buddies here and there, a not entirely adequate method of attempting to quiet some of the noise and to feel like he was wanted, thinks no, sometimes the act is enough.
(or, more to the point, it's less about chemistry and more about what he gets from it, even if he wouldn't recognise that.) )
—Being blonde doesn't mean you're my type.
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Date: 2026-04-01 07:20 pm (UTC)I am not intending to replace your Sydney, David. Nor do I need to fit any particular type.
[ as if lestat didn't worm his way into everyone's type. he was very traditionally handsome after all, and was well aware of it. a blessing and a curse for both his mortal and immortal life - beauty had been the reason behind his murder and undeath, after all. something he didn't want to unearth too much from either, else he may start to unravel.
far easier to continue to use his sexuality as a bargaining chip to be deserving of love and attention. this was no different. ]
It is an offer to fuck, not wedding vows. [ a shrug, lestat's gaze drifting back to meet david's eyes.]
Take it or leave it. I have declared my interest - if I am too much for you to handle, I will not be offended.
[ a little gleam of teeth in a wry grin there. both innuendo and a touch of bitterness there - he himself is a lot, he knows this. difficult to handle with his mood swings and temper, not for the faint of heart. something he is trying to accept about himself, though his own self loathing catches up far too quickly than he'd admit.]
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Date: 2026-04-01 09:02 pm (UTC)( —which is to say, there are echoes of david's own words there. an aborted, stop-start admission that he's difficult. the intention had been to say 'date', but it was true in more than that. he is (was) difficult, and for as much as he'd been insulted by philly's insistence that he could be fixed, he'd hoped for it, too. now, it's—. different. it's as melanie said, before she changed her tune: that was the old narrative.
he leans forward. two inches is the sort of height difference that's negligible until you're face-to-face, nose-to-nose, and lestat is larger than david in almost every way. personality, presence, self. his mouth curves into a smile, smug and amused. his hand lifts, index finger extended, like he's convinced he's caught lestat in a lie. )
That's bullshit. ( "I won't be offended." ) How many people turn you down? Lestat, the vampire?
( his gaze catches on lestat's teeth, the way the white catches the light, and part of him wonders if it's deliberate. the rest of him ignores that thought in much the way most of him ignores the awareness he hasn't, in so many words, rejected the offer, he just hasn't said yes (yet).
and then, as if his brain's caught up with the rest of him, a short, sharp shake of his head and— ) —Syd, she's not mine, stop saying that.
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Date: 2026-04-02 01:42 am (UTC)It occurs often enough, chéri. I am not to everyone's tastes.
[ whether he crashes out about it or not entirely depends on the day. but being rejected is oft commonplace with those he loves - seeking out withholding, emotionally distant partners seems to be a pattern - it is not a deterrent in the slightest. over eagerness perhaps, may be.]
Now, I do not know your preferences, mm? I am quite the handful in every aspect - some may find it intimidating. A lot to swallow, one might say.
[ the loft of his brows and the mischievous glint in his eyes is more than enough to get his point across, he thinks. ]
Certainly, you are just a slight thing, oui? And this Sydney - I take it she was not quite as physically demanding as I will be.
[ acknowledging david's request without drawing attention to it, a correction of sydney's independence. all whilst continuing to goad, mouth curled smug as anything.
delicately, lestat grasps the wrist of that accusing pointed finger, cool skin against warmth. taking it gently, as if it were offered to him for a dance.]
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Date: 2026-04-02 07:59 am (UTC)but he does look affronted, just a touch, when lestat calls him slight, and his head jerks as if to look down at himself, at the shape of their shadows on the floor of the clearing. it distracts him long enough that the suddenness of lestat grabbing his wrist, oddly gentle and yet still cold, still manages to startle him, and he glances back to him abruptly. brows knit, it's as if he's about to disagree with the assertion, but instead— )
We broke up. I don't want to talk about her.
( we is perhaps a funny way of putting it, given there was no 'we' in the decision. david would undo it in a heartbeat, assuming syd would just — you know, forgive him. not try to kill him. not act like he's a smashed toy waiting to be put back together. he intends for the remark to sound like a statement, a matter-of-fact preference, doesn't think of how it might come across otherwise — a little pathetic and immature.
to the fingers wrapped about his wrist, then— )
Are you going to try biting me again?
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Date: 2026-04-02 08:18 am (UTC)david's rigidity may yet be a reaction to his own wounds caused by sydney, it seems. or it may be simply an aspect of who he is. lestat hasn't figured it out yet. he contemplates this whilst regarding david with a long stare, letting the silence after the man's question hang.
then, a softer offer, his fingers loosening around the slender wrist -]
It is not my intention. [ a beat. ] Would you like me to?
[ there is pleasure in it, after all. the pain, certainly, but a catharsis in giving oneself over. lestat does not think david would offer this, but the man is full of surprises thus far.]
lmao david killing the vibe soz lestat
Date: 2026-04-02 10:00 am (UTC)the softness of lestat's words, the loosening of his grip, neither mean that david fully trusts lestat when he says it's not his intention, but they are the reason why david doesn't jerk out of lestat's grasp entirely, why his own words are sharp but not angry. the frustration there, as transparent as it is, is general, not aimed at lestat in particular. )
No. I've had enough things, ( not that it entirely tempers david's word choice — but again, it's less about lestat and more david's refusal to see farouk as a person. ) Feed off me in my life. I'm not interested in having someone else start, not when I've finally—.
( he snatches his hand back, any and all sudden agitation all of his own doing. he takes a step back, attention sliding away from lestat as if trying to find something else in the woods to give his attention to. in finding nothing, his mouth scrunches, then flattens into a line, and then— )
—I grew up somewhere like this. ( he doesn't know if lestat saw that, his childhood home. the house in the country, the fields and the grass and the trees and the mountains. the stars. it's not quite an olive branch, but it's not antagonism, an attempted redirecting of the conversation to something a little more palatable for david. )
make him work for it david he loves it
Date: 2026-04-02 10:57 am (UTC)As I said, it was not my intention.
[ he offers quietly, before allowing his gaze to sweep around the forest, as if observing with david's context in mind. he did not see it in the man's blood, instead other memories, blurry images of therapy sessions, dark eyes and confusing shadows. fear, mostly. this was a reprieve, evidently something comforting to the other man.]
Yes? I often hunted as a mortal man in similar places. A long time ago.
[ an unguarded offering, a clear image held in his mind's eye of a snowy forest in auvergne. lestat astride his horse, followed by enormous mastiffs, musket strapped to his shoulder. endless woods stretched out before him, the only tracks those of the animals he hunted.]
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Date: 2026-04-02 08:28 pm (UTC)the thought sits with david, even as lestat offers a memory. for all intents and purposes, lestat doesn't look all that different to how he looks now — marginally younger, perhaps, although maybe there's a degree more innocence there. hope? the determination's the same, the expectancy. whatever being turned into a vampire did to lestat, david thinks that it didn't change him, not really. solidified, perhaps; made him more fully realised—. )
I don't like dogs. ( it's murmured, half meant for lestat, half commentary for david alone. he knows now that king had never been real, that it'd been farouk in a form more palatable for david's childhood perception, and it explained — in so many ways — why david had never seemed to feel comfortable around any others. why, after king had disappeared, (run away? died? doesn't matter, it wasn't true—), he'd never managed to settle on the idea of getting another dog.
farouk, he thinks, explains why none had ever really seemed to like him. )
—What happened to them?
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Date: 2026-04-03 01:47 am (UTC)[ a flash then - the memory twisting to blood on the snow, the terrible shrieking of the dying mare confused and frightened. lestat too, face streaked with tears, surrounded by a pack of wolves all dead by his hand. his two hounds unfortunately also laying still in the snow, killed trying to protect their master.
beloved pets he had hand reared from pups, unconditional adoration for the bright young man struggling to flourish despite regular beatings from his brother's and father. oft snuggled close to him at night for warmth within the cold stone walls of his father's barren castle - now pointlessly slain, never again to gamble alongside him like oversized puppies. the young lestat is almost too shellshocked to register it entirely, cannot do much else but let tears fall. hoist a wolf carcass over his shoulder and begin to make the slow trek back home on foot, lucky to be alive but almost wishing he had died there with his beloved animals.
it's a traumatic memory, one that signals the eventual stalking, torture and murder of the young de lioncourt. even as the mortal lestat did not know he was being watched, the immortal vampire's memory adds a dark looming shadow beyond the trees in an approximation of where the ancient predator may have been watching.
a twist of discomfort over lestat's expression as he recollects this for david's consumption, a beat longer before sealing it away once more. a show of faith, along with the lack of any attempted bites. though the thud of david's pulse is sounding particularly appealing right now - an unfortunately loud surface thought that lestat clears away.]
I do not keep dogs now, as you can imagine. The time with them is simply too short. It is difficult enough to watch mortals fade away, much less innocent animals.
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Date: 2026-04-04 03:48 am (UTC)though not inherently squeamish, it's quite clear that david doesn't enjoy what lestat shows him, from the horse to the wolves to the dogs and the blood. lestat's — the younger one in his memories — tears are something of a surprise, and though it doesn't quite mean that david reconsiders his opinion of lestat, it is something he allows to sink in, allows to contribute to a more fully-formed image of the vampire lestat is today.
the memory ends, the abruptness of it fitting for the palpable discomfort, and though david catches the shift in lestat's expression, though he understands on some level that it was a — what? olive branch? an open hand extended if not in friendship, then at least not enmity, that doesn't stop david's immediate, discomforted response of, )
You could've just said they died. That was horrible. ( it's incredulous, lightly challenging only in the sense that david did not enjoy it, and he eyes lestat for a beat before adding, a touch more curious, ) What was the—. ( a vague wave of his hand. ) Shadow? ( fear? david's not sure what word to use, even if the similarities go unmissed. )
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