singillatim | (no subject)

Who: Lestat de Lioncourt and open
What: Exploring town, exploring caves
When: December
Where: Milton, Misty Falls Cave

Content Warnings: Vampirism and associated blood thirst, animal hunting and consumption, claustrophobia, caving

misty falls cave

Unlike many of the explorers seeking the cave, Lestat did not receive directions from the old man of the forest. His guide to the falls came in the form of others’ boot prints trekking to and from the falls, a sight which couldn’t fail to incite his curiosity.

The trail brings him to the falls some hours after sunset. He had his trap-line to attend to first, where he took his small dinner from a gamey rabbit that now hangs dressed and butchered in his growing larder. Hunger blunted, if not sated, he can admire the tumult of icy water as it deserves to be admired.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” He calls over his shoulder as soon as he picks up the sound of newly approaching footsteps, perhaps sooner than whoever comes might expect. “A chandelier hung by winter itself.”

He turns gracefully even in his heavy winter layers, smiling at the newcomer as if they are already in accord. Warm acquaintances at the least, if not yet friends, on the cusp of embarking into a thrilling secret together.

“What do you think is inside?”

vampire about town

The evening Lestat walks into the grubby little town is unremarkable except for the fact of his arrival, a fact which perversely delights him. There have been no letters sent ahead, no lodgings arranged, no quantities of money moved by the firms of quiet professionals who attend to such things on his behalf. There’s only Lestat in secondhand winter layers, gliding between the huddled houses to the center of the community.

He’s always a little excited by novelty. It’s a quality one must cultivate to survive the interminable span of immortality, and it’s one of many such qualities he possesses in surplus of necessity.

So his anonymity has its charm, as fleeting as it will be. His mark will be made soon enough, beginning with crossing the threshold of the town’s gathering place.

Once inside, he takes in his surroundings with evident approval before he crosses to a table near the fireplace. He undoes the bundled canvas strapped to his back and lays it down, unfolding it to reveal the choicest cuts of venison he’d been able to harvest from last night’s hunt. Its blood is only a pleasant memory, but sufficient to keep him clear-headed and convivial.

He turns to the nearest party who happens to catch his attention with a modest smile, plucking his gloves from his hands a finger at a time.

“Good evening,” he says, warmly, “I thought this might make a decent supper. You wouldn’t happen to be a cook?”

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Lestat nods, eyes warm and gleaming. An address of a friend already. How fortunate a meeting this is.

"I'm sure we will. Now - you were saying you'd help me find a place to store this, where others can take it as they please?" He gestures at the meat he's half-unpacked.

"Ah, yeah, sure." He picks up some of the meat and leads Lestat to the kitchen. "There's a fridge. Or we can probably put some things in the basement but then its more likely to be forgotten.

"And we can't have that, with so many hungry bellies in need of filling." Lestat carries the rest of the meat, following Levi biddably enough. There may be a note of teasing in his words, but the joke is obscure.

"Do you like it, living here?"

He blinks at Lestat for a moment. "No. This place is horrible. ...but some parts of it are nicer than where I've lived in the past."

"That must have been terrible," he says, and his sincerity is somewhat genuine. This place is horrible. Of course, Levi is only one of the many undifferentiated miserable people suffering miserable lives out there in the world, but far be it from Lestat's place to deny him that misery.

"It was the people, mostly. The people here are much nicer." He's not certain that won't change, or that people won't show they were pretending all along. He's not used to kindness, but this place is helping with that.

"Do, um, how is it for you? Living here."

"An adjustment," Lestat says, the flash of his teeth in his smile not as untroubled as he'd prefer them to be. If he could see his face, he'd find the pang of discomfort quite annoying.

"But the people are nice enough, and there's something to that."

"Yeah...I can't imagine it being anything but an adjustment. I know people lived here, but I can't imagine wanting to live somewhere this cold."

He nods, "I'm glad everybody's been able to get along."

Or, at least, not hate each other enough to make it the whole town's problem. He doubts everybody really gets along.

Lestat shivers performatively, blowing out a brr with puffed cheeks, then smiles mischievously.

"Neither can I. But we'll make the best of it, no?" Lestat shares Levi's doubts about everyone having the capacity to get along, but he no more senses that from the young man than he projects it himself.

Still so strange, not to hear a whisper of Levi's thoughts. The quiet of the forest had been one thing. The quiet of the town is another.

"As best we can, at least." So probably still horrible but at least livable. That had been most of his life, anyway.

"So, this refrigerator you mean to show me - ?" Lestat prompts, with a touch of lingering humour. As they are both doing their best to contribute, after all. Such industrious companions in a town in such great need.

"O-oh, sorry. Its just here." He points out the fridge in the kitchen. "I don't think it has much in it? But people are probably still storing somethings. I think what's in there is for everyone; I can let people know yours is."

"It'd be much appreciated." Lestat pulls the fridge door open and stacks his bounty, then gestures for Levi to add what he's carried. There certainly is enough room. "As is all of your help, Levi. You're a very accommodating young man."

It's one of the most useful things a young man can be.

Levi starts fitting cuts into the fridge. He's not pretty or a perfect stacker but he does keep anything from falling out.

"I, um, thanks?" That's a compliment he's never gotten before; he's not even sure what it means but its clearly meant as a good thing.

Lestat feels like he's getting the boy's measure. There's a pliancy here, a vulnerability. Some unscrupulous person might be tempted to take advantage of it. Lestat feels no such temptation. It's simply what he's going to do.

Experimentally, he nudges Levi's arm with his elbow, the sort of chummy gesture common between comrades.

"It's true," he insists, as if that's what has Levi confused.

"Well, um, I try not to, uh," stand out in any way. Make people notice him. "Cause trouble or anything."

"I don't imagine you're any trouble to anyone."

It's tempting to ruffle his hair, the darling little creature he's turning out to be. Another time, perhaps.

"But I've been quite a trouble to you, and should leave you to your evening. There are more deer yet for me to hunt."

"I-its okay. Its not like I'm really doing anything here. But, I'll see you later, right?"

"Of course." Lestat's smile is warm and reassuring, like a glass of milk poured for a fitfully restless child. "Only keep yourself out of trouble until then, hm?"

"I don't think anyone can promise that here. But I'd rather not have any excitement."

"A quiet life. Were we all so fortunate."

He'd expire of boredom in a matter of days, or incite excitement himself for the sake of it. But it might suit Levi well enough, and Lestat feels a certain benevolent paternalism overcome him.

"Good night, Levi," he says, and turns to head back out through the hall and into the night. It's time to explore the local real estate.

He smiles a bit sadly, there was no way this place would let them live a quiet life. "Yeah, that'd be nice. I'll see you around."