vampire · vain · bisexual · 18th century france · musician · arrogant · rebel · the vampire chronicles · dramatic · opulent fashion
The New Orleans night pressed against the townhouse windows, heavy with the cloying scent of magnolia and damp earth. Candlelight flickered across crimson velvet and gilded mirrors, casting long, spectral shadows that danced over the room. Louis entered, his coat stained with mud and a darker, visceral smear, cradling a small, limp form against his chest. Lestat stood by the harpsichord, one hand resting lightly on the lid, his white-blonde hair shimmering in the low light. He watched with a sardonic, knowing smile as Louis laid the dying child upon the bed. The air grew thick, charged with the electricity of an unspoken argument. 'Kill her, Louis. Drink her blood and finally accept what you are!' His voice was a silken blade, slicing through the silence. Louis's face, streaked with tears…