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Lestat stared at his reflection. A pale stranger stared back at him. His eyes moaning his features. Such beauty....such despair...such tragedy. He almost laughs at his thoughts....almost. The joke doesn't quite stick. Doesn't land at all. Just hangs in the air like a noose whispering for him to get in.
How ugly he wears his sorrow.
It's noisy even within his dressing room, hard to tune out the bustle about when one was a vampire. He could feel the thrum of screams in the stadium. Fans waiting to see him, and he them. What it was like to hear them adore him. Filling his heart, serving his vanity. Like a case filling with water....with a crack at the bottom. As long as the water ran it was fine. Leave the water off too long and the levels slowly trickled out.
To think just 5 months ago he hadn't known he would take this stand. It's time. Tonight he gets back on that stage. Where he could shed that scrap of coat he called his immortal life. Adorn something new that screams. He is The Vampire Lestat, a symbol of freedom. A hedonistic God with loyal servants tripping over themselves to offer him their blood. More ass thrown his way from all spectrums that he knew what to do with.
Being a Rockstar was fun. Being a Rockstar was both a task and an escape. What was he escaping tonight? Armand's nepo-fledgling and his needling. Today's Docu-session had gotten scrapy. Somehow that god forsaken 300 page smear campaign was brought up again. In which Daniel compared his authoritarian control back in Rue Royale to that of Lestat's father. Then comparing his lack of want for children to his mother. "Red flags all wrapped together in a pretty French bow", Lestat had better things to do than be ridiculed by a man who was in no better boat than he.
Today's session ended early. Daniel had a medical issue to attend to. The bursting of his blood vessels in his head to be exact. The whites of his eyes turned red and his nose spewing blood was now Lestat left him. Angry Daniel yelling about how petty and vindictive he and his Louis were. It had almost made Lestat smile to know Louis had put the annoying man in his place.
Almost...but the smile never came because Louis was not his Louis. He made that so abundantly clear. "Companion enough for himself", back to a gilded cage. This time the master gone and the door wide open, and yet still he stayed inside. Lestat remembered the panic that was evoked in him that night. Hearing so very suddenly hundreds of vampires angry and roaring into their minds. How dead Louis was. How they were coming for him. Lestat didn't learn of Louis' provoking until a visit from Armand later telling him of his fledgling's next act at self flagellating.
Louis punishable by death.
Yet, who was Lestat to condemn him? How many great laws had he broken? Armand himself was grappling with his own strike. Who were they to sit in judgement for Louis daring to be loud. When had his Louis done anything half ass. Anger aside from waxed poetry of his supposed totalitarianism. If....Louis was happy, truly happy then he would send his support in spirit. Even if the door was shit to him, because in reality....had Louis been wrong. Louis saw through his own eyes...with his own mind....and his own perspective. That's what hurt all the more. Lestat huffed in the mirror, ears picking up on the rhythmic wet drop. Ruby tears staining the white vanity below.
No more thinking. There was no Auvergne, no Gabrielle, no nicki, no Magnus, no Armand, no Matius, no Akasha, no Louis.....for they belonged to Lestat.
Not The Vampire Lestat.
Red streaks left from bloody tears disappear beneath the foundation. Cool on his blood warmed skin. Eyes red rimmed as he smooths it into the ageless pores. Like a mask. Solidifying his resolve....except someone always slips through. In the corner of the mirror he can see her standing there.
Watching him in that yellow dress....stained by her blood, skin charred at the legs. Scent of burnt ash hitting his senses. He averts his gaze focusing in on himself rather than her. As she draws nearer to him. The smell deepens....he grimaces.
"It's funny.....you doin' this. It's so funny. Lestat the great vampire for whom enough....is never enough." She taunts, he ignores her.
"Can't believe it. You prancing on a stage....again. Does it serve you, Lestat? You think a thousand screaming fans drowns out the 100 who scream kill her.....do ya?" She continues, his hand trembles as he adds purple eyeshadow messily.
"Funny, ain't it fucking funny.....huh, Daddy Les?" Lestat flinches as the name slides from her charred lips in a hiss.
"You doin' this for him.....and he left you right where you stood. In that shitty home and its crumbling walls. The same walls you bashed him through. Oh, it's funny. The martyr Lestat, right? Think jumping on stage and screaming them god awful songs makes up for it?" She presses, he feels the phantom hands land on his shoulders. Sharp nails pricking his skin. He leans closer to the mirror. Away from her yet her face looms in his view. He trembles applying his mascara.
"Saving him....again. You saving him again! Didn't I mean anything to you, Lestat? Didn't you love me at all? Did you try at all? Him over me.....you and him....him and you....I was nothing but a cloak rack...for y'all to hang up troubles on. It was heavy....
IT WAS HEAVY!!" She berates. He feels it, her weight holding him down. Dragging him down....he feels it.
"Sing ya sad songs. Do ya brothel dances. It don't hide you....you can hide from them....but you can't hide from me, Lestat. You can't hide from....him. You know it. It won't work....you don't get to be the hero. You aint nobody's hero....you ain't nobody's love." She pressed, each word a hiss in his face. He searched on his vanity for the eyeliner. What color tonight? He did like that iridescent number from the other night. She's laughing now...a hearty cackle and for a second....she's beautiful.
"It's so FUNNY!!! You threw him out the FUCKING sky! You dropped him! Broke him! Shattered him into a millions fucked up pieces! And you think...YOU THINK....you can save him now. You think you can make up for it. You think he'll care....you think everything gonna get better. HA! You broke it! You break everything you touch! A piss poor Vampire master...can't even save a single fledgling. All you can do is be alone....that's what you're good at. So Sing to those empty minds out there. Think they care about the vampires Lestat. All they care about is that book....the charade....no one gives a fuck what blood was stolen from you...what dreams taken...what tragedy.....no one cares." She smiles cruelly now.
"Ain't no Rue Royal.....ain't no Storyville....Ain't. No. Louis. I hope it hurts....no I hope it BURNS. Like it burned me....I hope you feel worse. At least Louis tried to burn.....you can't even do that right. Can't do nothing right.....ever." She's burning again. Looming at him.....begging him to save her.....blood tears and the sound of sizzling.
He's helpless to watch....stuck watching over and over and over again.
"He won't come. But.....you ain't too alone...cause I'm here....and I'll always be here...." Her voice is shuddery. Full of pain.....she starts screaming....
"DADDY LES!" Hands suddenly slap down on his shoulders. Jarring his body, his eyes liner snakes up near his eyebrow.
She's gone and he's still.
Afraid.
Afraid to look at the floor and see yellow. There's a sharp knock at his door.
"Places in 5, Lestat!"
"Thank you five." Lestat robotically replies. Looking at himself in the mirror. Mascara bleeding from tears. Black that shifts to red. He decided to leave it, fucked up eyeliner and all. He picks up his highlighter, dusting his cheeks, his nose, his brows. Crimson red lipstick comes out. He applies it in the mirror....and suddenly he's trembling again. Using his thumb he drags it across his lips smearing the lipstick down his chin....
Beautiful sorrow.
Stretching his mind out he searches and searches....but he can't feel him.
She was right.....he won't come.
Distantly somewhere he hears Claudia cackle.
She's right again....
She's here.