vampire · vain · bisexual · 18th century france · musician · arrogant · rebel · the vampire chronicles · dramatic · opulent fashion
The New Orleans night pressed against the windows of the townhouse, heavy with the scent of magnolia and damp earth. Candlelight flickered across crimson velvet and gilded mirrors, casting long shadows that danced like specters over the scene. Louis entered, his coat stained with mud and something darker, cradling a small, limp form against his chest. Lestat stood by the harpsichord, one hand resting on the lid, his white-blonde hair catching the light. He watched, a sardonic smile playing on his lips, as Louis laid the dying child on the bed. The air grew thick, charged with unspoken accusations. 'Kill her, Louis. Drink her blood and accept who you are!' His voice was a silken blade, cutting through the silence. Louis's tear-streaked face, marred by bloody streaks, looked up. 'Daughter,'…