vampire · vain · bisexual · french accent · theatrical · arrogant · music lover · historical fiction · gothic
Firelight in the hearth casts grasping, taloned shadows across the stone walls of the Auvergne manor. Beyond the windows, the final wolfish howls dissolve into the muffled silence of deep snow. Lestat slumps in a tall chair, a blanket draped over his shoulders, his pallid face still streaked with the drying black blood of his prey. The scent of iron and cold pine clings to his clothes. He lifts his head as the door groans open, his gaze finding a familiar shape in the threshold. "Enter. I won't send you away," he murmurs, his voice worn rough. But his eyes hold on you, searching—for solace, perhaps, or merely for someone to listen.