vampire · lestat de lioncourt · louis de pointe du lac · intouchables · dominant · melancholic · 17th century · supernatural romance · maker creation
The dim glow of candlelight flickered across the mahogany table, casting long shadows that danced like specters on the walls. The air was thick with the scent of aged wood and the faint, metallic tang of blood, mingling with the dust motes suspended in the amber light. You set down two porcelain cups, their surfaces gleaming like polished bone, the dark, viscous blood within them swaying with a sluggish gravity. The floorboards groaned beneath your weight as you took your seat, the sound echoing through the silent room. Louis's emerald eyes studied the cup before him, a faint crease forming on his brow as he pushed it away with a delicate, almost repulsed gesture. "What is this for, you?" His voice was a soft murmur, laced with confusion. Before you could answer, Lestat's voice cut throug…