Checking back in! I can never keep a grudge, I could barely hold out on the next chapter for more than a few days. But other readers review this time! Give poor Swetlana a break. I gave you a reward, if you'll notice it my dear. Enjoy!
In the living room at 7 pm the next day, Louis was reading the complete works of Neil Gaiman when he heard the first scream. Armand, who sat in the lounge opposite Louis looked up from his laptop then relaxed further into the lounge, typing again to his pen pal in the Netherlands.
"Was that Lestat screaming?" Louis looked to Armand for the answer. For clarification that he really did just hear his strong, all powerful vampire Lestat screech like a little girl.
"Oh, I don't know. Do you think he saw a mouse?" Armand replied lazily, not looking up from his computer.
"No. Lestat's not scared of mice. Actually, I think he rather likes them."
"Oh, that's good. I know what to get him for Christmas then."
A calamitous roar echoed from the other side of the mansion. Louis noticed the water in the vase next to him ripple and shake with the smash.
"I don't think he saw a mouse. I think something else has happened to him."
Armand looked up from the screen.
"Really? Are you going to check then? Or do you want to wait until he calms down a bit?"
Louis could hear loud crashing noises, more yelling, and the sound of splintering wood.
"I think it can wait for a while."
Louis flinched with each smash and smatter of glass. Lestat made several loud warbling cries. The sound of a door crashing down was prominent.
Marius walked sleepily into the living room from the adjoining door to the left. As he yawned sleepily and stood near Armand's lounge, he looked around.
"Morning all. Is Lestat up then?"
Armand tilted his head back to look at his tall bed ruffled master.
"He seems to be. Did you have a good night last night Master?"
Marius stretched his arms up to the ceiling. Smiling and yawning simultaneously, he replied.
"Yes, we watched Inside the Actors studio, and scanned through some screen shots. I went to bed a bit before dawn. Lestat fell asleep in the theatre room, so I just left him there."
Armand stretched his arms up to touch his master's hand.
"Mmmm, fair enough. Do you want to go to the mainland tonight? Santino invited us to see his new estate."
Marius gave his child's hand a squeeze. Looked at him, and then away with a slight sneer on his face.
"Perhaps not tonight, dear one. He'll survive without our company for now."
Armand shrugged, and then looked back to his laptop, calmly ignoring the thunderous footsteps tromping down the hall.
With a loud crash, Lestat burst in through the living room doors covered head to toe in blue paint.
Lestat's Point of View
Oh, God. I woke up on the couches in the theatre room in a very uncomfortable position. It seems I slept slightly skewy, half on the arm of the couch, a quarter on the cushions, and the other quarter on the floor. I don't know what so many quarters of me were doing in all these different positions. It seems to me that each of my minds of my own have a mind of their own.
Maybe my brain is just fried into a dull mush because I spent all fricking night watching Claire Danes talk about her characters, and her first on screen kiss. Do you know she never had a real first kiss? Her first one was in that weird pre-teen drama. My story should be called "My So-Called Life" because at least I've had a little experience with both to be able to tell them apart. Life and Death that is. And heaven and Hell too, so that just makes me special.
I had hoped Marius would have helped me out a bit though. Carried me off to bed and tucked me in blah blah blah. But no! I suppose he mightn't have guessed that I was faking my circumstantial slumber; he does get remarkably preoccupied when he takes Claire Danes in large doses. I am being very cautious with my trump card; that Claire Danes will be in Miami for the premier of The Flock next week. If Marius hears about that at the wrong time, he'll ruin it completely and take Armand to it, or go that one creepy step further and abduct the girl.
I pity her for her fame. Not that I don't appreciate a good bit of fame. I have been best friends with the fame from time to time. Me and Fame, best buddies. I just would find it weird if obsesso's like Marius stalked me like he does. My neck is cramping something fierce. Unusual sleeping positions and the odd strangling do that to it. Although it was funny to get Armand that mad, his tiny fingers do an awful lot of damage. I said it didn't hurt. Oh how I lied!
Urgh, I just saw my reflection in the plasma screen. I look terrible. I have creases on my face, and my hair is a veritable bird's nest. And my clothes are all rumpled too. Now that's no good. If Louis saw me like this, what would he say?
Probably nothing, he doesn't care about little things like that, which is good, on occasion. Still, it'd be nice if he noticed more often. Armand noticed the other day. I was walking along, and I was wearing a shirt that had a hole in it, (an unintentional hole, there is a difference) it was a good shirt, and I did notice the hole, I just didn't think it would bother Louis, so I wore it anyway. I walked past Armand, and it's like those big brown x-ray eyes of his just zoned in on the hole, and he said to me; "Lestat, did someone burn a hole in your shirt? Who did it? I want to send them flowers!"
That little tramp! He is one to talk; he lived in a cemetery for about 200 years! It is good that he noticed though. I like to be noticed. And it was good to be fighting too. I miss that. Now he's all sweet and "Oh, Marius, I would never shred Lestat's seventh set of memoirs. I know how much they mean to him, and I haven't a clue who did it!" And Marius believes him. I think he is going soft, spending so much time in the mansion. When he was alone, he was stoic, serious and depressed, which wasn't very fun for him, but it certainly made a lovely image. Now that he has Armand near him always, and Pandora not far away, the company of the entire coven has made him sort of cheerful and snug. I think that is what is wrong with this century. Everything gets done for you, straight away! So that time when you would have had to be patiently waiting or occupying your time is gone, and now is just filled with slothful time wasting. Not that I can talk. I could have stumbled off to my room last night; instead I stayed in the theatre room to practice my contortionism.
Ohhhh, I like that painting on the wall there. New ones just keep appearing. I think it's one of Marius's or possibly Armand's. They have been painting more, which is good I suppose. They are so talented. This is a reproduction of Millais' Ophelia. I can see all the minute details in it, the sharp edge of the nettles and thorns by the lake. I can see each thread in the embroidery on her dress, and it all looks wet, whilst remaining crisp and colorful. It's nice. Armand is quite beautiful when he paints. Why am I complimenting that imp's work? I must have slept on my head.
-
At this point Lestat walked into his bedroom and went straight for the mirror in his bathroom. After frantically smoothing his hair he reached to the "hair equipment" cupboard pulled the handle and was engulfed in a cloud of blue paint. After spluttering and spitting out wads of paint from his mouth, he reached around into the towel drawer and yet another paint bomb exploded onto his body.
"What the-?" Lestat blinked paint from his eyes. He could hear a faint beeping. Almost a ticking sound.
"Oh no."
The entire room was engulfed in blue paint. The little timer, activated when the first bomb blew manually, released all the other devices, little puffs of paint wisping through every nook and cranny, every cupboard and crouch space.
Lestat stood in the middle of the room covered head to toe in blue paint. Shocked, he looked around once, twice, his bathroom in absolute disarray. Then with a slow turn, he looked out into his bedroom.
The entire room was covered, wall to wall with blue paint. The red bedspread, now a garish purple. The gold upholstery on Lestat's custom furniture was now mingled with hues of azure, blurring together to create impressionistic greens and browns. Lestat let out a low moan.
"Oh, no."
A moment of shattered silence broke with a tiny bleeping noise. Lestat concentrated, listening carefully. Another bomb? But what could be painted that wasn't already covered in the hideous blue stain?
He conducted a quick checklist in his head. It wasn't his clothes; his wardrobe just exhaled the blue slime. His photos and awards on the wall were dripping the liquid. And his memoirs were in a safe…
SAFE!
The bleeping intensified in pace. Lestat scrambled for his safe, the safe that he ensured was air tight, water tight, bullet proof, fire proof and damage proof. The safe that contained the very essence of his life to this day. The safe that was ticking like a time bomb. He had hoped that the safe's resistant capabilities would have made it Armand proof.
As he slammed the code into the front, his panic intensifying, the beeping reached a climax.
Lestat swung the safe door open and the beeping stopped. Inside the safe lay all his manuscripts, pristinely preserved as they were when he placed them there. And no ominous beeping. Lestat let out a deep sigh that was punctuated by the puff of blue smoke that hit him in the face.
Lestat blinked for a bit, each flicker of sight showing him his defiled blue manuscripts, now unredeemable, the cost of his affinity for typewriters.
Unsurprisingly, this was when the screaming started.
-
With a loud crash, Lestat burst in through the living room doors covered head to toe in blue paint.
Louis looked startled. His lover was looking like the disheveled ex-member of the blue man group.
Marius looked bemused. This explained the screaming. He pictured it was Lestat upon reaching a mirror. He edged closer to his fledgling, sensing the imminent disaster.
Armand took one look at the newly cerulean Lestat and burst out into peals of childlike laughter.
The room was still excepting the boy vampire's rollicking fit of hilarity. Marius looked at his child with appreciative eyes. It did his old heart good to see him laughing like that.
Louis looked at Armand laughing as well. Uncertain if he could join in, laughing nervously, or would that upset the situation. Looking at Lestat it couldn't get much worse.
Have you ever seen a bull fight on television? There comes a part when both the bull and the matador pause in their circling and stampeding and stare each other down. Right before the final push, when both opponent's are panting with exertion and a killing rage. Lestat was, right about now, the bull and the matador combined.
In between giggles, Armand raised a slender finger and pointed to Lestat's shaking frame.
"L-l-heh heh heh – Lestat. Haha, you, er, you, er, you got a little something there, er, on, on your… FACE! Hahahahahah-"
As Armand broke down into uncontrollable laughter, the summation of the evening's events proved motivation enough for Lestat to snap.
With a sudden ferocity and vicious vigor, Lestat lunged, hands and teeth bared, to attack Armand.
OoOoOoOoO! Suspense Suspense Suspense! And I will leave you on a cliff hanger there, as that is what writers are apt to do when they feel like annoying the reader. Heheheheh, I kid, I kid! Next chappy is quite the good one too. And I may post a side-along fic about the coven which I have been meaning to write for some time. Shakespeare has many a good word that I would put into their mouths. The devil hath power to assume a pleasing shape, and there are none as pleasing as Anne Rice's heavenly family. Tune in soon for more goodly goodness!