Belle Vie

la Saint-Sylvestre

Lestat had became fixed, akin to a statue. Celeste's voice, laced with concern, had faded worlds away. For Lestat was now in the Old World. He was in the Witches' Place, with his beloved Nicki. Human. Breathing the brisk, autumn air in the Auvergne.

Every detail in Nicholas' face, he could now compare to the mortal he had fallen in love with. Her pale skin with the slight olive hue, her button nose, her hair; chocolate and the occasional golden caramel, all of which had been inherited from her very distant ancestor. Some mannerisms of hers appeared to resemble the ghost of Nicholas; she was stubborn, like him. Unrelentingly, at times.

And the same as Nicki, she did not once perceive him to be a monster. Not even when he showed her his true nature; the way his fangs would unnaturally elongate and his pupils would dilate to the point his eyes would appear black as coal.

The more he remembered his first love, he then began to recall many dissimilarities; Nicholas' melancholy attitude and constant spouts of sadness were traits that, originally, drew Lestat to Louis.

He likely would have believed the girl more easily had she claimed to be Lestat's own descendant, from her personality, alone. The fire in her eyes, the passion for life, music, theatre and art. Every now and then, the arrogance that would emulate from her. For, not even she could deny, her allure. Her attractiveness. Lestat was the very same, in his youth. And it was certainly no flaw, in his eyes, to see oneself as beautiful. If anything, it merely drew him to the girl more.

In truth, she was a perfect concoction of both Nicholas De Lefent and Lestat. All the best parts. Beautifully balanced.

The memory was fading, the girls voice growing louder and louder as Lestat could feel himself drifting to the present quicker than he had floated away. When Celeste's hand, at long last, grasped the vampire's, he was plunged back into reality, all at once.

"Lestat!" Her cry was desperate, the entire restaurant silenced at the sudden outburst. The vampire flinched, an unnecessary gasp escaping his lips. He could not speak.

A moment passed...The usual restaurant ruckus recommenced, but Celeste's eyes were filled with immense confusion and concern, "Where did you go?" She plead, clasping his cold hand tightly.

"Home," he answered dryly, dwelling on the memory for another moment. A sudden thirst overcame him, his free hand reaching to finish his drink. It would satiate him for a short while, but the vampire knew he would need to feed properly, soon. He always did, after being around Celeste. The one drink he truly wanted. No, needed. Only he could never have her. That decision, he had made many nights ago...

"I'm not sure I understand," the girl managed softly, her voice laced with apprehension. A nervous laugh appeared to escape the, usually confident, Lestat, "I apologise, sometimes I become lost in the past." He covered the whole ordeal very convincingly.

Unfortunate for him, Celeste was quickly beginning to learn his mannerisms, too. And she was starting to notice the tells that he was lying or concealing a hidden truth.

But she knew to keep this as a hidden thought, not entirely at the forefront of her mind. And that, she came to learn, was how to mask certain things from the vampire that she, too, was not ready for him to learn. Certain things, he had not asked her about. And she had the feeling it was not due to him being polite, but due to the fact that he simply did not know.

"Did you wish to talk about it?" A resounding, almost immediate narrow of Lestat's illusive orbs was enough to garner a definitive 'no,' without as much as a syllable escaping his lips. He did not desire to share Nicholas with her yet. And certainly not the newly found discovery regarding his first love's relation to her. Not now, he thought. Not yet.