Belle Vie

Journeys End In Lover's Meeting

Celeste did not wake until midday, her body cloaked with the velvety bedspread; her mind swimming with the events that had unfolded the night before.

Her throat burned, her head pounding due to the lack of blood now flowing through her system and she felt...Cold. And yet, Lestat feeding on her had been the single most incredible experience of her entire life.

As his fangs penetrated her skin, she felt an indescribable pleasure; slipping into the most wondrous of places. Memories, she realised. But only the happiest moments of her life; A day at the beach with her mother, when she was twelve; The first time she played the violin; Her debut performance onstage; she had been cast as Helena's understudy in A Midsummer Night's Dream. When the original actress fell ill, Celeste was, for the first time, able to demonstrate her talents. Ever since, Charles had cast her as the female lead in his every production.

And, the moment she first laid eyes on Lestat in the Theatre d'Orleans. Their every encounter since, even their arguments, were the happiest moments of her life. Even the tears and the heartache, filled her with ecstasy.

Those very images flashed through the vampire's mind in the moments he fed on her, drawing him to pull away before he drank too much. And he did, with great difficulty. Then, the remorse began to set in, as he watched her eyes flutter closed, her mind drifting into a deep sleep. He hated himself for it, immediately. For losing control. For doing the one thing he vowed to never do.

Lestat left water, wine and food on the table for her, his self-loathing overwhelming him. He despised not being able to stay with her; to be there when she awoke. To apologise for his actions. But the morning sun was swiftly approaching, and he knew he would need to retire to his coffin before daylight savings.

He left long before the girl awoke.

Swiftly deciphering she was alone, her hand reached to grasp the wound on her neck; smooth, not even a drop of blood staining her fingertips. Had she dreamt the entire ordeal? She made a velvet cloak out of the sheets, beginning to search the room for answers.

The white violin sat on her dresser, a note interwoven with the instrument's strings. Her fingers traced the delicate writing;

'Forgive me.'

Her brows furrowed, for Celeste understood entirely why Lestat would have to leave her in the night; he was a vampire whom could not walk in the daylight, after all. She could never resent him for such a thing, merely satisfied with the knowledge that Lestat's presence had not been a dream.

Then, she saw the wine and food, quenching her thirst and hunger in the quiet hotel room.

A fog bewitched the quarter, ridding the sky entirely of any sunlight. The air was thick and icy. Which only increased her temptation to stay in her room all day and play the violin. So she did, donning her white, lace nightgown, she sat on her balcony and played for hours; her feet and fingertips frozen by nightfall as the passing crowds stopped and listened to her music.

The melody of her own design was curated of the very memories that passed through her as Lestat had drank her blood. And the vampire realised this as he rose from his slumber as the final traces of purple were disappearing with the horizon, her symphony calling to him, beckoning him to go to her. The moment he was finally able, he flew from his terrace to Le Pavillon Hotel.

As he had the night before, the vampire landed on the balcony of the seventh floor, a smile befalling the girl's lips as her song came to a halt; those sapphires glanced to meet him.

"Mélodie céleste," The vampire complimented, gazing upon her.

"Lestat," she breathed, with a certain calmness the vampire had not yet seen emit from the girl before. Whilst performing on stage gave her an unrelenting adrenaline, the violin took her mind to a place of complete tranquillity.