Evaline | L. Lioncourt ✔

[10] Past And Present

New Orleans was nothing like it used to be back when Lestat had still roamed the streets freely with Louis and Claudia by his side. After the war, it had fallen down to ashes but the people had built it up again, trying their best to restore it to its former splendor.

Evaline led the way through the lonely streets, her hand linked through his arm as he followed, grey eyes wandering as he observed the differences in between the city vivid in his memory and the one he was walking through.

He paused, recognizing the street where his house had been located years ago. The fire and the war had changed it completely but the scent of old memories beckoned him closer.

"Monsieur?" She turned to look at him and saw him gazing wistfully at the cobblestoned pathway that led down to their right. His face was set in an unfathomable expression but she recognized the nostalgic smile flickering on his face. "Is that where you lived?"

He nodded as he remarked vaguely, "the city has changed such a lot."

"How was it back when you lived here?"

"The houses were not much different," he spoke as they walked away from that street, edging closer to their destination, "while the city was tranquil and flourishing at the same time. There was enough trade, plenty of plantations and colorful gatherings. And right down that street was my house, not very extravagantly luxurious but comfortable. The seventh if you take that path from here and the fourth from the other side. My home... I lived there happily for about thirty years."

"Thirty years..."

He chuckled slightly, "you will take some time getting accustomed to how I speak about years."

"Indeed, Monsieur. Though I cannot help but think that you would have been a fine gentleman, back in the old days."

He kept silent for a short while at which she thought that perhaps she should not have said that, but sensing it he spoke up, "a fine gentleman...? It seems as if centuries have passed since the days I could look at my reflection and rightfully boast that no lady could ever refuse me."

"I had not meant about the appearance alone. I referred to your heart, your values; they seem fine and well bred," she stated, recalling how he had always made a point of telling her that he preferred to kill sinners instead of the innocent. As well as the way he treated her with respect though she had told him many times not to.

Her eyes were focused ahead of her on the path, not realizing that he was looking at her as if she had said something unbelievable. A short laugh escaped him at which she paused, looking back quite startled. "Values... Heart... I am afraid I have none, chérie. Neither now nor ever before. I was not even half as fine as you had just thought so. As they said in Paris; l'habit ne fait pas le moine."

She had heard that phrase often as she replied, "the habit does not make the monk?"

"Indeed," he nodded, "it is foolish to judge one's nature based upon merely their attire."

The tavern's building loomed in sight, the clamor of people inside getting louder and he noticed how she tensed up immediately though she had been conversing freely with him before.

"Is something the matter?"

"Rob would kick me out," she mumbled in a low voice, "I stayed away for a whole day and there is so much work to do at the tavern which would have been affected from my absence. He would be furious."

He noticed that she was afraid of the whole prospect of dealing with Rob, the tavern's owner, so he spoke up, "fear not, I will see to that."

"But Monsieur..."