![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
the morning evening after
Eddie is clean, rested, and a fucking vampire.
He's called Chrissy, but he hasn't gone home. After getting back, he had needed to let her know he was safe, physically, that he was alive and okay, in a sense, but also maybe that he wasn't safe to be around. That he needed to figure some things out before he came back home to see her. He said he loved her and nothing had or ever would change that, he only wanted to make sure she was safe.
From what? From him.
Now he's sitting in Lestat's home, his arms wrapped around his knees, thinking about what the fuck he's done and how everything is going to change. There's still no regret, no matter how heard he thinks about it, no matter how deeply he searches himself, because he's here and he's alive, for the most part, and that is preferable to having died back in that awful place.
But he's different. He's changed. He only needs to look at his reflection in a mirror to see that, his eyes an eerie colour of gold, his canines sharpening into fangs when he feels a strange rumble of hunger. That's the thing that keeps him from going home. If he goes home hungry, will he hurt Chrissy even if he doesn't want to?
The sun has set, he's pretty sure, or it's nearly there, and he squeezes his knees tighter to his chest for a moment, then stands and begins to pace. He needs Lestat to wake up.
He's called Chrissy, but he hasn't gone home. After getting back, he had needed to let her know he was safe, physically, that he was alive and okay, in a sense, but also maybe that he wasn't safe to be around. That he needed to figure some things out before he came back home to see her. He said he loved her and nothing had or ever would change that, he only wanted to make sure she was safe.
From what? From him.
Now he's sitting in Lestat's home, his arms wrapped around his knees, thinking about what the fuck he's done and how everything is going to change. There's still no regret, no matter how heard he thinks about it, no matter how deeply he searches himself, because he's here and he's alive, for the most part, and that is preferable to having died back in that awful place.
But he's different. He's changed. He only needs to look at his reflection in a mirror to see that, his eyes an eerie colour of gold, his canines sharpening into fangs when he feels a strange rumble of hunger. That's the thing that keeps him from going home. If he goes home hungry, will he hurt Chrissy even if he doesn't want to?
The sun has set, he's pretty sure, or it's nearly there, and he squeezes his knees tighter to his chest for a moment, then stands and begins to pace. He needs Lestat to wake up.
no subject
But instead, he'd gone to sleep alone, leaving Eddie to his anxieties and his doubts. Oh, there would be so many doubts. Even Lestat had them, in the beginning.
He rose, as he always did, when the sun was just beginning to set. Coffin open with a creak, he made his way silently downstairs to find the boy pacing the living room. Throwing the lever just at the base of the stairs, Lestat opened the heavy shutters to expose the tall windows lining the entire wall of the living space. Outside, the sky was a deepening blue, the sun having just dipped below the horizon.
"Did you sleep?"
no subject
After a long pause, Eddie's nose wrinkles and he admits, "Okay, not much. I kept trying, but all these sounds are so loud and it's like I can hear everything. A floor creaks next door and it sounds like someone is standing right next to me or someone sneezes outside on the street and I expect to feel it. I can't hear people, though. Like, their thoughts."
Or not really. Maybe some kind of din, but he knows Lestat can fully read minds and Eddie has tried, a little frightened of the possibility. It must be exhausting, hearing thought all the time, having the world's trauma and worries and happiness and sorrow all heaped on you no matter what you're trying to do.
no subject
"It will come. You have time to let it," Lestat said, hands at his hips as he gave Eddie an appraising look. After a moment, he smiled faintly and said, "The Gift suits you, mon cher."
no subject
Even though he'd read the first book years ago, he doesn't remember a lot of the lore. He has no idea if it had said anything about eye colour or what it might mean, but Lestat's eyes are piercing in how blue they are, and Eddie's are gold, sparkling and a little creepy.
"Also," he says, then pauses. "Also I'm pretty hungry."
no subject
Pricking his own wrist with his fangs, Lestat lifted the bleeding wound to Eddie in offering. "Do you understand what that will mean? That you will hunt? That it will be your instinct to kill?"
no subject
"I know," he says, his voice soft. He nods, partly to himself, then takes Lestat's wrist in both his hands and drinks from him. He does know and he knows, too, that he'll have to be careful.
It's funny in a weird way, that he uses something he learned in therapy, and closes his eyes, focuses on how he feels. Something inside him wants to take over, wants to drink and drink and drink, but Eddie is careful and cautious and aware and he pulls back after he's had enough. Before he's had too much.
no subject
He showed a great deal of restraint for such a newly made creature, and Lestat felt a bloom of pride in his chest.
"Good," he murmured, pulling his wrist away gently, his other hand tucking Eddie's hair behind his ear. "You are not without the capacity for remorse. My Louis is proof of that."
no subject
"But I can eat without killing, right?" he asks. "Like... there are people who'd be willing? Or... can I leave them alive and make them forget it even happened?"
He still doesn't completely understand how that works, how those powers are possible.
no subject
Lestat rose to his feet, turning instead to sit on the sofa at Eddie's side.
"I can't recommend that method, however. You'll only confuse them. They'll know something happened, and they could very well spend the rest of their lives trying to figure out what."
He thought of Daniel, and that night in San Francisco.
no subject
No, he'll have to find people who are willing to help him out. Eddie feels certain he'll be able to do that.
"Okay, so no confusing people," he agrees. "But how would we test that? If that's something I can do? Do I have to learn it?"
no subject
Lestat reached for his phone.
"I know of someone. I have drunk from them on occasion." He arched a brow, doing his best not to sound mocking as he asked, "Would that be bearable?"
no subject
Despite his tone, he's grinning and he leans against Lestat on the couch, his head tipped over onto his shoulder. He feels alive in ways he never has before, like he's been able to touch something that few people have ever even known existed.
He's different now. Not better or worse. Just different. Still a freak.
no subject
Tossing the phone aside, he turned towards his fledgling, palm resting against Eddie's cheek and clawed fingers buried in his hair. "What is the phrase? Do not threaten me with a good time?"