When World War I broke out, Lestat had often swerved around the obligatory political conversations, winnowing his frame of reference down to the local area and even then, at great effort. When World War II was rolling in, Louis expressing surprise that Lestat would give a shit about such affairs hadn't been an inaccurate recounting, relevant to him only in that it sprung up for them a convenient excuse to avoid Europe altogether.
In short: human affairs are dull, even when he was human. He had drunk and sang and danced his way through the burgeoning Revolution, muddy boots on flyers littering the cobblestone, where there even was any.
But he is here. He is a good friend—to Louis and/or to Daniel.
An excuse to go out, too, and express some quiet protest for the chosen activities by way of being wholly overdressed for the occasion. But then again, it's New York City in 2022, no one is truly overdressed. In this case, his effort to do so manifests in the form of a gold lamé cocktail dress, form fitting. His legs are clad in sheer tights with glimmering fishnet along with patent leather black knee-high boots with sharp heels, and for sake of pretending to care about the chill outside, a cropped jacket of black and gold feather and tinsel bristles from the shoulders down to his wrists, empahasising an already generous wingspan.
Collecting glances and admiring or uncertain looks has been entertainment enough, although somewhere around talk of stocks and insider training, he has managed to pick away the black glittering paint on one fingernail, tuning out.
But tuned back in once Daniel comes to collect them.
"I liked the part where you talked about the book of yours I have read," he says, a hand out to greet Daniel with a touch to the shoulder. A friendly glint in pale blue eyes made all the more demonic for dark silver eyeshadow and too much eyeliner. "But— oh yes, I forgot, you didn't."
no subject
In short: human affairs are dull, even when he was human. He had drunk and sang and danced his way through the burgeoning Revolution, muddy boots on flyers littering the cobblestone, where there even was any.
But he is here. He is a good friend—to Louis and/or to Daniel.
An excuse to go out, too, and express some quiet protest for the chosen activities by way of being wholly overdressed for the occasion. But then again, it's New York City in 2022, no one is truly overdressed. In this case, his effort to do so manifests in the form of a gold lamé cocktail dress, form fitting. His legs are clad in sheer tights with glimmering fishnet along with patent leather black knee-high boots with sharp heels, and for sake of pretending to care about the chill outside, a cropped jacket of black and gold feather and tinsel bristles from the shoulders down to his wrists, empahasising an already generous wingspan.
Collecting glances and admiring or uncertain looks has been entertainment enough, although somewhere around talk of stocks and insider training, he has managed to pick away the black glittering paint on one fingernail, tuning out.
But tuned back in once Daniel comes to collect them.
"I liked the part where you talked about the book of yours I have read," he says, a hand out to greet Daniel with a touch to the shoulder. A friendly glint in pale blue eyes made all the more demonic for dark silver eyeshadow and too much eyeliner. "But— oh yes, I forgot, you didn't."