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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Jan 27, 2009 14:18:06 GMT -5
Nicolas tilted his head, hair slipping off of his shoulder as he did so, strands falling into his face, which he pushed back with the side of one careless hand. Wearing it back - even though he had never done it very well - had prevented this sort of thing from happening, but he couldn't remember the last time he had done that, and was not even really aware that he didn't wear it up now, and would have shown surprise at having it pointed out to him.
"Did you? It wasn't much, as I recall. I don't mean what is he like; you lived with him for a time, what was that like?" He was very attentive, and his eyes were relatively fixed on Armand.
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Post by Armand on Jan 27, 2009 14:32:58 GMT -5
Armand watched Nicolas with something like resigned bemusement, or maybe a little enchantment, for it struck him again how surreal it was to have the other here, in this century, sitting on the floor across from him in the villa. There was something about this modern Nicolas, the way he looked so attentive and eager, but so yielding at the same time, like an empty vessal that was waiting to be filled up with Armand's words and company. It was intoxicating in a way, like Daniel or Louis had been, but there was no mystery in Nicolas, no resistance. Armand knew that if he told him the former, if he told Nicolas he wanted him like he'd wanted Daniel or Louis, Nicolas would be his.
Armand wasn't sure he wanted such responsibility just yet.
"He was very restrained," he said slowly. "And he was very often cold or desperately affectionate, although I don't believe he consciously tried to be either. He was a good conversationalist and a quiet, unassuming companion. Together, we largely ignored the rest of the world."
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Jan 27, 2009 14:47:41 GMT -5
Nicolas watched Armand almost tentatively, as though he were hesitant to let himself fall into the stillness and softness of manner that was required of this comfort, unmoving. Any changes in his expression would have been impossible for a human eye to find, but they would have been readily apparent to Armand, and in this alone he was animated and feeling and open.
What must that be like, to spend such time with someone, then spend such time away from them, and be able to sum it all up? He was about to think he had never done that when he realized that Eleni had filled that role for him. But he didn't know how he'd have put that arrangement. First and foremost, he had been alone; he'd just been alone with Eleni. It was not what Armand described.
"I've never," he said very carefully, as though glancing away to ensure the words, even though his eyes rested on Armand's, "ignored the world with someone else. I imagine it is possible... If you can focus on something to the exclusion of all else... That might be termed... " He trailed off. Still, distracted though all this sounded, he never once looked away, nor did his eyes become unfocused.
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Post by Armand on Jan 27, 2009 19:43:18 GMT -5
"I do not find it difficult," Armand said, almost warily, as he watched Nicolas watch him. Nicolas' gaze was very intent. After a minute or two, Armand looked down.
It occurred to him that Nicolas likely wouldn't find it difficult, either, should he find the right person. It had surprised him when the violinist (to Armand, Nicolas would always be the violinist) said that he'd never been very interested in one single mortal. Except perhaps Agota, Nicolas had mentioned her. But given the way Nicolas once had thrown himself into things with what was almost a vicious abandon- Lestat, his violin, the theatre, his destructive downward spiral- Armand did not find it hard to picture Nicolas focusing on something or someone to the exlusion of all else.
Nicolas' stare was making him nervous, wary, guarded- because he thought maybe Nicolas was imagining it with him. (Was this a stare of tenderness, of wonderment? Or was this the way Nicolas looked at his prey?)
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Jan 28, 2009 9:29:15 GMT -5
Nicolas was not even conscious of staring. (What a surprise.) It wasn't out of new reasons, that closeness of companionship that Armand described being non-native to Nicolas (at least, he'd not felt it since he was young and alive with Lestat), but rather, out of old habits - he had done this with alarming frequency in the past, or rather, had begun to do it as he'd started to slide downward. It hadn't been this way at first, but as his murders had become more outlandish and bizarre and his relationship with Armand had become strained, in between the insolence and the insanity he had had brief moments of this staring. It had been demanding and desperate than, but was less so now, as he had mellowed without his knowing it, even sliding into hesitation and softness, both of which were quite different from the rashness he'd once possessed in spades.
He didn't think that Armand might have looked away from him deliberately when he leaned forward, pressing his knee and the palm of his left hand into the floor to push himself up, and with his right hand gently cupped Armand's face, his own headed tilted as he met Armand's eyes again.
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Post by Armand on Jan 28, 2009 9:45:22 GMT -5
The motion did draw Armand's eyes back to him, the older vampire giving Nicolas a level gaze in return. Armand raised an eyebrow, inquisitive and wry, but didn't knock Nicolas' hand away. "Why are you so curious?" he asked, tapping a finger on Louis' book with a suddenness that wouldn't have seemed random for someone who'd only been listening to their conversation.
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Jan 28, 2009 10:35:30 GMT -5
Nicolas looked back at the book with a start at the sound, not only his eyes moving towards it, but his head as well. His fingers curled against Armand's cheek, withdrawing, and he rested back against his hip, legs folded, left hand still holding him up against the floor.
"Because I haven't seen you in over two hundred years," he said, baffled and innocent. He looked back at him, but it wasn't the stare from before. He tilted his head in confusion, and lifted a hand simultaneously to push back the hair that fell over his face as he did so, without knowing he'd done it, a reflex devoid of thought. "And the only knowledge I have of you is from these books, is... The same knowledge a mortal who thinks you a fiction has. But I want to know these occurences - " He tapped the book alongside Armand's hand - "as a continuation of your life while I was in it. I want to date them along the same timeline. For example. I want to know what Lestat saw in Louis that brought to mind myself, and whether or not the musician he met and made, for a short time, a vampire, in New Orleans, had anything to do with me also. And I want to know what Louis de Pointe du Lac thought of when he found he had a predecessor in that, me. And I want to know why only you stayed at the Theatre and if you saw anything similar to what Lestat saw when Louis de Pointe du Lac burned it down."
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Post by Armand on Jan 28, 2009 10:43:54 GMT -5
He watched Nicolas push back his hair with a vague pang of interest. He'd rarely seen Nicolas with his hair down in the past, and abruptly had an inkling of why Nicolas was always so intent on touching his own.
"Oh, you noticed that too?" Armand asked, amused now and referring to the violinist Lestat had turned in New Orleans. He'd thought of Nicolas the instant he'd read it. Subtle, Lestat was not. "It sounds as though it's not me you wish to speak with, but Louis." But would Nicolas actually do that? Armand's head tilted a little to the side. The violinist spoke of Louis with no little distaste, using his last name, so formally...of course, he hadn't met him. Still, Armand thought it was more than that.
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Jan 28, 2009 10:49:51 GMT -5
Nicolas, unconsciously, was warming very quickly to this conversation, as Armand had started it. He was enormously interested in being on the inside of this little world, as it was, by blood, his right, wasn't it? Then again, the same blood ran through all of their veins, giving them the same monstrous thirst, and there were many vampires Armand would doubtless never associate with in all of his life, ones Nicolas had caught a glimpse of and spied upon with as much interest as he spied upon mortals - ones Armand was said, in fact, to kill.
But it was different for him, he imagined. He could not picture Armand categorizing him with those others.
"I don't know him," said Nicolas, with a slight frown that was not really a frown, just a hardness of the mouth, and something changing in the eyes. "I don't even really know Lestat, not really. It's just you." He reached up and brushed back Armand's hair with the backs of his fingertips, the very tips of which just barely grazed his cheek. "It always was, don't you know?"
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Post by Armand on Jan 28, 2009 14:35:20 GMT -5
“I would introduce you,” Armand said, very politely, deliberately brushing past the tenderness of the gesture. His eyes narrowed a little, his voice lowered and smooth, watching Nicolas closely as he spoke, “You know, Nicolas, if you had any desire to reunite with Lestat, I could arrange that too.”
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Jan 28, 2009 14:43:44 GMT -5
Nicolas stared. He did not realize he'd leaned forward - as though suddenly weakened and needing to hold onto something for support - so that his hair was just barely touching the floor until it occurred to him that the angle he was looking at Armand from was very skewed. He sat back very suddenly, mood suddenly soured and very stormy.
"Why don't you do it, then," he said, voice too soft to be really ugly, though there was the faintest curl of an unvoiced sneer to his upper lip. "Be rid of me." The hostility evaporated and he turned his head to the side at a very sharp angle, looking confused and wounded. "What did you ask me here for, anyway?" he asked, eyes bright, unconsciously leaning forward, shoulders slumping, but still tense.
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Post by Armand on Jan 28, 2009 15:02:50 GMT -5
What a reaction. So Nicolas was still touchy. It made Armand want to touch him, when he was weak like this.
“It was only an offer,” Armand said very softly. “If I wanted rid of you I wouldn’t send you to Lestat to do it, and besides, I do not. Nicolas-“ and here he laughed, lowly- “You’ve not been here 2 hours. I asked you because I wanted to see you again. I missed you. Isn’t that why you came to see me?”
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Jan 28, 2009 15:13:04 GMT -5
Nicolas was still frowning, and still a bit tense in the shoulders due to wariness, but it was so tiring. He didn't want his guard to be up with Armand. He wanted it to be down, very much down, to show Armand that he was trusting and amiable and genuine, even if Armand had not really earned that trust from him.
"Yes. Yes." His voice softened, almost inaudible but for a vampire. "You can't know how I missed you."
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Post by Armand on Jan 28, 2009 16:10:32 GMT -5
Armand smiled at him sweetly, then stood, his hand reaching for Nicolas' to draw the violinist up with him. "What would you like to see first? The ocean, or the shops, or....?"
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Jan 28, 2009 17:51:23 GMT -5
Nicolas took his hand, taken aback completely, and letting Armand help him up before he realized that he'd done so, or even that he'd gotten to his feet. Armand's hand was cold and hard, undoubtedly a vampire's hand, but so, so slight, the sweet swell of the palm and the curves of the fingers and the knuckles disarming. He wished he knew something of palmistry. Perhaps he'd learn, and tell Armand later what the mounts and valleys in his palm meant, if Armand would allow him.
"Oooh. Get me a new violin," he said, in a way that would have been a demand had his voice been less imbalanced by obvious uncertainty in the situation.
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