tyler_gone | 13 Griffin Way, Sunday Night

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13 Griffin Way, Sunday Night

The taste of the priest's blood still sang in Louis' mouth as he ran back to the home whose keys had been among the belongings in the apartment where he woke up with that same priest the morning before.

He was the most vile of all sinners, and he knew it, damned even among those doomed to walk as vampires. The fact he knew Lestat would take pride in what he'd done made it sting even more.

He wondered, dimly, where Lestat and Claudia had gotten to; he hadn't seen them since the tavern the night before. With that thought on his mind, he started exploring the house, searching for signs of any residents living, dead, or otherwise.

[OOC: For the other vampeers and the housemates.]

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Louis spotted the young woman through the doorway and stopped just outside. "Madame," he said by way of greeting, inclining his head in a half-bow.

"Sir." Miss Bennet started at his voice, dropping the gown she had been admiring. A flush came to her cheeks. Shame on her for being so easy to surprise. Such inattention to her surroundings might prove dangerous.

Ridiculous. He was no unholy creature from beyond the grave. He had not the look of those shambling, misbegotten wretches.

And yet, her heart did race.

Her heart was perhaps smarter than the rest of her, then.

"Forgive me," he said, at her start. "I had reason to believe I might be staying here. Is this your home?"

Her cheeks were decidedly crimson. "I confess I do not know," she admitted. "I was intent upon asking you that same question. There is a woman here who knows me, and speaks as though we are old acquaintance of long intimacy, but I have no name to assign her face."

She raised herself to standing, slowly, and offered him a curtsy. "Perhaps our memories have been harmed. I can think of no other logical explanation."

"Perhaps; I was in New Orleans most recently and I am quite certain I'm now nowhere near there," Louis offered. "I'm called Louis du Pont du Lac, madame. I regret this is not a more proper introduction."

He peered at her with predator's eyes. He wasn't hungry, and yet ...

And yet.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet," she said, bowing her head slightly. "Recently of Longbourn, Hertfordshire. There has been a devastating illness plaguing Meryton, a neighboring village, of late. I was hoping to investigate further, only to find myself here."

That was all true, so far as it went, and it was perhaps more polite than telling him of the unspeakable atrocities at first blush.

The hair on the back of her neck seemed to be standing up. There was something almost unnerving, in his glance.

"Well met, Miss Bennet," Louis frowned. "What sort of illness?" he wanted to know. "I've seen the horrors and devastation of plague, myself."

He had also caused more than a few deaths blamed on the plague.

"A pleasure to meet you, however unfortunate these circumstances might be." And yet, her fingers were curling around the axe again. How terrible her nerves were. A polite gentleman whose hospitality she may well have imposed upon, and here she was suspecting him of ill-defined malfeasance.

She smiled, wistfully. "Those who fall ill are soon deceased, and I wish I could say that was the worst of the matter, but I fear that is where the horror begins."

"Oh?" Louis' cold flesh got even colder. "If it is not indelicate to ask for details, may I ask what comes next?"

Miss Bennet drew one careful breath to steady herself. "They ... walk," she said carefully. "They climb from their graves, as wretched, unholy abominations which blaspheme Our Lord. They feast upon the innocent. I ... I have not words, for how terrible the scene is."

Oh.

At the same time, Louis was intrigued by the concept -- a plague of his kind in England, living, walking, feasting. He wondered if this were one of the things Lestat had not told him, either because he did not know himself or because he wished to keep his children helpless.

"It sounds horrific," he said. "I'm sorry to make you talk of such unpleasant things."

As he stepped further into the room, the lamplight might reveal how very pale he was.

Terribly pale. She wondered, then, if perhaps he had been ill, himself. There was something almost sickly, in his appearance. Her left hand flew to the small garnet cross around her neck, as her right hand tightened around the axe-handle.

She breathed in, once more, and told herself to relax her grip. He was offering condolences. He had seen terrible things.

"It is far better to discuss them than to fall prey to them," she offered, trying to sound lighter than she felt. "Perhaps we should not speak on such things."

"Perhaps not," Louis agreed. "It seems this is a well-appointed house, and a peaceful enough village. I'm sure we can find a pleasanter point to think on."

"Were you splitting firewood?" he asked, alarmed, as his eyes fell on the axe. That was hardly work for a lady.

The flush had faded from Miss Bennet's cheeks; now, with him commenting upon the axe, the red spots flooded back into her face.

"No, indeed," she said, her teeth worrying her lower lip. "There are few weapons which can inflict the necessary damage, against those walking dead. I have had to defend myself with whatever would suffice. I realize it is terribly improper, but these are desperate times."

It was a soggy, somewhat cranky Lestat who made his way through the door, just then, looking between Louis and the lovely lady he'd spoken to yesterday in the bar.

"Oh, nono, no need to speak. Allow me to guess, first. You're here to use your axe upon the unholy legions." And then, to Louis. "Just eat her, Louis. Honestly. My clothing can't take any more of this nonsense, tonight."

"And heaven forbid you need to be fitted for a new suit," Louis called uneasily, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he tried to decide what to do. Turning to Eliza, he added, "Madame, forgive my friend."

She did look rather delicious.

Eliza's eyes narrowed as she took in the newcomer. Her acquaintance of the previous evening, who seemed all too ready to defend the blaspheming masses.

"No gentleman would speak in such a way before a lady," she said icily. She was not familiar with his innuendo, but she was alone in a room with a gentleman to whom she was not related; she could imagine its thrust well enough. (Wrong though she was.) "If this is your house, sir, do please allow me to apologize for presuming upon your hospitality, and I shall leave it at once. If it is not, then you are not welcome in this room."

"I am not welcome in many rooms, madame, though I seldom allow that to deter me." Lestat turned to Louis, a somewhat irritated scowl on his lips. "There are hunters on this island. Perhaps you did not notice? This one, she hunts zombies. That's no matter to us at all, I imagine."

A pause. An entirely too pleasant smile offered in Elizabeth's direction to be even remotely genuine. "With all respect due to you, of course. I'm certain that you're quite adept with your axe."

And then he was looking back at Louis.

"It's the vampire hunter brat that bothers me. Not dangerous except to clothing and pride, perhaps, though with our daughter out alone, I must wonder how long it will be before Claudia has the unfortunate pleasure of meeting her."

"I found a priest," Louis contributed, eyes absent but trained on Miss Bennet. "Zombies, of course, how quaint. And a hunter? I had not heard of such a thing. I take it she had the misfortune of encountering you?"

This time, when Miss Bennet clutched at her garnet cross, she did not let go.

"You are also unholy abominations," she said, willing her voice not to shake. "The girl, last evening, said that vampires walked the streets. You ... you monstrous beasts."

She was backing up, carefully, still clutching her axe. Anger was safer than fear. Rationality was preferable to either. Think, Lizzy.

"What do you think, Louis?" Lestat spat, holding his arms open to reveal a bloody tear in his clothing where a crossbow bolt had struck him, and a long splash of liquid through his shirt that could really only be holy water, wouldn't it? "I decided to go dancing and I ran into a nasty water fountain?"

And then, all smiles again, his arms were at his sides, and he was raising an eyebrow at the lovely lady across the room.

"Oh, come now. We aren't so bad as all that. A little rough around the edges, perhaps," and at that, he smiled toward His Louis, "but certainly not beasts."

A pause.

"Well, unless we really, really want to be."

Edited 2009-02-09 02:20 (UTC)

"There is no need for your sarcasm, Lestat," Louis reproached, but he was already approaching the zombie killer. "I only asked..."

It was almost as if he'd forgotten Eliza was in the room, until he was at her side and grabbing for her wrist to knock the axe away, terrible hunger rising in him. "Madame, this will only hurt for one moment."

Edited 2009-02-09 02:26 (UTC)

"Unhand me," Lizzy snapped, panic rising in the back of her throat. She wrenched her wrist out of his grasp and swung the axe, wildly, in his direction.

Zombies were slow-moving, and much easier to hit. And there were two demons tormenting her ...

Oh, that was not a smart idea at all. The axe bounced away from Louis'd forearm, leaving a gash that healed before the weapon clattered to the ground. He pulled his lips back to reveal his fangs and reached to grab her around the waist, trying to pull her too close to struggle.

"Forgive me," he whispered. The truly odd part was that he meant it.

She struggled, but in vain; he was easily the stronger, and with her axe clattering to the ground, she had nothing but fists and fingernails. Either were laughable, considering how easily he'd brushed aside an axe wound.

"Please," she begged, voice catching on a sob. "Please, I beg of you, sir. Please."

She closed her eyes, trembling against him. She prayed for God to be merciful.

Edited 2009-02-09 02:45 (UTC)