ʟᴏᴜɪs ᴅᴇ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛᴇ ᴅᴜ ʟᴀᴄ. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
byrony) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2018-02-28 10:21 pm
byrony) wrote in maskormenacelogs2018-02-28 10:21 pm
closed.
WHO: Louis de Pointe du Lac and Frederick Chilton
WHERE: Maurtia Falls
WHEN: A night time, now.
WHAT: Some friendly stalkery between friends-of-friends.
WARNINGS: TBD.
[ If Louis could choose to be anything, it would be a man who only ever chooses to be anything. That is: devoid of natural instinct, of need, of insatiability. A man who only ever acts through conscious, well considered decision. And most of the time, he does a very good impression of this man.
Following this mortal now, though, is almost expressly a result of unbearable curiousity.
It isn't hard. Moving like a phantom on the trail of any subject is borderline second nature, even for him. Other immortals might dance like shadows on the rooftops, while Louis remains more earthbound -- but silent, and unseen, easily navigating urban geography at the speed it takes one of their charming hovercars. He would admit to himself that perhaps he enjoys this.
But given he is pursuing Frederick Chilton for the simple reason that Lestat identified him as a friend, that would altogether be too much self-confession.
As for Frederick Chilton himself, he could be anywhere, but by the time Louis opts to make himself known, he will be alone. ]
WHERE: Maurtia Falls
WHEN: A night time, now.
WHAT: Some friendly stalkery between friends-of-friends.
WARNINGS: TBD.
[ If Louis could choose to be anything, it would be a man who only ever chooses to be anything. That is: devoid of natural instinct, of need, of insatiability. A man who only ever acts through conscious, well considered decision. And most of the time, he does a very good impression of this man.
Following this mortal now, though, is almost expressly a result of unbearable curiousity.
It isn't hard. Moving like a phantom on the trail of any subject is borderline second nature, even for him. Other immortals might dance like shadows on the rooftops, while Louis remains more earthbound -- but silent, and unseen, easily navigating urban geography at the speed it takes one of their charming hovercars. He would admit to himself that perhaps he enjoys this.
But given he is pursuing Frederick Chilton for the simple reason that Lestat identified him as a friend, that would altogether be too much self-confession.
As for Frederick Chilton himself, he could be anywhere, but by the time Louis opts to make himself known, he will be alone. ]
no subject
He turned the corner, meeting a growth of darkness in a lonely alleyway.
This was familiar terrain. The foreboding darkness, the gothic cut of impressive architecture set against a silver clouded night sky. There was a reason as to why he chose Maurtia Falls; its soul mirrored that of his Baltimore's. De Chima might be closer in a literal sense, but Maurtia Falls was artistically closest. Spiritually closest.
A creature comfort.
Chilton hesitated in his next step, that undefined feeling returning to him. He looked over his shoulder.]
no subject
Just there, leaning against the edge of the alleyway as if he'd somehow been there this whole time, despite the fact that Frederick hadn't heard a single foot step fall behind him. Eye contact isn't immediately established except that Chilton does get the sense that he is being observed, a slow pass of a once over that is mild in treatment. Curious only.
The eyes are probably the most striking thing, wolfish and pale and green, certainly not human. A tone of skin that one might feel compelled to type the word alabaster to describe. Long, dark hair, shades of warm brown and black. His fingertips end in sharp, tapered nails. Chilton has spent enough time around Lestat to recognise something of his kind in this stranger.
More ordinary -- painfully so, even -- is Louis' clothing. A black sweater, too large for him, slightly unkempt at the seams. Jeans, better fitting. Boots that look like they should make sound.
He says, ] Hello.
no subject
[A demand that cuts too quickly in his throat; the question comes with a squeeze of vocal chords, higher in pitched than Chilton desired. To his credit, he did not take a step to retreat. This man was similar to Lestat -- in ethereal appearance, someone too bright and too sharp to qualify as human. But the posture, the subtlety in demeanor... Chilton realized he didn't know what to expect.]
I -- I hadn't realized. That I had company.
[Chilton has offered more compelling follow-ups before, but he was struggling still to regain composure. The prim, tailored suit he wore, his trademark, felt stiff and hot against his skin so suddenly. He thought to offer his hand, the hesitation forging an awkwardness as Chilton made the gesture. For lack of a better script, he had his manners to rely upon.]
Doctor Chilton.
no subject
[ Louis has a way of making the threatening sound so idly gentle, a patient blink and a smile, and he moves then to accept the gesture rather than leave it hanging between them, even if he'd rather keep a little distance. His palm is cool, and his fingernails too long and too bright, like cut crystals, but otherwise his hand feels made of ordinary material -- of flesh, and bone beneath that -- no matter what Frederick's eyes might tell him. ]
My name is Louis. We have a friend in common.
[ With the gesture complete, executed in an alleyway with puddles and a steady tap tap tap of rain water leaking from broken piping not far away, Louis retracts back into his own personal space. ]
A novelty, for me.
no subject
A friend in common.]
Lestat, of course. [Who else could it have been? Hindsight was a silent brute.]
And so this meeting is inspired by him? Or, something else altogether?
[He held his breath in his lungs, reluctant to release that much so quickly. Instinct whispered that it was not impossible he that he would not stay long to take another.]