open post ✧✧

[cyclical]

𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭
✧ choose a character
✧ call them out: put their name in the comment header
✧ leave a prompt (picture, text, music, quote, etc!)
✧ leave a blank comment if you want to really choose a wildcard and i'll yolo
✧ nsfw and smut a-okay!
✧ assumed cr a-okay

Comments

uwu

[followups]

"I'm always happy to meet a fan. Even when they break into my apartment. A little bit Glenn Close in the late 80s, but I'm into that. It's the commitment, you know? Gets me hard."

Not a startle in sight, the so-identified Daniel Molloy swans in through his front door, and chats as he closes it behind him and slips off his entirely for-show scarf. An old man, changing weather, he should look after himself. But he could fling himself into the freezing sea and be cozy. A wonderful, unnatural state to be in.

Speaking of unnatural states.

So like, what are you doing here, kiddo.

Out of habit, he tosses his keys into a little trinket bowl on a ledge by the door. No phone. Anyone with anything important to say can call his assistant. He looks at him, the younger vampire whose shape in the blood he's sensed before a dozen times, but whose measure he's never had the chance to get.

"Of course you're some gorgeous doe-eyed white guy. Will, right?"

[disarrayed]

“The editing could use some work.”

Never mind the copy he read much to Louis’ chagrin was an advance. An advance meant for the subject of the book itself, not for other eyes. But Will tore into it when he couldn’t sleep the first of many nights as a vampire. He’s still not a good sleeper - something that must come with age. Surely.

He wants to rebut the fact that he’s a fan, but he can’t. Not really. Although he’s not here for Daniel because of his admiration for his work, he is certainly here for Daniel and his work. It’s close enough that Will won’t argue.

“Did my maker tell you I was coming? I know you spoke often.”

Louis seemed to loosen up when Daniel rang - something of an old life slipping back into his bones in a way that made Will’s mind whir. Just like his mind whirs now, standing with a hip against Daniel’s kitchen counter. He has to resist approaching him for the very crude, simple desire to see if Hannibal’s scent lingered anywhere on the other vampire.

[followups]

The book, their book. Rapidly climbing every best seller list on the planet despite the lack of fanfare upon release. Drawing fascination, disbelief, quiet smug amusement, ire. He's well-aware that he's being hunted, that the ghoul hovering over his shoulder is the only thing keeping him from being jumped and left imprisoned on a tarmac somewhere waiting to fry with the dawn— but some vampires are really entertained, too. Lifetimes of only watching, and now, their hands are starting to itch with curious restlessness.

And Louis' midlife crisis baby read the early draft. What a world, what a world.

"Your maker," and man, this is his first ever encounter with a vampire younger in death than he is, fucking wild, "probably shouldn't have made you — or anyone, nothing personal — for the sake of his mental health. We talk about a lot."

Maybe Will. Maybe not. Their business.

He studies the other man. A sheen of mania, an intensity that doesn't seem entirely the product of having been reborn as a fucking demon. Daniel moves closer in, at ease, and his eyes glint briefly as the light changes; deep orange beneath his lenses, though they're good about making him look as seaglass green-blue as ever, from most angles.

"You were a Fed?"

[disarrayed]

"Do human medications and therapies work on vampires? Louis displays symptoms of untreated depression, for one. Maybe schizophrenia." A beat, then: "He has a temper."

Will watches Daniel closely, but doesn't meet his eyes. More like he's looking at the center of the man's forehead or his chest. He catches the glint of those eyes though and he glances away again, toward a window looking out onto the street. His own eyes almost glow with how blue they are - far closer to the vampire Lestat's than Louis' own green.

"I taught in the Academy. Criminal profiling." Will glances back at Daniel now, meeting his eyes. "I consulted on a few cases. It's why I wanted to find you. There's one case that's still unsolved."

In a manner of speaking, anyway. Hannibal Lecter, the curator of dark and terrible things, slipping quietly under the radar and walking freely in the light of the sun now where Will cannot follow him. He wonders if Hannibal knows what he's become.

[followups]

Yeah, this guy had better hope medications work on vampires. Looks like he needs fucking lithium. Daniel regards him, watches the way his gaze does that odd, purposeful wander; something he's seen before. Wanting to take everything in, but terminally uncomfortable with eye contact. A profiler who's still working a case despite having died, maybe insane? Oh, Louis. What the fuck did you do.

"I wonder who that could be."

A joke. Probably the loon he did a prep interview with a few days ago, who spent the entire session sounding very polite, but thinking very rudely. Mostly about how bad the elderly taste, dried out, overworked, unappetizing old meat, with precontaminated innards from leaky guts and sloughing grey matter and crumbling spines. Not the first serial killer, or cannibal, Daniel's interviewed. Just the first one whose mind he could read the whole time.

"Hey." He stops, tilts his head. Ungracefully making an effort to force eye contact. "Are you okay? I mean that in a 'have you come to terms with being dead' way, but I'm accepting of all other ways, if you want to talk about whatever."

[disarrayed]

There’s a flicker across Daniel’s mind that tells him that indeed, Hannibal Lecter was in New York. That he’d almost caught him, nipping at the heels of his carefully polished shoes. Everything about Hannibal is always so dressed up, tidy and expertly curated to avoid suspicion. He’s grateful, for once, that Jack understands now even there’s very little about Jack he can respect now anyway.

It’s easy for his mind to wander, searching for the murmurings of Hannibal’s mind. It’s difficult, he even hides his mind well in the crowds.

Will comes back to himself when Daniel searches for eye contact, forcing him to look up with unnatural eyes, meeting the amber of another vampire. Louis told him who made Daniel and how it happened. Louis’ temper, Armand’s bitterness.

“Hannibal Lecter. Do you know where he intends to go next?”

Not the answer to Daniel’s question. Will hasn’t had time ti think about being dead and not. To dig into the fact that even when he kills the man, he’ll come out of it alive in spite of it all.