Hunger (CLOSED)

[Lestat de Lioncourt]

"That wou- ... would sou-nd fun ...." Lestat stammered, caressing
his stomach as though he were in pain. Shaking his head out of the
mindset, he continued. "So how ... how did Bro-" Coughing out a
dry heave, he collapsed to his hands and knees with a powerful,
ground quaking thud as he groaned out in pain.

Tilting her head, Lyric stared at him in disbelief. She'd never seen
him in such straights before, it unsettled her, but she wasn't prone
to panic. "Lestat?" she whispered tenatively as she gingerly rested
on her knees beside him, her hand resting lightly against his back
as she did. "What's the matter?"

Grumbling and groaning, he shook violently against her touch as
his eyes went bloodshot with a rage filled hunger. Fighting it the
best he could, he turned his head to look at her. "S-s-so ... so ...
hungry." The words stumbled out of his mouth. He didn't really
even know what it was, but the answer came out like water down
a stream. He was starving.

"Why haven't you fed?" her voice was cautious in tone. The look in
his eyes was un-natural, even for their kind and it struck her
deeply. Something suspicious was going on, but she couldn't place
it. Not without seeking help. Something she wasn't yet ready to do.

"I ... It's two months until my next scheduled feeding." Rolling away
from her, he stumbled onto his ass and pressed his back against
their bed. "I'm not ready to feed." He truly thought so, too. This
was the first instance of his hunger hitting him this way. He hadn't
even thought about killing his target early the entire time ... until
now.

Narrowing her eyes, she stared holes into his head. "Obviously it's
time you change that." she said briskly. If his body was telling him
to feed, then she'd not suffer his stubbornness, gladly.

"N-no ..." He stammered, his eyes growing too weak to stay open
as his head drooped and bobbed back intermittently. "Sh-she's not
ready to die yet. Wh...o am I to take her life, to ruin the happiness
of seeing her family? I...I won't."

"I...I feel your blood in my head." He groaned, quaking harder now
that he recognised the pounding of his brain and what it meant.
"It's telling me to take you..." He hissed in pain, leaning to the right
to rest his head on her thigh.

Shaking her head, she groaned with a roll of her eyes. "You need
to feed, and feed proper." her patience with his stubborness was
close to nil.

His brow was drenched with sweat...bloodsweat, ironically. Here he
was, starving for blood and his brow was bleeding it profusely.
"How...how do you expect me to feed proper with me on my
knees? Kill Joseph?" He groaned, wrapping an arm around her calf.

Frowning she stared at him, watching the blood weep freely from
his brow. "Of course not, but simply drinking from me won't do you
nearly enough good."

"I-It will stave the hunger...at least temporarily." He sighed,
seething in pain as he rested his head on the smooth skin of her
thigh.

"This so called victim of yours..." she began quietly, her patience
obviously wearing thin now, "...it's high time you take to feeding
from her or someone!" As her voice trailed off, she held her wrist
out to him.

He couldn't even get a groan out, before his lips were latched onto
her wrist, fangs dug into the vein as he swallowed heavily at the
free flowing vitae. Not letting a drop escape, he moans against the
taste as he pulls and swallows more and more, his eyes losing
some of the strain in the vessels the more he drinks.

Letting her lids drift shut, she cleared her mind of her annoyance
and impatience. Now wasn't the time for him to suffer her wrath.
He needed to feed. More over, he needed to get beyond his all too
human reverence for prey and their lives.

Moaning in blissfull happiness, his eyes fluttered closed as his
tongue lapped at the open wound, drinking closer to his fill with a
smile upon his lips.

Hissing softly, she could feel herself begin to fade as he fed too
deeply of her crimson reservoirs. "That's enough..." she finally
choked out, against the lump that built in her throat.

Pulling two final draws on instinct, he relaxed his clamping bite on
her wrist as he pulled back away from her flesh. After those vicious
moments of hunger, her preternatural blood put him into a daze of
green. "Th-ank you..." He smiled, leaning back against the bed.

"I should have left you to starve ..." she commented off hand, lifting
her wrist to inspect the slowly closing wounds. Her irritation came
back in full force now, remembering his stubbornness and ill-placed
humanity. Such irony that. Lestat, the man who condemned
humane vampires, was himself guilty of it.

Purring out in bliss, the green haze cleared quicker than he had
expected. Once it was gone, the struggle for blood was starting all
over again. Stammering to his feet, he blindly ran for the door,
pushing it open with a groan. Stumbling over the edge of the
balcony, he fell to the beach of the island before taking a lunge of
flight over the ocean. The only thought in his mind, blood.

Staring blankly, she watched in curious disbelief as he clumsily
stumbled off, then took flight. Despite her annoyance at him, she
was beginning to worry for him. Something was deeply wrong and
he gave no hint as to what. All she could do now, was wait. When
he stopped, she would join him. But for now, all she could do was
wait.

Lifting the phone, she rang Joseph, their silent and loyal familiar.
"AB negative ... yes it's been one of those nights."

Blitzing through the clouds, Lestat stumbled lazily through his flight.
Grumbling at the hunger, Lestat could feel his pains sapping at his
strength as he stumbled towards the ground. Groaning out the
words on a scroll of teleportation, he felt the scroll dissipate in his
back pocket as electricity flowed through his empty veins. In
seconds, like an explosion in the night sky he was gone.

(To be continued)

Joint effort between King Lestat and Lyric

[Lestat de Lioncourt]

A door swings open. On it reads 328. A slick haired, spanish man
exited the hotel room, closing the door behind him. Inside the
room, a small blonde raised off her temporary bed with a stretch.
She looked worn, her hair a mess as she stood, wrapping a towel
around herself. She lifted a stack of bills from her nightstand.
"Another nights work..." She muttered to herself, putting the
money into her bag.

Looking at the clock, she groaned out a curse. Her family was
already well on their way to take her to dinner by now. "I hate it
when they take forever." She mumbled, running over to the
bathroom.

Knock, knock.

Stopping at the bathroom door, she turned her head to the front.
"Who is it?" She called out, confused. They couldn't be this early,
she was amazed they were stopping by at all really.

"Room service." She let out a sigh, both of relief and annoyance.
She hadn't ordered shit, and she didn't want anything.

"No thank you." She called out through the door, grumbling in
anger as she peered through the peephole to the man, dressed
professionally in the bellhop uniform. "I didn't order anything, and
I'm not interested." Without a second thought, the bellhop was
gone.

Smiling, she turned back to the bathroom. "Finally," she uttered,
reaching for the knob, "I get my shower." Pushing the door open,
she never saw or heard the soft crackle of electricity behind her, or
dark haired man that accompanied it. A moment later, a blood
curdling scream escaped her; echoing throughout the third floor.

------

Ding.

The elevator doors slid open, as a fourty year old woman and her
ten year old son entered the hanging steel cage. Tugging on his
mom's coat, the boy looked up at her with wide eyes. "Why isn't
Dad coming with us to see Ri, again?"

Why her mother named her that, she'd never understand. The
thought was almost constant in Ri's head. "It's exotic, Rithery! I
heard it in France you know." Her mother always tried telling her.
Try explaining that to my clients, Mother. Ri thought to herself.
Mother always insisted on using her full name. Shame really. It
always made her cringe.

Giving a snort, the woman shook her head. "He's working late,
sweetheart. He and his secretary have a lot of filing to catch
up on." In the back of her mind, she cursed the air her husband
breathed. That man couldn't get off his whore for this one night,
to have dinner with the daughter he hasn't spoken to in five years.
Disgusting. She grumbled quietly, pulling the room key that had
been waiting for her on the front desk from her purse.

[Lestat de Lioncourt]

Back in the room, Ri's screams were drowning in her own blood.
Leaning limp, she hung in Lestat's arms, who was latched onto her
like a leech. The towel had fallen from her body, soaked heavy in
her life force. Whimpering in fear, she had already stopped fighting.

Moaning deeply at the taste of human blood, Lestat's eyes had
closed. His mind flashed through her blood memories. Every man,
every woman, she'd ever slept with flashed before his eyes.
Sinking his fangs in harder, Lestat drank deeper of her veins, at the
memories of her childhood, the images began to dwindle, circling
the drain as her life was sucked from her veins.

The door beeped, clicked, and swung open. The woman went slack
jawed as she saw her daughter, naked, covered in blood in the
hands of a monster. Speechless, she couldn't even scream as her
daughter was dropped like a sack of bricks to the floor.

A grin creased Lestat's blood stainend lips, as he stared down the
two mortals in the door way. "Mmm, I love room service," he
growled.

Reaching out, he pulled the dumbstruck duo into the room and
slammed the door shut behind them. As the lock clicked shut,
reality struck home in the woman's mind, giving way to a gutteral
scream that was quickly silenced by a pair of remorseless fangs
tearing into her throat.

The boy, scared into anger, rushed toward Lestat, before being
kicked into the wall. Lestat, sucked down the woman's blood. Each
drop made him want that much more. The memories flowed deeper,
and faster before his blood shot, gray eyes as her life sank into
nothingness between his arms. Bringing an arm to the woman's
neck, he gripped the flesh deep with his glass-like nails as his
fangs dug deeper for the last of her intoxicating pints.Breaking his
death grip on the dead mother like daughter blonde, Lestat gave a
deep laugh as he tossed the body to the floor carelessly.

Lestat turned, blood soaked and wild eyed away from the now
empty vessel of the forty year old mother of two and focused his
sights on her youngest child. The young ten year old boy, who was
now huddled terrified in the furthest corner of the room. Lestat
could feel the boy's fear filling the room so thick that he could taste
it on his lips, and he wanted more. His normally fierce grey eyes
shone darkly, almost black as he approached the simpering child.
"There now, this won't take long at all ..." he cooed flatly, knowing
the boy could see his intentions despite the hollow attempt to calm
him.

Lifting the boy into the air by the shirt front, Lestat sank his fangs
into the boy's throat. He only felt fear, no memories. The only thing
Lestat could see, was the child's mother through his eyes, laying
limply behind him. Grunting in beautiful bliss, Lestat moaned at the
taste of fear.

Groaning in anger, Lestat noticed the blood wasn't flowing as fast
as the boy was fading. Grunting, he crashed his fist into the boy's
shoulder, breaking the collar bone with proficiency. The moment the
boy's fragile bone had broken through, Lestat grabbed by the neck
and shoulder and ripped the small body down the center; sending
blood gushing over them both as the bones cracked in chilling
concert. "Finally." Was all he said, clamping down on the gushing
vessels hungrily.

As the blood slowed to a stop, Lestat found himself still hungry. He
took a seat at the edge of the bed, staring down at the child's
body, ripped open before him. Idea. He grunted, kneeling on
the floor as he reached within the boy's chest. Lestat curled his
sleeve up, and dug carefully inside for the ripe young heart.

With a firm, yet comfortable grip, Lestat ripped the heart from its
vessels. The smile on his face, was like he was staring in his lovers
eyes. With one smooth gesture, he brought the torn arteries to his
thin lips, sucking the blood from his heart like a straw in a cup.
Collapsing onto the floor, Lestat leaned agaisnt the bed, sucking
blissfully from the child sized organ.

Setting the muscle of love to the floor without regard, his eyes
closed slowly, happily as the blood settled ... at first. With a deep
groan, the hunger began returning, and Lestat pulled himself to his
feet. "Where the Hell is that room service cart?" He grumbled,
leaving the hotel room with a slam to the door, and a sinister grin
on his lips.

As Lestat sauntered down the hall, the pit of his stomach raged in
starving turmoil, growling menacingly. Half way to the ratty motel's
elevator bays, he past a well dressed, if dishevled, gently greying
man. Instantly, Lestat picked the gentleman's thoughts from his
head. With his loosed tie and flamigo pink smeared collar, he
recognised him to be the patriach of his latest meal. With a grin, his
shoulder brushed other man's, "328 needs fresh towels."

Sometimes we can choose the path we follow. Sometimes our
choices are made for us.

And sometimes we have no choice at all.