The candle light did little to brighten the dark decrepit room. Your eyes wandered over to the sparkling fire that illuminated the opposite corner of the room. His eyes trailed over the thin pages of the thick book that rested in his cold hands. The grey irises gliding down each page as he read silently.

His gorgeous golden locks were gently pulled back by a ribbon, the whispy strands gently twirling from the seemingly omnipresent breeze within your cathedral-like home. His brows stayed in a permanent furrow, lips stapled in an invisible frown.

Silence was not a thing of discomfort for you, but seeing the man you call lover so quiet was something very out of place in the setting of the starry night. The normal boastful almost annoying demeanor he carried was replaced by a stoic expression and an unmoving hunk of flesh for a body.

The plump plush off the bed sunk in slightly under your weight. Your hand wrapped around the wooden bed post as you stared at him from your place. The crackle of the vibrant fire continued, the glowy light reflecting off his near-translucent skin, the ghostly purple veins revealing themselves from under it.

You could sense it, smell it in the brisk air. He was focused, but not on the pages that lay before him. No, it was on an internal murmur in his brain, the whispers of unknown origin creeping through him. He didn’t get this way very often, but it was always easy for you to tell when he did.

Flickers of yellow candle light gauntly danced against the walls. You didn’t generally enjoy being kind to Lestat when he had been rather…bitchy for the last few evenings.

But love overcomes spite quite often for you when it comes to your darling.