Disclaimer: This is a work of speculative fiction. I do not intend to make

any money off of it, although, I admit, I sure wouldn't turn any down! But

even in the unlikely event of that happening, I do NOT intend to infringe

upon the rights of An Author Who Sues Her Fans, Knopf Publishing,

Ballantine, Random House, Geffen Pictures, Warner home Video,

Mojo, Mojo II, Sunny or Mike.

 

SPOILERS: IWTV, TVL

 

Hello Again SPECtacles,

 

I wrote this to see how well I could write dialogue, hence the lack of any

narrative. I intended to make it into a series of scenes, but never did.

So here it is, it sounds incomplete because it is.

 

Sorry,

 

DarkAngel

August 21, 1998

 

 

 

Together

 

by DarkAngel

 

*************************************************

"And why should I bother to tell of the times he came to me in wretched

anxiety, begging me never to leave him, of the times we walked together and

talked together, acted Shakespeare together for Claudia's amusement, or

went arm in arm to hunt the river front taverns, or to waltz with the

dark-skinned beauties of the celebrated quadroon balls?" – TVL

 

*************************************************

 

"Lestat?"

 

"Yes, cheri?"

 

"Let us go for a walk, oui?"

 

"Oui. Shall we go through the Quarter? Or along the river?"

 

"I'd rather along the river, if it pleases you. I want the quiet."

 

"Mais oui, mon ami."

 

"I'll leave a note for Claudia."

 

"I'll get our coats."

 

"Merci."

 

"The starlight is so beautiful on the water, non?"

 

"Mmm, it seems I never really saw it before."

 

"Everything is more beautiful now. Everything is enhanced."

 

"What causes that?"

 

"The blood does, Louis. What do you think?"

 

"Yes, I know, but I mean, physically, what has happened? Has there been a

change in our eyes? In our brains?"

 

"Louis, Louis, your curiosity, Beautiful One, is insatiable. And you know I

have no answers for you. Stop worrying about the insignificant details and

enjoy the effect."

 

 

"Here, cher, look up. It is a falling star!"

 

"Make a wish!"

 

"Pourquoi?"

 

"That is what you do, you make a wish on a falling star. Didn't you ever do

that as a child?"

 

"Non, Louis, it must be a Creole superstition."

 

"Make one anyway."

 

"Louis . . ."

 

"You have to close your eyes."

 

"Alright. Now what?"

 

"Make a wish."

 

"I wish-"

 

"Not out loud!"

 

"Oh forgive me. I would hate to perform this meaningless ritual in the

wrong way. Are we going to have to kill a chicken now?"

 

"Non, Lestat."

 

"Drown a cat?"

 

"Lestat!"

 

"I do not know what attracts you to those horrible creatures."

 

"I suppose the same thing that attracted me to you."

 

"Oh Louis! You made a joke!"

 

"Would you like to go to the Quadroon Ball tomorrow night?"

 

"What a wonderful idea, mon ami!"

 

"Very well, then. What shall we do with Claudia?"

 

"She can survive on her own for one night Louis."

 

"Perhaps, but we are not home tonight, and if we go out without her

tomorrow night as well she'll be cross. And you know you don't want that."

 

"Non."

 

"What shall we do then?"

 

"Let's tell her that we will perform a play for her. That will put her in a

good mood. We'll do a comedy, Midsummer Night's Dream, Two Gentlemen Of

Verona, something she'll like. Then we can go out afterwards."

 

"If we do Midsummer Night's Dream, I don't want to be Helena."

 

"Why Louis? 'O Helen, goddess, nymph, perfect divine! To what my love,

shall I compare thine eyne? Crystal is muddy. O how ripe in show, Thy lips,

those kissing cherries, tempting grow!' "

 

"'I am your spaniel'? 'And Demetrius, the more you beat me, I will fawn on

you'? 'Use me but as your spaniel; spurn me, strike me, neglect me, use

me'? She is, without doubt, the most pathetic character ever written! I

hate her."

 

"Oh, Louis, really. It is only a play."

 

"Then you can read her. I'll read Demetrius."

 

"What if we do the Taming Of The Shrew, instead?"

 

"Non, non, non!"

 

"Louis, you know, you would never survive in a real acting troupe. You have

to take what you are given. WITHOUT complaint."

 

"Have you been in an acting troupe, Lestat?"

 

"Yes, actually. I was on the stage in Paris, as a matter of fact."

 

"You never told me!"

 

"Well, you know how I hate to brag."

 

"Were you well-known?"

 

"But of course, Louis! What kind of a question is that?"

 

"I'm sorry, Lestat."

 

"I suppose being isolated here in the wilderness, you wouldn't know, but

still Louis. You aren't implying that you could see me as some sort of

third rate troubadour wandering through the streets looking for an open

spot in a rutted road to set up some sort of ramshackle stage, are you? Do

you think I would waste my time in a caravan of buffoons, changing costumes

behind a tree and all crowding around one miserable little mirror to apply

our make-up? Well?!"

 

"I wasn't implying anything, Lestat. Please, don't be angry. It was only a

question."

 

"It was an impolite question."

 

"Forgive me."

 

"Well . . .for the sake of a pleasant evening, I will. But I will have you

know that I was the best actuer in Paris, during my stay there. I played

all the famous roles: MacBeth, Hamlet, Romeo. All of them. I was quite in

demand."

 

"Why did you leave?"

 

"That is not a subject I wish to discuss with you, fledgling."