The Vampire Chronices
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devils minion era bc i love armand and daniel
The thick smell of alcohol is pungent when he walks through the door, slipping into the shadows as silently as possible. He had been keeping an eye on this boy for a while, the mortal who published that lie of a story from Louis. Armand’s teeth curl in at the edges thinking of Louis. Distracted, he barely misses the glimpse of the boy Molloy from across the bar. Dark hair all pushed aside and mussed up, skinny nose gleaming with sweat, Armand could barely control himself. This boy created and stirred up feelings in Armand he had not felt…ever. With Louis, he felt parental and controlling, protective over this near-mortal devil, the soft black locks that would curl around his chin when they slept together. Yet with Marius…all feelings of affection melted after his thirteenth birthday. Armand’s eyes, laser-focused on Molloy, came back to reality and he came to the understanding that Molloy had been staring back. Armand’s skin rose with goosebumps. The boy turned to whisper to his friends, saying something before standing and weaving through the thick crowd of people. This hadn’t been part of the plan. He was to meet the boy tomorrow, tomorrow he could caress that squared face, the pale skin almost bursting with blush. Anxiety builds in a small cluster behind Armand’s eyes. He was starting to freak out, and to respond to this, he left.
“Oh, Marius,” he whispers, “oh, oh, oh!” His hands shoved wildly at trees and branches, pulling himself up a tree and then into a window and then falling dramatically onto a long couch. “Oh, oh, oh!” he moans again. Armand throws a wrist over his eyes. His very skin longed to touch Molloy’s. Yet he must wait, he must wait for the boy to discover Armand on his own terms. He tears at the cushion below him, nails digging into the fabric. He hadn’t eaten today, yes, that’s the problem. Too tired to go on the hunt tonight, Armand forced himself to the cabinetry, grabbing a bag of blood he saved a night ago. Drinking languidly, he felt the anxiety and commotion in his brain subside. Armand let himself sink to the floor, curling into a ball under the table. “Oh…” he moans one last time before the waves of sleep overtake him.
And thus he couldn’t keep himself away from the boy the next night, waking at sunset to redress himself and attempt to cover his face in the modern woman’s makeup to look slightly more alive. He must feed before seeing Molloy, that was the first thing on the list for tonight. Armand quickly combed his fingers through his auburn hair, the curls falling to his shoulders just like the night he was murdered. Murdered. That’s how he had begun to see it. Because it wasn’t his choice, nor his idea, and yet he was chosen and his body died. Shaking his head, he left the small apartment only to enter another. Lestat’s old house, the room he and Louis and their vampire child, Claudia, shared. His shoes hit the wooden floors with soft taps, barely audible through the thick ambient noise of the night. Moving through the hallway, he catches sight of Molloy sitting in the dark, his hands in his pockets and his head tucked to his chest.
“Oh, Louis,” he was whispering, his face hidden in the shadows. “Oh, oh, oh…” his voice is barely above a murmur as he paces back and forth. Armand wishes to reach out and brush the skin above Molloy’s collarbone, the exposed flesh shown only by the unbuttoned collar. Molloy looked over at the hallway, his eyes feverish. He hasn’t noticed the silken vampire, hidden in plain sight. He looks away, still muttering, even bringing his hands to his eyes and rubbing them viciously. Armand, his hands trembling at his sides, almost leans forward, trying to help the boy.
Molloy, in a fit of rage, smashes something against the wall. It shatters as it hits the ground. He sinks to the floor, his hands still pressing into his eyes. “Jesus, Louis. You had to go and…” he trails off, bringing his face up to stare into the ceiling. His beautiful, luscious skin under his chin is exposed to the vampire, the white flesh pulling against muscle as he swallows. Armand can’t help but let a soft shudder of breath escape him. Molloy hears this. He sits straight up, his eyes darting around the room. Armand slinks backwards, but his effort is in vain as Molloy catches sight of him.
“You,” he breathes. “You’re the boy from the bar.” Rising to his feet, he advances towards Armand. “I recognize you.” Armand involuntarily flinches backwards as Molloy comes closer. “What are you doing here–how did you find me?”
Armand, composing himself, brushes a strand of hair behind his ear. “It was easy, Daniel. You’re very predictable.” The boy flinches at his name being said.
“How did you know that…my name, how did you know that?”
“I know many things about you. And you, me.” The vampire steps a foot closer. “Tell me, Daniel, what is my name?” Armand so desperately, for some sick reason, needed to hear the boy whisper—utter–-his name.
Daniel’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he looked over the vampire’s features. The silken hair, the dusky skin, the eyes that pierced through his own. “You are him, the vampire Louis had mentioned. The oldest.”
Armand laughs, loudly even, at this. “I see why he chose you as his confidant. You are naive and beautiful, much like him.” The vampire leans forward, face closing the distance between them. “No, Daniel, I am not the oldest. I am far from it, in fact. Tell me, do I look old? Am I wasting away?” He brushes his fingertips across Daniel’s cheek to demonstrate.
The boy is frozen. “Armand, you–you’re Armand. The boy vampire.” He breathes out softly, almost in awe. His eyes widened. “He was right about you, the cherub he described.” Daniel jerks backwards as Armand reaches to brush his cheek again. “Why are you following me?”
The question hangs in the air as both the living and the dead step apart. Armand tries to tuck the stubborn piece of hair behind his ear, but it slips out again and falls back into his face. “That is an answer I’m not sure I could form into words, Daniel.” Armand’s voice is soft, his eyes avoiding Daniel’s.
anotha devils minion era
The city brought a certain nostalgic feeling back into my skin, the arching buildings, the paved streets. I hadn’t been back since…well, since the abduction. I brush my hands through my hair, which I cut this morning. Yes, it is useless to do anything to my hair anymore, but Daniel particularly hates it when I cut my hair, and this gives it even more appeal to me. I haven’t picked up his scent yet, and this is what bothers me. Venice is a large city…but not large enough that this boy could get lost in it. The streets lead me to a marketplace, where the cacophony of smells and thoughts almost makes me forget Daniel’s. And yet this is what helps me catch that alcoholic, sickly smell of perfume—the smell that is so disgustingly Daniel that I sway on my feet. He’s gone towards a chapel, and now he’s gone towards an art show—but now he’s…he’s gone and fallen on the ground. I see him, his sickly form sprawled out on a bench. That didn’t take long. I approach the sleeping boy, taking the bottle of whiskey out from his clutches.
“Did you really believe that you could hide from me?” I crouch down beside him, moving to stroke his cheek but stopping myself. He hates being touched in these alcohol filled stupors of his. “Oh, Daniel, there is nowhere on this Earth that you could hide and I would not find you. Hell itself could not hold you, for I would travel there and burn alive just to feel your skin against mine.”
I lean forward, resting my chin on the bench beside his. He hasn’t even twitched. I grow tired of this soon, waiting for him to wake. “Up, Daniel, come up to your feet. I’ll go rent us a flat.” He’s penniless at the moment. He doesn’t stir, and I turn away, throwing the bottle off into the distance and watching it shatter. I ran my hands through my hair and set into the distance to the hotel room in which I wanted when I first arrived here.
It’s small, impersonal, with two bedrooms and a large foyer that I think will hold us well. I rent it with my own money, that which I’d accumulated throughout my life, and tuck the keys in my pocket. Daniel is still asleep on the bench, and he’s so thin and sickly from his poor diet and hygiene that even a mortal man could lift him with ease. I take him into the hotel room lightning fast, so as to not upset the secretary. And I set Daniel on the plush bed, undressing him slowly and redressing him in the clothes I brought with me. He doesn’t stir. “You idiot boy,” I chastise him, combing through his thinning hair with my fingers. “You wretched boy.”
He mumbles something, his eyes fluttering. My heart flutters with the soft eyelashes, leaping with excitement. He opens his eyes drowsily, noticing me finally. “Oh…how….how did you find me? Armand,” he whispers, leaning forward and wrapping himself around me. “Don’t answer that. I’m happy you’re here.”
I laugh into his shoulder, reciprocating the feelings. Sometimes I try to convince myself that Daniel is just a ploy to keep myself occupied…but oh, when he’s like this, it’s hard to remember I don’t love him.
“Venice, Daniel?” I whisper, moving back to stroke his cheek with one cold finger. He shivers. “You thought you could hide from me in my home?” He shakes his head, as if in a trance. His eyes trace my figure slowly, almost in awe. “I hate how you do that. You act as if you can’t stand me, dear.”
“Dear…” he mumbles back, his eyelids closing for a moment. I smile at the flush that grows on his cheeks. Oh, mortal bodies, they are so beautiful for things like this, the way his skin heats up and fills with color at one simple word. “Armand, you know I despise you.” He says this gently, smiling at me. “I utterly despise you.”
“You’re blushing.”
“With anger.”
“Alright, love,” I murmur, kissing his cheek softly before crawling off of him and closing the blinds. The sky is turning pink now with the touches of sun, and my coffin has not yet followed me into Venice. I look back at the bed Daniel lays in, his wrist draped delicately over his eyes, and I decide that for tonight I will sleep next to him and he can wrap those delicate wrists over my waist and…I shudder in anticipation. The sun is blocked out now, as I move the dresser in front of the window and close the door tightly. Daniel stirs slightly, sitting up to watch me take off the heavy jacket and strip the jeans I had been wearing.
“Did you cut your hair?” He asks, his voice stern.
“It grows back overnight.”
“I still like it long…”
“If you had been there yesterday then maybe you could have prevented the inevitable.” He stops talking after I say this, shooting an accusatory glance my way. The air is cold around my, what now feels naked, body, but I climb beside him and fall backwards onto the bed. He still sits straight up, watching as I breathe in and out and fan my hair out behind my head. “Lay down with me, Daniel.”
“Biblically?”
“No. Next to me.”
He laughs and reclines back, turning on his side to face me. “You have the face of an angel.” I scrunch my nose up and face him, my mood falling. “Oh, alright, you don’t then. What can I say to compare this beauty to, Armand?”
“Nothing, I’m one of a kind.”
He laughs softly again, kissing the top of my head. “Of course. Of course you are.” He pauses for a moment, brushing his fingers down my cheek. “What was it that Marius would compare you to?” I freeze, the mention of that devil making my skin crawl. Daniel notices this and stops moving as well, his hands freezing around me. “I’m sorry–I didn’t mean to…Armand, don’t…don’t do that.” He looks worried, his eyes all droopy and sad.
“I’m not doing anything. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The–the pulling away, the freezing up. Don’t do that. I know…I know Marius isn’t something you’d like to talk about. But don’t…” Daniel trails off and gestures around slightly.
these arent finished lol i just write little drabbles and i'll probably write more x3