Sanctuary Who: Lestat/Phoenix and Dominic What: Entering Bedlam? When: A few hours after this log. Where: Dominic's office, then Bedlam(?) Warnings: Mental institution?
When he'd arrived at Dominic's office earlier in the day, Lestat had all but waltzed in; dizzy and struggling to hold on to reality, yes, but he was a vampire and vampires were graceful, beautiful, seductive without meaning to be.
Now, with evening just begining to fall, he didn't even make it to his destination; Lestat fell out of his Shift and onto the floor of a hallway somewhere in the building, clutching his stomach in a fruitless attempt to stop the pain. A yell of liquidine agony ripped from his teeth as he hit the ground, the skin on his back screaming lightning through the tortured nerve-endings.
His eyes bled violet into Phoenix's silver like blood into water, but there was no mirror for him to see it. The fire imprinted on his lower back was taking up almost all of his concentration, and there was barely room for anything else.
He curled up, carefully, panting and trying not to whimper. He could heal virtually any injury, but against fire his powers were impotent, useless. Azazel had known that when he'd pressed the branding iron into his back, and they both knew the mark was going to scar, pearl-white and picture-perfect and permanant.
But for now it hurt, so much, and he couldn't make himself move with Alex shivering at the corners of his mind and Phoenix only lightly asleep beneath them both. Hugging Alex's cloth rucksack, Lestat just lay there and waited for someone to find him, breathing through his teeth.