Léon Pierroux ⚜ Louis de Pointe du Lac (sufferme) wrote in thereincarnates, @ 2015-09-18 22:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | léon pierroux |
Who: Léon Pierroux (narrative)
What: It would be harder not to have noticed.
Where: His apartment, New Orleans
When: Friday, September 18; evening
Warnings: None
Léon was not cut off entirely from the outside world. As little as he'd chosen to interact with the reincarnate-specific parts of it, he wasn't even unaware of goings on there, both the serious and the trivial. He'd watched the revelation of the facilities where reincarnates were kept with the rest of the world, lips pressed thin and heart heavy, and seen all of the follow up information doled out as different factions in the community saw fit. There was nothing that he, a lone man without even what strength the Dark Curse would give him, could do to help, so watch was all he'd done, watch and worry about what would happen to whatever people were left in the custody of those in charge, now that their actions had been brought to light.
The world wasn't all darkness and doom, though, as much as it might have seemed like it, sometimes. Some things in the world were still bright, still brought him comfort. His sister, as much as they might irritate each other sometimes, was one of them. The beauty of a sunrise. The fact that out there, somewhere, there was him.
On his way home from work, Léon had spotted the magazine in a roadside stand, the one with a familiar name splashed in a corner. He had barely had enough cash on him to purchase it, but he'd counted out his coins with a pounding heart, hands snatching the glossy paper with a little too much eagerness. The man who had handed it to him looked at him with a raised eyebrow, but Léon had tucked it close to his side, hidden. He wasn't the sort of man who bought that sort of magazine, and if it hadn't been for the name on it, he wouldn't have given it a second look. No one knew that Léon couldn't keep walking if he spotted something that mentioned Overbite.
He forced himself through the necessities before he allowed himself to look, the magazine laying on his small, weathered coffee table as he changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt, heated something for dinner, sorted his mail. His fingers itched to pick it up, every second torment, but Léon was good at suffering. He ate at his small kitchen table, eyes drifting back to the magazine between bites. He could have taken his plate to the couch, flipped through the magazine as he ate, but then he ran the risk of spilling something on the pages. He denied himself an easy end to the anticipation.
It was only once plate, fork, and glass were washed and sitting lonely on the drainboard that he crossed to the couch and picked it up, heart skipping a beat. He turned to the table of contents, fingers trailing over the page until he found the page number for the Overbite article, something about a concert they'd done. Léon flipped through the magazine, and then there it was; as he'd hoped, there he was, in full color.
Leander Durant had always looked more like Lestat to Léon than either of the actors that had played him in the movies. That made sense, didn't it? He'd been Lestat for longer than the books had existed, unless the age he gave was a publicity stunt. Neither Léon nor Louis would put it past him, they agreed with fond amusement. His finger traced over Leander's face, the line of his cheekbone, before he settled in to read the article and see what trouble the band was getting into.
Léon read it twice before he began to slowly, carefully rip the pages out of the magazine, taking the time to make sure that they didn't rip in any place that would ruin the article, or especially the picture. Once the pages were free, still in pristine condition, he took them to the filing cabinet sitting beside his desk and unlocked it to slide them into a folder labeled 'OB 2015'. Other years were there, too, articles and interviews from the time that Léon had started his little collection on. The drawer slid back into place with a rattle, the key clicking in the lock as he turned it back. Léon was almost smiling when he sat back on the couch, reaching for the book he'd been working his way through for a few days.
Lestat was out there, and he was happy. It was enough to satisfy Léon, and to satisfy Louis. He was out there, and he would be fine without them. There was nothing more in the world that they could ask for.