The Universe's Mixer

If nothing else came out of the fiasco that had been the League meeting he had gotten pseudo permission to start lacing video cameras all throughout the City. Sort of. He was supposed to be monitoring some big bad vampire dude's movements, ostensibly at his club Fangtasia, a silly name in Jensen's opinion. No one said JUST around Fangtasia, and Jensen felt that this guy was probably cocky and moved around a lot of places so why not have a lot of coverage?

He got Zatanna to put up the cameras near the club since she had mystical teleporting abilities and he didn't. (No sense tempting fate, right?) Everywhere else he was putting up himself. The new search and GPS program was already geared up to take in feed from the cameras once they were activated and triangulate movement. Even if the City started switching around again, Jensen would have his location. Take THAT vampire bitches!

He had put up the last camera for the day and decided he could eat something. He spotted a Chinese restaurant across the street and thought it looked familiar. He couldn't quite place why he knew it, but figured if it stuck out in his mind chances were he liked the place so after checking traffic he jogged across the street, his bag bouncing against the back of his hip.

Lestat did not need as much rest as younger vampires of his kind did; in fact, he'd mostly gotten away from the Hells Bells of his youth, from the sound of dawn approaching feeling like a death knell.

But sleep he did, shortly after the sun came up, and he'd wake just before sunset. Fully fed and strong, he could withstand the sun--and had, in the dessert. The sun still put him to sleep, though, whether he wanted it to or not. There was only so hard he could fight it.

When he awoke this evening, in his beautifully appointed apartment made to look just like his home in New Orleans, something caught his eye. He was reaching into the wardrobe for a jacket and shirt to wear, something eye-catching.

That was when he saw it.

The heart on the mirror. A lipstick-drawn heart. And a square in the middle, a picture.

Holding his chosen garments, Lestat crossed the room in the blink of an eye, grabbing the picture up.

Eric. Eric in the park. During the day.

Lestat growled. It was a low, angry, predatory growl.

The clothes were donned in a flash. And he was out the door in a blur. Eric was out during the day? Eric, whose particular brand of vampire was so vulnerable to the sun?

Once he was on the street, he pursued Eric with a single-mindedness that rivaled actual obsession.

Eric had tried to get her to come out of the cabin. He had been concerned, which was endearing. He had checked on her regularly. He had even done so when he knew that she wouldn't be the young vibrant Red; she'd be the crone that haunted some nightmares. She had come out of hiding now and then, and had almost been tempted to lock him away in her cabin with her; yet, she always went back to hiding, no matter how long she might have stayed with him.

Now, she was out. The crone had that youthful glow only her kind of power could give her, and she was ready to see the Viking king in public once more. She had found a very small way to thank him, outside the usual donation and wonderful experience in sharing their blood.

She'd left a very strong note for him through one of his many human staff. The girl had knelt at the door the vampire usually visited for hours, waiting on him. The message? "Find me." It was simple, and she had a feeling with his ability to be out and about in sunlight, he'd hear soon enough.

When he did find her, she was settled on a bench in an inappropriate for the weather sundress that was awful thin even if it had been the usual comfortable temperature. She sat on the bench so very still, her hands folded on her lap. She did have a bit of a chill, but she could wait. Where was the crone waiting for her Viking king? Outside the botanical garden, of course.

Rufio crouched on a fire escape over looking one of the busier streets of the City. He'd found it a bit disconcerting when the buildings stopped moving and everybody started setting up routine methods of travel, but everybody else seemed pleased by the change. Still, it felt far too permanent the way it was now. Rufio didn't like it.

The growing boy dangled his legs over the side of the fire escape, leaning through the bars and watching the dull crowds at the end of the work day. Sunset would come very soon, and then he may be more inclined to get up and find something to do, but for now he was content eating a bag of potatoe chips and ocassionally dropping a water balloon on a passerby from the small box sitting next to him. That was always good for a laugh.