InsaneJournal

midnight in the garden of good and evil (hannibal)
In his escape from Arkham, with thanks to Frank Castle, Lestat drank seven orderlies and nurses nearly to death. He hadn't drained anyone *to* death. Just to the brink. He'd needed to replenish what the staff had taken out of him when they shackled him to the wall.

Despite himself, in his anger, Lestat had also snapped the neck of the unfortunate boy who'd tried on several occasions to make him drink dead blood. He viewed it as self-defense, nothing more, forgetting for the moment how broken he'd felt standing in the hall of his dead in Hell, his catatonia, his eye and the reason for the first set of shackles made of hair.

He'd been flying, literally and figuratively, often the last few nights, riding a kind of high of more human blood than he'd had in quite some time. In the absence of other vampires, though--specifically the absence of other vampires that'd allow him to drink their blood-- it was a necessity. And it made him feel... amazing.

He'd caught a familiar and enticing scent, near the City botanical gardens. He'd know it anywhere, since he so fixated on the person to whom it belonged. Lestat stopped in midair and levitated slightly above the ground, watching the young man walk through the greenery and the flowers.

Smiling.

When it became clear that he wasn't making enough noise, even for this person with heightened senses, Lestat let himself touch down on the ground.