(no subject)

[beautyofthenight]

My name.

I'd heard it on the wind, someone's thought drifting through the night air to me. They didn't call to me, no, but it came through in inescapable, unignorable clarity.

I'd been negligent in acclimating myself to Darrow any more than I had to. I was acquainted with very few people. Lestat, of course, the few people I'd lived near before I'd relocated, and familiar faces from my infrequent trips to Semele's.

This person... I did not recognize. So how then, was he so often thinking of me?

My questions were soon answered by Lestat, who told me of Daniel. We'd met, though I didn't remember it. I'd told him my life's story.

It was unsettling, knowing someone was out in the city who knew more about me than anyone else.

So I sought him out. In the warm air of the Darrow night, his thoughts traveled, and I searched for their source.

Comments

[brightyoungreporter]

Though the recent storm had slowed down Daniel's purchase of a laptop, it hadn't halted it, and so Daniel sits outside a closed coffee shop, the windows dark and the place empty, tapping away at the computer's glowing keys. It's nice patio, probably very enjoyable when there's daylight and fancy coffees to be had.

He doesn't feel Louis in particular so much as he feels eyes on him, heavy in a way that could only be one of two other beings in Darrow.

That he knows of, at least.

"I'm not sure you should be around me," he says.

[beautyofthenight]

"You sure about that, Daniel?" I asked, and the man before me wasn't who I'd imagined. I'd told him my life's story, but why? "Seems like there's already been plenty of that."

Why him?

I felt unsettled, once again lacking knowledge I should have had. In New Orleans, Lestat had withheld much from me. Here, the nature of Darrow did that on its own.

[brightyoungreporter]

The accent hits Daniel like a fucking train.

If he'd had any doubts that this Louis would be different, they're put to bed right there. Do not fall for the accent, do not be an idiot.

Still, for a moment he's back in Dubai, a fever dream told to an idiot, and back in San Francisco, will you do the fang thing again and then he's shutting that shit down. Nope. It's not good for any of them if Daniel lets it out.

"I'm sure that I don't want to slip and give you any information that's going to fuck with your head," he says. Let Louis pick up on the honesty there, on the affection if he wants.

[beautyofthenight]

"Then you'd better make sure you don't," I replied.

I pried into his thoughts briefly: honesty there, unhidden. I wouldn't go further than that, not unless he gave me reason to, not unless he was less than cooperative.

Daniel Molloy. What was so special about him? It wasn't lost on me that under different circumstances, I'd have many other questions for the man. About his maker, about how he'd taken to the Dark Gift... but I was left with only questions about my own future.

[brightyoungreporter]

Okay, there's the Louis he knows.

"Kind of a tall order there," he says, amused and wary. "I have some idea where you're at in, and I can't believe I'm having to say this, where you're at in the timeline, and that's assuming we aren't breaking some kind of temporal law right now."

He snorts, scoffing at himself more than a little.

"An official introduction," he offers then. "I'm Daniel Molloy, and I'm your biographer, for lack of a better term."