Slow to Burn By Black Emeralds (darktrik@pacific.net.sg) Spoilers: All VampChrons ~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~ "I saw you first..... Don't that give me the right?......" --John Melloncamp The night sky resembled a piece of bejeweled black velvet, scattered with stars that stretched across the horizon, unfurling and darkening as the hours went by.......... It held a kind of fascination for Armand that even the lights glittering below could not contest, teeming in it's endless activity, throbbing with the life that he so loved. Ah yes, the life...... it was for the life that he had come to Florida. It was for the bright lights and flashy cars, for the scent of energy hanging in the air that he detected when he breathed in deeply, taking in the Florida air that was balmy and tepid. In a very bizarre way....... Florida was beautiful. Ah yes. Florida was a vampire's city. It personified them didn't it? It was the very core of what they stood for. Evil painted with beauty. "You think too much Armand." a voice cut short this train of thought. It was Santino. :So he had arrived.: Armand thought to himself. "Santino. Please, come in." Armand said in a calm voice and gestured to the table set beside the French windows where he was standing. Santino moved into the room, taking steps slightly too quickly. Too graceful and too fluid. Like a dance. A subtle waltz into the room. The lights from the streets illuminated half his face as Santino set himself down at the small marble coffee table at the windows, lowering himself languidly into the chair. Armand had been careful to avoid Santino's eyes. It was perhaps one of the few things that still managed to unnerve Armand, and strangely also the one thing that he had been exposed to the longest. To Armand, it was alarming the way they burned brightly despite their dark color, rather like coals glowing, set in a face that was enough to alarm anyone at that........ the lights from the streets seemed to be absorbed into the preternatural skin and then reflected back. The effect being subtle. Frightening. Beautiful. Santino was really, the one member of the coven that personified the classic vampire. His dark curls cropped at his shoulders and the preternatural skin, a gleaming ivory in the semi darkness of the room. Armand never saw him in anything else but black or white and tonight it was the same, a fitted satin black vest over a white shirt that heaved slightly with each intake of his breath. Armand sat opposite Santino, and yet not wanting to look into those eyes that burned dimly.......... coals glowing. Santino smoldered. Yes. That was the word that described him. Santino smoldered of menace and sensuality simultaneously. Little wonder why he was given the dark gift. Armand watched the palm trees below bend into the wind, averting his gaze from those eyes. Silence filled the room. But it wasn't uncomfortable. Armand and Santino had passed that stage by now. Armand assumed that is what ensues after knowing another for 500 years. Santino: It's wonderful isn't it? Armand: What is? Santino: That the entire coven is gathered for this event. Armand: Oh yes. Yes. It does feel like a homecoming. Santino: One wonders what took them so long. Armand: Yes indeed...... why did it take 200 years to finally make them realize just how much they need each other? Pitiful really, the way they stumble along..... Santino: Lestat and Louis are serious about this? Armand: That's what Louis told me. Santino: And you so graciously offered your island for this event Armand: I believe *offer* isn't the word Santo caro. Santino: So what *is* the word Amadeo? Armand: It leans towards the effect of "twisted arm". Santino: Ah. I see. My deepest sympathies Armand. Armand: Don't mock Santo. Santino: Certainly not Armand! I wouldn't *dream* of mocking you in such times of distress. Armand: Indeed. Tis a sorry lot I tend. Santino: There's no question about that. But a gathering of immortals can't be *that* bad Amadeo, can it? Armand: Obviously we're not talking about the same immortals. Santino: Quite true. (He ponders on it) Even Gabrielle has promised to come? Armand: Yes......... unfortunately. Santino: Come now Armand. She *is* the groom's mother. And this *has* to be something special if the elusive Gabrielle decides to grace us with her presence. Armand: (strangely, says nothing.) Santino: (stares hard at Armand, searching for what is making his companion unusually quiet tonight) Armand watched the moon reflect it's powder light in the dark fluid depths of the shivering Miami coast. A boat traced it's path along the unsettled waters, causing the surface to shiver, dispersing the crackled image of the moon in the waters as a cool wind passed through Armand's shirt, swirling around the silken folds. The stillness was comforting to Armand....... eyes.... he didn't want to look into Santino's eyes............. Armand: Well, at least Lestat is paying for the cruise liner. Santino: Ah yes, I saw it before arriving here last night. It is splendid. Perfect for the marriage of the Brat Prince. Armand: I would expect. He hand picked it out. All he needed was a dock for it. And who does he run to? Armand. Santino: Well it does make sense doesn't it? Armand and his Florida Night Island would be the perfect setting for a tropical wedding. Armand: (silence) The headlights of the cars below made trails of illumine along the streets, red, yellow, orange and white lights seemed to melt together painting a magnificent canvas of Florida night. Almost as magnificent as the sky that was tinted with stars. A glowing canvas that touched the earth at the horizon and completed the majestic painting. Armand gazed at this with liquid brown eyes..... a stray lock of auburn hair stinging them. His alabaster hand reached up to his angel's countenance and swept it away and cupped his chin. Still avoiding those intensely dark eyes......... Santino: You're not happy Armand. Armand: (a smile spreads across his lips) You know me too well. Santino: I've known you for almost 5 centuries. I know when you are disturbed. The quiet ticking of the clock and the rustle of the palm trees below answered Santino. Armand could almost feel that pair of eyes boring into the side of his head, searching for the answer to his question. But Santino wasn't trying to. Truly he wasn't looking to ransack the mind of Armand, it was just an impression that his eyes seemed to chant, and probably why he was mostly isolated from the rest of the coven, this air of foreboding that surrounded him created by his eyes...... it was subconscious and Santino probably could not help it even if he wanted to. But still it was there. Armand: No. No I'm not Santino. Santino: Why? It was a question of genuine concern and solicitude, Armand knew that...... Santino had always been a good confidant to Armand...... he kept silent, contemplating that simple and yet extremely complex question. Seconds passed. Minutes, and yet Santino was patient. Armand: I don't know Santo. (finally came the answer) Santino: Daniel? Armand: No. Daniel is fine. A routine fight. It's nothing. He probably won't show for the wedding just to spite me. Santino: Then what is it Armand? Armand: I told you. I don't know myself. And that makes the whole situation even bleaker than it already is. Another length of comfortable silence passed between them . Armand felt glad that Santino was here.......... he had to admit they had a past...... they had disagreements. But still Santino was there for almost all of his 500 immortal years. It seemed that time had sealed an unspoken mutual understanding between the 2 friends, a quiet satisfaction at how fate had handled the situation that was Armand's confiding to Santino in times of need. To Armand, Santino was a sort of secret from the coven. This private friend that others knew little of. An exclusive secret that was well kept over the centuries, a contentment of the knowledge that Santino was always there to lean on if the time ever calls for the need......... Armand mused to himself, still avoiding the piercing gaze of his companion. Eyes. Those eyes. It just occurred to Armand that Santino was looking away now for the first time in the evening. He seemed troubled suddenly, most strange...... then Santino said in a different tone that carried a subtle meaning, though so veiled that Armand could not quite decide what it was "The wedding?" It was more like a statement than a question. Silence. Armand said nothing. As if he didn't hear what he was asked. A car roared below, it's thunderous volume and screeching rubber fading off into the dark well of the night as it sped away. Silence returned again. And it was deafening. Avoid those eyes. Quiet. It was too quiet. Still Armand gave no answer. ** ** ** ** ** ** Santino stood on the deck, watching the salty waters of the Atlantic crash against the hull of the liner, white foam frothing at the sides and dissipating into the darkness..... it was strangely comforting to Santino, the way the horizon tilted from left to right, as the huge shifting cruiser at his feet sliced it's way through the dark waters of the Atlantic which seemed to whisper to him...... like lulling him to sleep. Santino could hear the occasional bursts of laughter emitting from inside the liner. Was that Pandora's tinkling giggle he heard? The wind howling at his ears muffled the sounds slightly. Time to go back in. The ceremony would begin soon. Heaving a sigh, Santino turned and returned to the rooms in the belly of the liner. Glittering chandeliers illuminated the hall where the vows were to be exchanged as Santino entered through the heavy wooden doors, with each step the rich navy carpeted floors was soft underfoot. Luxurious. What did Santino expect? It was the Brat Prince after all. Eric came up to Santino and handed him a wine glass half filled with blood, at the same time downing his own glass. taking hold of the stem, Santino and stared at the blood. Santino: Spiked? Eric: But of course Santo. Santino: Better lay off on it for the moment Eric dear, the evening hasn't even begun. Eric: You're asking *me* to lay it off Santo? Perhaps that piece of advice would be more productive if you offered it to David over by the punch bowl. Santino: So the scholarly British gentleman is not all he seems Eric......... Eric: Indeed. Not what he seems, and I *think* I'll join him...... Smiling at this, Santino took a sip from his own glass he discovered that it was spiked with vodka. Santino winced at the taste. He didn't like his blood cold. Glancing about the room, Khayman gave him a smile and tipped his glass, Jesse was laughing at a joke Eric just cracked and Pandora whispered quietly to Gabrielle...... so it seems the happy couple had not arrived. Hung on the far wall, cast out of bronze were 2 letter "L"s, curved and twisted together with gothic bronze tendrils and foliage gracing the letters. Louis and Lestat. Bizarre the way it took them 200 years to realize just how much they needed each other, when anyone could have seen it in a second. Perhaps it's a aspect to "love is blind" Santino mused. Yes. They really should have done this a long time ago.......... ** ** ** ** ** ** Lestat was making his speech. A long one. And the present audience politely listened on as the Prince continued basking in the attention that he so loved. Where was Armand? Santino turned and saw all the familiar faces. But one was missing. Where was he? The glass he held in his hand was empty. Santino found that he had a taste for the spiked blood, once it was sufficiently warmed in his hands. Moving over to the tables for a second round, he spotted out of the corner of his eye, the person he was looking for. Armand. Standing at the doorway, concealed and silently watching the speech from the frame. A tragically angelic expression on his face. But hiding? Strange. Santino filled his own glass and another, strolling over where Armand accepted the offer quietly. Santino walked through the door frame and stood beside, slightly behind him so that all Armand could make of Santino was a dark shadow out of the corner of his eye. He said nothing. Armand watched silently as the words from Lestat filled the room..... Santino twirled the glass in his hand, warming the liquid and watching the still figure of an angel before him. The room behind them strangely quiet. "You love him don't you?" suddenly the words came from Santino. This took Armand by surprised as much as Santino himself. Armand stiffened in at this question, his posture more rigid. Who had said those words? Santino certainly didn't remember forming them. "Who?" Armand whispered. But he knew didn't he? "Must I spell it out?" came the answer behind him. Armand lowered his gaze, his fingers tracing the rim of the glass....... it was too painful to think about. Yes. Yes...... he did love him. And now he's with Lestat. As he should be. They belong together. Armand could not deny that. Then why did he feel this way? Why did he, knowing full well it never was a possibility........... that it was never meant to be, still feel this way? Feel that he was thrown in the final confirmation in this silent and private battle? The anguish had long gone...... All that was left was a sad surrender and despondency he felt. A quiet submission to what card fate delt him. He lost this round. Now it was time to turn the cards and put them back into the pile. "No you don't have to Santo" Armand said. Pivoting slightly his back now leaned on the frame of the door, Armand's head still lowered stared at the glass. Still avoiding those eyes of Santino's, all he saw of him were the black pants and leather shoes that was to his right. "You don't have to......" a low whisper. Santino remained mute. :So it's true.: he sent. "Yes." Armand whispered inaudibly. The whisper echoed off the walls of the empty room they were in. A scarlet velvet wing chair sat in the middle of it, a painting of Paris by night hung on the far left wall, multiplied by the wall spanning mirrors. Silent. Too silent. "I loved him from the first moment I saw him. On the cold streets of Paris." Armand traced a finger on the rim of the glass and dipped it in. "I loved him when I saw him in the box seats of the theater." was that a sigh that escaped his lips? "I loved him when he burnt the Theater to the ground." He licked the blood off his finger. "I loved him when he crushed me with his despair in the years that followed." Armand raised his head slightly, his liquid brown eyes glistening and he stared at the elaborate carpet patterns a few feet away..... the swirls and knots taunting him. "I loved him after he left me. I loved him for 200 years......" Armand steeled himself. He knew what he had to do. Lifting his head, he met Santino's eyes, almost expecting himself to burst into flames and concealing his slight amazement that he was whole and complete at that moment. Even more surprising was that look of sadness in Santino's expression. What was that hidden there? Armand could make little out of it except an uncertain notion that Santino felt as he did....... This time it was Santino that looked away. That glance from Armand had sent his heart plundering down a pit and hitting the bottom, shattering. Santino had seen too much in that glance from Armand. Seen too much into his soul. Knew too much about how he felt......... Armand didn't see the defeated look on his face as Santino turned and walked silently into the room, sitting down onto the velvet winged chair. His head lowered. Armand: It is strange this thing...... love. Santino: Indeed......... The sky tilted to the right at the balcony, and so did the moon. The rhythmic shifting whispered to Santino. He was falling fast......... falling.... deeper into despair. That look delt a blow to Santino that Armand could not possibly comprehend. It felt like a blade had sliced through his heart when Armand lifted his head and stared into Santino, his eyes shivering pools of emotion......... they told him more than Armand could ever say in words. Told him......... and Santino regretted looking into them. Santino didn't want to know. No. Not anymore. Armand: We lust for what we cannot have, and over look what we do. Santino: yes.......... A moment of silence passed between them, the liner gently rocking the room back and forth. "Love is deaf to many things......." Santino said. "even the impossibility of itself." the words forming on his tongue, and echoed softly off the walls. Talking to himself. Armand made his way from the door frame to the seat opposite Santino. A sigh escaped his lips as he sat down and stared off to nowhere in particular. Contemplating the situation. It could never be, Armand knew that. He and Louis were never meant to and could never be. He knew that. And yet he wanted it. A small spark of desire that constantly glowed. But Armand knew that the flame had to be put out...... "So....... have *you* identified anyone to secretly lust after for centuries Santo?" Armand decided to change the subject. It was getting too melancholy. Let it go. He told himself. Santino sat back, his coal dark eyes scrutinized the dark liquid. He downed the entire glass, taking delight in the ziggings that coursed through his body. The vodka was beginning to take effect...... Santino was relaxed now.... the world a beautiful blur. "No. No need for that. I've been in love with the same person for centuries already." Santino said quietly, lowering the glass and watching the remaining dark liquid sheet downwards towards the well of the glass. "Oh Santo? Why have I never known of this before?" Armand asked, looking at Santino's reclining form. "You've never asked" came the answer. Now it was Santino that was avoiding the gaze of Armand. He couldn't look into those eyes again to be hit head long by the truth once more..... "Who is the unlucky one?" Armand smiled and asked teasingly. He was truly interested. Who could this person be? That Santino could have concealed affections for all this time? Santino gazed at the shifting night sky before him that was framed by the glass door to the deck. He hadn't expected those questions from Armand. But they were asked and Santino wanted to answer them. And very casually........... Santino said "You Amadeo." The truth had come. And it was devastating. Armand stared at Santino. Unaware that his mouth had dropped opened slightly to reveal his fangs. It was now that Santino lifted his head and forced himself to look into those eyes of Armand's. He had to. He forced himself to stare into them, to tell the truth. "It has always been you." Santino said, despite the hollow he felt in his chest that was deepening, darker and emptier it felt by the second. "From the moment they brought you to me.........." he continued in a veiled causal fashion. The pain sliced through him. "The moment I looked into your soul. I knew it was you." Armand was shocked beyond reason, suddenly realizing that he had not taken a breath in quite a while. Rocking..... the room was rocking..... or was it the Vodka? Santino asked himself. "From thatfirst moment Amadeo. It was you............" The last few words was a hushed whisper, the pit delving deeper into this chest, the well of his pain plunging deeper as he looked into those shocked eyes. And out of Santino's mind came the images, tumbling out in uncontrollable waves, crashing against the cliffs that was Armand's mind. The first time that Armand, face filthy from the soot that had come from the very fire that had burned his master, maker and lover, had been brought to the Roman Coven master. Before him Armand had been made to kneel. Armand had looked up into Santino's eyes, the smoldering eyes that penetrated Armand's mind and soul, rummaging and violating through the boy. But Santino at point in time, 7 centuries ago had felt himself falling fast, drawn into the bruised soul of this boy, this empty heart that could feel so much more. He was drawn deeper and deeper into what was Armand. Controlling himself and with a tight voice, he ordered the members to take him away. Give him his own room. Yes. Give him his own room. Armand was to be his disciple. He was going to teach Armand the ways, and he was to pass them on. The years flew by and Armand took in what ever Santino had to give to him..... the coven rules, the coven code. But Armand could not begin to comprehend how much Santino had wanted to reach out and run his fingers down Armand's cheek when he was reciting the rules one by one, word for word in his chambers. Could no comprehend how much Santino had wanted to take him into his arms and kiss those perfectly shaped lips. Most of all, could not comprehend how hurt and lost Santino was when Armand never came out of his indifference to the world, of how much Armand was dead to it, dead to life, dead in his heart..... and dead to love. Dead to love for Santino. Armand had went through the motions of life, had come back reporting the progress of the different covens of the world, of how his missionaries were progressing rapidly and with great success. But all this Armand went through empty and indifferent. It pained Santino to look into Armand's eyes, and see nothing there......... not see his reflection in them, at times Santino had the frightening notion that he did not exist when Armand looked at him. It pained him. How many nights had he spent in his chambers, the smell of candle wax and death mingled in the air, had he stained his clothes red with tears? How many times had he furiously scolded himself for acting so foolishly and viciously wiping the blood tears away? He could not remember. It was too many times. And no one knew of this, no one could know the great coven leader had lost his heart to an infant fledging. No. They couldn't. The years progressed and the coven collapsed. No matter. It was only a coven. Nothing the passage of time could not fix. But the passage of time didn't fix the feelings that burned in his heart, that smoldered constantly, so intense that even the waters of time could not snuff out. Santino was exhilarated to see Armand at the Somona compound....... And the moment he saw the tiny spark of passion that was in Armand's eyes he had never seen before in 700 years, he felt the age old feelings stir even deeper. But he never approached him. How could he? After 700 years.......... But love never dies. Bridges burned were rebuilt. Life seemed fuller than it ever could be. The coven was together, and intact. And well...... in the possibility that is so unthinkable...... happy. Everyone was. Including Santino. Yes. He was happy. He should be. Love never dies............. Santino thought again..... but so does the pain. And then the thoughts stopped They trickled off..... into oblivion, until Armand and Santino were left alone in the shifting room of mirrors and the dim smell of candle wax on the candelabra that stood on the table before them. Armand was still recovering from the blows of images from Santino. Santino himself looked merely relieved, now playing with the wine glass. Silence descended into the room, the quiet ticking of the clock served only to highlight the stillness. Finally Armand took a deep breath and pulled himself together. Armand got up and sat next to Santino, placing a reassuring hand on his. Armand: all these years..... Santino: No no..... Not meant to be. Let us not talk of this anymore....... it's a wedding..... Santino looked into those eyes again....... this time they seemed to have lost that power to shatter his heart...... So sad, so apologetic. Santino moved closer to Armand and they embraced. Embraced as friends should. Warm and reassuring. Santino drew back and lay his cheek against Armand's. Pausing for a while, savoring the silky coldness against his own. Santino moved his lips over the surface of Armand's face, brushing the ivory surface now and then..... he placed two delicate kisses on Armand's closed eyelids..... they were close, so close.... eyelashes touching each other. Ah, of only it had been this way 700 years ago! he could feel Armand's warm breath against his neck, tingling........ Santino savored the intimacy, his arms wrapped around this boy that he had pined forfor 7 centuries...... feeling Armand's arms entwined around his neck....... and finally his lips met Armand's. His tongue traced along the silken folds, teeth grazing them slightly..... pulling on the skin, and finally Armand's mouth opened into his and his tongue slid in. Ah yes..... the desire of 7 centuries fulfilled, Armand yielded to Santino, melting into his arms. The kiss was tender but passionate...... and sad. Santino reveled in the kiss, the meeting of lips to lips and the ecstasy it brought. He let himself fall and plunder down the spiral of passion. For he knew this would be the first and last time that he would ever be able to. The heat rose from his body and licked his neck, waves that he could feel swirling around them..... the sounds around him muted and the there was nothing on this earth......... nothing else but Armand. He didn't want it to end.... he didn't....... His heart broke when he pulled away from Armand, and subdued the kiss. His eyes remained closed as Armand's was. Santino reclined onto the chair again finally, his head swimming with the passion of the kiss, dizzy..... he was dizzy..... or was it the vodka? "Santo......." Armand started in a tone of solicitude..... he was also recovering from that spin of ecstasy............. Santino shook his head and looked up, lifting his hand to trace a finger down the cheek of Armand.... softly. Silencing Armand. "No Amadeo....... Not meant to be...." he softly said, looking into those eyes. He paused. And then giving a knowing look to Armand, he got up and began to walk out of the room. Armand made no move to follow him. Santino paused at the door way of the room......... and without turning back, Santino said in a very, very quiet voice.......... "Perhaps Lestat would lend me his tinted glasses........." and he walked out. The End