It all sounds a little different to his whim of becoming a master pianist, visiting with orchestras, bell of the concert hall, preaching the gospel of Bach and Beethoven. But music nonetheless. Audiences, divine visibility, the sun.
He had composed only infrequently. Perhaps it's like Louis' eye—a curse, in some ways, to have an ear for perfection, to only know it when you hear it. Perhaps this whole endeavour will shatter apart when Lestat finds he can't match creation to expectation. Perhaps, too, he is past being perfect. He is, after all, not that.
And besides, the point of all this doesn't necessitate perfection. Just attention.
"I should thank you both for the way there are those who already know my name. Some of the work done for me."
Lestat keeps his fangs out of his voice, limiting his tone to a prod of teasing rather than a piercing.
no subject
It all sounds a little different to his whim of becoming a master pianist, visiting with orchestras, bell of the concert hall, preaching the gospel of Bach and Beethoven. But music nonetheless. Audiences, divine visibility, the sun.
He had composed only infrequently. Perhaps it's like Louis' eye—a curse, in some ways, to have an ear for perfection, to only know it when you hear it. Perhaps this whole endeavour will shatter apart when Lestat finds he can't match creation to expectation. Perhaps, too, he is past being perfect. He is, after all, not that.
And besides, the point of all this doesn't necessitate perfection. Just attention.
"I should thank you both for the way there are those who already know my name. Some of the work done for me."
Lestat keeps his fangs out of his voice, limiting his tone to a prod of teasing rather than a piercing.