Perhaps not unlike standing on cold stone, looking upwards at bookshelves dangling out of reach.
Louis' whole body is flushed hot, responding to anger even if Louis' mind is slow to parse the dimensions of it.
He had felt so little for so long. Years and years of serenity, of calm. He has stepped back from himself now, aware that he is shaking. That he has ruined the rail of the balcony.
That Armand has left him with nothing but this, anger and guilt, a scream of reaction that can go nowhere at all.
The stinging invocation of what Louis had kept so private, a veil drawn down between their intimacy as it had existed outside of Paris. What they had built it into. What had fractured so instantly upon contact with the truth.
Louis tries briefly, uselessly, to find Armand's mind. Knows it is of little use. His gifts are what Armand made of them. The holes have ever been left for Armand's beneft. Finally, defeated, Louis lifts aching hands from the rail, observing how the metal has bent and warped under his grip.
He stands for a long time, listening to the minds of other vampires, the chill of the night air lowering the temperature of his body little by little, until the sound of Lestat and Daniel's return draws him away from contemplation of the void Armand left behind.
no subject
Perhaps not unlike standing on cold stone, looking upwards at bookshelves dangling out of reach.
Louis' whole body is flushed hot, responding to anger even if Louis' mind is slow to parse the dimensions of it.
He had felt so little for so long. Years and years of serenity, of calm. He has stepped back from himself now, aware that he is shaking. That he has ruined the rail of the balcony.
That Armand has left him with nothing but this, anger and guilt, a scream of reaction that can go nowhere at all.
The stinging invocation of what Louis had kept so private, a veil drawn down between their intimacy as it had existed outside of Paris. What they had built it into. What had fractured so instantly upon contact with the truth.
Louis tries briefly, uselessly, to find Armand's mind. Knows it is of little use. His gifts are what Armand made of them. The holes have ever been left for Armand's beneft. Finally, defeated, Louis lifts aching hands from the rail, observing how the metal has bent and warped under his grip.
He stands for a long time, listening to the minds of other vampires, the chill of the night air lowering the temperature of his body little by little, until the sound of Lestat and Daniel's return draws him away from contemplation of the void Armand left behind.