Becomes more dazed, when his head hits concrete. His hands slide down, forward, against Lestat's face. He looks up at him with near-glowing eyes, his vision blurry. It won't last long, he heals so fast, all of his insides swimming in his own miraculous ancient blood, regenerating the damage without needing to be prompted. Doing physical harm to Armand is often unreal and dreamy— so much just doesn't seem to take.
Another parallel. Telepathic images wash over the younger vampire. Louis in Paris, in the park, killing a man. Another. Beating their head against a garden wall just like this.
Ah, how romantic, the two of them.
No longer speaking aloud,
'I've said it so many times. You gave him to me. Of course I kept him.'
no subject
French. A habit, while he's dazed—
Becomes more dazed, when his head hits concrete. His hands slide down, forward, against Lestat's face. He looks up at him with near-glowing eyes, his vision blurry. It won't last long, he heals so fast, all of his insides swimming in his own miraculous ancient blood, regenerating the damage without needing to be prompted. Doing physical harm to Armand is often unreal and dreamy— so much just doesn't seem to take.
Another parallel. Telepathic images wash over the younger vampire. Louis in Paris, in the park, killing a man. Another. Beating their head against a garden wall just like this.
Ah, how romantic, the two of them.
No longer speaking aloud,
'I've said it so many times. You gave him to me. Of course I kept him.'