Except in the ways in which Lestat is informed about where and how to place his concern. Louis' gaze drops and Lestat shifts his attention, hands moving in to circle his wrists, tipping his head to try to capture his attention.
"I can't see into your mind," he says. A reminder, gentle. "You have to tell me what occurred there."
Or: Louis doesn't have to tell him anything, of course, but the demand comes soft, needful, a desire to be of use rather than a desire to simply be in control of things.
Daniel. silent still. Louis can hear him breathing. He has Daniel's blood under his fingernails. Held on too tightly while Armand went about his work.
Lestat is touching, coaxing. A binding kind of contact that keeps Louis from slipping sideways and vanishing into the unyielding loop running in the back of his mind.
(You were still in the building. You were still in the building. You were still in the building. You were still in the building. You were still—)
Louis looks into Lestat's face. Luminous, steadier than Louis has seen him since they reconciled. The entreaty there is enough to jar loose an answer.
"He had things to show me. And he did."
How quickly Armand had plucked up those images, how quickly he'd pivoted. Louis' eyes stray to Daniel.
Steady is true, unwavering focus, no threat of breaking emotion that he can't simply wear plainly. Lestat strokes Louis' inner wrists with his thumbs, and follows that look to Daniel with a flick of a glance. And back again.
"Memories are real," he says. "As real as glass. As gravity."
If Lestat can't surmise that Daniel rescued Louis from that onslaught, he can at least deduce what it looks like when a young vampire puts himself in harm's way with the intent to do so. How revoltingly sweet of them both, trading heroisms.
"This one needs rest." Lestat pushes himself to stand up, giving Louis' wrist a last a squeeze of assurance before he lets go. A step drifted close to Daniel, his fingers catching the fledgling up under his chin to force a moment of eye contact. "He will feel better tomorrow."
Gentle but unrelenting, the way Lestat pushes Daniel under—away from pain, embarrassment, anger, and into an early rest, as if the sun had already touched the sky.
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no subject
Except in the ways in which Lestat is informed about where and how to place his concern. Louis' gaze drops and Lestat shifts his attention, hands moving in to circle his wrists, tipping his head to try to capture his attention.
"I can't see into your mind," he says. A reminder, gentle. "You have to tell me what occurred there."
Or: Louis doesn't have to tell him anything, of course, but the demand comes soft, needful, a desire to be of use rather than a desire to simply be in control of things.
no subject
Lestat is touching, coaxing. A binding kind of contact that keeps Louis from slipping sideways and vanishing into the unyielding loop running in the back of his mind.
(You were still in the building. You were still in the building. You were still in the building. You were still in the building. You were still—)
Louis looks into Lestat's face. Luminous, steadier than Louis has seen him since they reconciled. The entreaty there is enough to jar loose an answer.
"He had things to show me. And he did."
How quickly Armand had plucked up those images, how quickly he'd pivoted. Louis' eyes stray to Daniel.
"It felt real."
no subject
"Memories are real," he says. "As real as glass. As gravity."
If Lestat can't surmise that Daniel rescued Louis from that onslaught, he can at least deduce what it looks like when a young vampire puts himself in harm's way with the intent to do so. How revoltingly sweet of them both, trading heroisms.
"This one needs rest." Lestat pushes himself to stand up, giving Louis' wrist a last a squeeze of assurance before he lets go. A step drifted close to Daniel, his fingers catching the fledgling up under his chin to force a moment of eye contact. "He will feel better tomorrow."
Gentle but unrelenting, the way Lestat pushes Daniel under—away from pain, embarrassment, anger, and into an early rest, as if the sun had already touched the sky.
"We all will."