It doesn't register, not immediately. Louis coughs, spills saliva and stone back down into the casket. A great shudder of hunger wrenches though his body. Fangs gleam in his mouth.
The taste—
"Lestat," falls out of his mouth before Louis realizes he is speaking. Recognizing the taste, feeling the lurch of want in his gut. (In the middle of everything, in the midst of betrayal and ridicule, Louis had felt it. Love.)
And then, ragged, voice breaking, "Claudia."
Louis wants it to be a question. But he had known, known all the while he was withering to death in this coffin.
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It doesn't register, not immediately. Louis coughs, spills saliva and stone back down into the casket. A great shudder of hunger wrenches though his body. Fangs gleam in his mouth.
The taste—
"Lestat," falls out of his mouth before Louis realizes he is speaking. Recognizing the taste, feeling the lurch of want in his gut. (In the middle of everything, in the midst of betrayal and ridicule, Louis had felt it. Love.)
And then, ragged, voice breaking, "Claudia."
Louis wants it to be a question. But he had known, known all the while he was withering to death in this coffin.
Claudia is dead.