divorcing: past. (799)
helen of troy. ([personal profile] divorcing) wrote in [personal profile] damnedest 2024-07-05 06:59 am (UTC)

Claudia is dead.

It echoes in his mind, over and over and over. They trek through the sewers in near silence, Louis' palm on the slick stone to keep himself upright and moving. His breath is a scraping rasp of sound, a wounded creature tugged along only by its own pain. Hunger gnaws at him, the stopgap of Lestat's blood waning as they flee.

And his anger, his anger is a refuge. If he disappears into it, then the excruciating pain of his grief diminishes. He is thinking already of how he'll repay them. How he will make them regret what they'd done.

Lestat pulls him out. Louis remains briefly on hands and knees in the street, panting, before he pushes back. Looks up at Lestat from his heels, eyes dark. Fangs catching the waning moonlight. His breath comes faster, looking at him. Hurt. Why blooming in his expression.

"Is this where you leave me?" is the question posed instead, tone an inscrutable thing. Syllables scraped across gravel, thick with misery. One question from the many, the most immediate. How far does Lestat's benevolence stretch in this moment?

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