The first thought, reflexive: Where would I go? What does it matter where I am? Claudia is dead.
Stay, Lestat begs, and it's not about location, about proximity or about intent to flee. It's an appeal for Louis remaining alive, whether Lestat realizes it or not.
She would hate him for this, Louis knows. He's doing it again, she'd hissed, as if she could sense the way Louis' heart, his terrible, foolish heart was already softening.
And while rage and grief have locked so much of Louis into place, his heart—
There is just enough left to warm here, clutched close with Lestat's voice in his ear. Louis' grip on him tightens impossibly further. The words don't come for a long stretch, only the ragged rhythm of his breathing until Louis can finally dredge up a reply.
"I want all of them dead."
Lestat can help if he wishes. Louis will accomplish it with or without help.
One thing at a time, Lestat had cautioned. Maybe it will be easier to feel the grief without being destroyed by it when those responsible have been made to regret harming her.
no subject
Stay, Lestat begs, and it's not about location, about proximity or about intent to flee. It's an appeal for Louis remaining alive, whether Lestat realizes it or not.
She would hate him for this, Louis knows. He's doing it again, she'd hissed, as if she could sense the way Louis' heart, his terrible, foolish heart was already softening.
And while rage and grief have locked so much of Louis into place, his heart—
There is just enough left to warm here, clutched close with Lestat's voice in his ear. Louis' grip on him tightens impossibly further. The words don't come for a long stretch, only the ragged rhythm of his breathing until Louis can finally dredge up a reply.
"I want all of them dead."
Lestat can help if he wishes. Louis will accomplish it with or without help.
One thing at a time, Lestat had cautioned. Maybe it will be easier to feel the grief without being destroyed by it when those responsible have been made to regret harming her.