Is a petty thing to feel, given everything. Minor in the scheme of things. But it tangles up in his chest, frustration like fire catching. Lestat would desperately like to not lose his temper with Louis—and in fact, there is simply no option. He will not. He cannot.
"You need proper rest, chéri. Your mind needs it."
Locked in a coffin in such a way that Lestat doubts that even when the sun rose, it gave Louis any reprieve. It certainly didn't feel that way, for all the time its been. Lestat moves towards it, lifting the lid—it isn't hinged, so he just holds it aside.
And of course, the worry that he will sleep and Louis will leave. There is enough hazy pre-dawn time for that to be possible, or to slip away during the narrow gap between sundown and his own rising. Nails dig into wood.
no subject
This is so stressful.
Is a petty thing to feel, given everything. Minor in the scheme of things. But it tangles up in his chest, frustration like fire catching. Lestat would desperately like to not lose his temper with Louis—and in fact, there is simply no option. He will not. He cannot.
"You need proper rest, chéri. Your mind needs it."
Locked in a coffin in such a way that Lestat doubts that even when the sun rose, it gave Louis any reprieve. It certainly didn't feel that way, for all the time its been. Lestat moves towards it, lifting the lid—it isn't hinged, so he just holds it aside.
And of course, the worry that he will sleep and Louis will leave. There is enough hazy pre-dawn time for that to be possible, or to slip away during the narrow gap between sundown and his own rising. Nails dig into wood.