It feels only true for having been found. Before that, New Orleans was simply the closest to Louis he could be. Time trickling on without any sense of the future. He is only half-certain he knows what year it is, only dimly understands that time continues to drag him further and further away from the past.
He feels Louis go still. Lestat turns his head, not quite able to see him without twisting further. Again, that question he doesn't want to ask. Are you back? Have you come home?
Swallows, another darting lick to his lips. Offers, "The buskers still play trumpets on Royal and St. Ann. Horses pull carriages around Jackson Square. Not right now. But sometimes it all sounds like it used to. I think so, anyway."
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It feels only true for having been found. Before that, New Orleans was simply the closest to Louis he could be. Time trickling on without any sense of the future. He is only half-certain he knows what year it is, only dimly understands that time continues to drag him further and further away from the past.
He feels Louis go still. Lestat turns his head, not quite able to see him without twisting further. Again, that question he doesn't want to ask. Are you back? Have you come home?
Swallows, another darting lick to his lips. Offers, "The buskers still play trumpets on Royal and St. Ann. Horses pull carriages around Jackson Square. Not right now. But sometimes it all sounds like it used to. I think so, anyway."