Maybe this had been Armand's design too. Lining them up so, sentencing them one by one, and trapping Lestat into a choice.
Louis' thumb runs along Lestat's finger, caught in his own. Listens, lets the words settle between them.
Holds his hand properly, tighter.
"She was clear of it," Louis says, so quietly. "But she came back for me."
Louis had been in a bad way that night she left. Claudia saying things to him that he barely heard. The two of them going. Louis, bleeding out the sensation of Madeleine in their absence.
No wonder she came back. Their daughter, his Claudia. She had always come back for him.
"She wouldn't have been on that stage if it weren't for me. No choice for you to make."
How can Louis fault him for choosing? Louis had chose too, in New Orleans. He'd chosen Lestat. He isn't blameless. Claudia had forgiven him, but Louis had still betrayed her long before that night.
no subject
Louis' thumb runs along Lestat's finger, caught in his own. Listens, lets the words settle between them.
Holds his hand properly, tighter.
"She was clear of it," Louis says, so quietly. "But she came back for me."
Louis had been in a bad way that night she left. Claudia saying things to him that he barely heard. The two of them going. Louis, bleeding out the sensation of Madeleine in their absence.
No wonder she came back. Their daughter, his Claudia. She had always come back for him.
"She wouldn't have been on that stage if it weren't for me. No choice for you to make."
How can Louis fault him for choosing? Louis had chose too, in New Orleans. He'd chosen Lestat. He isn't blameless. Claudia had forgiven him, but Louis had still betrayed her long before that night.
"It ain't on you. It ain't."