Untangling, Louis says, and Lestat wonders if he knows exactly how many knots he might have to cut through before he can truly call it done. If there even is such a thing. He might say, Louis is himself an entanglement, a snarl between Lestat and Armand, but perhaps that can wait. Or perhaps it never needs saying.
Perhaps it's not even true, but it feels true. Feels just like Armand, to braid himself into Lestat's life this way. All the while, his hand is pliant under the inspection that Louis' hand makes of it. Playing a little, in the curl of his fingers.
"Hard won freedom," he adds, looking back up at him. Still tearful, simply because that rise of feeling hasn't gone away, but less teetering, a thin-pressed smile as he looks at Louis. Louis, who is here, and beautiful, and soft-spoken, and holding his hand.
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Untangling, Louis says, and Lestat wonders if he knows exactly how many knots he might have to cut through before he can truly call it done. If there even is such a thing. He might say, Louis is himself an entanglement, a snarl between Lestat and Armand, but perhaps that can wait. Or perhaps it never needs saying.
Perhaps it's not even true, but it feels true. Feels just like Armand, to braid himself into Lestat's life this way. All the while, his hand is pliant under the inspection that Louis' hand makes of it. Playing a little, in the curl of his fingers.
"Hard won freedom," he adds, looking back up at him. Still tearful, simply because that rise of feeling hasn't gone away, but less teetering, a thin-pressed smile as he looks at Louis. Louis, who is here, and beautiful, and soft-spoken, and holding his hand.