[ Louis is kicked up along the embroidered sofa, sock showing, pointed and polished shoe resting on the wooden arm, book held over his head. He hasn't really stopped reading since he found out the Duchess gifted them with the Rubean language in his absence.
He looks calm, but his heart is a hideous giveaway of his anxiety, lines of tension in his wrists. It's been two days since he killed Felipe — tenderly, bloody-mouthed, certain he was breaking some kind of rule when he broke open the fount of his own wrist. Without Lestat's guidance he had been as clumsy as when he was the fledgling, hoping he wouldn't be condemning Felipe to awaken in the castle again. But he didn't know what else to do, where to put his feelings, how to make him understand Louis' agonies and also keep him safe. Two times, he died without Louis here. Two times too many. This is the third and the last.
It's evening, now, and he's unbolted the cellar trapdoor to let Felipe out, posed himself to seem casual, like this is any other evening in his (their) bookshop. ]
please excuse me being default icon only
He looks calm, but his heart is a hideous giveaway of his anxiety, lines of tension in his wrists. It's been two days since he killed Felipe — tenderly, bloody-mouthed, certain he was breaking some kind of rule when he broke open the fount of his own wrist. Without Lestat's guidance he had been as clumsy as when he was the fledgling, hoping he wouldn't be condemning Felipe to awaken in the castle again. But he didn't know what else to do, where to put his feelings, how to make him understand Louis' agonies and also keep him safe. Two times, he died without Louis here. Two times too many. This is the third and the last.
It's evening, now, and he's unbolted the cellar trapdoor to let Felipe out, posed himself to seem casual, like this is any other evening in his (their) bookshop. ]