( Ah— well. Louis hadn't expected the kiss. His eyebrows raise in surprise, and his first thought is that he's glad they're getting along, at the very least, though he feels as if he's witnessing something that ought to be private. And then the world shifts around him with all the impossibility of a dream.
Louis feels a sharp tug at his chest as he watches Armand pull Lestat into a dance, a small, fleeting dark thought that perhaps his being here is a terrible error of fate — that of all Lestat's companions, Louis is the newest and the least remarkable, and it is only because of a series of tragedies that Lestat ever found him at all. That all of Armand's bitterness and loneliness might have indeed been soothed by Lestat's companionship, that the two of them could have had this, a pure meeting of minds, no miscommunication, no veil keeping their souls forever separate...
Louis tries to stop the unwanted tumble of thoughts, and with a long exhale he lets his mind go blank instead, falling into the illusion; candlelight and the music of strings, and the two of them dancing together, beautiful and shining and full of possibility. His instinct is to fall back into the crowd, and it's a struggle to remember that they aren't real; they sound so real, he can almost hear the beating of their dozens of hearts; he withdraws slightly, watching in his quiet way, hands folded, mesmerized and aching for something he cannot name. )
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Louis feels a sharp tug at his chest as he watches Armand pull Lestat into a dance, a small, fleeting dark thought that perhaps his being here is a terrible error of fate — that of all Lestat's companions, Louis is the newest and the least remarkable, and it is only because of a series of tragedies that Lestat ever found him at all. That all of Armand's bitterness and loneliness might have indeed been soothed by Lestat's companionship, that the two of them could have had this, a pure meeting of minds, no miscommunication, no veil keeping their souls forever separate...
Louis tries to stop the unwanted tumble of thoughts, and with a long exhale he lets his mind go blank instead, falling into the illusion; candlelight and the music of strings, and the two of them dancing together, beautiful and shining and full of possibility. His instinct is to fall back into the crowd, and it's a struggle to remember that they aren't real; they sound so real, he can almost hear the beating of their dozens of hearts; he withdraws slightly, watching in his quiet way, hands folded, mesmerized and aching for something he cannot name. )