[ Something settles in Armand at the brief hold of Lestat's hand in his - perhaps his transgression was not so great as to twist all things - and allows himself to be posed like the little lord he knows Lestat favours. Pressed in close between them, he feels the tension evaporate for a sweet, brief moment as the camera flashes again - once, twice. Armand holds there for a moment more and when he moves away, he's careful not the brush either of his companions off, just move with animated curiosity at what has been captured.
He reaches for the back of the camera, opening the cartridge to see the prints and ah - yes, his first instinct had been correct with the first - but with the other duplicates...
Armand looks down at the photo in his hands and smiles. A moment of fond, unconscious emotion curving his face - the kind of moment only perhaps two others have really been privy to - before his expression slips back to a serene state and he approaches the other two, the copy in hand. ]
Charming enough don't you think?
[ Were it not for Lestat's animate grin - not to mention their poses, the closeness and openness of Louis and Armand's expressions - it would look like any portrait painted in the era, the slight sepia cast to the colours rendering the three of them in the mortal perfection of a painters brush and not the cool blankness of death. ]
no subject
He reaches for the back of the camera, opening the cartridge to see the prints and ah - yes, his first instinct had been correct with the first - but with the other duplicates...
Armand looks down at the photo in his hands and smiles. A moment of fond, unconscious emotion curving his face - the kind of moment only perhaps two others have really been privy to - before his expression slips back to a serene state and he approaches the other two, the copy in hand. ]
Charming enough don't you think?
[ Were it not for Lestat's animate grin - not to mention their poses, the closeness and openness of Louis and Armand's expressions - it would look like any portrait painted in the era, the slight sepia cast to the colours rendering the three of them in the mortal perfection of a painters brush and not the cool blankness of death. ]