[ Without her. The words echo in Lestat's mind and threaten to splinter his heart, but something more evident soothes the hairline fractures and tempers his heart with the assumption he'd not dared to consider but which has been so obvious all along. Without her blood, as Armand said, he is simply himself again as he was before she took him. Yes, the City has forced him to change and against his will — again — but the change has undone what little there was left in him that he didn't recognise. The power of flight is gone, the deafening mind gift, the coldness in his heart and mind... only the pallor of his flesh remains, the cool texture of it, and if that's his lot then Lestat is sure he can learn to live with it.
Overjoyed and unable to form a single thought to act upon, Lestat falls back into his earlier rhythm with a ferocious fervour. It's almost as if he's discovered he can move his body like this for the first time; experimenting how it feels to press against Armand, to touch the soft skin of his belly, to kiss him so deeply it's as though he's trying to swallow him whole. ]
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Overjoyed and unable to form a single thought to act upon, Lestat falls back into his earlier rhythm with a ferocious fervour. It's almost as if he's discovered he can move his body like this for the first time; experimenting how it feels to press against Armand, to touch the soft skin of his belly, to kiss him so deeply it's as though he's trying to swallow him whole. ]