( Louis listens attentively to Lestat, and some of the tension in his body begins to uncoil without his realizing it. He's still astonished sometimes to hear Lestat say something so profound, so vulnerable; Louis had glimpsed this side of him so rarely during their decades together, and the raw honesty of his book had taken Louis entirely by surprise. That had been a similar feeling as this current strangeness with Armand, hadn't it — trying to find the places where this tormented, emotional creature still matches the person he'd known. But Armand hadn't written a novel to help Louis along.
He hums softly, nodding his head once at Lestat's final conclusion. It makes him think of an old children's story, and his expression goes distant and thoughtful as he quotes from it: )
"It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."
( Louis glances down at Armand's auburn curls again, at the pale slope of his shoulder tucked against the comforter, at his stuffed bear, a painful reminder of how young he was when he was turned... )
That's how it is, isn't it? I never could have brought this out in him. I didn't think he was capable of it. "I was finally given the opportunity to live," that's how he described it to me. You know, I was so certain I'd ruined that boy's life, destroyed him utterly, but if he means that much to Armand...
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He hums softly, nodding his head once at Lestat's final conclusion. It makes him think of an old children's story, and his expression goes distant and thoughtful as he quotes from it: )
"It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."
( Louis glances down at Armand's auburn curls again, at the pale slope of his shoulder tucked against the comforter, at his stuffed bear, a painful reminder of how young he was when he was turned... )
That's how it is, isn't it? I never could have brought this out in him. I didn't think he was capable of it. "I was finally given the opportunity to live," that's how he described it to me. You know, I was so certain I'd ruined that boy's life, destroyed him utterly, but if he means that much to Armand...