[ He has the vaguest awareness of the quiet conversation going on beside him - the only thing truly breaking through is the occasional feeling of hands in his hair - which Armand barely reacts to, though he does curl closer to Lestat's side at least once.
When the death sleep takes him, it's an inky, mostly dreamless relief. No pain, no distress, just the utterly pervasive relief of not being alone as he slumbers and the lingering scent of familiar cologne pressed to his nose.
Awareness returns to him as the sun begins it's descent into twilight, though it's a slow, muddled thing. Armand doesn't awaken to pain immediately, but the uncomfortable tightness of healing skin and the tenderness of bruising. He's not moved a muscle in his sleep of course and the dried blood has already begun to flake completely from his skin, but he feels soiled emotionally as well as physically. He lays there, eyes still closed, letting his senses take shape of the world around him, the weight of Lestat and Louis on the bed beside him, the bear in his arms-- wait.
Armand doesn't so much as panic as feel suddenly overcome with the need to move and he sits up, pulling the blanket with him and blinking - eyesight unhindered by the gloom of the evening - taking in Lestat and Louis still slumbering as he is at his side. ]
Have you lost all sense, Lestat? What is Louis doing here?
[ It's hissed in old French, the words rough sounding from his still strained throat. Armand's expression is carefully blank, but there's an agitation about him as he pulls away from the two other Vampires, slipping from the bed to stand unsteadily beside it and very obviously casting about, mind putting together what he can remember from last night. ]
no subject
When the death sleep takes him, it's an inky, mostly dreamless relief. No pain, no distress, just the utterly pervasive relief of not being alone as he slumbers and the lingering scent of familiar cologne pressed to his nose.
Awareness returns to him as the sun begins it's descent into twilight, though it's a slow, muddled thing. Armand doesn't awaken to pain immediately, but the uncomfortable tightness of healing skin and the tenderness of bruising. He's not moved a muscle in his sleep of course and the dried blood has already begun to flake completely from his skin, but he feels soiled emotionally as well as physically. He lays there, eyes still closed, letting his senses take shape of the world around him, the weight of Lestat and Louis on the bed beside him, the bear in his arms-- wait.
Armand doesn't so much as panic as feel suddenly overcome with the need to move and he sits up, pulling the blanket with him and blinking - eyesight unhindered by the gloom of the evening - taking in Lestat and Louis still slumbering as he is at his side. ]
Have you lost all sense, Lestat? What is Louis doing here?
[ It's hissed in old French, the words rough sounding from his still strained throat. Armand's expression is carefully blank, but there's an agitation about him as he pulls away from the two other Vampires, slipping from the bed to stand unsteadily beside it and very obviously casting about, mind putting together what he can remember from last night. ]