( It's getting very close to Halloween, and by this point, Louis has been through the second floor so many times that the unshakable sense of dread is almost like a companion. He's used to it, the same way that, over time, one might become used to a weak limb or poor vision or the malaise of immortality. He's joined Lestat's endearingly noble quest to shepherd people through the second floor, and the newfound sense of satisfaction he's gotten from using his vampiric powers for something good is almost addictive. Enough for him to push through the fear and go back in again and again, determined not only to help those in need, but to keep Lestat safe— to watch his back and walk through the metaphorical fire with him.
But tonight, things go differently.
They're still together, dressed in matching goth rocker costumes and letterman jackets, when Louis turns, his attention caught by a sound from one of the dorm rooms down the hall. It can't have been more than seconds that he was distracted, but he's suddenly alone. His chest tightens, and he turns back down the darkened path the way they'd come, peering into rooms of featureless human-shaped shadows, listening for him, not wanting to make a sound on his own that might alert someone or something to his presence. He doesn't want to fight, not on his own, not like this.
The corridor twists ahead, and Louis' heart is beating too fast, an urgent drumbeat in his ears that seems to magnify all the creeping fears and worries that he's pushed out of his mind in Lestat's presence. It all rushes in at once, like a clamoring mob pounding at a locked door. He turns—
—and he sees a face he recognizes. Louis isn't at all certain how he feels about Dorian outside of this haunted house, but in the moment, it's just a relief to see anyone real, to hear a heartbeat that doesn't belong to him. But the smile on his face isn't right — not all there — and he's too still, much too still, it's as if he's— )
2(b); preemptive cws for violence, murder, vampire-adjacent stuff
But tonight, things go differently.
They're still together, dressed in matching goth rocker costumes and letterman jackets, when Louis turns, his attention caught by a sound from one of the dorm rooms down the hall. It can't have been more than seconds that he was distracted, but he's suddenly alone. His chest tightens, and he turns back down the darkened path the way they'd come, peering into rooms of featureless human-shaped shadows, listening for him, not wanting to make a sound on his own that might alert someone or something to his presence. He doesn't want to fight, not on his own, not like this.
The corridor twists ahead, and Louis' heart is beating too fast, an urgent drumbeat in his ears that seems to magnify all the creeping fears and worries that he's pushed out of his mind in Lestat's presence. It all rushes in at once, like a clamoring mob pounding at a locked door. He turns—
—and he sees a face he recognizes. Louis isn't at all certain how he feels about Dorian outside of this haunted house, but in the moment, it's just a relief to see anyone real, to hear a heartbeat that doesn't belong to him. But the smile on his face isn't right — not all there — and he's too still, much too still, it's as if he's— )
Monsieur Gray?
( … oh, no. )