deathoftheauthor: (/03)
ʟᴏᴜɪs ᴅᴇ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛᴇ ᴅᴜ ʟᴀᴄ ([personal profile] deathoftheauthor) wrote in [community profile] citylogs 2023-10-27 09:41 pm (UTC)

( By the time Louis is guided to sit, his mind is more or less back inside the confines of his body, and realization begins to set in. He moans, his bloodied hands reaching for Lestat's arms and clinging to him in a tight, trembling grip. ) 

I'm sorry— God— Lestat, I didn't mean to— nnnh—

( Louis chokes on pain, the knife shifting inside of him as he speaks, sending a violent tremor through his entire body. He swallows another low groan, his nails kneading Lestat's arms, head bowed. From this angle he can see the handle of the knife, and oh, that's going to have to come out of him, isn't it? He can't feel the wound trying to heal itself around it, so that's one agony he's spared — but it means he isn't healing so quickly that it won't be a potential problem. 

God. All right. It's the least he deserves.

The guilt hasn't set in yet, just a galloping panic as the adrenaline courses through him. He tries to brace himself for what's next, fighting his body's instinct to gasp for breath. Doesn't need it. He nods once, blood sweat beading at his temples.
)

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