[ The first hit of blood that falls deep into the wound in Louis' chest seems to have just as much of an effect on Lestat as it does Louis; when he arches his back and claws at his side, Lestat feels himself almost encouraged as though by animal instinct, to protect and to nurture and to feed this creation of his, this extension of himself, this one he holds so dear. There is pain, of course, from the ruptured veins hang limp as strings from the viscera he's made of his wrist, but he knows it will heal and couldn't spare a moment to worry about it even if he'd wanted to; not while Louis' eyes seem to focus and unfocus as they look at him, like he's seeing two versions of him and can't decide which is real.
He's on his knees beside the bed, both hands touching Louis' body - one of them tensing keep his wound open enough to control the steady stream of his blood into Louis, and the other still pressed firm beneath his shoulder where he'd used it to guide him down - and in some ways he almost looks like a boy in prayer, with bloody hands and lashes full of tears, begging his closest one not to leave him.
He hasn't said a word, might even feel as though he can't, but when he blinks he finds that he has indeed started to silently and calmly weep, as a tear breaks loose and runs down his cheek. It isn't even like he's worried for Louis' life - though there was a moment there where he'd felt the unmistakeable fear of loss, of being alone again - but more that he's realised suddenly and without warning how greatly the loss of him would shake him apart now were it to ever become closer than this.
His hand retracts from his shoulder to grip the one that shakily twitches as if trying to reach him, guiding it upward enough that he can kiss his knuckles as he watches his beautiful mouth form such heartbreaking words. ]
I know you are, and I know you do. I made you strong, Louis, I know you can overcome this.
[ He sounds reassuring, but it isn't clear which of them he's intending to feel that reassurance, as the sigh he pushes from his chest next is oddly shaky. ]
Can you tell me what you feel? [ His eyes flick to the wound on Louis' chest - still healing, but so slowly - and the wound on his own wrist which already seems smaller... though certainly not healing as fast as he is used to. ] Do you feel it working, mon cher?... My heart, oh, you mustn't go to sleep just yet. Hold on for a little longer, won't you?
no subject
He's on his knees beside the bed, both hands touching Louis' body - one of them tensing keep his wound open enough to control the steady stream of his blood into Louis, and the other still pressed firm beneath his shoulder where he'd used it to guide him down - and in some ways he almost looks like a boy in prayer, with bloody hands and lashes full of tears, begging his closest one not to leave him.
He hasn't said a word, might even feel as though he can't, but when he blinks he finds that he has indeed started to silently and calmly weep, as a tear breaks loose and runs down his cheek. It isn't even like he's worried for Louis' life - though there was a moment there where he'd felt the unmistakeable fear of loss, of being alone again - but more that he's realised suddenly and without warning how greatly the loss of him would shake him apart now were it to ever become closer than this.
His hand retracts from his shoulder to grip the one that shakily twitches as if trying to reach him, guiding it upward enough that he can kiss his knuckles as he watches his beautiful mouth form such heartbreaking words. ]
I know you are, and I know you do. I made you strong, Louis, I know you can overcome this.
[ He sounds reassuring, but it isn't clear which of them he's intending to feel that reassurance, as the sigh he pushes from his chest next is oddly shaky. ]
Can you tell me what you feel? [ His eyes flick to the wound on Louis' chest - still healing, but so slowly - and the wound on his own wrist which already seems smaller... though certainly not healing as fast as he is used to. ] Do you feel it working, mon cher?... My heart, oh, you mustn't go to sleep just yet. Hold on for a little longer, won't you?