Oh, how she'd laugh if she could see us desperately chasing after shadows and ghosts in a crowd like hopeless parents.
[ His laugh is more tender when it comes now, a soft little chuckle pressed against the side of Louis head before he applies a kiss there.
Lestat is comforted somewhat by hearing that he isn't alone in his reflex of thinking she's still here - though she haunts Lestat's mind in a different way to how she lingers in Louis' thoughts, it's good to know she is indeed still there, that she isn't something they can't bear to think about, that she won't be forgotten.
It must be difficult for Louis to talk of her, Lestat thinks, since they were indeed so much closer toward the end than she and Lestat were, but in a way he wonders if it's cathartic for him. Lestat was always so quick to assume nothing was wrong, to let them alone to do as they wished once Claudia was old and wise enough to no longer listen to his instructions. Toward the end, all he'd wanted to do was punish them both for making him so miserable. He hadn't wanted to listen to Louis talk about her then. ]
It's a relief. Talking about her. I don't know if it's wrong, and I don't care, but I don't regret it.
[ I don't regret her goes unsaid. She isn't here to tell him that he has no right to regret it or otherwise, that it's his mistake and her life. But he can't wish it never happened.
Louis is right about their memories being a blessing and a curse. Lestat can only slightly remember the anger he'd held toward his father, or the faces of his older brothers, the smell of his bed and his dogs and the fire. But he can recall with perfect clarity how Louis had looked as a human, and if he focuses intently, he's sure he can feel her little hand in his. ]
I can't apologise for it, for any of it. I won't. But I wish I had been kinder.
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[ His laugh is more tender when it comes now, a soft little chuckle pressed against the side of Louis head before he applies a kiss there.
Lestat is comforted somewhat by hearing that he isn't alone in his reflex of thinking she's still here - though she haunts Lestat's mind in a different way to how she lingers in Louis' thoughts, it's good to know she is indeed still there, that she isn't something they can't bear to think about, that she won't be forgotten.
It must be difficult for Louis to talk of her, Lestat thinks, since they were indeed so much closer toward the end than she and Lestat were, but in a way he wonders if it's cathartic for him. Lestat was always so quick to assume nothing was wrong, to let them alone to do as they wished once Claudia was old and wise enough to no longer listen to his instructions. Toward the end, all he'd wanted to do was punish them both for making him so miserable. He hadn't wanted to listen to Louis talk about her then. ]
It's a relief. Talking about her. I don't know if it's wrong, and I don't care, but I don't regret it.
[ I don't regret her goes unsaid. She isn't here to tell him that he has no right to regret it or otherwise, that it's his mistake and her life. But he can't wish it never happened.
Louis is right about their memories being a blessing and a curse. Lestat can only slightly remember the anger he'd held toward his father, or the faces of his older brothers, the smell of his bed and his dogs and the fire. But he can recall with perfect clarity how Louis had looked as a human, and if he focuses intently, he's sure he can feel her little hand in his. ]
I can't apologise for it, for any of it. I won't. But I wish I had been kinder.