citynet | text; un: armand

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text; un: armand

[ The text post is dated the 10th and Armand frowns at his phone as he types. There's still time, but it's certainly not long to find the answers he seeks. He glances at the bottle of blood on the kitchen counter and snaps a quick photo to include with his question. ]

Is there any doctor or person of science that can help with studying this:

[It's...well yep, that sure is a bottle of blood. It's even helpfully labelled like a carton of milk!]

I wish to know everything possible about this, but my understanding is not comprehensive enough. I am hopeful to find tools and equipment at the University campus, but another's experience would be appreciated greatly.

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[ That same muddied tone, his accent loud and distinct to even his own ears. ]

I thank god every day that you did--

[ Armand stares at the kitchen cabinets, unseeing, alone in this little space, as reddish tears begin to slip down his cheeks. He's remembering the time before this, the weight of Daniel's arm around his shoulders, the slow beat of his immortal heart under his ear as the subway car rocks them with it's motion. The knowledge that the coven is back on their island, in their villa, that the night sprawls before them, endless and for once, all the insecurity, all the strange guilt and doubt that plagues him, does not exist - he is happy. ]

Yes.

Then I don't regret it. And I hope he finds you again.

He was newly-made, wasn't he, at the concert? But you spent a decade together?

Yes. So new, so dazzled and amused by it all.

He- He sought out Lestat, you all but painted a target on his resting place you know? But he found me instead.

[ It's all said through the wavering quality of someone valiantly continuing to speak through tears, with the far off quality of recollection. Armand swallows hard. ]

I was a terror to him, in the beginning. Ruthless. Such a cruel game, but he excelled - fled with such abandon - until he was all I could think about, until he was everything. He wanted to blood so badly, he would suffer any indignation I could put him through, every experience to be shared, but that was alright - for a time..

[ He shudders in a breath and blinks, face awash with tears, shirt stained down his front, but Armand just lets them fall. ]

Love makes fools of us all and once more I was a fool for a man that I could not live without. In that manner he was made, against every oath in me, he was made from love..

And you spent a decade together like that?

( Louis speaks slowly, gently, astonished by the story and by the magnitude of Armand's feelings. He feels so helpless, wishing he could comfort him but at an utter loss for how to do it. )

I can't imagine what that must have been like. I was dying when Lestat made me. We never had the chance to know each other that way before I made my choice. I often wonder what it might have been like, had I understood what I was accepting, had I understood him...

All that to say... Ten years is a long time to know anyone, vampire or mortal. Your Daniel must love you very much.

I hope so.

[ He purses his lips around a sob, refusing to let it out. He's not even sure why he's telling Louis all this, but he's always been made a ruin by his feelings, so quick to tears now, as he was when mortal - another thing Daniel had pulled from him and not always kindly, but he feels blessed as much as cursed by it - and the words just tumble out. ]

It's always a damnable error, the making of another, love or no, we always come to hate our makers - you know this - and I fear it.

[ A shuddering breath. ]

I fear it from him like I've not feared anything in all my long life, because-- because I think it would kill me, Louis. It would and it is only death I fear as much.

But is that hatred inevitable? He chose you after all of that, didn't he? Oh, you know how few of our kind I've truly known, how much of our nature remains a mystery to me... but I just don't believe it has to be this way. I can't.

( He falters, doubt seeping into his passionate idealism. )

Perhaps this is nothing but more of my romantic ideals. But I do wish for your happiness, Armand.

[ He doesn't want it to be. Craves the security of Louis' romanticism, that Daniel of all people will be stubborn enough to break such a cycle. If only Armand could trust himself not to be the maker of their demise by the sheer threat of his nature, so often destructive of anything dear..

Still, he can cling to even the slimmest hope, so many things he has loved have been dragged away with claw marks in them after all. ]

I pray that you are right, Louis.. thank you.

[ He shudders through a deep breath. Blinks. Finally begins to come back to himself in some small way. ]

Ah, forgive my foolishness, won't you?

Please, Armand. There's nothing to forgive. I'm grateful that you told me all of this.

( Louis is quiet for a moment, hesitating rather obviously before he ventures: )

Would you like company tonight?

[ The answer is a resounding and heartfelt yes. Armand doesn't want to be alone, but he is hesitant to say this to Louis. To have company and not be able to crawl directly into their lap, to be held or demand the physical comfort he craves, would drive him to despair more than spending the night alone would.

It feels.. wrong to ask that of Louis. Armand would fall into his arms without a second thought, but their history perhaps precludes what would truly settle him tonight. Still, he hedges, because he is a creature full of an ache he can't control. ]

I fear I would be intolerable company to you - I've no regard for personal space when this mood takes me - and I would not pull you away from you prince, Louis..

[ It's not 'no', because he can't bring himself to utter the word and mean it. ]

( Louis lets out a breath, small and skeptical, unsure whether Armand is trying to get at something with that remark or if he's being entirely sincere. He settles doubtfully on the latter, though the beginning of their conversation does make him wonder. )

I am not the only thing in this city that fascinates him.

( And if Louis is being so circumspect about it, it's to avoid direct contact with his own peculiar and complicated feelings on the matter. No, it's good that Lestat isn't miserable here with only him for company, Louis is grateful for that. And what claim can he possibly stake on a man he spent so long resenting? A man whose blood he refuses to drink, the cruelest of rejections for their kind... )

I may not be able to give you every comfort you would seek. ( To put it delicately. Armand's appetites are nothing like his own, and that fact has nothing to do with anyone but Louis himself. ) But I would sit and talk with you, if you would have me...

[ Something vulnerable and raw crawls through him at Louis' tone, at his offer. He's slowly moving from his eerie stillness, shifting round on the stool he's perched on to regard the little living space at his back. Already there are small touches here and there of his own whims and tastes taking root, the abundance of candles being one of them and the low light is soothing. ]

..Alright. I-- I will send you the address.

[ His tone is hesitant, tired sounding, but Armand is making to stand at least, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder to hug his elbows as he moves through the apartment with a mind to wash his face. ]

Thank you, Louis..

You're most welcome.

I'll be there soon.

( Louis pens a note explaining his whereabouts and that he intends to be back before dawn, and the moment Armand sends the address, he pulls on his boots and heads out the door.

Louis always travels at the speed of a mortal, and he feels an odd sense that he should give Armand privacy, time to collect himself, something like that. On the way, he finds a tattered-looking rose bush clinging to a chain link fence, and, finding it strangely touching, gets lost admiring it for a little while. With a quiet "merci" to the plant for its sacrifice, he severs the stem of the finest bloom.

He's still holding it when he knocks on Armand's door. )

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