Nothing else has come so fast, so chaotic. Dying already, when Armand turned him; maybe it was the disease, maybe it was Armand feeding him his blood for weeks. (Months, Louis said. Fucking months.) But Daniel's entire being has always been centered in his mind. Sharp and unyielding, resilient in the face of all the shit he put himself through. Of course it's an element of his mind that wants to go wild at the first inkling of unchecked power and newness.

Thoughts of death and negotiation around it filter away. He stays with Louis, thinks of peeling — doesn't really work, someone nearby is thinking about potatoes and preparing them — tries something else. Then something else, then something else, and he sees Lestat, like he's there walking alongside them, disoriented and out of place, and he sees Armand—

Sitting with him in Dubai, aware Louis is asleep in the next room, talking to Daniel about solar power. It's a completely normal conversation, except for the way Armand is looking at him.

Gone, and it's just Louis and Daniel, in Venice, by a fountain. Daniel manages to close the fucking box around himself, and he takes a shuddering breath. Realizes he's holding on to Louis' sides again, probably clinging a little too intensely, but he can't make himself let go. He feels like he'll sink into the fucking abyss if he does.