Words that chime against something in the back of his head, stir loose memory like silt. Real. Does he feel real?
Louis' head lifts.
"I'm always here, when it's you. You're always welcome in my head."
No small offer. Who else can say the same? Claudia, gone. Lestat, unable. Armand, who had once been trusted above all others, now barred.
But Daniel—
"You help me feel real again. I felt like I wasn't. So much was missing..."
San Francisco, yes. But emotion. Color. Daniel brought all of those things back to him. Shattered Louis back into the world, disrupted long decades of stasis.
Real. Louis holds that in his palm. Let's it unspool there, a memory of a mid-morning, of a conversation Louis only half recalls.
no subject
Louis' head lifts.
"I'm always here, when it's you. You're always welcome in my head."
No small offer. Who else can say the same? Claudia, gone. Lestat, unable. Armand, who had once been trusted above all others, now barred.
But Daniel—
"You help me feel real again. I felt like I wasn't. So much was missing..."
San Francisco, yes. But emotion. Color. Daniel brought all of those things back to him. Shattered Louis back into the world, disrupted long decades of stasis.
Real. Louis holds that in his palm. Let's it unspool there, a memory of a mid-morning, of a conversation Louis only half recalls.