How long has Armand been here, wandering the very same halls as he, only for Louis not to feel him, hear him, sense him? The eerie edge of danger in this place has his hackles raised, walls thrown up high, mind shut tight. In looking for the danger, he'd closed his eyes to the familiar, the known, the friendly. But here they stand on the cool lawn of the mansion-turned-cage, seven decades of undying life lived and shared between them, and the curve of Armand's smile on his words bring the walls around his mind down, just enough for someone looking.
"As a matter of fact I didn't notice your arrival, either, darling."
There's the bite of an age-old accent in his voice when he says darling - all the warmth of a muggy, Louisiana summer loaded with the nagging chitter of the cicadas in the evening.
Thus, in face of the displeasure, Louis keeps his back against the exterior doorway for a few moments longer, lingering until the last tangle of drunken partygoers wanders past him. He can't hear their thrumming hearts now that his ears have turned instead to Armand's - a sound that settles some of the dissonant unease this place has set into his bones. Inevitable, the two of them - and it's inevitable that he follows after the slim line of Armand's silhouette and falls into step beside him.
"But sweet and merciful - I'm surprised."
It's an easy lean that brings their shoulders to brush, innocuous from afar, like two familiar lovers might have walked the cobbled streets of Paris decades ago away from the business of the city and, in this case, the party inside.
"How long have you been here?"
The veritable prey up ahead coughs, swipes his bloodied nose on the sleeve of his jacket and stumbles on into the maze with its high, shrubbed walls and twisting corners.
holy typos batman im sorry about that last tag LOL
"As a matter of fact I didn't notice your arrival, either, darling."
There's the bite of an age-old accent in his voice when he says darling - all the warmth of a muggy, Louisiana summer loaded with the nagging chitter of the cicadas in the evening.
Thus, in face of the displeasure, Louis keeps his back against the exterior doorway for a few moments longer, lingering until the last tangle of drunken partygoers wanders past him. He can't hear their thrumming hearts now that his ears have turned instead to Armand's - a sound that settles some of the dissonant unease this place has set into his bones. Inevitable, the two of them - and it's inevitable that he follows after the slim line of Armand's silhouette and falls into step beside him.
"But sweet and merciful - I'm surprised."
It's an easy lean that brings their shoulders to brush, innocuous from afar, like two familiar lovers might have walked the cobbled streets of Paris decades ago away from the business of the city and, in this case, the party inside.
"How long have you been here?"
The veritable prey up ahead coughs, swipes his bloodied nose on the sleeve of his jacket and stumbles on into the maze with its high, shrubbed walls and twisting corners.