Well, anon, lemme just take a look in my coat here…
The museum podLestat pissily refers to Armand building for Louis in PL (while OBVIOUSLY not getting him, unlike Podstat, who bought Louis what he definitely loves: clothes) was a really last ditch effort, maybe just before going to America. It contains every piece of art Louis expressed even the vaguest interest in during their decades together, whether bought, bargained, or stolen (there are some very convincing fakes out there now)
Louis’ initial feelings for Armand were entirely real – Armand only mentally interfered when trying to keep Louis from doing something that could then be rationalized as “for his own good.” Even still, Louis has kept Armand locked out of his head since the day he learned how
When Armand realized he couldn’t rouse joy in Louis, he settled for pain, emotional and physical. The physical was technically consented to but Louis was so nigh-catatonic it didn’t count for much. Playing the Lestat card was partly because they came to a line even Armand didn’t consider himself monstrous enough to cross
They’ve never talked about Armand’s feelings for Lestat, nor Daniel’s feelings for Louis. They really, really should
Benji was the only reason Louis initially agreed to stay at Trinity Gate, seeing him as an opportunity to atone for his treatment of Claudia
Armand sees himself in Sybelle’s “madness” (read: she seems to be autistic and predominantly nonverbal, ANNE YOU’RE WRITING IN A WORLD THAT IN-UNIVERSE NOW HAS A MORE NUANCED UNDERSTANDING OF MENTAL ILLNESS NOW, COME ON) He’s never actually sought modern diagnoses for himself, and fuck knows her parents never did that for her, but like recognizes like
Louis’ never really forgiven Armand for what he did, and Armand doesn’t expect him to. Rather, the fondness just trumps the resentment after a full century
They fell into “parenting” very easily, and didn’t think about their feelings beyond their roles for the first few years
Louis actually made the first move. Armand was doing his best to give Louis space after all those years of doing the opposite. The French Library was Armand’s gift, so Louis would have a place to be alone, and he never goes there
Armand still feels very lost in the wake of everything (his attempted suicide and the revelation that the being who drove him to it was just an elaborate con), but buckles down talking about it because ROLES. ROLES ARE HOW YOU SURVIVE AND KEEP GOING. But…Louis actually asked about it
They repaint the ceilings in the mansion together every few months based on skies around the world
♛Minnesota, hm? We do travel to places to ski and romp in the piles of white stuff that we wouldn’t get in New Orleans. Might have to go there next…
We love lounging in a cozy cabin to watch the snow fall outside the windows… nothing quite like the inner peace and contemplation snowfall can bring.
Yes, we love snow. Most of us aren’t bothered by the cold. Louis is, and he will allow me to bundle him in enough layers so he can ski with us, or build snowmen and igloos. However, when he’s warm enough from a fresh kill, he just might strip off enough layers to regain flexibility of movement, he is a masterful snowball assassin, slinking around the forest like a ninja!
I call Armand “Panchino” sometimes and he doesn’t know why…
♛ Merci, visage gris. It was a long night, with different chapters, always one of my favorite nights of the year. We drink in the revelry of everyone dressed as their favorite monsters and characters… and there are always at least a few extra of “me” strolling around NOLA every year.
This is also the one night of the year I can truly smile widely, show my fangs, and get compliments on how very real they look, and which fangsmith did I get them from? I’ll answer, always with a little bitterness: “Magnus, but he’s long since retired.” I’ll allow admirers to touch them, if I’m in a generous mood.
Sometimes the coven gathers together at a costumed ball for just ourselves, or we’ll decide to throw a charity ball and invite our mortal friends. This year Louis and I stayed in NOLA and spent it doing our own thing.
I don’t carve pumpkins, but Louis does, he’ll do the simple toothy smile style, to let the kids of the neighborhood know we’re open for business, but we also love going to carving contests to see what the truly talented artists can do with just knives and vegetables.
Years ago, we found our pumpkins unceremoniously destroyed, and the culprit in the courtyard, none other than our dearest Mojo, still licking the innards of his victims off his muzzle! After that, we fed him
pieces of raw pumpkin as a treat whenever they were in season, and set the pumpkins for display out of his reach.
I shook Louis awake earlier than he’s accustomed to so that we could catch as much of the parade as possible. He knows this is the annual drill so he kept his complaints to a minimum. Rushing through the flat, throwing on whatever, there’s little time to dress up, as the parade begins very close to sunset. No matter, there would be three wardrobe changes later on… We caught up with it on Canal.
After that, we dressed up for the trick-or-treaters, and handed out candy at the flat, of course. Candy corn? A strange invention, and some say it tastes awful, but you have to realize there has always been candy that’s been seen as lower-class or disgusting, especially for those who can afford better. I buy it anyway, it’s pretty and smells pleasant.
Louis dressed as a black cat, complete with ears and tail (a costume he recycles far too much) and I, being a witch, got into a heated debate with a precocious little bat-child about which Hogwarts house I belonged to. Louis intervened, gave the child a full-size bar of something she wanted, and shooed her away. At any rate, it’s not resolved.
We changed into the more adult costumes for the clubs and bars, and played the game of chasing eachother from one to another, picking up dinner in the midst of the crowd, no death delivered tonight, a taste of a delicious David Bowie here, a bite of a sexy nun there. Louis says I have a preference for religiously-costumed people, and he’s very right. Holy water for my evil little soul!
For the third costume change of the evening, well, I’ll leave that to your imagination, but it was back home, an intimate moment together *winks*
The fact that Anne Rice sued people for writing fanfics is so hilarious to me when i think about how much Lestat would love fanfics.
He’d be so delighted to find out he had fans sitting in their bedrooms writing about him.
He’d walk into the living room with a lapto grinning any time his favorites updated, and Louis would try to leave right away. Louis would beg him to stop while he read them out loud.
I-want-my-IWTV 