faceofabotticelliangel:

12. Wet Kiss

It was raining when it happened.

Lestat is awake again, but this time she hasn’t left. And Armand means to criticize her, demean her of her motherly rights because she has never been there out of all the beings on this planet and above that Lestat could ever cry for. No, it’s always been her. She ignores him when he brings it up, spits acidic words back at him when he comes forward out of the safety of the Rue Royale and joins her soaked form beneath the stormy skies.

“You are a liar and a bitch, for lack of a better word, if you think you can use the veil as an excuse for not hearing him after all these years. Once in the chapel and not again since!”

She is opening her mouth to spit back, or avoid answering to her crime when Armand adds, “It’s hard to believe he still loves you…when no one else has the heart to.”

 Thunder cracks in the distance, and Gabrielle, always unnervingly honest in her expressions, is stunned. And yet..so is he. As if they had both opened a plane of understanding in just that moment—yes, you were once unloved by all but him too.

He forgets what happened after the next thunder crack, but his hands are caressing her back and cupping her cheek, her head tilted gently into him when Armand realizes he’s kissing Lestat’s mother. The woman who turned him away after her son redeemed him, their mouths open and wet against each other and devolving into smaller, almost apologetic kisses. He For a brief moment, he forgets he hates this woman down to the very marrow of her bones.

That’s where the memory stops. They’ve never spoken of it, but somehow it pops into Armand’s head whenever she turns her cold, icy glare on him.