My agony was unbearable. Never since I was a human being had I felt such mental pain. It was because all of Lestat’s words had made sense to me. I knew peace only when I killed, only for that minute; and there was no question in my mind that the killing of anything less than a human being brought nothing but a vague longing…
I was turning around and around in the street, looking at the stars and thinking, Yes, it’s true. I know what he is saying is true, that when I kill there is not longing; and I can’t bear this truth, I can’t bear it.
(Prompts from this list! Feel free to send me some!)
OH BOY, RAPH. LOOK WHAT YOU WENT AND DID.
142: “It’s just your imagination.”
Shaky fingers are clawing at the pale arms, and the whole body is curling in on itself, and there’s sweat and blood, and Armand feels something heavy sinking inside when he realizes it’s familiar.
Blonde hair this time, and the palpable, overpowering smell of human fear filling the room. He takes a step back, away, watching the way the shoulders hunch, the way the vertebrae bulge out like spikes.
“They’re in my skin, Armand,” he’s crying, and scratching, and his pathetic human nails are only raising the most fragile little white lines. Barely breaking the skin.
His throat feels dry and he takes another step back. “It’s just your imagination,” he mumbles.
And he’s cold suddenly, even in the Florida heat. In the air so humid and heavy that it enfolds you. He feels the chill and remembers the way the drafts used to cut through the tower, and how it would hover around stones as if they were ice.
His hands had still been bloody, and his forehead pressed to the heavy wood door. Whimpering beyond it, and the pitiable wet thump as he’d attempted to pound at it without the use of fists.
“Armand,” gasping and screaming. “Please, please, they’re crawling all over me.”
Eleni’s hand, gentle and loving on his back as he froze there.
It’s just your imagination.
The sun would be up. He’d backed away from the heavy tower door, barred and sealed like a tomb. Left him there where he’d be safe from the dawn.
But this.
Daniel’s chest heaving, bones contorted into rigid, unnatural lines. And Armand had to go now.
I-want-my-IWTV 