they are encompassed, overtaken… glitzy rooftops and rusted, darkened brick setting the scene, their scene. it all lies just beyond that gauzy curtain, it’s hemmed, detailed lace brushing the decorated floor tiles, some begotten, wishes-it-was elegance from the mid-1800′s that his damned maker must have found to his fancy. they’re ugly, entirely black in the dusk that falls on the first three sets of inlaid octagons framed some god-awful gold and rouge accent and…
it’s the assumption he’s imposed, he’s certain. he’s… thighs straddle the armrest of the couch and he waits. by and by, lestat returns, and louis breaks his silence, speaking softly. ❛ i can’t believe you chose me, in all my fragility. ❜
