[ There's a ripple of reconsideration in Lestat's attentiveness as Armand resumes the walk forward. It's less apprehension at Armand's shrugging off of Lestat's baiting and more a kind of languid interest, like Armand's straightened spine is like a bit of tinsel being dangled in front of him. ]
I've had to turn to a more rustic style of dining, [ Lestat admits, if only because there's no way around it ] there's only one settlement of note, and far too sparsely populated for us to feed freely.
[ It occurs to Lestat only then that Armand might pose a threat to the fragile detente in Milton. He rubs his tongue against the roof of his mouth and glances up at the sky, letting out an affected sigh of preemptive weariness. ]
I'll share my hunt with you. Not quite a coven, of course - but if we are to share a stalking ground again, you may rely on my hospitality in your...orientation to novel circumstances.
[ Old laws of custom and habit, older than either of them, and perhaps even older than vampires. A claim over the territory in one way, an offer of succour on the other. The actions of someone who, for all his faults, never stinted on material generosity. Gifts and full bellies: the things Lestat is capable of providing, when the mood strikes him.
Walking next to Armand, his dark-eyed, slight companion, Lestat thinks, fleetingly, of Claudia. Not as he saw her last, but as she was, once, when he'd bring her prey like a cat fetching mice for its kitten. He banishes the thought, even in the absence of Armand's mind-gift. Best to think of her not at all, his little abomination, so fortunately out of either of their reaches. ]
no subject
I've had to turn to a more rustic style of dining, [ Lestat admits, if only because there's no way around it ] there's only one settlement of note, and far too sparsely populated for us to feed freely.
[ It occurs to Lestat only then that Armand might pose a threat to the fragile detente in Milton. He rubs his tongue against the roof of his mouth and glances up at the sky, letting out an affected sigh of preemptive weariness. ]
I'll share my hunt with you. Not quite a coven, of course - but if we are to share a stalking ground again, you may rely on my hospitality in your...orientation to novel circumstances.
[ Old laws of custom and habit, older than either of them, and perhaps even older than vampires. A claim over the territory in one way, an offer of succour on the other. The actions of someone who, for all his faults, never stinted on material generosity. Gifts and full bellies: the things Lestat is capable of providing, when the mood strikes him.
Walking next to Armand, his dark-eyed, slight companion, Lestat thinks, fleetingly, of Claudia. Not as he saw her last, but as she was, once, when he'd bring her prey like a cat fetching mice for its kitten. He banishes the thought, even in the absence of Armand's mind-gift. Best to think of her not at all, his little abomination, so fortunately out of either of their reaches. ]