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[devilsfiddler]

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@ learningcurves

[devilsfiddler]

[Continued from here.]

Can you? And what, pray tell, do you see exactly?

@ unwillingdevil | it's almost like he's been bottling this up for ca. 200 years

[devilsfiddler]

Continued from here.

After all this time? After all the days and years and decades, c'est-à-dire, all the centuries that allowed you to distance yourself so conveniently? To forget?

I recall with perfect clarity every hour spent walking this cursed, interminable path you chose for me. I once feared the darkness I saw in myself; I clung desperately to your light to keep the looming shadows at bay.

How many minutes in two hundred years?

As many minutes as I've been cut off from the last vestiges of light, every agonizing second revealing to me deeper shades of blackness beyond anything my undamned mind could have imagined. I have been consumed by the very pit that haunted my mortal nightmares, my only solace found in discovering my true capacity for pure, unadulterated hate.

So yes, lover, after all this time I resent you more devoutly than ever. Can you be so surprised? After all, was it not you who gifted me with all the seconds, minutes, hours, days, years, decades, centuries in which to hone my bitterness down to something so sharp and unyielding?

[In the end, it's not the rant that shows how far gone Nicki's mind is; it's how he took the time to type it all out into a text. It's the fact he's been presumably waiting for centuries to type that unapologetic wall-of-text without a hint of irony. Because apparently this is what's important to him even after all this time.]

Dated to sometime after Claudia's death/being thrown off the tower

[unwillingdevil]

[Everything hurts so badly.

Lestat wasn't a stranger to physical injury, nor to the agonies of recovering. New Orleans felt like a lifetime ago in many ways, but the memories of his wounds were still stark in his memories. Still, this was a new, fresh state of awfulness, the initial pains now coated with many new ones that spread throughout his body like a web.

He'd dragged himself into a basement somehow. A basement to what, he wasn't sure. That could be figured out later. He needed to conceal himself, to rest, to think what to do --

(Except he doesn't want to rest, not really, because resting will mean his mind is clear to remember the tidal wave of tragedies being held at bay. Claudia on trial, Claudia dead, Louis gone, Armand's sneer.)

It's a dizzying array of thoughts, and his whole body is weak enough that his senses are not what they once were -- so if there were to be footsteps, the arrival of another, he might not notice.]

@unpetitcoup

[devilsfiddler]

[Continued from here.]

Right, now I know you've been reading my little book when I wasn't looking. I hope you realize that quoting my own words back to me isn't nearly as clever as you think it is.