{ there’s something in louis that wants to ignore it, but deep down he knows the truth. he’s heard of the wine vines and will see how to acquire some if he can get out. it’ll only be just enough. louis won’t see it, refuses — his kind’s true nourishment is human blood. what louis is doing is mediating at best, but without his farm, without the willing, without armand’s care, he’s lost. he’ll manage. he has to.

strangely enough, geralt has made louis feel at ease. it means he can’t stay. }

It ain’t so bad. You’ll escape. Maybe I’ll see you on the other side. Not of this boulder, of course. This one’s yours.

{ there’s a slight amusement hiding the pain, and with it he rises from his spot. the weight on his chest is too heavy, the quiet conversations a bandage. he gives geralt a nod, his words trailing behind him as he makes his way away from the boulder and what faintly reminds him of the cherry blossom tree he set up in dubai for his peace of mind. }

Allow yourself more dull seasons.