There's a panic in Louis that has him wanting to retract, to reach to those places that he can hide away. If anything, he misses the hand on his shoulder that would ground him when he needed it. Louis had requested it from Armand and through their complications, they had their agreement. They both knew there's a fire in him that can lash out while at the same time Louis could very well throw himself into the sun. If he thought it, he could burn the whole room down. He won't. It would be disrespectful. Louis has grown to like Istredd.
Truthfully, he's grateful Istredd is there. It stops him from spiraling into a full vertigo. There's a conflict shifting onto his face, brows furrowing and his body rigid when he stares at the book on the floor before it's picked up.
"I should have better control over that." That being more than he can say. It could be the psychic ability or something else. It is then that he finds Istredd's hand on his shoulder and instantly his inflamed panic reduces, but his face remains in a frown. There's too much shame in him and the scorched word reminded him of what he was trying to do in Dubai. The pit inflamed the grief in him even if he had tried his best to refrain from hurting anyone. His voice is quieter.
"You don't need to have had blood family. I made my own after I turned. I lost them both, but they remain in my heart still." It's easy to state it, what he's denied vehemently in parts. Be it the conversation, or the lull of Istredd's comforting hand, it brings it out of him. "One of them is in Thorne. We didn't end our relationship on good terms, but... He'd appreciate the sunlight if you have a spare ring. I will consider it for myself."
He takes the book from Istredd. He's going to take it with him. Louis takes a deep breath before he sighs softly, his lines softening his face. He still has his tendencies to want to become ashes, but he'll live. It's the best he can do right now. He walks over to the wall he'd considered making a doorway. A thought, right? There is a faint glow to the edges of what is becoming a door.
"You've been a gracious host. I hope to return the sentiment next." They could have been there for hours or it was a mere short visit. All he knows is that he feels he's overstaying. It's been a while since he's had an outburst.
wrapping c:
Truthfully, he's grateful Istredd is there. It stops him from spiraling into a full vertigo. There's a conflict shifting onto his face, brows furrowing and his body rigid when he stares at the book on the floor before it's picked up.
"I should have better control over that." That being more than he can say. It could be the psychic ability or something else. It is then that he finds Istredd's hand on his shoulder and instantly his inflamed panic reduces, but his face remains in a frown. There's too much shame in him and the scorched word reminded him of what he was trying to do in Dubai. The pit inflamed the grief in him even if he had tried his best to refrain from hurting anyone. His voice is quieter.
"You don't need to have had blood family. I made my own after I turned. I lost them both, but they remain in my heart still." It's easy to state it, what he's denied vehemently in parts. Be it the conversation, or the lull of Istredd's comforting hand, it brings it out of him. "One of them is in Thorne. We didn't end our relationship on good terms, but... He'd appreciate the sunlight if you have a spare ring. I will consider it for myself."
He takes the book from Istredd. He's going to take it with him. Louis takes a deep breath before he sighs softly, his lines softening his face. He still has his tendencies to want to become ashes, but he'll live. It's the best he can do right now. He walks over to the wall he'd considered making a doorway. A thought, right? There is a faint glow to the edges of what is becoming a door.
"You've been a gracious host. I hope to return the sentiment next." They could have been there for hours or it was a mere short visit. All he knows is that he feels he's overstaying. It's been a while since he's had an outburst.