#//beginning of the writing obvs comes straight from tvl

[philtatoshetairos]

Of wine-flush and indigo flowers

Shortly after reaching the colony, I fell fatally in love with Louis, a young dark-haired bourgeois planter, graceful of speech and fastidious of manner, who seemed in his cynicism and self-destructiveness the very twin of Nicolas.

He had Nicki's grim intensity, his rebelliousness, his tortured capacity to believe and not to believe, and finally to despair.  

Yet Louis gained a hold over me far more powerful than Nicolas had ever had.

(...)

And I wonder sometimes if I didn't look to Louis to punish me for what had happened to Nicki, if I didn't create Louis to be my conscience and to mete out year in and year out the penance I felt I deserved.

But I loved him, plain and simple.

To anyone paying attention, it was impossible not to notice how fragile he was, but I was the one who also saw a tenacious strength underneath, a stubborn tendency to cling to his misery. He didn’t want to die, as much as he didn’t want to keep living as he was. He simply refused to see other options, and I was desperate enough that I couldn’t wait to introduce him to the intoxicating pleasures of the blood and the flesh. The wine and the bread of communion twisted into a raw feast of desires neither of us could – or wanted to – control.

He roamed the streets of New Orleans as if he didn’t know what to do with himself, new to losing in a world that had always given him everything... at least on a surface level, if one ignored what he truly longed for. Louis would never have been able to carry on with the life of lies he expected for himself, a meek little wife on his arm, kids he would never love, a lifetime of sorrow to cater to the part he believed he had to play.

What Louis won't tell you was that Paul's death was a stepping stone towards freedom. He was finally free to waste himself in sin, he found a reason to crumble as he was always bound to have done. My beautiful martyr, longing to be sacrificed at the altar and worshipped in burial clothes.

Perhaps in another life, there would have been time for us to become friends. Instead, I had him blooming under my lips, the rosiness on his cheeks fighting the indigo blue of his melancholy. We crashed into each other, Louis looking for damnation, and me for a home I could bury myself in. In the absence of the devil, I gave him what he wanted and took what was my share, a deal sealed with a kiss.

---

Of cinnamon and sugar cane

The ship took me to Saint Louis. Not the city, no, although that was to be my destination on paper. It was along the riverfront in New Orleans that my heart found a suitable home. Shortly after reaching the colony, I fell fatally in love with Louis, a young Creole business owner, graceful of speech but strong of posture, capable of pulling a knife on his brother to establish himself at the eyes of a society that would never truly respect him for who he was.

In his demeanor I saw Nicki’s ferocity as well as his agony and that was how I knew that underneath all that razzle-dazzle there was a never-ending well of sorrow. I feared that it wouldn’t take much time until that fire consumed him and burned him down to ashes, as it had once consumed my Nicki.

Yet Louis gained a hold over me far more powerful than Nicolas had ever had.  

And I wonder sometimes if I didn’t look to Louis to prove that I could do better than I had with Nicki, if I didn’t start a friendship with Louis to measure him out and make sure that he would be able to prevail where I had first failed.

But I loved him, plain and simple.

He was tortured and it seemed that no one but me could see it. He was utterly beautiful and yet people looked at him as if he was only worth as much as he served their purposes. It’s no surprise that a man in his position refused to show any vulnerability to the world at large, refused to let anyone see the sensitive soul underneath. How he bled under all that strength, how I wanted to pump him with enough powerful blood that he would never feel as if he had to hide again.  

What Louis won't tell you was that Paul's death was a stepping stone towards freedom. He could finally walk away from the responsibilities that shackled him, and I knew he would be delivered right to me. Yet it's Louis we're talking about, Saint Louis, making everybody's problems his own even as he raged at God and the world for forsaking him.

He spoke to me as a friend and I heard the pleas to give him the means to transcend the life he knew. Under my lips, he melted like sugar and tasted like cinnamon, sweetest of spices. He needed a home where he could be himself, I had an empty nest to offer. In the absence of the devil, I gave him what he wanted and took what was my share, a deal sealed with a kiss.

#//beginning of the writing obvs comes straight from tvl #for comparison!!! reasons!!! #l. [you feel your heart taking root in your body] c: louis #l. [do you love me now?] r:&louis #//may get another tag for the other verse IDK YET LESTAT JUST HAS A LOT OF THOUGHTS OVER LOUISES