#moralcipher

[text] you are wrong, ignorant, and proud of both those things

The party had reached a level of revelry by midnight that could only spiral into something as asinine as spin the bottle. Lestat was game, he was always game—nothing as fun as silly, stupid, drunken kisses, right?

But when the programming student’s bottle landed on him, he arched an eyebrow as though to issue a challenge. “Yeah, Ukraine? Show me what you’ve got.”

Bianca’s comment caused a small flare of irony in his dark eyes. “Do you think so? I don’t. We are… incompatible, as they say.” A blunt statement, dressing in a veneer of cut-and-dried simplicity the painful knot in his heart that was Marius. He crossed his arms over his chest, where they stayed until Bianca gently pried his hands loose to wrap them in her own.  “We’re going in circles, I see. I am all too aware of all those things. That a part of me may wish for… an attentive ear, for some open and deep exchange… does not mean I’m so foolish as to think it’s possible. I’ve long since given up on this course of action. But you, carissima sorella… You continuing to watch over him, knowing you can do very little, this is the very thing which concerns me. You’re clever enough to guard yourself, but what about your heart?” He watched her closely as he spoke. “Can you tell me honestly that it’s in no danger?”  Bianca had always been a beautiful liar; just as he had always been a beautiful cynic, even when they were barely more than children. But he had never thought she was lying to him, just as he had never sought to reveal the extent of the ossification of his soul to her. It had been them against the greedy world. They were both walking a tightrope tonight. 

Bianca wondered what Armand would seek in such a dream, what kind of truth was he after that he could obtain from a conversation with Marius. What did he want to tell him and to what end. Her friend was braver than her, this she had always known. She didn't want such a conversation. Let them be cordial, even friendly, let them talk about anything trivial, about the flowers in the gardens, about old books and operas, let them dance, yes, definitely. But let them not go further lest they might not know how to return.

Her hands dropped their hold on Armand’s as soon as he uttered the first question, escaping to fold into each other instead. A fleeting, unease smile flickered on her lips, an instinctive reaction that was discarded immediately. Armand seemed determined to corner her tonight and she won’t hide from him. This meant she made no effort to keep up the smile or appear unbothered by the question and that her gaze, though still open and warm, showed an accusatory edge.

“Will you believe me if I tell you that indeed, it is? I know you won’t. You are too clever to believe poor lies, caro, or to dare imagine our hearts are ever entirely safe. If you want to hear that I am aware of the danger, I am, how could I not be? But I... I’m confident in this hard-earned awareness that leaves no room for lies or illusions; I have given Marius everything that I can give him and he has given me everything he wished to give me.” and it hadn't been enough, but there was no need to say that out loud.

@moral-cipher​ asked:  "I'm unknowable by nature?" | continued.

“And now look where we are. I suppose we should be careful, lest they proscribe us both for treason.”

Santino, from across the Atlantic: I want to see my little boy~

i totally can't remember there being an eighth :o what book is that from?

In TVL, Lestat talking about his mom:

[Gabrielle] had always been silently unhappy. She hated the inertia and the hopelessness of our life here as much as I did. And now, after eight children, three living, five dead, she was dying. This was the end for her.