7. What is their fondest memory? Their worst?
I’m so sorry that this is late, because it’s perhaps one of the best prompts on that meme! I can’t even FIND the meme now, but nonetheless I will answer even if its RIDICULOUSLY late. Unequivocally Louis’ fondest memory is a very innocuous, quiet moment between himself and Paul. They’re under a great, gnarled Southern live oak at twilight, bathed in that honey thick, golden light, feeling the heat of the sun eek away, and Louis’ holding his Rousseau (Emile, to be precise), and Paul is resting his head on his leg, staring into the canopy of the tree, occasionally prompting Louis to read to him, though more often than not they both simply sit in silence. They’re comfortable in each other, in knowing the other is there, and knowing precisely what the other thinks without need of asking. Louis doesn’t remember anymore the precise shape of Paul’s words, or indeed how his voice sounded then, but he remembers the clarity of his azure gaze as it rolled up toward him. He remembers how perfectly still the world was for them in that moment alone. His worst memory is more difficult to decide. His life is so run through with harrowing remembrances. He is still haunted by Paul’s wrong shape in his coffin, which he stared into for two days trying to make sense of the fact that this was Paul, and Paul was dead. But then didn’t it almost kill him the night that Claudia declared that she hated him, that long night in Paris, on the eve of making his first child of the blood, Madeleine? And what about when she died? What about the white form that was Lestat’s body wrapped in the sheet, that beckoned him to sink into the swamp after it? All these pains are compounded, perhaps his worst memory is simply the memory of how loss has felt.
