[ He lifts his gaze to look back at Gale, a little vulnerable with it, as if he's finding it difficult to stare into those direct and gently enquiring eyes for too long. A green that looks almost gold in the right light. Daniel had green eyes, before he was turned.
A bright young reporter with a point of view.
Armand purses his lips and looks away again, tapping his fingernail on the tabletop. ]
No, not truly. A turn of phrase. Darkness of mind, not in reality. I have been able to walk in the sun for almost a century now. A benefit of my age. As we collect the years, we become more powerful. But also more remote from humanity. When one lives for too long, one grows too easily bored of the petty troubles of mortal life. Love, loss. Plague and war and endless strife, over and over, always the same. My maker believed that it was better to live among mortals, to share their lives. He was killed for that belief. For daring to think himself above the Great Laws.
[ He takes a breath, makes a bit of an effort to draw himself back to the point. ]
But I digress into ancient and no doubt tedious drama. To answer your question: I am not required to live only at night, or to hide in the shadows and the crevices like a rat. I only need to feed once or twice a month, as I choose. I no longer need to sleep. [ He waves a hand. ] Such is the gift.
no subject
[ He lifts his gaze to look back at Gale, a little vulnerable with it, as if he's finding it difficult to stare into those direct and gently enquiring eyes for too long. A green that looks almost gold in the right light. Daniel had green eyes, before he was turned.
A bright young reporter with a point of view.
Armand purses his lips and looks away again, tapping his fingernail on the tabletop. ]
No, not truly. A turn of phrase. Darkness of mind, not in reality. I have been able to walk in the sun for almost a century now. A benefit of my age. As we collect the years, we become more powerful. But also more remote from humanity. When one lives for too long, one grows too easily bored of the petty troubles of mortal life. Love, loss. Plague and war and endless strife, over and over, always the same. My maker believed that it was better to live among mortals, to share their lives. He was killed for that belief. For daring to think himself above the Great Laws.
[ He takes a breath, makes a bit of an effort to draw himself back to the point. ]
But I digress into ancient and no doubt tedious drama. To answer your question: I am not required to live only at night, or to hide in the shadows and the crevices like a rat. I only need to feed once or twice a month, as I choose. I no longer need to sleep. [ He waves a hand. ] Such is the gift.