Armand

For a vampire who's never needed an excuse for violence, mayhem, mutilation, or gore, the Purge is a quaint idea for Armand. The madness he sees in his fellow human beings as they descend upon the streets is predictable -- give any human the cover of night and secrecy and they become monsters.

Meanwhile, this particular monster has opted to use the Purge in a more productive way -- increasing his wardrobe, and Daniel's, while he's at it. The shop has been blissfully empty and Armand's been packaging his wares calmly, in the midst of holding cravats up to the mirror when he feels it.

Magic, the likes of which he hasn't in some time.

"Ah," he notes, seeing the witch in the mirror behind him, keeping him in place with some sort of spell. "Am I on your list?"

"The fewer vampires in this city, the better," the young witch hisses, a young man dressed tragically in trousers that don't fit. And yet, for all his abominable fashion sense, he does have Armand stuck and something is swimming in his mind to prevent him from fogging his mind. He can, however, use his ability to dial a familiar number in his cell phone.

He doesn't wait for Daniel to pick up, only continues talking, his speech slurring with every passing moment. He doesn't recall being drugged, so this must be part and parcel of the kidnapping. "I assure you," he mumbles, "you're making a mistake."

Most magical wielders can only keep Armand tamed for so long. In this instance, he already suspects that it won't be more than an hour or so before he breaks free and mounts his defenses. But until then, he supposes he can have a little fun, especially when Daniel knows where he's going to be.

"And where is a poor witch's lair? Somewhere bleak, one presumes."

"Shut up," the boy hisses, grabbing at Armand's collar. "I'm taking you to the local church, I'm going to purge the evil out of you. That's what tonight is for. They don't understand, but I do. I'm going to rid the city of as many creatures like you as I can. You're just the beginning."

Well. He did set his sights quite high for the start, Armand will give him that. It's the last thought he has before his vision swims and he gives in to the unconsciousness, aware that soon, he'll be awake and ready to fight back.

Or, perhaps, to sit back and wait for his heroic rescuer.

Armand is adjusting fantastically to his new life.

By day, he befriends the many denizens of the city. He paints himself as Armand, not Rashid, but an artist who has found himself stuck in Darrow. He has a predilection for wonderful nails and has fascinating eyes. In the daylight, he can hide away from the ghosts of his past, but oh, during the night, he does not let them haunt him. He will actively chase his ghosts and keep track of them.

He stays at arm's length, shielding his mind as best as he can, but not entirely. He allows breadcrumbs to fall, a whisper to Louis, Lestat, to Daniel -- come find me, please want to find me, I'm right here, I'm right here.

It is the mind that he can never read that he seeks out. His cowardice steers him away from contact for two weeks, but a night that begins following one of the others inevitably ends in following Daniel. What he did to Daniel remains repulsive, and yet, there still remains a thread inside Armand that whispers relief. He will not die of his disease, he will live forever, this man who saw through Armand in a way that no one else ever has – a true companion if only he faced…

No. There can be none of those thoughts. Armand does not deserve this (yet).

Every night, he finds him. His beautiful boy. His undead masterpiece. The only one Armand has ever turned. So tonight, he follows him again, winding through Darrow as if they're in their own personal labyrinth and Armand is the minotaur, careful to make sure Theseus will never find him, but that his own personal Theseus remains unharmed.