Considering how long he's been alive, there are a surprising amount of things Armand has never done.
For instance, even though he knew about their existence for centuries, he's never actually talked to a werewolf before now. One of them came and found him, of all things. Armand had settled in Vancouver, after he left Dubai - mostly because he recalled a conversation where Louis had said he had no interest in ever going there. Which suited Armand just fine for the time being.
There are other vampires in the city. Armand can feel them. He didn't bother introducing himself to them when he arrived, but he doesn't conceal his presence, either. Evidently, word had spread about him moving here. Enough that it reached the ears of a werewolf in search of something very particular.
The boy showed up at his door around dusk that evening. So bold, so fearless. The outrageous courage of approaching a creature like him was enough to pique Armand's interest. He introduced himself as Ches and explained that he needed help. A younger werewolf in his pack (his brother, though Armand was unclear on whether that was a pack endearment or he meant his biological sibling) had been cursed. It was a particularly nasty bit of magic, a slow wasting spell seared onto his very bones.
Ches told Armand that he was looking for a way to undo it, but that the only way to halt its effects in the meantime and keep the child - Dusty - from agony and a slow decline was the blood of a vampire. Not just any vampire, either, but an ancient.
Those aren't exactly easy to come by. Armand knows that better than most. The vast majority of vampires don't have the stamina for eternity. They lose their minds, or their will, and kill themselves. He's seen it thousands upon thousands of times, in the last 500 years.
He isn't the only ancient in North America, but Armand doubts there are more than 3 of them, and who knows what kind of mental state the others might be in.
Which makes him, quite literally, this child's only hope of survival.
Armand doesn't know why he agrees to help. Maybe it's boredom. Maybe it's avoidance. Maybe it's because Ches found him, and asked so nicely.
Dusty would need to ingest Armand's blood regularly until a way to break the curse was found. Ches had clearly not gotten to that part of his planning, said something about finding a renting a room there in the city so they would be near to Armand.
"Or I could come to you."
So here he is, half disbelieving his own impulsive actions, with a small suitcase with all his possessions in one hand, following a stranger home.
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For instance, even though he knew about their existence for centuries, he's never actually talked to a werewolf before now. One of them came and found him, of all things. Armand had settled in Vancouver, after he left Dubai - mostly because he recalled a conversation where Louis had said he had no interest in ever going there. Which suited Armand just fine for the time being.
There are other vampires in the city. Armand can feel them. He didn't bother introducing himself to them when he arrived, but he doesn't conceal his presence, either. Evidently, word had spread about him moving here. Enough that it reached the ears of a werewolf in search of something very particular.
The boy showed up at his door around dusk that evening. So bold, so fearless. The outrageous courage of approaching a creature like him was enough to pique Armand's interest. He introduced himself as Ches and explained that he needed help. A younger werewolf in his pack (his brother, though Armand was unclear on whether that was a pack endearment or he meant his biological sibling) had been cursed. It was a particularly nasty bit of magic, a slow wasting spell seared onto his very bones.
Ches told Armand that he was looking for a way to undo it, but that the only way to halt its effects in the meantime and keep the child - Dusty - from agony and a slow decline was the blood of a vampire. Not just any vampire, either, but an ancient.
Those aren't exactly easy to come by. Armand knows that better than most. The vast majority of vampires don't have the stamina for eternity. They lose their minds, or their will, and kill themselves. He's seen it thousands upon thousands of times, in the last 500 years.
He isn't the only ancient in North America, but Armand doubts there are more than 3 of them, and who knows what kind of mental state the others might be in.
Which makes him, quite literally, this child's only hope of survival.
Armand doesn't know why he agrees to help. Maybe it's boredom. Maybe it's avoidance. Maybe it's because Ches found him, and asked so nicely.
Dusty would need to ingest Armand's blood regularly until a way to break the curse was found. Ches had clearly not gotten to that part of his planning, said something about finding a renting a room there in the city so they would be near to Armand.
"Or I could come to you."
So here he is, half disbelieving his own impulsive actions, with a small suitcase with all his possessions in one hand, following a stranger home.