"That's just IT, Georg - you don't have to BE anything you aren't already."
Young as he is, Alfred does understand. He understands why the Count feels the way he does, why he's ducking into the darkness instead of letting himself step even a little bit into the light. It doesn't mean that the much younger vampire likes it, though...doesn't mean he's not going to try to pull him out, even if it means getting a little darker, himself.
"You're a vampire, yes - but you're also a very sweet man who just picked all the thorns off a bundle of roses so that I wouldn't prick myself on them. Even though you know I will heal fast if I do. I - I'm hungry, too. All the time, now. It's very difficult, and I've only been this way for a little while, not for centuries like you."
Scrubbing at his tears, he gestures with his hand a little as he speaks, as if trying to punctuate what he's saying by painting in the air.
"But - I can feel you. I can feel everyone here. And when I do, there's...there's color. Herbert is like a field of flowers, Sarah is like fire - even Koukol, he's like granite, like something made to last and steady." He reaches up to rest his hand along Georg's jaw.
"And sometimes - sometimes, when you are still - you are like a rich tapestry, like something a king would own. But the moment I try to tell you about it, the moment you think someone else is looking, it's like you try to paint over it. It's there, Georg. You aren't nothing. You're just - hidden."
He draws a very long, steadying breath, more to get control of his voice than anything.
"I'm not asking you to change. I'm...I'm just asking you to let me find you. Like you found me."
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Young as he is, Alfred does understand. He understands why the Count feels the way he does, why he's ducking into the darkness instead of letting himself step even a little bit into the light. It doesn't mean that the much younger vampire likes it, though...doesn't mean he's not going to try to pull him out, even if it means getting a little darker, himself.
"You're a vampire, yes - but you're also a very sweet man who just picked all the thorns off a bundle of roses so that I wouldn't prick myself on them. Even though you know I will heal fast if I do. I - I'm hungry, too. All the time, now. It's very difficult, and I've only been this way for a little while, not for centuries like you."
Scrubbing at his tears, he gestures with his hand a little as he speaks, as if trying to punctuate what he's saying by painting in the air.
"But - I can feel you. I can feel everyone here. And when I do, there's...there's color. Herbert is like a field of flowers, Sarah is like fire - even Koukol, he's like granite, like something made to last and steady." He reaches up to rest his hand along Georg's jaw.
"And sometimes - sometimes, when you are still - you are like a rich tapestry, like something a king would own. But the moment I try to tell you about it, the moment you think someone else is looking, it's like you try to paint over it. It's there, Georg. You aren't nothing. You're just - hidden."
He draws a very long, steadying breath, more to get control of his voice than anything.
"I'm not asking you to change. I'm...I'm just asking you to let me find you. Like you found me."