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Jul. 5th, 2015 02:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lordharryAt first, Hal doesn't notice it.
How odd, truly, to imagine that something so monumental can be so easily ignored. And yet, Hal begins his day as he normally would, goes through his routines and habits. He sets up the dominoes and takes them down. He listens to his radio programs, does his exercises, and even pitches it to help clean in the kitchen, but even that does not take him aback. It is not until he is cleaning up and scrubbing his hands properly that he notices it.
It is the moment when he lifts his gaze in order to grasp for the paper towel that he sees it for the first time in over five hundred centuries. His reflection. Startled and taken aback, Hal stares for what must be nearly thirty minutes as he realizes that he's entirely forgotten what he looks like. Five hundred centuries without your own reflection will do that to a man. He prods and pokes at his face, marvelling at the way he's changed and takes another, longer moment to marvel at his hair, wanting to weep for how tidy and good Leo had kept it over the last fifty-five years.
He swallows hard to push back the grief and that's when he realizes he's not suppressing the need for blood. He's not hungry. Whatever door he passed through this morning has done something to him because he has no thirst for blood, can see himself, and suddenly, he's struck with the need for something else.
Hurrying (but not so quickly that he doesn't properly finish with the towels), Hal makes it back to the buffet. He's quick to load up his plate, his cravings for food immense and desperate.
"Excuse me," he asks, lifting his gaze to the nearest person, "what are those sticks called? They're breaded and abhorrently fried, filled with cheese, and I'd very much like two dozen, possibly."
[Hal is temporarily without his vampire affliction and very, very hungry for cheese]
How odd, truly, to imagine that something so monumental can be so easily ignored. And yet, Hal begins his day as he normally would, goes through his routines and habits. He sets up the dominoes and takes them down. He listens to his radio programs, does his exercises, and even pitches it to help clean in the kitchen, but even that does not take him aback. It is not until he is cleaning up and scrubbing his hands properly that he notices it.
It is the moment when he lifts his gaze in order to grasp for the paper towel that he sees it for the first time in over five hundred centuries. His reflection. Startled and taken aback, Hal stares for what must be nearly thirty minutes as he realizes that he's entirely forgotten what he looks like. Five hundred centuries without your own reflection will do that to a man. He prods and pokes at his face, marvelling at the way he's changed and takes another, longer moment to marvel at his hair, wanting to weep for how tidy and good Leo had kept it over the last fifty-five years.
He swallows hard to push back the grief and that's when he realizes he's not suppressing the need for blood. He's not hungry. Whatever door he passed through this morning has done something to him because he has no thirst for blood, can see himself, and suddenly, he's struck with the need for something else.
Hurrying (but not so quickly that he doesn't properly finish with the towels), Hal makes it back to the buffet. He's quick to load up his plate, his cravings for food immense and desperate.
"Excuse me," he asks, lifting his gaze to the nearest person, "what are those sticks called? They're breaded and abhorrently fried, filled with cheese, and I'd very much like two dozen, possibly."
[Hal is temporarily without his vampire affliction and very, very hungry for cheese]