"Never?" He's shocked by that statement, and it's all over his face as much as it is coloring his words. "I'll admit, most of the better ones I've ever known were women, I think as a whole you're just more meticulous about the craft than most of us, but...it's certainly not an exclusively women sort of thing, where I'm from." He can't fathom it, absolutely no men with magic. How weird.
A smirk finds its way onto his lips. "New Orleans? God, I haven't been there in years. My family practically founded the city." And from the sounds of it, they found their way back.
"I don't know, hundreds might've done him well enough, I'm not sure what it would have taken to complete the map, exactly. And there's real way to calculate how many went out when I did. I'm over a thousand years old and I wasn't exactly picky about who I turned. Me, all the people I turned, all the people those people turned, so on and so on...It's easily in the hundreds of thousands, gone in a blink, up in flames...with absolutely no clue why, and no connection to anything that was happening."
He doesn't talk about it much, he doesn't think most people would even believe him if he did, but it bothers him. Not just dying, but everything that went with it. The others that were gone, like they, and their lives, meant nothing. He knows it's a completely hypocritical sort of thing for him to be angry about. He's killed an uncountable number of people through the centuries himself, and he didn't care about them. Or their lives. Or the people he'd ripped them from, who were left behind to deal with their deaths. But something about the Gilberts being hailed as the good guys. The ones who always did the right thing. It felt worse, and got under his skin. At least he didn't hide the monster he was from the world.
no subject
A smirk finds its way onto his lips. "New Orleans? God, I haven't been there in years. My family practically founded the city." And from the sounds of it, they found their way back.
"I don't know, hundreds might've done him well enough, I'm not sure what it would have taken to complete the map, exactly. And there's real way to calculate how many went out when I did. I'm over a thousand years old and I wasn't exactly picky about who I turned. Me, all the people I turned, all the people those people turned, so on and so on...It's easily in the hundreds of thousands, gone in a blink, up in flames...with absolutely no clue why, and no connection to anything that was happening."
He doesn't talk about it much, he doesn't think most people would even believe him if he did, but it bothers him. Not just dying, but everything that went with it. The others that were gone, like they, and their lives, meant nothing. He knows it's a completely hypocritical sort of thing for him to be angry about. He's killed an uncountable number of people through the centuries himself, and he didn't care about them. Or their lives. Or the people he'd ripped them from, who were left behind to deal with their deaths. But something about the Gilberts being hailed as the good guys. The ones who always did the right thing. It felt worse, and got under his skin. At least he didn't hide the monster he was from the world.