Godric's Dark Desire
The dark. The night. No harsh glare of the sun blinding the questionning eyes; no judging voices criticizing your very existence; no accusing glares cast your weary way. No other sound except the sound of night and chirping crickets; and no other voice but the whisper of your calm breathe. The leaves of sleeping trees swaying in the gentle wind, the mild scent of night lilies romancing the perfumed airs. Million friendly stars flirting with the bright beckoning storm moon.
The dark, when The Powers That Be retire the world and 'things that go bump' come out and play. The time when part of the soul hides from the false realties of the harsh world - hides among protective covers of the dark. That... is when we come out and play. That... is "they" lie back and we take over.
We the Moon-watchers, the fire-borns. We the Vampyres.