"Yes..." Armand replied almost dreamily, a beatific smile gracing his lips. He looked detached, innocent, like the frozen countenance of a saint captured on canvas. "The young ones tend to act out. They are impetuous, unaware of their own limitations. As elders, it is our duty to correct such unbecoming behaviors." Unfortunately for the newborn vampire holding unto his hand, Armand's preferred method of teaching was that of the example. Any vampire who dared violate the sanctity of his territory was to be disposed of brutally, so that the others may learn to avoid making the same mistake.
Unfortunately for both Esmond and the youngling, Armand was in a particularly vicious mood - but unwilling to soil his hands with mediocre blood. So, instead, the elder vampire focused his entire attention on the object of his ire, and spoke in the softest voice. "Kneel." Naturally, the newborn had no choice but to comply with a loopy smile on his face. His gaze was foggy, distant, devoid of any emotion. There was something about those eyes Armand didn't like... Their shape, their color, reminded him of someone he'd tried in vain to forget. "Give me your eyes."
And, without a moment's hesitation, the youngling did just that - presenting Armand with two bloodied little trophies. Still smiling, still serene, as if he hadn't just blinded himself. The elder accepted the gruesome gift rather gracefully, taking the eyeballs delicately in his hand - only to drop them at his feet and stomp on them once, as if disposing of a cockroach.
"I wish to know the name of your maker, child."