"Well the peace and quiet might be nice for a change," the fae replied dryly. Hermes squirmed and shifted until he was straddling Carrick, just so he could get a better look at him. "For you to even be able to turn me, I'd have to burn my light out in the first place," he said simply. He looked down at his hands on his master's abdomen. "But I think you have yet to realize that I came to hate myself a long time ago."
He swallowed over a suddenly tight, dry throat. "I never expected you to turn me, my sun. It's why I always voiced it as an impossibility. But this?" He raised one hand to cast the barest bit of light from his fingertips that was his birthright elsewhere in the room, careful to angle it to a window that'd been left open so he harmed nothing. "What I am is a curse. And..." He looked down and away again. "And whenever the time comes for that to end, all I ask is that you don't let me suffer."