[It's a fascinating question, one no one else has asked him for as long as he could remember— truly, he did not know the last time he had examined himself in such a way, and for a moment, the furrow of his brow deepens, thoughtful as he gives her question its due consideration.]
In my youth, I was determined that I was destined for greatness.
[He lets out a soft, mirthless chuckle as his lips twitch to one side in a knowing smile; times have changed, but he remembers full well who he once was.]
Not just eager for power, though surely that must have been part of it. I wanted to be the greatest wizard this world had ever seen, to learn everything I possibly could to master magic itself, rather than to merely serve it. Magic was my very heart and soul, and remains so even now, though time changes us all.
[He shakes his head a bit, dismissing the mental image his own words had conjured of his younger self.]
I want nothing so grand, now— but the fact remains that our world is expansive beyond our wildest imaginings, full of mysteries yet to be discovered. I wish to see and learn as much as this world of ours has to offer, even if I must do so by moonlight alone. I want to uncover the secrets of those who came before us, of things greater than myself.
[His answer was confident and more solid than she had expected.]
Mm. When you put it like that, it sounds like some hope remains. I'm glad you haven't given up.
[She sets his hand down and puts her hands on her hips.]
If we're going to be in this together, I'd rather be bitten by someone I find agreeable. And your zest for discovery and continuing curiosity? Thatโ [She punctuates her next statement with a wave of her index finger.]
โThat I can follow along with for the time being. If we're going to perform, we need to be in alignment, yes? I can't afford to be picky about being nibbled on, but at least I'll feel more comfortable about it, knowing who you are.
[There was a time when he had considered giving up, when all he'd known had been turned upside down, the very woman he had changed for denouncing him and leaving him painfully adrift as she replaced him with someone new, not more promising, but certainly more subservient. His ambitions had been too great for her, a threat, and that had meant more to her than well more than a century of devotion.
Here and now, having had the time and space to gain perspective, he knew that his path forward would be whatever he made it— he did not need to let the next century and however many after be controlled by the person who had drawn him into this world.
The wag of Amelia's finger brings him to absolute attention, and he cannot help but smile softly at just how matter-of-fact she is about such things.]
You truly have taken so much of this in stride. It's very admirable of you. Even knowing who and what my kind are, not everyone would be so practical.
[He huffs softly, putting his own hands against his hips to inadvertently mirror her, giving a sharp nod of agreement.]
I meant it when I said I would let no harm come to you. I promise that any 'nibbling' will be painless.
[It tended to be quite the opposite, in fact, which was part of why he abstained from feeding from live humans most nights, with a few exceptions.]
[It's become much clearer to her what a mess this is becoming. She needs to be able to take it in stride to keep her mind settled. To lose composure is to be at a disadvantage; such a principle is applicable to everyone, but witches value composure especially so.
But in terms of tact...]
Well?
[Amelia puts her hands on her hips.]
Are we going to schedule a biting or would putting that on a digital calendar be too suspect? Writing it down would be more incriminating, but at least we can burn those.
[For a moment, he's utterly blindsided by her approach— not the subject at hand, particularly, but he's still not entirely used to just how direct the witch can be at times.
That, and he honestly can't tell whether or not she's joking.
He raises a fist to cover his mouth as he clears his throat, schooling his expression to appear decidedly less startled than he actually was.]
I don't know that... scheduling will be necessary.
[There's a quizzical loft to one of his brows. Would she really...?
He supposes it doesn't matter.]
Given our situation, the sooner that step is taken, the better, but I defer to your comfort.
Normally, when things bite me, I get out the fly swatter or the bug lamp.
[gurl]
So I'm having a hard time visualizing... Well.
[Amelia turns her back to him and her hands move to rub both sides of her neck as if assessing prime feeding spots and then she looks at one of her wrists.]
Does it have to be on the neck? I feel like it's easier to draw blood from the wrists.
[He does offer a wry smile quirked to one side in response to that little quip, but the topic at hand is somber enough that it fades— all things considered, he supposes she has every right to be particular in this instance.
He clears his throat softly.]
No, it doesn't have to be at the neck, though it has its... advantages.
[Some practical, others not.]
As far as access is concerned, it could be done anywhere.
His initial thought is 'that seems terribly soon,' but he forces that small spike of anxiety aside, not wanting to entertain it any longer than absolutely necessary. Time wasn't something they had an abundance of at this moment, and though Amelia's approach to all of this was really quite practical, it wouldn't serve either of them for him to try and dissuade her.
It was an inevitability. The best he could do was try to prepare her for what it would actually be like— but the wrist does seem a safer offering than most. Less... intimate.]
I think, for now, one will do.
[His response is quiet, carefully measured.]
I appreciate that you trust me enough to allow it. I realize that cannot be easy.
[Right. He'll be finishing off his breakfast well before they rendezvous, as well— he hardly intends to make a meal of her. Even biting her for show is more nerve-wracking than it ought to be. He may be out of practice, but it's hardly as though he's forgotten. These things are second nature. Rather, it's how very keenly he remembers what the experience can be like that has him so on edge.
She's fidgeting. They're both rather apprehensive about this in their own way, he supposes. It's new territory— and there are things that have been left unsaid, carefully unremarked upon that may, perhaps, add another layer of complexity.]
Take your time, and as always, help yourself to anything you like. I'll be minding the shop in the meantime.
[Amelia nods. Not wanting to drag out the point anymore than she already has, the witch leaves to keep herself busy before her bedtime.]
๐นโจ
[It's easy to tell that her activity around his place is nothing less than meandering. She only finishes two chapters of her chosen novel. If Gale passed by her within the following hour, she's lying on her back on the floor, playing a farming simulation game on her phone. Even later, Amelia's draped half of herself over the sofa, watching a rather trashy reality show on the same phone (The Ultimatum: Baldur's Gate Edition), and muttering some dark commentary under her breath. After dinner, she has trouble choosing her dessert of fresh fruit or ice cream ("Do either of them make it taste sweeter or...? I really should have looked this up before hand," she mutters again).
Basically? The hours seem to drag until finally, Amelia makes use of his shower, dries her hair, and dresses in her long hoodie to get ready to sleep. Except not yet.
She doesn't call to remind him, not exactly. Instead her door is kept ajar and every other minute or so, she's peeking out of it to see if Gale is still there or if he's about to approach. It's not unlike an expectant child who's anticipating something and is being very jittery about it without having to say anything.]
[He does pass the open doorway more than once throughout the evening, though he makes a concentrated effort not to let his gaze wander or linger too long. There's a palpable tension in the atmosphere, anticipation strung tight, building upon a different sort of tension that has been present for some time now, the tension he has been making every effort not to dwell on if he can help it.
Far easier said than done, when he beds down before dawn and he can smell her on his pillow, feel that lingering warmth in his sheets. It's difficult not to pay mind to the pang of disappointment he feels whenever they part ways in the earliest hours of the morning, the eagerness he feels when dusk approaches once more.
If circumstances were different, perhaps he wouldn't be trying quite so hard to ignore it— but their situation is such that he fears any kind of consent would be dubious at best, and it puts him in mind of his own youth, of the promises he had found himself so enchanted by that he had allowed himself to be lured into a new life that had, in the end, turned out to be painfully lonely.
When the time comes, he locks the front door to the shop and hangs the sign letting any potential customers know he'll be back shortly— it's been a quiet night, all told, as is often the case with a specialty shop like his. That taken care of, he retreats to the back of the shop and takes the stairs up to the area he keeps as living quarters, pausing outside the open door and lightly rapping his knuckles against it before leaning through where it hangs ajar.]
[Of course he catches her just as she lays on her back, head hanging off the edge of the bed and headphones hugging the sides of her ears. His appearance at the doorway gives the witch a start. He'll hear her stumble off the bed and swear before finally opening the door wider with a wide smile.]
Well, well. Good evening.
[Amelia's gonna play this cool. Just slide a hand through her totally not mussed up hair.]
[Perhaps his timing could use some work— but as she's clearly not injured, there's something about her fumbling before answering the door proper that makes him feel just a touch more at ease. He smiles faintly, more reserved than her own offering, though he's certain her greeting would have caused him to blush if he'd fed enough recently to have the blood for it.
It still manages to catch him just slightly off-guard, and he trips over his words for a moment before clearing his throat and responding:]
Ah, no, I took care to— leave room.
[Gods above, did that sound as embarrassing as he felt saying it?]
The evening hasn't been too dull, I hope?
[Small talk, like he's just checking in before bed, as he so often does. Surely that will make this a touch less nervewracking.]
I finally passed that one tricking level on Farming Kingdom.
[Non-plussed, Amelia moves away from the doorway and takes a few steps backwards before plopping her bottom onto the edge of the bed.]
Which, by the way, I'm quite proud of considering how hard that pesky mobile game tries to tempt you into paying real currency for in-game currency.
[Yes, she'll talk about mobile game shenanigans while rolling up one long baggy sleeve where the biting will take place, all with the grace of someone being chatty with their doctor who's about to draw blood (as opposed to a vampire).]
Me? Seven years, and not a coin out of me. I'll outlive the game and its developers before they get any of my money.
[He looks mildly surprised for a moment, as though uncertain of what to make of her choice of topic, but a beat of silence is followed by a soft chuckle as he follows two steps behind her, carefully sitting on the edge of the bed beside her.]
That's really rather impressive. I admire your willpower.
[His smile tugs to one side, and he briefly rubs at the back of his neck with one hand.]
I wasn't quite so resistant with Miracle Merge. The promise of premium land was too good to pass up.
[They got his $5. And maybe several more after that, over the years.]
[Her feet shift slightly as Gale sits beside her. Now that her wrist is bare she cradles it in the palm of her other hand and there's a notable pause when she tries to continue the conversation, but stops.
There's only so much stalling one can do.]
... I... I want to say sorry.
[Her eyes move to her lap.]
For making light of this whole situation, I mean.
[For every obstacle she faced during and after her husband's passing, being lighthearted has been her coping strategy for past few years.]
[His brow furrows slightly, startled into momentary silence by her apology, but he gathers himself after a beat and shakes his head, dismissing her concerns.]
No, I assure you, that's not it— quite the opposite, really. You have nothing to apologize for. I've found myself quite comfortable in your company, if I'm being honest. More at ease than I've felt with another person in a long, long while.
[He pauses for a moment before he continues, wanting to choose his words with care, and lets out a needless exhale as he does so, looking down at his hands in his own lap.]
I fear that by coming to your rescue when I did, I inadvertently put you in a situation where... you may feel you have no choice in the matter.
[He meets her gaze, his own somber and earnest.]
I haven't fed from another person in a long while, largely because of how intimate it can be, but— I also remember what it was like to be human, even after all this time. I remember how it felt to realize I'd had no idea what I'd consented to until it was far too late. I could not bear to make someone else feel that way, to any extent. That this is something we must do for your safety... that does not truly count as consent, does it?
[Him finding himself at ease with her gives the witch some relief. She wasn't just assuming that their camaraderie had grown over the little time they've spent together.
She listens to him carefully and turns to look at him as he speaks his piece. To her, the vampire sitting next to her was much very human and more than his base nature. He had been considering her feelings all this time and had a better understanding of the deep nature of the bond he was about to subject her to.]
You're an odd vampire.
[Her tone is bemused.]
But a sweet one. Lesser vampires don't usually negotiate with their food.
[The witch offers him a reassuring smile and scoots an inch or two closer to him.]
I think we've reached a point where figuring out what is and isn't consent for me isn't productive. What we do know is that the walls are closing in on us.
[Cazador. The many other vampiric eyes in Baldur's Gate. Her rapidly dwindling independence. The choices that do remain for her is to become Cazador's blood pet or worse or to at least be with Gale where she has more room to figure things out and the freedom to tell him what she wants.
And that's what she does.]
Gale. I want a guarantee of safety.
[Amelia finally holds up her bare wrist and lets it hang between her the small space left between them.]
I want this to buy us some time when we go to that soiree where all eyes are on us.
[His lips quirk into another faint smile at her assessment.]
In this instance, I'll gladly take 'odd' as a compliment.
[It was clearly meant that way, even before she'd gone on to clarify— but she's quite right about the rest of it, as well. They don't have the luxury to question what is and isn't right in this situation; they're well past any point where doing so might serve them. The most that can be done is for him to respect her wishes in addition to her agency, and to be good to his word.
He nods in agreement, reaching out to gently take her wrist in hand, turning it upwards as he meets her gaze again, solemn. She's made her wants clear, and meeting them is the absolute least he can do. Protecting her was not something he had ever intended to approach half-heartedly.]
I promise you, Amelia. You will be safe with me.
[Though he does not have Cazador's infamy, he has long been more than he seems. He knows he can give her this, even if it is hardly a simple matter to do so.
Stalling further will not serve either of them. True to his word, he bows his head as he lifts her wrist to meet him halfway; he'd been able to hear her heartbeat even before he'd set foot in the room, but it was fast approaching thundering now that they were close, now that he was no longer making an effort to tune out his senses, his hunger.
The scent of her is stronger than the one she leaves behind on his sheets, and he cannot help but feel the thrill of anticipation as his lips lightly brush against her pulse point. Gently, he gives her wrist a squeeze of warning before his fangs lightly pierce the skin, and suddenly he can feel her very heartbeat in his mouth as hot, rich blood begins to well up beneath the surface of the bite, slow at first, but the moment it touches his tongue, he is reminded of precisely why he had chosen years ago not to share this with strangers any longer.]
[What was it like to be bitten by a vampire? When she was younger she asked a more senior witch who had seen much of the world.
"It's a dangerously pleasant thing. Your fight or flight response will only activate for a moment."
(The predator with no pulse has taken hold of her and her back straightens with caution. When his lips brush against the pulse point of her wrist the vividness of her life contrasts against the undead existence. She doesn't look away, but she almost flinches when the fangs appear. It's her final warning.
When her skin is pierced, there's an instinctive and fearful tug. But it's too late.)
"It doesn't hurt, not really. Depends on how gentle the vampire chooses to be and if you have a death wish."
(It's like getting a shot, or drawing blood with a needle. Amelia lets out a short huff of breath, trying to concentrate on a spot on her lap instead of him. The warmth of her blood emerges and morbid curiosity wins out and she glances up right as it flows into his mouth. Her heart seizes and thumps harder against her chest.)
"Being bitten certainly does something to you... It's hypnotic."
(She controls her breathing. This is nothing. It's just a taste.)
"I'll say no more than that. There's no need. You're not some fool who want to be eaten so it doesn't matter."
"You're not a fool, right Amelia?"
This evening, Amelia Steinbeck is the biggest fool for letting herself be vulnerable prey. And before she can stop herself, she murmurs:]
[His gaze flicks upwards for a moment; her voice is low, but her words are clear.
"You can have a little more."
He had fed enough earlier in the evening that there would be no need to make a true meal of her, that this exchange would be more ritual than feast, but her offer of permission still excites something in him that he cannot deny, thirst awakened by the first taste of fresh blood he's had in longer than he can recall— but it is not just thirst that he feels threatening him, pulling him in deeper.
He presses her wrist to him more firmly, his efforts still careful, but his tongue flicks against those puncture wounds that remain hidden away beneath his lips, unwilling to let a single drop go to waste as her blood flows more freely, hot against his throat. His eyelids lower as he drinks, listening for her pulse even as he feels it against his tongue, and though it remains strong, he swallows hard as he forces himself to pull off of her several moments later, his face now flushed, eyes dark and pupils blown.]
I should— I should stop.
[Even as he murmurs the words, he softly runs his tongue over the newly exposed wound to leave the puncture marks clean, followed by an apologetic swipe of his thumb as a basic healing spell takes out any sting that might remain.]
[There's something about seeing the normally composed and introverted Gale displaying a part of his true vampiric nature that should't fascinate the witch, but does. She can't look away except for when his tongue flicks against her wounds and she barely suppresses the noise that was about to escape her throat. With pursed lips she glances to the side, her face flushed and tugging at her collar. Why is it so hot all of a sudden?
He doesn't have a pulse, but the awakened thirst resonates with her heartbeat and it's a sensation that floods her better judgement, tricking her into believing that this was a good thing, a delicious feeling, that lowers her defenses and puts her in danger of being drained dry and teases her with sweet oblivion.
(Is that all there is to it? She barely touched anyone after Adam and even so not like this.)
"I should stop."
His voice interrupts her dubious reverie and she turns just in time to see him lick the punctures clean and apply a small spell. There's a huff of breath and she recklessly replies to him.]
Do you really want to stop?
[Dangerous.
She knows better than this, she's sensible, she's not that recklessโ and yet she impatiently pulls at her exposed wrist and inadvertently drawing nearer to him.]
You look... [There's a sharp intake of breath as she attempts to collect herself.]
[Focused. That was certainly one word for how he currently felt; hungry was another, but not necessarily for blood. Physically, that particular need had been sated, though there was no denying that after so long without feeding from a living person, the temptation to overindulge was very, very real.
Not just any living person, of course. He is lucid enough still to realize that he would not feel as intensely as he does now had he been feeding from a complete stranger.
He swallows again; his mouth feels deceptively dry despite having just fed, and he gives a small shake of his head in response to her dangerous challenge. No. Tempted as he is, it's too dangerous to let himself feed from her further; she was hardly in danger from the amount he had taken already, but if given the chance to drown in that heady sensation... it is too great a risk.]
You only have so much blood to give. I promised— you would be safe with me.
[His words are measured, chosen carefully despite the feeling of being half-drunk, his resistance to her being tested all the while as she draws closer to him. It is too much to bear— and so at last he does what he has wanted to for weeks, an arm curling around her waist as he leans in to seal his mouth over hers, his lips newly warmed from having fed and taken on fresh blood, an entirely different kind of hunger threatening to make his heart beat.]
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sunfloras2024-05-18 10:26 pm
no subject
In my youth, I was determined that I was destined for greatness.
[He lets out a soft, mirthless chuckle as his lips twitch to one side in a knowing smile; times have changed, but he remembers full well who he once was.]
Not just eager for power, though surely that must have been part of it. I wanted to be the greatest wizard this world had ever seen, to learn everything I possibly could to master magic itself, rather than to merely serve it. Magic was my very heart and soul, and remains so even now, though time changes us all.
[He shakes his head a bit, dismissing the mental image his own words had conjured of his younger self.]
I want nothing so grand, now— but the fact remains that our world is expansive beyond our wildest imaginings, full of mysteries yet to be discovered. I wish to see and learn as much as this world of ours has to offer, even if I must do so by moonlight alone. I want to uncover the secrets of those who came before us, of things greater than myself.
[Once a scholar, always a scholar.]
no subject
Mm. When you put it like that, it sounds like some hope remains. I'm glad you haven't given up.
[She sets his hand down and puts her hands on her hips.]
If we're going to be in this together, I'd rather be bitten by someone I find agreeable. And your zest for discovery and continuing curiosity? Thatโ [She punctuates her next statement with a wave of her index finger.]
โThat I can follow along with for the time being. If we're going to perform, we need to be in alignment, yes? I can't afford to be picky about being nibbled on, but at least I'll feel more comfortable about it, knowing who you are.
no subject
Here and now, having had the time and space to gain perspective, he knew that his path forward would be whatever he made it— he did not need to let the next century and however many after be controlled by the person who had drawn him into this world.
The wag of Amelia's finger brings him to absolute attention, and he cannot help but smile softly at just how matter-of-fact she is about such things.]
You truly have taken so much of this in stride. It's very admirable of you. Even knowing who and what my kind are, not everyone would be so practical.
[He huffs softly, putting his own hands against his hips to inadvertently mirror her, giving a sharp nod of agreement.]
I meant it when I said I would let no harm come to you. I promise that any 'nibbling' will be painless.
[It tended to be quite the opposite, in fact, which was part of why he abstained from feeding from live humans most nights, with a few exceptions.]
no subject
I can't afford not to be.
[It's become much clearer to her what a mess this is becoming. She needs to be able to take it in stride to keep her mind settled. To lose composure is to be at a disadvantage; such a principle is applicable to everyone, but witches value composure especially so.
But in terms of tact...]
Well?
[Amelia puts her hands on her hips.]
Are we going to schedule a biting or would putting that on a digital calendar be too suspect? Writing it down would be more incriminating, but at least we can burn those.
no subject
That, and he honestly can't tell whether or not she's joking.
He raises a fist to cover his mouth as he clears his throat, schooling his expression to appear decidedly less startled than he actually was.]
I don't know that... scheduling will be necessary.
[There's a quizzical loft to one of his brows. Would she really...?
He supposes it doesn't matter.]
Given our situation, the sooner that step is taken, the better, but I defer to your comfort.
[As ever.]
no subject
[gurl]
So I'm having a hard time visualizing... Well.
[Amelia turns her back to him and her hands move to rub both sides of her neck as if assessing prime feeding spots and then she looks at one of her wrists.]
Does it have to be on the neck? I feel like it's easier to draw blood from the wrists.
[now she's just being fussy]
no subject
[He does offer a wry smile quirked to one side in response to that little quip, but the topic at hand is somber enough that it fades— all things considered, he supposes she has every right to be particular in this instance.
He clears his throat softly.]
No, it doesn't have to be at the neck, though it has its... advantages.
[Some practical, others not.]
As far as access is concerned, it could be done anywhere.
no subject
[Her voice has softened and she turns to look at him with an enigmatic expression in her eyes.]
Before I go to sleep. Just one bite on the wrist. Two if you think it'll be more convincing.
no subject
His initial thought is 'that seems terribly soon,' but he forces that small spike of anxiety aside, not wanting to entertain it any longer than absolutely necessary. Time wasn't something they had an abundance of at this moment, and though Amelia's approach to all of this was really quite practical, it wouldn't serve either of them for him to try and dissuade her.
It was an inevitability. The best he could do was try to prepare her for what it would actually be like— but the wrist does seem a safer offering than most. Less... intimate.]
I think, for now, one will do.
[His response is quiet, carefully measured.]
I appreciate that you trust me enough to allow it. I realize that cannot be easy.
no subject
[She looks down at her feet and intertwines her fingers together to fidget.]
Just one.
[They needed to get it over with, hangups be damned.]
I'll be eating dinner first. [She says it as if trying to remind herself loudly rather than inform Gale.]
See you before I sleep then?
no subject
[Right. He'll be finishing off his breakfast well before they rendezvous, as well— he hardly intends to make a meal of her. Even biting her for show is more nerve-wracking than it ought to be. He may be out of practice, but it's hardly as though he's forgotten. These things are second nature. Rather, it's how very keenly he remembers what the experience can be like that has him so on edge.
She's fidgeting. They're both rather apprehensive about this in their own way, he supposes. It's new territory— and there are things that have been left unsaid, carefully unremarked upon that may, perhaps, add another layer of complexity.]
Take your time, and as always, help yourself to anything you like. I'll be minding the shop in the meantime.
no subject
[It's easy to tell that her activity around his place is nothing less than meandering. She only finishes two chapters of her chosen novel. If Gale passed by her within the following hour, she's lying on her back on the floor, playing a farming simulation game on her phone. Even later, Amelia's draped half of herself over the sofa, watching a rather trashy reality show on the same phone (The Ultimatum: Baldur's Gate Edition), and muttering some dark commentary under her breath. After dinner, she has trouble choosing her dessert of fresh fruit or ice cream ("Do either of them make it taste sweeter or...? I really should have looked this up before hand," she mutters again).
Basically? The hours seem to drag until finally, Amelia makes use of his shower, dries her hair, and dresses in her long hoodie to get ready to sleep. Except not yet.
She doesn't call to remind him, not exactly. Instead her door is kept ajar and every other minute or so, she's peeking out of it to see if Gale is still there or if he's about to approach. It's not unlike an expectant child who's anticipating something and is being very jittery about it without having to say anything.]
no subject
Far easier said than done, when he beds down before dawn and he can smell her on his pillow, feel that lingering warmth in his sheets. It's difficult not to pay mind to the pang of disappointment he feels whenever they part ways in the earliest hours of the morning, the eagerness he feels when dusk approaches once more.
If circumstances were different, perhaps he wouldn't be trying quite so hard to ignore it— but their situation is such that he fears any kind of consent would be dubious at best, and it puts him in mind of his own youth, of the promises he had found himself so enchanted by that he had allowed himself to be lured into a new life that had, in the end, turned out to be painfully lonely.
When the time comes, he locks the front door to the shop and hangs the sign letting any potential customers know he'll be back shortly— it's been a quiet night, all told, as is often the case with a specialty shop like his. That taken care of, he retreats to the back of the shop and takes the stairs up to the area he keeps as living quarters, pausing outside the open door and lightly rapping his knuckles against it before leaning through where it hangs ajar.]
Amelia?
no subject
Well, well. Good evening.
[Amelia's gonna play this cool. Just slide a hand through her totally not mussed up hair.]
Hope you didn't spoil your appetite.
no subject
It still manages to catch him just slightly off-guard, and he trips over his words for a moment before clearing his throat and responding:]
Ah, no, I took care to— leave room.
[Gods above, did that sound as embarrassing as he felt saying it?]
The evening hasn't been too dull, I hope?
[Small talk, like he's just checking in before bed, as he so often does. Surely that will make this a touch less nervewracking.]
no subject
[Non-plussed, Amelia moves away from the doorway and takes a few steps backwards before plopping her bottom onto the edge of the bed.]
Which, by the way, I'm quite proud of considering how hard that pesky mobile game tries to tempt you into paying real currency for in-game currency.
[Yes, she'll talk about mobile game shenanigans while rolling up one long baggy sleeve where the biting will take place, all with the grace of someone being chatty with their doctor who's about to draw blood (as opposed to a vampire).]
Me? Seven years, and not a coin out of me. I'll outlive the game and its developers before they get any of my money.
no subject
That's really rather impressive. I admire your willpower.
[His smile tugs to one side, and he briefly rubs at the back of his neck with one hand.]
I wasn't quite so resistant with Miracle Merge. The promise of premium land was too good to pass up.
[They got his $5. And maybe several more after that, over the years.]
no subject
[Her feet shift slightly as Gale sits beside her. Now that her wrist is bare she cradles it in the palm of her other hand and there's a notable pause when she tries to continue the conversation, but stops.
There's only so much stalling one can do.]
... I... I want to say sorry.
[Her eyes move to her lap.]
For making light of this whole situation, I mean.
[For every obstacle she faced during and after her husband's passing, being lighthearted has been her coping strategy for past few years.]
It's obvious you're not that comfortable with me.
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[His brow furrows slightly, startled into momentary silence by her apology, but he gathers himself after a beat and shakes his head, dismissing her concerns.]
No, I assure you, that's not it— quite the opposite, really. You have nothing to apologize for. I've found myself quite comfortable in your company, if I'm being honest. More at ease than I've felt with another person in a long, long while.
[He pauses for a moment before he continues, wanting to choose his words with care, and lets out a needless exhale as he does so, looking down at his hands in his own lap.]
I fear that by coming to your rescue when I did, I inadvertently put you in a situation where... you may feel you have no choice in the matter.
[He meets her gaze, his own somber and earnest.]
I haven't fed from another person in a long while, largely because of how intimate it can be, but— I also remember what it was like to be human, even after all this time. I remember how it felt to realize I'd had no idea what I'd consented to until it was far too late. I could not bear to make someone else feel that way, to any extent. That this is something we must do for your safety... that does not truly count as consent, does it?
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[Him finding himself at ease with her gives the witch some relief. She wasn't just assuming that their camaraderie had grown over the little time they've spent together.
She listens to him carefully and turns to look at him as he speaks his piece. To her, the vampire sitting next to her was much very human and more than his base nature. He had been considering her feelings all this time and had a better understanding of the deep nature of the bond he was about to subject her to.]
You're an odd vampire.
[Her tone is bemused.]
But a sweet one. Lesser vampires don't usually negotiate with their food.
[The witch offers him a reassuring smile and scoots an inch or two closer to him.]
I think we've reached a point where figuring out what is and isn't consent for me isn't productive. What we do know is that the walls are closing in on us.
[Cazador. The many other vampiric eyes in Baldur's Gate. Her rapidly dwindling independence. The choices that do remain for her is to become Cazador's blood pet or worse or to at least be with Gale where she has more room to figure things out and the freedom to tell him what she wants.
And that's what she does.]
Gale. I want a guarantee of safety.
[Amelia finally holds up her bare wrist and lets it hang between her the small space left between them.]
I want this to buy us some time when we go to that soiree where all eyes are on us.
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In this instance, I'll gladly take 'odd' as a compliment.
[It was clearly meant that way, even before she'd gone on to clarify— but she's quite right about the rest of it, as well. They don't have the luxury to question what is and isn't right in this situation; they're well past any point where doing so might serve them. The most that can be done is for him to respect her wishes in addition to her agency, and to be good to his word.
He nods in agreement, reaching out to gently take her wrist in hand, turning it upwards as he meets her gaze again, solemn. She's made her wants clear, and meeting them is the absolute least he can do. Protecting her was not something he had ever intended to approach half-heartedly.]
I promise you, Amelia. You will be safe with me.
[Though he does not have Cazador's infamy, he has long been more than he seems. He knows he can give her this, even if it is hardly a simple matter to do so.
Stalling further will not serve either of them. True to his word, he bows his head as he lifts her wrist to meet him halfway; he'd been able to hear her heartbeat even before he'd set foot in the room, but it was fast approaching thundering now that they were close, now that he was no longer making an effort to tune out his senses, his hunger.
The scent of her is stronger than the one she leaves behind on his sheets, and he cannot help but feel the thrill of anticipation as his lips lightly brush against her pulse point. Gently, he gives her wrist a squeeze of warning before his fangs lightly pierce the skin, and suddenly he can feel her very heartbeat in his mouth as hot, rich blood begins to well up beneath the surface of the bite, slow at first, but the moment it touches his tongue, he is reminded of precisely why he had chosen years ago not to share this with strangers any longer.]
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"It's a dangerously pleasant thing. Your fight or flight response will only activate for a moment."
(The predator with no pulse has taken hold of her and her back straightens with caution. When his lips brush against the pulse point of her wrist the vividness of her life contrasts against the undead existence. She doesn't look away, but she almost flinches when the fangs appear. It's her final warning.
When her skin is pierced, there's an instinctive and fearful tug. But it's too late.)
"It doesn't hurt, not really. Depends on how gentle the vampire chooses to be and if you have a death wish."
(It's like getting a shot, or drawing blood with a needle. Amelia lets out a short huff of breath, trying to concentrate on a spot on her lap instead of him. The warmth of her blood emerges and morbid curiosity wins out and she glances up right as it flows into his mouth. Her heart seizes and thumps harder against her chest.)
"Being bitten certainly does something to you... It's hypnotic."
(She controls her breathing. This is nothing. It's just a taste.)
"I'll say no more than that. There's no need. You're not some fool who want to be eaten so it doesn't matter."
This evening, Amelia Steinbeck is the biggest fool for letting herself be vulnerable prey. And before she can stop herself, she murmurs:]
... You can have a little more.
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"You can have a little more."
He had fed enough earlier in the evening that there would be no need to make a true meal of her, that this exchange would be more ritual than feast, but her offer of permission still excites something in him that he cannot deny, thirst awakened by the first taste of fresh blood he's had in longer than he can recall— but it is not just thirst that he feels threatening him, pulling him in deeper.
He presses her wrist to him more firmly, his efforts still careful, but his tongue flicks against those puncture wounds that remain hidden away beneath his lips, unwilling to let a single drop go to waste as her blood flows more freely, hot against his throat. His eyelids lower as he drinks, listening for her pulse even as he feels it against his tongue, and though it remains strong, he swallows hard as he forces himself to pull off of her several moments later, his face now flushed, eyes dark and pupils blown.]
I should— I should stop.
[Even as he murmurs the words, he softly runs his tongue over the newly exposed wound to leave the puncture marks clean, followed by an apologetic swipe of his thumb as a basic healing spell takes out any sting that might remain.]
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He doesn't have a pulse, but the awakened thirst resonates with her heartbeat and it's a sensation that floods her better judgement, tricking her into believing that this was a good thing, a delicious feeling, that lowers her defenses and puts her in danger of being drained dry and teases her with sweet oblivion.
(Is that all there is to it? She barely touched anyone after Adam and even so not like this.)
"I should stop."
His voice interrupts her dubious reverie and she turns just in time to see him lick the punctures clean and apply a small spell. There's a huff of breath and she recklessly replies to him.]
Do you really want to stop?
[Dangerous.
She knows better than this, she's sensible, she's not that recklessโ and yet she impatiently pulls at her exposed wrist and inadvertently drawing nearer to him.]
You look... [There's a sharp intake of breath as she attempts to collect herself.]
... Focused.
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Not just any living person, of course. He is lucid enough still to realize that he would not feel as intensely as he does now had he been feeding from a complete stranger.
He swallows again; his mouth feels deceptively dry despite having just fed, and he gives a small shake of his head in response to her dangerous challenge. No. Tempted as he is, it's too dangerous to let himself feed from her further; she was hardly in danger from the amount he had taken already, but if given the chance to drown in that heady sensation... it is too great a risk.]
You only have so much blood to give. I promised— you would be safe with me.
[His words are measured, chosen carefully despite the feeling of being half-drunk, his resistance to her being tested all the while as she draws closer to him. It is too much to bear— and so at last he does what he has wanted to for weeks, an arm curling around her waist as he leans in to seal his mouth over hers, his lips newly warmed from having fed and taken on fresh blood, an entirely different kind of hunger threatening to make his heart beat.]
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kicks life and brain in the butt
joins you in the kicking!
we're that jojo kicking meme now
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