Open for whiteknighting (or creeping :3 )

[sangreine]

When; November 19th
Rating; PG-13? Probable blood drinking, though not without OOC permission!
Characters; Saya, Setsuna, probably Karl the creeper, OPEN
Summary; Amnesiac Chiropteran Queen Saya didn't know (or want to accept) that she needs blood to live, and now is paying for it.
Log;

Several days' willful avoidance seemed a boon at the time, letting Saya explore her new (are they new? She still can't remember) surroundings and learn (relearn) new things, like how to help keep the house clean and how to make her own food.

...The microwave is her limit but it's progress, and she's proud of it.

At first her periodic exhaustion was an irritant, a needless distraction from what is becoming her life. Once or twice a passing thought crept up, Setsuna's question about blood, and her determination to fight through whatever was tiring her, without resorting to anything like that, redoubled: more soda and sweets, more fresh air, more can't-miss plans. Stubbornness was reprieve enough in the moment, although as it turns out, it was a temporary one. Slowly, inevitably, she had no choice but to succumb.

The wall and shaking legs barely keep Saya upright, her sluggish eyes drift over the blurred landscape. She can't name how long she's been walking, has no idea where she's ended up or how far she is from Charlie's place. But she knows, without a doubt, that she has to keep going... somehow.

Each step is near disaster as her body and vision seem to lurch in opposition. She can't call for help no matter how scared she is; it might draw Diva or Karl. So what should she do?

What's happening to her?

Comments

[worldofourown]

[ It's those eyes he fixates on. His own are eerily bright. As if he's in a trance. Or as if he's high. His cool hand curls around her jaw. Not a cruel grip -- not yet -- but decidedly forceful. ]

And what do you need? Right in this moment?

I think we both know.

[sangreine]

[There's nothing left in her, physically or otherwise, to fight his hold. Saya looks up at Karl, directly and unflinchingly for the first time since she woke. She hates the tangible connection between them, but no matter how she tugs and twists it's strong, more so than her will.]

[And it's undeniable, with him watching her and knowing, intimately, just what she needs. Tempting her to ask him for it.]

[She's wavering, and knows he can see every uncertainty, every sickening turn of her stomach that threatens to unravel her.]

[worldofourown]

[ Indeed, he can see. And it thrills him. It's like watching a drab shell crumble, inch by tantalizing inch, to unveil a gleaming predator within. He leans in, his breath a ghostly chill on her face. ]

I can help you, you know.

If you come with me -- return to your family -- you'll never have to feel this way again.

[sangreine]

[His offer made, Saya's mouth is suddenly dry. To be with people who know her, who can help her with whatever's happening to her, could maybe tell her who she is and where she came from...]

[Part of her rages at the idea, tells her to use the last dredges of her strength to shove him away, shout that she'll never follow him. She tenses, knowing it's the right thing -- but her resolve falters, and when she opens her mouth, what comes out is a thin, submissive plea:] You promise?

[worldofourown]

[ Hook. Line. Sinker. The plaintive little question almost draws a contemptuous peal of laughter. She's so easy in this state. Easy to mold. Easier to crush. But that's just the surface, he knows. If he's patient, the effort and teeth-gritting torment will be worth the reward. ]

Cross my heart.

[ His right hand still cups her jaw. He sketches an X on his throat with the other -- deliberately slicing into skin. A bead of blood trickles down; a red flag. It's a cruel jibe at her thirst. It's also an invitation. Will she? Or won't she? ]

[sangreine]

[She exhales shakily, glowing eyes fixed on his throat, the tiny vibrations beneath his skin with every pulse of that heart he swore on. Every beat sends more blood welling, dripping, dark and gleaming and perfect -- ]

[Before the intent even registers she moves, pressing flush against him, one hand clutching his shirt and the other yanking his hair in a demand to bare his neck yet further. She leans forward, eyes lidded, breath hot on his skin. Her tongue flicks out to catch a wayward droplet, leaving Saya panting as she drags it past her aching fangs and swallows it down.]

[She pauses, eyes shut, breathless -- savoring, or hesitation? Even she can't say.]

[worldofourown]

[ Yes, that's it. Eyes aglow, he lets her press in. It's delightful, and dreadful, and obscene, and oh she's right here hugged up against him, a warm armful, singing with energy. Just like his Diva. He shudders at the trace of her tongue -- unlike her sister, she's hesitant, not savage, but it feels like a delicious tease more than anything. ]

[ He wants her to sink her fangs into his throat. To return the favor in kind, die blissful and replete even as he drains her dry, feels her heart stop. His arm curls around her, keeping her pinned in place. ]

Well~?

[ Will she take more? Will she recoil and have to be coerced? Choices, choices. ]

[sangreine]

[Saya falls against him, a whimpering, wanting shade of herself. With her fangs bared and her pulse -- or his? -- thudding in her ears she's helpless to stop her fingers twisting in his hair or her tongue from lapping at every drip of his blood it can reach. The tip of her fangs pierces his skin and drags, scoring twin, jagged lines across the others.]

[A flash in her mind, images that only half make sense, jolt her back, her fangs breaking contact with a gasp. She's left dizzy and unfulfilled, but revulsion down to her very core won't let her continue.]

[Using every speck of energy she has, Saya shoves Karl and twists, trying to get away.] No!

[worldofourown]

[ That pulse is all hers. He's City Dead -- his heart unbeating, his whole body replete with a disquieting stillness. But the languid pleasure of her feeding makes his skin tingle as if alive. It draws a sound from him -- partways purr and sigh. The cut of her fangs, the sweep of her wet tongue against his flesh, the seal her open mouth, blossom wave upon wave of sensation. His hand is a hard pressure against the curve of her spine. ]

[ Unexpected -- vexing -- when she breaks away to shove him. The force catches him off-guard. He reels back, but the annoyance on his face fades as soon as it appears. His grin is like a serpent's, slithering into her space. ]

'No'? Whyever would you say that? [ Reaching out again -- with less playfulness and more pain in mind. ] You'd rather starve? Rather be pathetic and sickly? Come, come, Saya. Let's not be so stubborn.

[sangreine]

[That taste of blood has her eyes, her entire body blazing with vitality, enough that she lashes out with the fierceness he's been wishing for. A swipe of her arm to bat him away and a nasty kick, if it's necessary, to keep the distance between them.]

I'd rather die than drink from you. [Not because she doesn't desire it, but because she knows that whatever he'd demand in return would be more than she's willing to give.]

[She needs to figure out who, and what she is; what Karl wants her to be would only get in the way.]

[worldofourown]

[ He jerks back when she lashes at him. But his gleeful laughter is incongruous to the tense, supercharged moment. She reminds him more and more of her old self by the second. He commits that fiery red glow in her eyes to memory -- a tiding-over for the hours until she's perfect again. So close... but not yet. ]

[ Not yet. ]

And if you don't drink, you'll die anyway. [ A sneer. ] Such a waste it would be. You're better than this mewling wretch, Saya.

[sangreine]

[A flash of fear in her eyes is quickly snuffed out -- she won't allow him to dictate what she does or doesn't do.] Then I'll die. But it won't be with you.

[With that, she turns and draws on her last reserves of energy to run, aiming to put as much distance between them as possible before her resolve buckles entirely.]

[worldofourown]

[ His impulse is to chase her. To replicate that ferocious aura, how it seems to almost fill the air like a swarm of bees. But for once, he opts for retreat instead of rashness. He's seen enough. More than enough. ]

[ And the signs are encouraging indeed. ]

[ His laughter, a slow unfurling victory-banner, echoes through the street as he fades into the shadows. ]