"I'm terribly sorry about the delay," Emer murmured as she sorted through her cabinets. "The new boy from the Truth Teller - left things in a bit of a mess, and put himself to sleep in the process. Needless to say, he is not allowed in here without my express permission again. Now -"
She pulled out a bottle of a pale blue liquid, a jar of dried, gnarled roots, and a silver knife - the last from the folds of her shawl. Setting them on the table, she turned to Nessa and smiled.
"I've never - exactly done this before, but it shouldn't be too difficult, hm? Worse comes to worst, I'm a little lightheaded after."
Shifting over to the bead curtain, she glanced inside for a moment to see if Hester was asleep. Her body was still - either asleep, or pretending to be. Whatever the case, it was enough for Emer. With a nod, she moved back to the table.
"Teeth or knife? Whichever you are more comfortable with, dear. It wouldn't be the first bite I've endured."
Light bled out on the distant horizon where the sea met the sky in deep purples and blues, there’d be some time yet before the day came in earnest and Nessa was planning on being long asleep by then. She crossed the sparsely attended deck at a decent clip, one of the other night hands raising a hand in greeting as she passed, and she returned the gesture in kind. No distances crossed to exchange words, but it seemed that way often enough with most of the crew. Hard to tell how much was Lucien giving honest bloodsuckers a bad name, or her own proclivities for keeping most at a distance, nor did it matter much. What was fine was fine.
Nessa gave the door to the clinic a light tap before she let herself in, followed close by the salt in the wind. Though, the hole in the side of the clinic offered the same. Nessa glanced around the room, empty mats and cots, but there was a peculiar tang in the air she couldn’t quite place, though for all she knew that was simply the stink of some herb turned to vapor by cannon shot.
“No trouble, it’s been a long few days.” Nessa said, helping herself to a seat. She fidgeted slightly, attempting to find a comfortable position to sit in, but that seemed an elusive feat. “Don’t think I’ve spoken to any of the new lot, other than the bone-woman, and she wasn’t much of a conversationalist at the time.” She shifted again in her seat.
“Oh, that, uh, a knife would be better, I think.” She chuckled, quick and nervous, ”Its, uh, a little more civilized like that.” She added, not quite certain what it meant.
//... into the dark she stepped, but never did she feel free of the gaze...//
"The bone-woman is called Hester, and she is presently asleep in my cot." Emer gestured towards the partition. "It would be best for us to keep our voices down, so not to disturb her. Now -"
She lifted the blade, silver edge catching in the morning light. Her eyes settled on it for a few seconds at Nessa's answer, her smile settling somewhere between knowing and sympathetic.
"The knife. You haven't done this before, have you? Or - if you have, not enough to grow used to the act. Yes, we can use the knife."
She held her arm outstretched, clenched fingers upward, and danced the tip across her elbow's underside. Tilting her arm in the light, she settled on a point. The knife lurched. Emer exhaled sharply. Red swelled up around the cut, running down the wisewoman's arm.
"Take this. Swish, and spit in that bowl," she said, setting down the knife and pushing the bottle of blue liquid towards Nessa. She flexed her bleeding arm, then plucked one of the roots from the jar and began to chew.
Yesterday, upon the stair, I met a man who wasn't there! He wasn't there again today, Oh how I wish he'd go away!
“Ah, is that so? Hester then.” Nessa said, her voice a touch softer. That smell hadn’t been herbs then, she’d need to make a note of that for the future. The flick of the knife pulled her gaze to the silver flash and far from her own thoughts.
“No, I haven’t really…” her voice came more as a mumble, and her statement ended with a heavy swallow. She watched as Emer lifted her arm and the knife danced quick in the morning light. Nessa flinched, just a little twitch brought on by surprise and a body nervousness turned tight. Nessa drew a breath, full and slow as she watched the beads of red collect before they ran down Emer’s arm.
“R-right, yes.” Nessa said quickly, as she picked up the vial. She pulled it open, and drained its contents, swishing them in her mouth. It was herbal, and sharp, she thought, but it was hard sometimes to tell what flavors where what. After a long moment’s swish she spat the contents out into the bowl, before looking up.
She forced herself to breath deep, and waited for Emer’s word.
//... into the dark she stepped, but never did she feel free of the gaze...//
Hester had always been a light sleeper. Four years aboard the Truth Teller hadn't done much to change that, nor had the travails of the last five days. Emer's murmuring hadn't been enough to wake her, but Nessa's voice had brought her back up, unaware as the vampire was of Hester's presence. Which, for once, Hester had no particular problem with. Her dreams been filled with too much blood and not enough air. She could still feel her heart pounding. Maybe a bit of light eavesdropping would help her calm down enough to sleep.
"The knife. You haven't done this before, have you? Or - if you have, not enough to grow used to the act. Yes, we can use the knife."
The air froze in her lungs. The captain had betrayed her, hadn't she? She'd been kept alive to feed the monster. The wise woman had been trying to lull her into a false sense of security, get her calm and pliable, so that when the vampire came--panic blinded her, locking her in her own body as her mind tried to come up with some last-minute escape plan. That moment of paralysis saved her from making a fool of herself.
Oh. Something hideously embarrassing was happening. Emer wasn't planning to sacrifice Hester; instead she was performing a kind of blood rite, to satiate the corpse-walker. Presumably she was in the small monster's thrall, then. That was all right, so long as it wasn't Hester's neck on the line, proverbially or otherwise. Her breathing slowed, a touch, though her heart was still going a mile a minute.
“The only thing that ever stopped me being exactly who I wanted,” she said, “was the worry that I would soon be dead … and now I am dead, and I am sick of roses, and I am horny for revenge.” -Harrow the Ninth, by Tamsyn Muir
"Alright." Her voice was slurred by the chewed root, bitter in her mouth.
In presenting the wound, Emer hesitated - and who wouldn't, in her place? Trepidation was only natural here, only fair in the face of what some called a monstrous act. But it was not monstrous. It was an affliction. A disease. It was not well, to be the one called monster - but instead, suffering.
She held out her arm for Nessa, eyes closing, hand flexing open and closed.
"Drink. I will tell you when to stop."
Yesterday, upon the stair, I met a man who wasn't there! He wasn't there again today, Oh how I wish he'd go away!
”Yes, of course.” Nessa said, her skin prickling along the back of her neck. This felt far too awkward, but it wasn’t like there was a way to make it not that. She reached out and gently wrapped a hand around Emer’s arm and she carefully leaned in. Goddess there was someone else in this room, they were asleep but— her breath escaped her lips in a warm huff. Just enough to wet her throat, and push away the hunger for a spell. Nessa’s tongue caught a drop of blood and she pressed her lips to the wound. She shivered, careful to keep her teeth away as she tasted the tang of iron.
//... into the dark she stepped, but never did she feel free of the gaze...//
Emer reclined back in her chair, eyes opening slightly, her other hand gripping at the edge of her desk. She sat in silence for a few moments, and then spoke.
"Has Lucien pressed you again?" Her gaze met the girl's.
Nessa swallowed again, warm and smooth lifeblood prickling against her senses. She squeezed her eyes closed,blinking away a different sort of prickle that watered the edge of her vision and made the room wobble. She did not suck greedily, but she did pull a little harder with a thick gulp. She paused a moment to catch her breath, her tongue sliding across a smear of blood on the corner of her lips.
“We have not spoken about it again, but we’ve kept to different schedules since the Teller.” Nessa said, she felt a lump in her throat that wasn’t blood, and didn't leave when she cleared it. “He did give me a botte from his stash.” She added, because it seemed rude to leave out, as her lips drew near the cut again.
//... into the dark she stepped, but never did she feel free of the gaze...//
Emer nodded slowly. She didn't ask if she'd drunk it - she didn't ask where it was from. Both questions might cause more pain than help.
"If you need me to approach him, I will. I have seen how he looks at you, Nessa."
She frowned, looking away from the crimson creeping down her arm to the crimson creeping across the horizon.
"As much as he might say, you are not him. He is weak. He has given in to his darker nature, dissolved in passions he cares not to control. The fool parts easy with his values, the wise man grasps them firmly to his last hard breath."
Yesterday, upon the stair, I met a man who wasn't there! He wasn't there again today, Oh how I wish he'd go away!
She hovered close to the wound, her eyes closed. The temptation gripped her heart high and tight, but she held back, just another moment as she listened to Emer. She didn’t agree with Lucien really, that the only options were to feed or fall to pieces, but he was correct that her restraint was lacking, she just wasn’t certain what to do about that other than try something different than she had been.
“I don’t think so, right now anyway. But, if he pushes again I’ll tell you.” Nessa said, cracking an eye open to look at Emer. ”I… I was hungry often when I was young but I could steal for it. The Goddess doesn’t mind that, little apples or bread, there’s no sin in taking what you need from those who have. Blood is, you can’t just take that.” Nessa blinked her eye closed again as she pressed her lips to the wound, drawing again.
//... into the dark she stepped, but never did she feel free of the gaze...//
Need was need, that much she could agree with. You did whatever you must to provide for your kin, and while the costs certainly mattered - well, it was all a matter of perspective, wasn't it? Of understanding.
She didn't say this much out loud. Instead, she sat in silence for a few more seconds, then raised a palm.
"I think we should stop, for now."
She withdrew her arm, pulling some bandaging from a nearby cupboard, and began to wipe down the cut.
"I should say. As long as we are on this ship together, you do not need to take. We will do what we can for you to meet your needs. That is moral for you, yes? A gift freely given?"
Yesterday, upon the stair, I met a man who wasn't there! He wasn't there again today, Oh how I wish he'd go away!
“Right” Nessa leaned back, with a long exhalation. It was warm still, the taste on her lips, and that hole that seemed to always exist in her stomach. Just for a moment to not be hungry, to have someone be willing to… Nessa shivered.
“Yes that’s—“ Nessa’s voice cracked and she buried her face in her hands. Fingernails bit skin as she clenched her jaw, pink teeth glistened through thinly stretched lips. She drew a quick, shaky, breath as she tried to keep tears behind burning eyelids. “—fine. Gifts are fine..” She forced through her lips.
//... into the dark she stepped, but never did she feel free of the gaze...//
"Come now, dear. Come now," Emer murmured as Nessa began to cry. Her arm now bandaged, she pulled the girl into a full embrace, one hand resting the back of her head while the other patted between her shoulders. She let her cry, for a bit - tears were healthy. Nothing healed the heart better than a sob, she'd found, yet - people always seemed afraid of showing that side to others. They hid their pain, held back their tears, until they finally broke down while alone with no warm hand to comfort them.
"Cry. It's good to cry." Emer pulled back a bit, brushing the girl's hair out of her face, breaking a salty trail on her cheek with a thumb. "This is a safe place, Nessa. You can let your feelings show."
Yesterday, upon the stair, I met a man who wasn't there! He wasn't there again today, Oh how I wish he'd go away!
It was wrong that she was overhearing this. The wise-woman and the corpse-walker were having some sort of... Moment, and she didn't know what she was doing, just lying here and listening--except it was too late for her to reveal that she was awake, now. And anyway, she couldn't have said anything if she wanted to. She could barely breathe, her throat was so tight. and there was something trapped in her chest, like a ball of ice. She hated this. Hated it. It was all she could do to keep her breathing quiet and regular.
She'd been wrong about the vampire, and more right about the wise woman than she could have guessed. She was a kind of quiet monster. How can you be like this aboard a ship that does the kinds of things I saw at Fen Manor? Easy answer. Compartmentalization. Denial. 'I have my people, I can pretend nothing else is real, I can pretend they're not doing anything I need to hate them for, I have pulled a blanket over this hole.' Monster, monster, monster. She held the thought in her mind, like a talisman, and waited for it to change how she felt about the conversation she was overhearing
It didn't, obviously. She hadn't really expected it to. She was trapped, here, in this moment, forever.
“The only thing that ever stopped me being exactly who I wanted,” she said, “was the worry that I would soon be dead … and now I am dead, and I am sick of roses, and I am horny for revenge.” -Harrow the Ninth, by Tamsyn Muir