PotHN: A Gift [1x1]

"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.

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 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.

”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.

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.

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.

“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.