Fit

[Jenica Sabiny]

"Only pain. Only if it's bad."

His relative amazement at the healing as it occurred brought forth memories of when she'd first taken to hurting herself for the sole purpose of watching it heal. She hadn't always been amused by how the body furiously worked to catch up to the damage she layered upon it day after day; she hadn't thought to even try initially. But time had passed with nothing to fill the days, and one day she'd decided to satisfy her curiosity. It was a never-ending spiral of self-mutilation culminating in her own need to see what it would take to finally make the body stop healing.

So far, all of her efforts had failed, and she was left with the nagging suspicion that her body could not stop healing. Though there was one scar she'd acquired which stubbornly refused to heal. As the male laid her hand back down, she used her other to lift the front of the shirt and inspect her abdomen. The jagged lines still showed clearly against the pale skin there; her sire's handiwork was apparently enough to cease at least a portion of the body's healing abilities.

She lifted the hand he'd taken before, eying the slim circle which indicated once upon a time a hand had not been present. It was the only sign of what her sire had done to her hand, but it was a permanent reminder, just as the lances across her stomach.

She looked at him when reclined against the floor, sensing his arousal as it began to peak. She couldn't help a reflexive glance over his figure, taking in what details she could beyond the armour. She couldn't tell if there was a body worth playing with underneath, but this was irrelevant in the face of how his thoughts were priming him.

She decided to help the body along its merry way, shifting both hands to the bottom of her shirt and pulling it free of her torso. She dropped the shirt next to her thigh, at least making the choice to drop it on the side away from the fireplace to preserve it from soot. Her burned hand hurt with the movement, but she ignored this in favour of watching for his reaction. It was too tempting to see what he would do, and she was willing to take the game as far as he liked.

She grinned, eyelids drooping low to shutter the slight red tint which gathered at her personal notions of a game.

[Nichatus]

Nichuatus' level of arousal went up a bit as Jenica pulled her blouse up a bit to reveal her mid-section. The scars were bad, yes, but they did not detract from the overall...shapeliness of the body, the smooth feminine curves still intact in undeath. He propped up on his elbows and was about to make another attempt at tearing his attention away from her when she removed the shirt.

He stared at her half-lidded eyes, fighting the urge to look down at her body. A battle he won in the end. The battlemage sat up and leaned close to Jenica, nearly placing his forehead against hers. His chest rose and fell more rapidly than normal as he raised a hand and placed the tips of his two fore-fingers at the base of her neck. Slowly he rand them down the crevice between her breasts, down to her scared abdomen, and then ran them along the line of a particularly nasty looking scar. "Why must you be so cruel, Lover?"

He quickly pulled back from her and stood up, giving her one last lingering look before he turned and moved out of the room, back towards the stairs that led to his room. Jenica's presence would not allow for the rest he needed. No, he would likely do far worse things to his health than not resting properly if he stayed near that creature right now.

[Jenica Sabiny]

Her nostrils flared as he leaned in, tilting her head up to keep her eyes locked on his. He was struggling to keep their gazes locked, and his struggle was enough to amuse her. She granted him mercy by keeping her eyes on his.

The fingers lowered along her chest, in between her breasts and settled against the scars which covered her stomach. He traced the largest and she tensed in reflex; she could only just feel the touch of his fingers, the pressure indenting her skin as he moved his touch along her flesh. The last fingers which touched her stomach had been reconstructing the damage they had wrought in the first place. Now, the fingers were a gentle caress - and there was a moment's surprise as she realized he wasn't going to play.

His voice was husky with his desire as he accused her of cruelty, and she leaned forward to swipe her tongue against his lips...

He stood and moved away. She listened to his steps as they moved out and away, up through the house until she could no longer hear his movements. She inhaled deeply, expanding her chest and exhaling in a long sigh, pushing his scent from her lungs. Her eyes moved to her charge where he slept. The fire near her side had crumbled into lukewarm dust; there was no game left save following the mage, and he would eventually start to fight back.

She took up the shirt to slide it back on, enjoying the barest hints of fabric she could feel as it settled against her skin. And then she set one elbow against a knee, tilting her hand up so that she could rest her chin against the palm.

Silent and still, she closed her eyes and waited. The shadows were lengthening as the sun set miles and miles away, and their whispers were enough to keep her company until the sun was low enough for her to leave. Pont's quiet snoring was the only sign of life within the room.

[Nichatus]

Nichatus eased into the room he had slept in and laid on the bed, hands clasped atop his chest. He halfway expected the vampire to give chase, and part of him wouldn't have minded if she had. The part of him that could still feel the touch of her tongue along his lower lip. His eyes were glued to the ceiling above and he meditatively tried to force the vision of her from his mind. It wasn't working. Not in the least.

One hand moved slowly down his chest, following the curves of the armor tightly. It ventured slowly, purposefully past his waist, knowing exactly where it was to go without him having to guide by sight. The end of the trip came as his fingertips nudge against the hard object. He gripped it between his fingers and slowly removed the small medical knife he had taken from the hospital years ago from his jacket's pocket. The lustful images still remaining unbanished from his mind.

He pushed his hand beneath his shirt and touched the cool metal against the lower curve of his ribcage where it curled around his side. The blade was dull, but that suited his purposes for it. His teeth clinched and a white hot light flashed behind his eyes. Just a little longer and Jenica's spell over him faded. It was not penance enough for his straying mind, but it would do until he could perform the proper rituals.

The knife returned to the pocket and he focused on other things to keep his mind away from the creature downstairs. He recited the names and visualized the proper drawing of each rune that made up the sigil upon his gloves, recounted the names and properties of the alchemical elements he had studied, and he even recited the words to a the few Elven ritual songs that he had been able to find record of. Whatever it took to hold his focus on something more productive he did. So he sat, his physical energies recharging, until the sun's light no longer peeked through the window and landed on his closed eyelids.

The battlemage, clad in his red clothing and armor, reappeared with an unaffected look upon his face. He found Jenica, still sitting in the room by the fire. "Time to go, Dear?" He wasn't completely sure if it was dark enough for her to go out yet, but he assumed she could tolerate the little bit of light left outside. If not, then he would return to the room and hide himself away again until she was ready.

[Jenica Sabiny]

She'd managed to fall into a light doze within the hours left until dusk. The shadows, sensing the steady sink of her thoughts and physicality, brought their din to a whispering brook of voices that she could ignore. Normally this would have done nothing, but the house was silent; the pretty female stayed in her rooms and did not seem to move. The corpses rotted where they sat. And her charge remained asleep, his quiet breathing soothing her with its mortal lullaby.

Her thoughts drifted and she slept, chin propped against palm and elbow propped against knee. Nothing roused her until the mage returned a few hours later, his voice just loud enough to begin to break through.

She always took several minutes to rise from the murk of sleep. She could not snap away as others could; even as a human, it had taken her nearly a full hour to shake off the grogginess. As a vampire, this habit was no different. Several minutes passed before she opened her eyes to look at him, still groggy and sluggish.

She slapped the burned hand against the ground to push herself up, using the pain to snap herself to relative awareness. She stood and stretched herself out with a soft grunt, then tilted her head in either direction, mimicking the motions needed to crack one's neck. Nothing happened, but it was an old, instinctual habit which she had regained in the past several hours - the human need to warm up muscles which were forever cold and dead within the corpse.

She sniffed the air and found herself snapped to full attention, focus centered on the battlemage. She sniffed harder, stepping forward until she was within range. As a dog scenting a treat, she laid one hand against his chest armour, sniffing gently at the air around him. Then she leaned back, pulling her hand away as she looked up at him with a creased brow. It wasn't quite worry which regarded him with dark eyes; she was beyond feeling concern for this male. But she was confused. She could smell blood which hadn't been there before. If there'd been a fight with someone in the house, she hadn't heard it. And if there was a threat inside, she needed to know.

She stared up at him in silence, waiting for an explanation which she assumed he knew to give.

[Nichatus]

He watched the slow progress of Jenica rousing herself. She had just sat there for a long moment, seemingly still dozing, until he had posed the question again. He was unsure if it was his voice ringing out again or if she had just finally come alive enough to move, but she moved her eyes to him. Groggy-eyed and in the fire's waning light she appeared beautiful. The earlier urges did not return thankfully, just the simple acknowledgment of pleasing factors in her appearance.

She rose and stretched out her wiry muscles, appearing again far more human than she actually was. Like a human cloaked in the airs of deadly prowess. Yes, she appeared human, but she held all the presence of the beautiful and dangerous jungle cats that hunted parts of the world. Inspired just as much caution too.

His plain, uncaring expression turned to one of curious confusion as she began to scent the air. The big cat euphemism returned to him. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as she approached him, laying a hand over his chest and smelling at him like a jealous wife trying to catch the signs of another woman. Then she leaned back and gave him an odd look. It wasn't worry or anger or hunger or any other look he had seen cross her face. It was more like a look a look of confusion and question, but not quite. Nichatus stared back at her, his own confusion evident on his face.

"What is it woman?" He finally asked. "Why do you look at me like that? I have done nothing." He felt a small twinge of panic, thinking he had actually done something he hadn't noticed that might cost him his life at this creature's claws and fangs.

[Jenica Sabiny]

"Blood."

She tapped his chest with one index finger three times, the gentle red starting to swell within her irises. There was blood present, but it was old and dried out. And too small of an amount to be an attack of some kind. Unless the opponent had managed just one knick before the mage ended his life.

The red died and her pupils expanded as she took in his figure, stepping back enough to begin a slow circle. She was looking for actual signs of a struggle, some indication that this male had been in a brawl. She knew the blood was his; it had his scent to it, and she'd smelled and tasted his blood before, in the building with movable walls. But his armour was untouched, his gloves clean. Neither lungs nor heart indicated any kind of physical duress; both moved in their calm natural patterns without stress on the muscles. If there'd been a fight, it had been the cleanest fight she'd ever seen the outcome of.

Why must you be so cruel...

The pupils expanded farther as she tuned into the shadows lying against his body, searching out the information they might have. Smooth skin, muscular contours - and there. A break and small rise in a skin. A small scab. She tilted pitch black eyes to the side, still sensing from deep within. The voice which emerged was monotone and rougher than usual, almost as though whatever speaking was unused to voicing itself.

"You hurt yourself."

One hand rested against the chest armour, just above where the cut sat.

"Here. Why?"

The eyes raised to his with a tilted head. The creature regarding him stood at ease and yet tense, every muscle on the verge of flexing into action. She gave the impression of implied actions being withheld, and the shadows within the room sat heavier, quivering in anticipation of the upcoming night.

[Nichatus]

"Blood."

"I don't know what you mean," he replied, denying the fact that there was blood on his body. He knew that if her will was strong enough she could find where the scent came from, even if she had to tear his armor and clothing off to get to it. He also knew that he had no desire to be part of her game again just yet, and would make it as hard as possible for her to start up another round.

The battlemage stood silently as she circled him, making her inspections. He was painfully reminded of the time he had met Belatucadrus and been left at his mercy, but he quickly shoved those memories back into their hiding places and re-affixed the mental locks upon them. His heart hadn't hastened, nor had his breathing, so Jenica continued her inspection unimpeded.

Then Jenica stopped in front of him again and began to look a bit distant. She moved close to him and told him what he already knew, but the voice she used...it didn't seem like her own. It was eerily disturbing, making his hackles rise.

"Here. Why?" She looked at him with her head tilted to the side, appearing very much like a dog that had just heard its master make a strange sound.

"I.." He didn't want to tell her why he did this. He didn't want to admit that he had been too weak to control his own mind, but he assumed that she would not hold it against him as the people he was used to being around would have, so he gave in. "To focus. Sometime my thoughts...they just get too loud and move to fast. I can't think properly or rein everything back in, so....I do things to force my mind back into a cohesive direction." His eyes never left the dark spheres of the creature before him. Not during the admission and not after he had finished and waited on some snide comment about him being weak or a fool.

[Jenica Sabiny]

She blinked, and the black abruptly died away to her natural dark color. She perked up at his confession, interest piqued and sharpened into total focus as she met his eyes. She understood his rationale down to the core, and found herself lost for knowing. She was unused to others relating to any portion of herself, and this awareness baffled her.

She raised the hand she'd burned, watching herself flex the fingers until the skin stretched to its maximum allowance. The gesture would have been agony earlier, when the wound was fresh; now it was a series of small bites and twinges of assorted hurts scattered across the newly-healed skin. Some smaller areas had yet to heal, but her tolerance for pain made this irrelevant.

She looked at him again and smiled. A real smile, without sarcasm or judgment or even the predatory snarl she favoured. They had a sort of link between them due to similar logical damage; she could recognize how her own methods inevitably did not help. They were a temporary fix, a sort of personal reset button she could press at will. But there was no other solution that she'd come across. It was unnecessary to research other options available to her when in the end, she did not care.

She turned and moved away from him to the male sleeping at the table, crouching at his side. She ran her eyes along his frame and huffed, considering her options. She could try to take him with them, or she could leave him here. She'd made the pretty doll as a warning if needed - the pretty female needed to understand that she would die if the vampire decided that she needed to die. But if they left him, he would still be in danger. The pretty female didn't need a reason to act a fool.

And yet, she wasn't sure they could take him. His body had been forced to an extreme which the weaker human form may not be able to sustain. She looked at the mage, as the sole standing representative of mortal ability in the room, and waved a hand at her charge.

"Can he come?"

It was not a request of permission. She did not know if this male was capable of accompanying them, and was asking the other mortal present if he was physically capable of moving.

[Nichatus]

Cold, steel-blue eyes remained locked on the other dark, nearly black pair. She gave him another look he hadn't seen fall across, and hadn't ever expected to get from her. It was understanding. It wasn't a normal kind of understanding, it went beyond recognition of the by-the-book meaning of the words he spoke. She actually understood the motives behind the actions he was describing to her. He thought she may even identify with them as he looked down at the mostly healed hand she was studying.

Nichatus's eyes roamed back up to Jenica's face and he saw something there that would have killed him from shock if he hadn't already seen things most people thought impossible. She had smiled. Not a sneer, snarl, or grin, a smile. If the man had had anymore of a heart than he did it might have broken. The beast showing its softer side. He gave a short huff of bewilderment, and turned to watch the woman move to the side of her sleeping charge.

"Can he come?

The question received a raised eyebrow. If the mongrel tagging along was all it would take to keep the vampire happy, and her fangs out of his flesh, he would be more than happy to have the third wheel. As for him being physically capable....he knew as much of that as the church mouse does the meaning of the sermons.

"Rouse him and let us see if he can stand on his own. If he can he may come, if that is what you wish, but if he can't he will have to stay. If his energy fails out in the streets you will have to carry him yourself or leave him to his own devices, however."

[Jenica Sabiny]

In other circumstances, with someone else, the man may have been roused gently to see if he was able. Even the vampire felt the compulsion to be kind to him, though it would be an inconvenience to respect his more delicate body. It was a terrible nuisance, how easily these mortals broke.

She made a silent compromise and jammed one finger into his ribcage, making the man yelp and startle into full wakefulness in one motion. His eyes were bloodshot with exhaustion, rolling wildly around his sockets as he took in the scenery he was not used to and could not identify.

He was panting from a combination of terror and confusion, and fixed her with a milky stare. His eyes were better than they'd been before; heart and lungs were working better enough that she could sense the difference. But there was no way to tell unless he tried to move.

She stood, bringing his panicked focus exclusively on her as she did. She tilted her head and sniffed in his direction, then took one step away and spoke in a harsh tone.

"Can you walk?"

The man blinked, looking from her to the battlemage as his thoughts settled. Several minutes passed in silence from both vampire and human as he considered his response. His voice emerged somewhat less husky than before, though it still grated with dehydration.

"I'm not sure."

The vampire snorted in annoyance and issued another quiet command.

"Try."

Pont flickered his eyes between both of the threats standing over him, deciding it was for the best to at least try and assuage the vampire's curiosity. He placed one hand against the table, the other against the back of his chair, and pushed himself to standing. He'd only been in the basement for just over two days, but it was muggy below and the humidity had dried him out faster than would have normally happened.

But he could at least stand, and stand he did. He couldn't help a moment's beaming pride at his achievement, but taking a step was something he feared to attempt. His balance was shaky and unsure; he would need additional motive to try anything else.

"Why do I need to walk?"

He turned lost eyes to both of them, waiting to understand why the vampire was so urgent of a sudden.

[Nichatus]

Silence reigned as a moment went by with Jenica regarding her sleeping pet. Nichatus was almost ready to ask her if she was just going to stare at him when she jabbed him in the ribs. It wasn't a cruel or overly hard poke, but just enough to jar the man into wakefulness. The two men's eyes met for a moment. The battlemage showed no hostility towards Pont, but he still showed some sense of fearing him. Nic didn't mind being feared, even found it preferable to many things, but in someone that he was having to accept as a companion that emotion could prove detrimental given the right situation.

He continued to watch the woman and her pet quietly from the sidelines. His mind couldn't help but marvel at the strangeness of her taking this man under her wing. Part of him couldn't help but wonder if she was simply keeping him as a convenient meal or if she actually cared about the man's well being, and if it was the latter....Had she always been that way or was it a more recent development. The man didn't actually believe himself capable of having that kind of effect on a person's personality, but he did command a certain amount of power over the mind...

Nic snorted at the man's question. "Because the woman wants you with us. Do you really want to let her down without at least making an attempt?"

[Jenica Sabiny]

The vampire spoke after the mage, her own voice as harsh and grating as before. The drop of enchanted blood had worn off, and her own throat's normal irritation was beginning to return. She would have sighed if she weren't preoccupied.

"We're leaving. Can you come?"

The man's eyes bulged with a sudden rush of blatant fear. He shook his head hard enough that he lost balance and fell back into the chair, lips parted as he approached panic.

"No, not here, don't leave me here, she'll lock me away, anywhere but here, she'll..."

"Shut up."

Jenica stepped forth and gripped the edge of his chair, leaning in with a vicious snarl. Pont leaned back and winced, expecting her to hurt him. And she wanted to; she wanted to thrust her fist into his cheek hard enough to crack the jaw.

But she calmed herself and leaned away, taking a deep breath and centering the air in her lungs for several long seconds before beginning a slow exhale.

"You need to walk to come. Won't carry you."

She leaned away to let the man try, looking at the mage once more with a tired gaze. She glanced up at the ceiling, approximately where Ryxa's bedroom would lie, and then back to him.

"Pretty doesn't want to play. Leave?"

[Nichatus]

Nichatus, still silent, still hovering like some bird of prey in the background, watched the continued interaction of the two. For a moment he thought that Jenica would kill the man, and the thought received a slight smile. Seeing her take out her violent urges, on someone other than him, through eyes not leaden with fatigue oddly seemed to have some prospect as an enjoyable thing.

Her anger subsided, however, and she spoke to the man in a weary sounding voice. She then turned to the battlemage, looked up as if something were on the ceiling, and then spoke to him in the same voice she had used with Pont.

"Pretty doesn't want to play. Leave?"

Nichatus thought about it for a moment before nodding. "Yes, if she doesn't see fit to climb her sorry ass out of bed, then we shall just have to go forward without her. All the better I say, she would only cause more trouble." He tugged at his jacket to set it more comfortably on his shoulders and took a few steps in the direction of the home's main entrance. "Shell we, Jenica? Pont?"

[Jenica Sabiny]

Continued here: http://www.tharshaddin.com/rp/viewtopic ... 538#p18538