[ Lauralae does not think much more madness could fit inside her small head, but she listens all the same.
Armand is a man she trusts, for what little trust means to her, and the gift he offers her confuses, frustrates, agonises her, but also fills her with a deep longing that she had not been able to put to words before now. The need for flesh, for blood, to be consumed and consume; it had been so foreign to her, suddenly brought to light in a damning display, even as she leans back to gaze at him, seeing no disgust on his features.
It would be strange indeed, for a vampire to be disgusted at a girl longing for blood.
Her hands settle, resting over her stomach, and she nods her head, eyes remaining glued to his face, eerily unblinking. ]
You have my thanks, Armand.
[ Her voice is soft, hoarse, despite all he had given her. ]
I feel... Better. [ For what little better means. ]
no subject
Armand is a man she trusts, for what little trust means to her, and the gift he offers her confuses, frustrates, agonises her, but also fills her with a deep longing that she had not been able to put to words before now. The need for flesh, for blood, to be consumed and consume; it had been so foreign to her, suddenly brought to light in a damning display, even as she leans back to gaze at him, seeing no disgust on his features.
It would be strange indeed, for a vampire to be disgusted at a girl longing for blood.
Her hands settle, resting over her stomach, and she nods her head, eyes remaining glued to his face, eerily unblinking. ]
You have my thanks, Armand.
[ Her voice is soft, hoarse, despite all he had given her. ]
I feel... Better. [ For what little better means. ]