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LAURALAE

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[nishtha]

That's it.

[ Armand sighs encouragement as Lauralae fastens to his hand like a fledgling getting her first meal, licking and sucking, a cold pain starting down his wrist and the inside of his arm as his blood is drawn away. He notes the ecstasy in her expression, which is good -- he'd been a little concerned that his dark gift might not be compatible with hers. He watches with a faint pleasure the way she shivers and swallows.

But all good things have to come to an end. Gently, he pulls his hand away. ]

Not too much. A small amount should be enough. Too much may bring on madness. [ Certainly it does in normal mortals. Hallucinations and addiction, even in the tiniest drop. He's hoping Lauralae will be able to cope with it. ]

It should heal you, if you are hurt inside. At the very least, I hope it will bolster your own gifts and give you a little power back.

[rakta]

[ 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. ]