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Esmeralda nodded calmly. She didn't want to say it, but she knew this already. Or at least, she had assumed that was the way it was done. Vampire fiction was not hard to come by and that was always the most common way it was performed. There were others ways, simply being bitten, or curses, or just being drained of blood. She knew it wouldn't be a pleasant situation for her. But she saw it all as a means to an end - her end. And at the same time, her beginning. She thirsted for this - felt like she needed it. She had seen, in her young head, what it could be like, and wanted to at least try.

She sat down with him, her back straight and her shoulders pulled back. Her hands lay in her lap. It struck her that she did not care if she died. Esmeralda was by no means suicidal, and didn't want out of this world, but was not particularly worried about death itself. If this process went well, and Cosimo was successful, it would be fantastic. But she felt no reason to pressure him, because why would it matter if she died? She smiled simply at him. "I understand. I don't know if you are worried, but.. Don't be. I think I trust you." She looked him in the eye. She thought she'd try her hand at humour, too. "Besides, if I die.. At least you'll be full."

She almost cringed. It was a weak joke in a situation that did not call for it. At least it might make him realise that she did not mind.. And it was a hell of a way to go. If there's anything after death, like a heaven, she'd certainly have a bit of a story to tell. Esmeralda decided this was a good final night. She lifted her head in confidence, her heart beat calm, and she knew she was ready. For whatever it was.

Her breath hitched loudly, and she instinctively reached out and grabbed Cosimo's shirt with her slender hand. The initial pain made her squeeze her eyes shut, and it feeling her blood leave her body through the wounds was deeply unpleasant at first. Her hand loosened on his shirt as she gradually got more adjusted to the feeling, but remained there for a sort of comfort. She didn't even consider that it might make him uncomfortable.

As more and more of her blood was drained from her, a headache grew that felt like her brain was peeling from her skull, shrinking away from what was happening. She started to feel numb at the edges, and extremely tired. But not tired in a pleasant, drowsy way. Tired in a sick, pass-out kind of way. Esmeralda focussed on staying awake - she could hear her heartbeat in her ears and started to count each drum. Whilst she paid attention to this, she barely noticed her body falling limp, relying on Cosimo for support as her limbs became heavy.

Counting got harder as her heartbeat became sporadic and irregular, and the harder she tried to keep her eyes closed, the more she felt like just letting herself fall into unconsciousness. She didn't want to make this harder for him, but as she let her eyes flicker open for just a moment, the darkness that plagued the corners of her vision convinced her to just let herself slip away. Just for a moment.. I'll rest, just for a moment.. She told herself. Even the voice in her head sounded drained.

She felt like she was being pulled in two directions. She felt exhausted, and every part of her felt like lead that was sinking further into a black, ink sea. She heard Cosimo's voice, and the words Five more minutes sprung to mind, as if she was simply resting, but this resting became more and more like dying. Esmeralda had experienced what it was like to drown, and she decided that this was very similar. She felt just as helpless as when she couldn't swim, just as weighed down, and she knew that clawing through the blackness wouldn't do anything to bring her to a surface. She suddenly thought, that whereas breathing when underwater was a dangerous idea, doing it in this instance was not.

She forced herself to take in a deep breath, and almost expected to choke and splutter. She opened her eyes, which was struggle enough, to see the Italian above her, offering his bleeding wrist. She felt it press to her lips, which had become a pale bluish shade, and tentatively moved her tongue to taste the dark red drops that fell easily from the wound. She had tasted her own blood before, like every one had, but this was different. She tilted her head to taste more, and soon it became less like it was dripping, and more like it was flowing.

She hadn't realised that she was actively, hungrily, sucking on the wound as her strength gradually returned to her. Her eyes struggled to remain open for any length of time, fluttering occasionally as she tried to see if everything was ok - between her thoughts of the blood, she worried in small tangents that she was doing something wrong, or that the man she had followed her was simply leading her on, or that what she was drinking was poison. None of those thoughts stayed for very long at all and she did her best not to entertain them. Even when not being able to think straight, she felt the curse of paranoia strike her like it so often did, tainting her perception of man she had met and believed to be incredibly honest.

Her lips even tried to leave his flesh as she almost convinced herself she was in trouble - before she refocused on her purpose there, more and more connecting together in her head where her thoughts had briefly been broken.

Before long, Esmeralda became entirely driven by the blood that she eagerly drank. She had become besotted with it, like it was the sweetest thing she'd ever tasted, like there was no point in needing or wanting anything else. For a moment, she forgot who she was, who he was, because all she could think of the hunger that only increased as her body changed. She felt more awake, more alert. Everything she was touching felt different - the ground, her dress, even the air. Cosimo's touch was encouraging, it told her that she was doing ok. Though, she doubted that even he knew what was exactly going to happen. She liked the idea of being his first Childe - it felt as though it would create a strong bond between them, starting from the change.

Esmeralda's hand gripped Cosimo's wrist, holding it as she drank from the wound. Unconsciously, her grip tightened and squeezed with more strength that she was originally capable of. She felt fuelled, awake, but not full. Even once her body and started to feel as though it had had enough of his blood, it still craved something else. It was a sated but present need that, she assumed, would never really go away. She wouldn't let it drive her - she didn't want it to be the only thing she thought of - but it was a replacement for the urge she had had to prove her knowledge of the creatures she was now part of.

Ever since she was very young she had needed something to strive for, else she would become quiet, and even remained mute for six months at age 11, feeling as though she needn't speak if there was no ultimate goal or reason for doing so. After all, what is function without purpose? In school she was supplied with targets that kept her going but none of that had weighed so heavily as her wanting for the 'blessing' Cosimo had awarded her with.

Despite the original feeling of being able to drink the metallic sweetness forever, Esmeralda began to feel that it was becoming too much. She wanted to carry on drinking, and did her best, before she worried she would reject it. She made herself release his arm, and took heavy unnecessary breaths. Even though the air that rushed in and out of her did nothing, the gasping soothed her. She let herself fall away from Cosimo and onto the floor of the Pagoda, struggling to comprehend the new way she felt everything around her.

When she spoke, she expected her voice to be raspy or laboured, like during an asthma attack or when heaving. Instead, it came out clearly, but with a drowsy undertone. "I... I guess.." That wasn't very like her. She usually spoke in a much more put-together way. She blinked hard, trying to see past the thoughts that littered her mind and vision. She couldn't stop her mind from reeling - the voices in her head, her voices, moved too quickly for her to catch onto. She didn't have the energy to try any harder.

She didn't feel right, and felt like she needed to rest. Things were too bright now, and it was odd to think that she felt like she should have a headache, but didn't, and it's absence unsettled her exhausted mind. Her hand moved to her chest, where she gripped her soft dress material as she checked for her pulse. Her nails scratched her a little as she moved so hurriedly to check for the soft beating - and when she couldn't feel it, or hear it pounding like before, her useless breathing stopped dead.

As much as she had wanted this - and still did - and as grateful she was to Cosimo, she had not anticipated how she would feel when her heart completely stopped. It was jarring and was made worse by the fact that she didn't physically feel shocked - her heart didn't leap into her throat with dread because it couldn't. It wouldn't move, it wouldn't beat. Esmeralda tried to sit up a little using her elbows, but then gave up, settling on just lifting her head to look at Cosimo with her eyes squinting like she was looking at a bright light. She stared at him for a moment, solidifying his image in her mind for a second time that night, this time through a different filter.

She used this moment of focus to calm herself down. She didn't want him to see that she was unsettled. She lacked the true edge of fear but her body was so silent without her heart beat that it drove her to the closest to being scared that she had ever been. Still, within this there was no regret. Worry, definitely. But she didn't think that she had done was wrong for her. Esmeralda had seen that she would flourish in this 'life', and she felt a bond with Cosimo that would be very helpful to survival. Though she felt a little lost and childlike, a part of her was secure with him. She slowly forced herself to resume the useless breathing.

She had figured out that she didn't need it. But it was comforting.