Jagged Edges (Zelda/PM/Invite)

[Zelda (DELETED 4403)]

Zelda is twitchy, too. She’s not sure whether it’s the acoustics of the place, or whether it’s some newfangled sense of hearing that she seems to have acquired, but the voices in the next room are booming. It doesn’t matter that Micah takes his time responding, because Zelda, too, is distracted by the conversation that seems to have broken out in the next room. She can hear every word. Do they realise that she can hear every word? The fact that Nyla can’t figure out how to make it no big deal, can’t figure out how to make it not suck, has Zelda assuming that it’s going to suck anyway. Better to get it over and done with—move on, accept it, assuming that it’s something that cannot be changed. She feels as if she is dead inside. Truly, she feels as if she is a corpse. A corpse that can function like a normal human being—but that lack of a heartbeat has her flinching, inwardly. Yeah… it doesn’t seem likely that you can bring a person back to life. Not when they’re this far dead.

Whoever the stranger is, though, she speaks soothingly to Nyla. And though the words aren’t directed at Zelda, they succeed in calming her down, too. She doesn’t know any of these people from boo, but they seem to be helping her—or are in the process of starting. What’s done is done. She could freak out. She could yell and scream and screech and tear her hair from their follicles, but what good would that do, really? She may dress like a damsel in distress. She may enjoy her perfect hair, and her perfect nails, and her fashion trends, but under no circumstance, ever, will she act like the damsel she appears to be.

Her attention snaps back to the only male in the trailer; Micah’s voice is like a thrumming bass line, reverberating through her head. Soothing, too, in its own way. He apologises for scaring her, and it’s at those fateful words that Zelda’s jaw sets, her mouth pressing into a straight line. Sure, she’s terrified. But she doesn’t want to show it. She never stooped so low as to beg for her life the night before—she’s not going to make a disgrace of herself now.

Starving. Yeah, she’s something. She’s not sure if it’s starving, but her body craves something more. Something nourishing. Hell, anything to make all the aches and pains go away—at this point, she doesn’t quite care what she has to do. Micah suggests that they leave the room. Zelda’s looking forward to leaving the trailer completely—to getting some fresh air. But baby steps are required. Shakily, she pushes herself away from the temporary bedding. Her head spins as she reaches her full height; she takes a steadying breath, and holds her shoulders straight—a show of strength.

”I’m not scared,” she said to Micah, tone clipped. She then walked from the room—someone must have removed her skates. She’s not as graceful as she might want to be, but she manages to walk without slipping, without tripping over thin air. Curious, like a cat in a new place, Zelda glances around the trailer. The cage is still there. There’s an acrid smell—something acidic, covered up with something imitating sweetness. She’s afraid that she might have stumbled onto her death scene, and even now she veers away from that cage as if it might swallow her whole. She keeps it out of her vision as she makes her way to the small kitchenette.

”Let’s just get it over and done with,” she says, outright to Nyla. She glances sideways at the stranger, and licks her lips. ”It’s not a big deal if I don’t make it a big deal,” she says. Sure. Zelda has the tendency to overreact to things, a lot of the time. But she’ll make an effort for it to be different—at least for tonight. Maybe.

[Nyla]

Her reply to Lia was cut off by the sounds of footsteps coming from the bathroom. She gave Lia small smile before taking in a breath, straightening herself up as she did and turning to face where her Pixie was. She’d hoped to have time to figure it out, but she was sure she could think of something. The girl’s words were not what she expected from her Pixie and she found herself unable to move for a moment as she processed it.

Nyla was partly annoyed that her attempts to make this easier were being cut off, but mostly there was a zap of pride that shot up Nyla’s spine at the words. Pixie was hers, after all. The same feeling had shot through her when the girl had taken off, trying to escape instead of just sitting there or begging for her life. Pixie had that spark; the fight she would need to survive in this world.

The pride didn’t stop her from going easy on her now, however. Nyla’s darkened eyes locked on Pixie’s for a moment before she calmly went to the cupboard with the glasses and plucked out one of the clear ones. She set the blood pack inside of the glass for now as she reached into the cupboard again to grab one of the bendy straws. Her straws weren’t quite clear – the one she’d picked out was white with a pink stripe going down either side of it – but the red of the blood would show through easy enough.

Grabbing the blood pack filled glass and the straw Nyla carried them over to the table and set them down. Her gaze lifted back up to her Pixie’s as she pulled the blood pack out of the glass and proceeded to use her still elongated fangs to tear a nice hole through the plastic before turning it over the glass. The crimson liquid filled the glass, slowly as Nyla made sure not to pour to quick, wanting the effect to be as potent as possible. Once the pack was emptied, she tossed the emptied plastic container onto the table and oh so carefully placed the bendy straw into the glass. The whole time she kept her eyes locked on her new childe.

Her slim fingers curled around the glass so she could hold it out to her Pixie, the smell of blood making her nose twitch slightly. “You’re right. If you don’t think it’s a big deal it won’t be. Enjoy!” She realized that the display wasn’t exactly called for, but if the girl wanted to play it tough Nyla could play along, for a while at least. There were still moments when she felt the pangs of her thirst and found herself sitting on a park bench watching people pass, unable to bring herself to take their precious blood from them. It was what they had to do to survive, but that didn’t mean it was always easy.