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<CASTALIA> She hadn’t had much to do after leaving The Cocoa Bean. Balance her checkbook, check on her businesses and see if Frank needed any help bartending, and pick up a few books. All of it had been done within an hour or two, and so, she retired back to her apartment early. Immaculate and smelling of freshly ground coffee, the comfortably furnitured two bedroom area had been made into a happy place she shared with occasionally with her thrall. Books lined the far wall, a collection of genre ranging from Philosophy and sociology to romance novels and science fiction novellas. It was a reflection of Castalia, to say the least, and after taking a quick shower, the woman changed into a simple pair of white thermal shorts that had bears on them and a black tank top, tossing a loose fitting gray sweatshirt she liked to wear on top.

Without the desire to leave the apartment again, nor being required to answer the door, her contacts were removed, followed by the little bit of makeup she wore, and her hair was let down. “Now where did I leave that book…” She murmured to herself, looking around as dawn slowly approached and she wandered out of the bathroom. As she pressed a button on her keurig for a cup of hot chocolate to be brewed, the allurist rubbed her left eye with the back of her palm before noticing the corner of her novella under Rhys’ newspaper. “Figures.” Just before retiring to the couch for the time being, Castalia collected both her coffee cup and her copy of Ayn Rand’s Anthem to read as she waited, losing herself and track of time to the pages.


<CEDRIC> There was no hanging around, as far as Cedric was concerned. He smelled like sewage, and needed to go home to have a long hot shower. He left Costello to look after the club, and spent the few hours before dawn to make the few phone calls that he could -- not only business phone calls, but others, too. Blair had come not because he was a vampire, but because of his past life. There were people to be dealt with, and, unable to do it himself, Cedric had to liaise with the appropriate parties. It was an arduous process, but he had to make sure the job was done, and done properly.

His past life wasn’t something that he talked about, not even with Castalia. It was something he would prefer to forget, like a closed chapter of a book. So the phonecalls were made from the comfort of his own home, with no one to overhear or question him -- though they would not be able to understand, regardless, unless they spoke Dutch.

It was half an hour before dawn when Cedric arrived at Castalia’s apartment. She’d given him a key, and he didn’t even bother to knock. He used said key to let himself inside. Himself, and only himself, no luggage bar his phone and his wallet, and keys which he left on the nearest surface inside the front door. He wandered further into the apartment and dropped onto the couch, sprawled like a man at home. His shoes, too, had been left by the front door, his clean socked feet crossed one ankle over the other.

“Hey,” he said, lifting a foot to nudge at the book in Castalia’s hand.


<CASTALIA> It didn’t matter what she was reading, Castalia had learned over the years. If it was something that she considered good, gone would her attention span be as she lost herself in literature. Dante’s Inferno, Anthem, even simple books such as The Outsiders or Catcher in the Rye. She supposed she got it from her father, who had always made it important for his daughter to read. It didn’t matter the genre, as she even would get distracted with news articles, or even magazine snippets. And it was in her reading that she let herself forget everything and anyone, so when her door opened, she glanced up expecting to see Rhys only to let a small smile cross her lips when she saw it was Cedric and she went back to her reading, wanting to finish the last of the chapter.

She listened to his movements halfway, adjusting so that she was sitting properly on the couch enough before sipping at her now cold cup. The woman grimaced, but set it back down. There was relief as she could smell the soap, faint as it was, on the man even before he was beside her. When his foot nudged her book, she tilted it so that he may see the cover. “Hello Cedric. I’m glad you’re clean.” She spoke, referring to his incident in the sewer earlier. After she finished her last paragraph, she reached for a bookmark she kept at the back and slid it into place before setting the book aside. Without another moment, she adjusted so that she would face him on the couch and tucked her ankles underneath herself.

“The rest of your evening faired well?”


<CEDRIC> Cedric nodded and grinned, though the grin was half teasing. “Only for you, m’am. My evening has faired well enough. No more adventures in the sewers,” he said. He had stayed well clear of the sewers, even on his way over to the apartment. His pace had been brisk and determined -- no melody would sway his course.

A wave of fatigue swelled in Cedric’s limbs, a yawn causing his mouth to stretch and his lungs to expand. Although he had dressed appropriately for a stroll through the city at dawn, amongst the party-goers stumbling home and the bakers stumbling to work, it was an outfit easily shed. Beneath his jeans he wore boxers, beneath his jacket a plain white t-shirt. Although Cedric was accustomed to sleeping naked, out of respect for his sire he had decided on actual clothing. It wasn’t clothing marketed as pyjamas, but it was all that he had.

“Yours? I see you’ve made yourself nice and comfortable,” he said, before suddenly leaning forward.

“Wait. Your eyes…” he said, narrowing his own. Heterochromia. He had heard of it. But he had not seen it in another living person. “...are different colours,” he said, stating the obvious.


<CASTALIA> Castalia gave a nod of her head, clearly approving of his words. She didn’t particularly like the idea of anything getting to Cedric… hunter, human, creature. Whether it was maternal instincts - which, she sure as hell hoped they weren’t - or sirely instincts, although she viewed him as her equal, she didn’t know. Her lips twitched slightly at the sound of his yawn. It had her chuckling, “Those are contagious, if you don’t be careful.”

The woman teased before she leaned back. Castalia took in his appearance, inclining her head partially as she hadn’t missed what he had brought, or lack therefore of hadn’t, brought with him. “I am always comfortable in my apartment.” She blinked at him. The sudden movement as he leaned forward had her stomach go cold, her nerves twisting. It was always why she wore the contacts.

“Yes…” She spoke, swallowing as she feared to be mocked. She had always hated her eyes, hated the way they looked. Kids were awful people. “I was born with complete Heterochromia iridis.” And just like that, she slipped off the couch and attempted to make a beeline for her bathroom where she had a clean thing of contacts waiting.


<CEDRIC> “You talk about it like it’s some kind of disease,” he said, even as she was slipping off the couch, running away like he’d poked at some sensitive spot, or like he was coming after her with a string of zombie guts ready to mash them into her hair. He even laughed as he slipped off the couch after her, quickly following her to the bathroom where it finally clicked what she was attempting to do.

“No, no,” he said, reaching out to throw his arm around Castalia’s shoulders so that he could physically lead/push/pull her back out into the living area.Only when they were standing beneath one of the bright ceiling lights did he stop and turn her to face him; he wanted to get a good look, even though he had a feeling that Castalia wanted anything but.

“Why in the world would you hide such a thing?” he asked, even as he admired the different colours, the flecks that differentiated one eye from the other. With enhanced vampiric sight, and highlighted by the light above, they were wondrous. Beautiful. Like universes, unto themselves. They were natural. He had known that Castalia wore contacts, but he never knew this was the reason why. It had never occurred to him to ask. But now here they were.

“This suits you far better…”


<CASTALIA> “It is.” She murmured, at least that was how she felt it was. She’d always felt her eyes were ugly, a flaw. When her children had been born, she’d silently prayed that they wouldn’t have the same that she did. Castalia heard him laugh and as she reached the door, she’d just gotten right inside before she let out a noise of surprise as she was caught.

“Yes, yes.” She protested. And although she protested, she didn’t fight him. After all, it was Cedric and she trusted him. A frown played across her lips as she folded her arms while she faced him. “Because they make me a freak.” At least, that’s what she’d heard as a child. “I was harassed about them until I began wearing contacts as a teenager…” She poked her toe against the wooden floor and then lifted her chin. She shifted her weight from left foot to right.

Her left eye teal blue, her right eye hazel. “I’ve never liked them.”


<CEDRIC> Cedric scoffed before he realised that Castalia was being serious. She thought she was a freak. This confident woman who took what she wanted without asking (or who sired grown men who thought they were getting lucky) hid something so unique because she was afraid. What was she afraid of? It added a whole new facet to this woman he called sire.

“Well you can’t wear contacts to bed. You’ll wake up with your eyes all sliced up, or glued shut,” he said. He had no idea how contacts worked nor what happened, exactly, when they were left in overnight. But he at least had the common sense to know that it wasn’t good.

“I think you should like them. I like them. They are unique in a sea of ordinary,” he said. “Why are you so eager to be ordinary?” he asked. Perhaps it was why Cedric kept mostly to himself. It was why he didn’t have many close acquaintances. It wasn’t circumstance, it was choice. People were so ordinary, so predictable and crass. There weren’t many whose company he wanted to keep.


<CASTALIA> Her parents had always told her to embrace her eyes, how different they were - after all, they were just one of the many reasons that Emilia and Sawyer had fallen in love with their adopted daughter. Nolan, too, had told her one too many times to relax, that he found them nice, but over the years, the woman who was too focused on her own vanity had just grown too comfortable hiding them. Avoiding the topic.

His words had her lips twitching in amusement. “That is not how they work, and once in a while does not hurt.” She had been wearing them long enough to know that, but with a small sigh, Castalia looked up at the man once again. The question, however, caught her off guard and her lips parted as she tried to think of a response. “Your companionship would have saved me many years of distress and obsession.” She muttered.

“It is not eagerness to be ordinary that has me hide them, it’s the fear of being rejected. I pride myself on beauty. It has only helped me more with feeding, working in bars.” Castalia wet her lips, considering her answer and then glanced at her bathroom where she knew a mirror would be. She’d had it fixed, even though she’d broken it time and time again. “And sometimes I may forget how I look isn’t how I am inside.” The brunette looked back up at him. “If I do not wear my contacts near you, will you let me wear them in public? You’re the only one who knows.”


<CEDRIC> Cedric could not understand. Although the man had a certain pride of his own, it was not one of physical appearance. He knew he did well enough, but often what he saw in others wasn’t their skin or their eyes or their hair or how it all worked together to create a pleasing picture -- though he would not deny that was how he picked his victims -- but instead what personality brought the whole to life. Without personality, skin was just skin and the body was merely a husk, a puppet on society’s strings. These puppets were easy to manipulate, easy to bed, easy to **** and drain dry. They would do better with personalities. The bright sparks were often left alone by Cedric -- perhaps it was some deep desire to leave the bright, brilliant ones alone, though sometimes he did relish the challenge, the taste of good conversation.

“You can do as you please, Castalia,” he said. It wasn’t as if he could tell her not to wear the contacts. It wasn’t as if he could wrestle her to the ground and force them from her eyes. Well, he could. But he wouldn’t. “I’m not your keeper, I do not have to let you do anything. Though I will continue to remind you of my opinion, which is that I think your beauty is enhanced by your natural eye colour, rather than hindered by it,” he said. Finally, he released his hold on his sire’s shoulders, letting her go, confident that she wouldn’t now run off to stick those gooey bits of plastic back into her eyes.

“Perhaps my companionship now will eventually convince you that sometimes imperfection is far more beautiful than perfection,” he said. He’d never been much of a minimalist. “It shows even when playing, you know? A piece of music is only made more beautiful by its miniscule mistakes. They show the passion, the emotion,” he said, even while he peeled his jacket from his shoulders and hung it neatly over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. The sun was almost ready to breach the horizon. He could feel it, in the way his body grew heavier with each passing second. And so, with each passing second he would make himself more comfortable.


<CASTALIA> For a moment, Castalia wondered what it have been like had she just fucked the man in front of her and killed him. It hadn’t been out of the question, as she had done it time and time again previously before she’d met him. In fact, she’d done it enough that she was sure that Frank had caught onto exactly what she’d been doing - not the man seemed to care, he was now her employee and seemed perfectly content working alongside her. Even as she stared up at him, her eyes glittered with her consideration and she didn’t particularly know what else to say - he’d left her speechless.

And so she remained silent for a few moments as he released her. “You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t remind me of your opinion as I do you.” She finally said, “As we’ve always been honest and while it may take me a while to accept your opinion of my eyes, I do appreciate it. It… helps.” It didn’t really fit the word she was looking for, but she couldn’t really think of a better way to describe how she felt. The woman moved away to collect her coffee mug, heading into the kitchen to dump out the untouched drink, rinse out the cup and set it aside for later. Rhys would return after sunrise, make his usual meals, and wash what remained in the sink.

Tucking a few strands of loose hair behind her ear, Castalia watched him and glanced towards the clock. Afterwards, she stepped forward and leaned up to set a kiss to the man’s cheek. “Perhaps eventually, but now we should get ready for bed.” She nodded towards the bedroom before she felt her lips twitch. She smiled a second later. “It’s actually a little funny, not trying to seduce you there this time. Yet I still look forward to it.”


<CEDRIC> Cedric had reached for his belt though didn’t get all the way to unbuckling it before Castalia was once more in front of him, pushing herself up onto her toes to kiss his cheek. His cheek. His large, pianist’s hand unwittingly gripped her waist, fingers tucked into the soft cloth of her nightshirt. Even if she had not mentioned it, he would have been reminded of the night he was sired. These same hands had done a lot of exploring, then, before her teeth had ripped into his throat and all sense of sexual conquest was shoved right out the window. He had to remind himself that now was not the time nor the place, either.

And though they were always honest with each other, and though his opinions and thoughts were generally openly shared with his sire, he did not think he should air his current turbulation. He didn’t have to remind Castalia. But, he did force himself to take that one step backward and to offer a singular wink.

“I’ll go warm the mattress,” he said, turning in the direction of the bedroom, unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his jeans as he went. It was only a saying, of course. His body held no heat to warm anything, but metaphorically his intentions were sincere. He couldn’t help but remain concerned about his sire’s well-being, and though she had answered his question as to her loneliness, he had made a vow then and there to be around for her more than he currently was. And if that meant cuddling without the ‘benefits’, then so be it.

In the bedroom he removed the jeans and folded them, placing them on top of the nearby dresser. The sheets were cold as he slid beneath them, but he made himself comfortable. He lay on his back with his head on shoulders nestled into the pillows, one arm up behind his head. He lay on one side of the bed, with plenty of room for Castalia -- a live doll for her to manipulate to her standards. Was she a spooner, or would he be a body pillow? He guessed he would soon find out.


<CASTALIA> “Is this a bad idea?” She wondered as his hands gripped her. Her breath hitched just slightly, her mind remembering the way the had felt that night. Her mismatched eyes studied his face, waiting as she resisted the urge to slip her arms around his shoulders and draw him closer. She knew with his condition it wouldn't do well to make it any harder on him, not that she herself didn't want him. When he stepped away, she gave a smile to his wink.

“Just don't take up the sheets.” She called as she watched him. Unconsciously, she bit down on her bottom lip and then shook her head. “It isn't a bad idea.” Pulling off her sweatshirt, Castalia put it on the back of the couch and fixed her tank top before she went through a routine of checking the locks. It wasn’t needed, but it gave her a sense of somewhat normalcy that she had been lacking.

Before she had left earlier in the evening, she had pulled out a chicken breast for her thrall’s dinner as he had asked, and there were only a few remaining dishes that she did not need to wash. Leaving her own phone in the kitchen beside her keys and purse, Castalia took one more look around the living area before she flicked off the lightswitch and followed after Cedric. Once in the room, she pushed the door shut with her foot and collected a scrunchie off her dresser.

“Comfortable?” She asked her childe, taking a moment to appreciate the view as she pulled her hair back. When she was satisfied with a semi-messy bun, Castalia padded over to the opposite side of the bed before sliding underneath the sheets. She gave him a sheepish smile and adjusted so that she lay beside him, her arm slipping across his middle. “I’ll move at some point in my sleep.” She warned.


<CEDRIC> It was a very bad idea, in Cedric’s estimation. He was not ignorant of his vices. To begin with, he was male, which naturally didn’t help things. As a male and only a male he would have had more strength to resist, and even strength enough to mask his desire. As a vampire and a male with a peculiar curse that did not seem to affect others of his kind, his only option was to be honest. Honest, forthright, and confident, otherwise he would die of shame.

Cedric adjusted himself only minimally as Castalia made herself comfortable beside him. A low rumble reverberated in his chest, an acknowledgment of her question, an acquiescence of his comfort. With Castalia’s head on his shoulder, his arm draped over her hip.

“Mm, comfortable enough. I generally sleep naked,” he said with a small smirk. The room was dark, pitch dark, shielded against the daylight. The ceiling was a vast nothingness above him, but he stared at it regardless. “Though I think it will be within our best interest if I remain clothed,” he added, tilting his chin down, looking for Castalia at his side.


<CASTALIA> She never had wondered why she was always so comfortable around Cedric. Perhaps it was because she met him while she was at her lowest point - alone, recently turned, looking for entertainment and a meal - that she was able to be so open with the man. Or, perhaps it was because she’d learned fast he wouldn't judge her - after all, he hadn’t hated her for turning him. Nevertheless, as she settled into the bed beside him, Castalia felt content. It almost felt natural. And how long had it been since a man actually stayed in her bed? She didn’t typically bring them home. That hadn’t changed.

At the sound in his chest, her thumb lightly rubbed against the cloth of his shirt. She closed her eyes, letting out an unneeded sigh of contentment as she stretched out her legs before slipping one over his, tucking her ankle between them. “Mm, fair enough. If you need to remove something, tell me and I’ll move.” She murmured, breathing in his scent. “I’m not shy.” She teased, but knew his reason why.

Reopening her eyes, she tilted her head up just slightly to look up at him. A chuckle played across her lips. “But truthfully, do what you feel is needed love.” She pressed a kiss to the side of his jaw and set her head back on his shoulder. Afterwards, she simply fell quiet and relaxed, readjusting her leg slightly so that her calf pressed against his.


<CEDRIC> Cedric closed his eyes as he imagined it. He imagined sitting up to remove his shirt, to lay back and feel Castalia’s fingers playing his skin. He imagined what it would be like if those fingers moved south, and how he could so readily return the favour. Or, maybe, he could initiate. Touching wouldn’t do any harm, would it? Except that he knew it would go further. Even if Castalia could control herself, Cedric knew that he could not.

So even as his sire made herself more comfortable, Cedric very slowly shook his head and hummed his vaguely disappointed ‘no’. Besides, she was comfortable. Moving to remove clothing would only make her uncomfortable, and it was better that he just lay there and lose himself in his thoughts. Touching would go badly, imagination would stay in his head.

Rather than allowing his hand to travel south, it instead travelled north, fingers playing at the back of Castalia’s neck, travelling back and forth down the line of her spine. Regardless of what he may have wanted to do, they lacked the time in which to do it. The sun was rising, and sleep would come quickly. With his free hand he pulled the blanket up over the both of them, leaning down to press his lips to the crown of Castalia’s head, his hand rubbing idly at the arm she had stretched across his chest.

And it was just like that, body half curled toward hers, that he fell asleep.


<CASTALIA> As Castalia lay comfortable beside him, she was glad that she had mentioned the idea of cuddling. But, she was mostly happy that she had taken time away from work to visit with her childe, to see her friend. Although it hadn’t been the best idea, knowing the two were at least physically attracted to each other, she was a bit relieved that time had helped aid the lack of intimacy that could have happened. And, he hadn’t reacted badly to her eyes - instead, he had encouraged her to not hide them.

The thought had Castalia smiling a bit. It would be a smaller step for now, having them without contacts around him, but as she closed her eyes, she made a decision that it would be one she tried to keep. A soft noise of appreciation was made at his touch, the action helping her relax even more as she moved her hand from his side, sliding it to rest against his chest as she felt her body sinking more into the mattress. Her thumb traced back and forth against the cloth of his shirt, slowing before ultimately coming to a stop as she fell asleep.

No movement, no breathing. Just sleep.


<CEDRIC> Cedric did not dream. When he went to sleep he was tossed into nothingness; and never did it seem like he had slept for hours. He always felt exactly the same as he did when he went to sleep, as to when he woke up. And he most often woke immediately, if something didn’t wake him beforehand. It always only felt like seconds that he was asleep.

He awoke to the same blackness as he’d gone to sleep to. He had not moved. He was still on his back, mostly. Whether he’d moved voluntarily during the day, or whether Castalia had moved him, he was now curled sideways more than he had been the night before. If he lowered his chin it would rest upon Castalia’s crown; their legs were all tangled up together, and though one arm was flat against the bed, fingers curled lightly, the other was tucked around Castalia’s waist.

The pianist shifted infinitesimally, just his hips. He sighed and rolled his eyes, closing them. This happened far too often. He felt like a ******* teenage boy again, and it wasn’t fun. But Castalia wasn’t awake yet -- not that he was aware, anyway. And so he focused on breathing, on pulling in air that he did not need. And while his eyes remained closed, he thought about numbers. He focused on his businesses, on what he could remember of the accounts. Money. The tedious, boring shifting and spending and gaining of money -- this he focused on. Eventually his evening ‘enthusiasm’ would abate, and he only hoped Castalia would stay asleep until then.


<CASTALIA> Twilight. It was a time of day that she both loved and loathed. Once she was awake, and she was able to form proper thoughts, she was fine, but until then? No. She had never liked mornings, in fact, her father had jokingly bought her a cup that suggested the amount of conversion correlating to how much coffee she had to drink before conversation was allowed. And it wasn't even really that she disliked conversation, Castalia just didn't like the rush that happened - but then again, she had also spent five years running out of the house around this time to get to the emergency room on time.

So, she liked to lounge. And lounge she did. But, in her sleepy mind, she had forgotten she was not alone. The shift of the bed, the arm around her waist. Was it Rhys or some unlucky guy who was going to become her next meal? She adjusted slightly, to move so that her face was nestled into the side of their neck and made a small noise of displeasure of being interrupted in her sleep. Her eyes didn't open, her hand sliding up the well muscled chest as she clutched the shirt - prepared if they tried to run away.

Her lips brushed against the spot briefly before she found the curve of the throat and sank her fangs in - only to regret it immediately as the blood tasted familiar, yet awful the second it touched her tongue. “Cedric.” His name entered her mind as she sprang out of bed, her hand clamping over her mouth and sprinted for the bathroom. Her stomach churning in warning. Now she remembered that the man had stayed over with her and cuddled - and once again, she'd bitten him, trying to make a meal out of the poor man. She made it to the toilet, spitting out the blood and coughing into the porcelain bowl.

<CEDRIC> No sooner had Cedric started to wonder about the roster and whether he could afford to hire another bartender that he felt Castalia stir. Too soon. He’d not had enough time to think about the boring things. Stirring didn’t necessarily mean waking, however, and so he said nothing, and he did not move. As soon as she showed awareness, as soon as she was fully conscious, he would apologise, and probably excuse himself. He’d claim he needed a shower, but she’d know exactly what he was doing.

Any second, he expected her to notice. Instead, he felt the sharp and completely and unexpected intrusion of canines in the flesh of his neck. There he lay, exposed and vulnerable and she’d taken her shot. It wasn’t that Cedric was angry, per se, but he was taken completely by surprise. Shock opened his eyes wide, a gasp curling his lips, his body lurching in defense. But he didn’t have to grab at Castalia, he didn’t have to push at her or shout. She was already rolling away from him, clambering out of the bed and running for the bathroom. The momentum had Cedric rolling backward and falling out of the bed in an almost amusing flail of limbs and blankets.

“Waarom moet je altijd bijten me wanneer ik een harde op?!” he spat. The shock had knocked his senses from him, English not the first language to come to mind. He heard Castalia spitting and retching, and as soon as he had regained his wits he laughed, his hand on his chest. Well, that was some wake-up call.

“Are you okay…?”


<CASTALIA> “Ew, ew, ew.” She really needed to stop biting him, at least to the point of drawing blood now. The thought crossed her mind once she'd gotten rid of the taste, dealing with only the lingering aftertaste. Afterwards, she sank to her knees and her hand went to the handle to flush as she contemplated that question. Was she okay? “Embarrassed. You?” She called. At least he was laughing. Pushing herself up off the ground, Castalia collected a tissue and proceeded to wipe the taste off her tongue as she entered the bedroom once more.

“And I do not always bite you. Just at bad times.” Castalia frowned. Aside from not recognizing him, well, it hadn’t been an unpleasant experience. Balling up the tissue, she tossed it into the nearest trashcan before turning on a dimmer set of lights. Padding barefoot back to the bed, she crawled back onto the middle of the mattress and looked down at him, blinking. “I'm so sorry. I forgot it was you. And I know that's a lame excuse, given the fact I do bite you, but still. I thought you were Rhys.” She grimaced and then held out her hand for him.

Castalia couldn’t help but look him over, the way his hair sat after rest, the way his clothes fit and… she could briefly remember the way he’d felt once again. But, she wouldn't point it out. “It’s been a while since I've actually had someone stay with me. So naturally I assumed you were dinner… again.” With her freehand, she rubbed the back of her neck and then looked over the white sheets. She blinked and then looked at his neck, finding no red blood. “I could’ve sworn…”


<CEDRIC> “Ja, that is what I said,” he said, somehow his accent thicker just upon waking, as if every evening he has to condition himself back into the mostly-English mindset. It occurred to him that Castalia understood him, at least in part. As soon as he saw her head pop over the edge of the bed, Cedric was grasping at the blanket and pulling it over his midsection, doing so slowly, as if he here just cold. As if he were just getting more comfortable. Even as she held out her hand he shrugged and snuggled in there on the hard floor. He used his own lower arm as a pillow, propped up only slightly. The other hand touched lightly at his neck, the wound healed, at least on the outside, though still a tiny bit tender. There was no blood, of course. It had all disappeared.

Did Castalia know that he was Shadow? That his blood bled black?

“Magic,” he said with a grin, lifting a knee to create something of a tent over his lower body. “By the sound of the bathroom, I gather I do not taste so good,” he said, still smiling. Yes, his hair was a mess, and any annoyance that he might have felt was gone entirely. He was in no rush to be anywhere.

“But, I am fine. We are even,” he said, vaguely referencing her embarrassment. Though, his own -- as far as he knew -- was not yet revealed. His knee swung back and forth, a lazy movement, but it helped to ease tension and pressure. He might soon be able to stand up. Sit up. Do anything but just lay there.


<CASTALIA> Her eyebrow lifted as she saw him grasp the blanket and she rolled her eyes, but instead of saying anything, proceeded to lay back down in the bed. This time, however, she did it across where the two had been laying, her slender form stretching out. “I don’t recall ever hearing you speak Dutch before. French, of course. Not your native tongue.” She decided to go the best around the subject, but touch on one she did think was easier. “Your accent is very easy on the ears.” She gave a half smile and then she set her chin on the mattress, frowning lightly at the spot where she had bit him.

“I could have sworn there was blood.”

She could still taste some of it. And at his words, she crinkled her nose. “It still has the familiar taste, with an undertone of not tasting well. It was what reminded me that it was you beside me.” Which, in all fairness, was a good thing. “If it were not for the less than pleasant taste of vampire blood, you would still taste the same.” Now that she was wide awake, Castalia didn't know what else to do. It normally took an hour or so, and she could hear her coffee pot beginning to brew in the next room.

But, she didn’t feel like moving and sat up slowly, lifting her arms above her head, stretching out her back. “That is fair enough. Though, I do feel bad. That floor is not very comfortable.” A small groan escaped past her lips as she felt her spine pop.


<CEDRIC> “Mmm,” he murmured, watching Castalia as she sat up and stretched, his lazy but bright eyes taking in the way the dim lighting highlighted particular curves of her body. She was wearing only short shorts and a tank -- it wasn’t hard to imagine what was underneath, Cedric’s fingers buzzing with the memory of what he’d once felt there. This mild display wasn’t helping his issue. In fact, it only made things worse. 

He’d witnessed the previous roll of her eyes; he knew that she knew what was going on, and hadn’t he warned her that it might? It wasn’t a huge secret, but still, his knee remained raised, his desires hidden beneath the blanket’s mass.

“Mijn bloed is zwart,” he said, taking the compliment on board. Dutch came easiest. French and German quick to follow, and though proficient in English, it was always the last translation that filtered through his mind. He brought his own wrist up to his mouth, his own teeth tearing into the tender flesh over the veins. Not a huge wound. The blood did not gush, but it was deep enough to stay open for a good half minute or so. He held the wrist up for Castalia to inspect, close enough for her to grab it if she needed to.

“My blood is black. If you were to murder me, I would be a very easy to clean up,” he repeated and continued in English, swivelling his hand to make the blood pump. The thick blackness of it surged beneath the surface, shiny and alive. As soon as it hit the air, however, it dispersed like black smoke. It was fascinating to watch, really. Magical.

He said nothing about his level of comfort -- or the way that the floor wasn’t comfortable at all. Castalia looked like she was moving, preparing to get out of bed. She would go about her business to get ready for the night, and as soon as she did, Cedric could mosey on into the bathroom and close the door. Just for five minutes.


<CASTALIA> When she heard the noise made, she peeked opened one eye to look at him, a soft quirk of her lips turning the corners into a small smile. If she knew it wouldn't have lead to more, she would have told him to get up there with her, to stop looking and do something. As it was, the way he looked and his accent weren’t doing her any favors of her own desires.

“I only understood ‘my’ and ‘blood,’” She said as she scooted to the edge of the bed. “And I would be very sad if I or someone else murdered you. I am quite fond of you.” As he had expected when he held it up, she indeed grasped his hand and inspected it. Her fingertips softly traced around the wound.

It looked ugly, the way it left the wound, but in other ways, it was beautiful, with it fading out of sight after a few moments. It was also nice, the neat freak in her thought, that it was cleaner than regular blood and would not stain anything unlike her own. “Inky and then it vanishes like smoke… so particular.” She murmured, waiting for the wound to heal before she released his wrist. Castalia leaned back on the bed, watching him for a few moments.

“I am going to make a cup of coffee… need it to function. Would you like a mug of blood?” She asked, carefully standing as if not to step on him. She sidestepped over his long limbs and then reached for her hair brush off the dresser. Castalia put her hair down and ran the brush through it, letting the long strands down. “There's a place where I buy it from the bottle. It is very good.” She explained.

Her mismatched gaze flickered towards the bathroom. “Cold water is the right handle, hot water is the left. Turn both to the left to get it flowing.” She said as she finished brushing out a knot. Padding over to Cedric, she crouched down and set her knee in front of her so that she couldn't fall over. “You shouldn't be embarrassed, as I do not find it insulting. And you warned me.” With a quick press of a kiss to the top of his head, she stood back up. “Towels are in the bathroom, in the cabinet. Soaps as well.” She collected a bra from the top drawer and winked at him before disappearing out the door, shutting it behind her to give him privacy.


<CEDRIC> It occurred to Cedric that he had not discussed it with Castalia before -- the fact that his blood was black. He was a big boy, and maybe he assumed, to begin with, that all vampire blood was black. Even if he knew that it was not, it was a peculiarity that did not hinder him. He still felt strong, he wasn’t poisoned. Until the fadebeasts, of course, but since then he’d discovered that he wasn’t the only ‘Shadow’, and not all vampires with black blood spawned monsters as soon as they copulated with any other living thing. It was almost enough to want to turn gay, but the desire just was not there.

“Bloed, yes. Yes please,” he said, accepting that peck of a kiss on his head like he was some toddler gently being told it was time to get out of bed, his mother was making him breakfast. He found it amusing, too, that she felt the need to tell him how the shower worked, as if he’d never used one before. They were quite universal, and even if hers was different somehow, he’d have figured it out. 

As soon as she left the room he lifted the blanket to stare down at his disgrace.

“So she shouldn’t be insulted, eh? She would be flattered,” he said. If any had witnessed him, they’d have thought he was talking to his penis. And, well, that’s exactly what he was doing. His demons manifested there, as dreary and horrifying as that sounded. Perhaps he was talking to them, too. It didn’t take him long to get up, to push himself to his feet and to stretch in much the same way Castalia had only moments before. The shower took longer than he wanted. It was ten minutes later that he stepped out of the bedroom, clothed again in his jeans, and the same shirt that he had slept in. Back to normal.

The Shadow slipped onto the nearest stool, the kitchen filled with the aroma of coffee. Coffee and blood.

“What are your plans tonight?” he asked. Small talk, yes. No mention of embarrassment, or why he had taken so long.


<CASTALIA> As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, Castalia paused to put on her bra before she continued on into the kitchen. Just like any other evening, Rhys sat dressed and showered with a pot of blood warming up on the stove for her to tend to whenever she chose to get up. He seemed surprised to see her, amused as he took in her appearance. “Have fun last night?” A quick punch to the arm showed that she still was not in her full on usual mood. “Go on to the club. They're talking about beginning to open earlier and I want you there to help Frank.” She scowled as he rubbed at her arm, calling her a bummer.

Castalia shook her head and collected her phone, turning on her Sinatra playlist as she moved to collect two coffee cups. Behind her, she heard a grunt as Rhys slid off the stool, used to her moody behavior as she prepared her coffee. Quietly, she hummed along with Come Fly With Me as she added a spoonful of creamer and then sugar to her cup, pouring in her coffee, followed by a small amount of blood just like she liked it.

By the time he was out, she was on her second cup, which she begun to sip at slowly to try and draw out her time with it. Savor the taste, and actually properly keep her usual ‘morning’ routine normal. As if that were even possible. She poured the now proper body temperature blood into a mug for him and set it down before leaning against the counter. Her ankles crossed, the small of her back resting against the edge.

“Clean, make the bed. Perhaps go for a walk.” She ticked off the top three things off the top of her head, “Frank is on shift tonight at the club, tells me to stay away and relax.” She shook her head, “The Vanilla Bean, I need to check on. Envy is fine.” She was actually sure if she had Rhys check, she wouldn't have to leave the apartment, as she didn't particularly want to. There was a shelf she wanted to fix in the guest bathroom, which doubled as Rhys’ bathroom.

“So, cleaning, business, shopping,” She stated as she noticed she was low on almonds in a glass canister beside him. While she didn't need to eat, it was something she did while bored. Rhys, however, did. “What about yourself, love?”


<CEDRIC> Love. There it was again, that peculiar term of endearment. As if they were a married couple, so used to each other’s company as to be reduced to platitudes. Cedric wrapped his fingers around the mug that was handed to him, inhaling the scent. He wondered if it would satisfy him. Maybe in one way, but not in another. The shower had done wonders, but though it wasn’t at the forefront of his mind, Cedric was always imagining.

Somewhere at the very back of his mind there was a voice telling him to sweep everything from the kitchen counter to send everything smashing to the floor. Coffee, blood, almonds, the lot. It told him to then ignore Castalia’s protests, that her pristine clean apartment was now a mess, to silence her with a kiss and lift her bodily up onto the counter. At the front of his mind, however, he was thinking about work, about the things that he, too, had to check on. And, of course, his own routine.

It involved finding a bar and seducing a woman. One woman, any woman.

He couldn’t keep going the way he was. They’d catch up with him, sooner or later. It didn’t matter how careful he was, one of these nights he was going to slip up. He’d started doing it only once a fortnight. Then once a week. Now it was every second night. That many deaths and he’d surely be called a serial killer. There was probably a whole task force following his movements, or trying to. He had no prerequisites. He didn’t go for a ‘type’. Nor did he hunt the same places. He kept telling himself he had to stop, but he never did.

“This apartment is already spotless. I do not think you need to clean,” he said, rolling his eyes and then shrugging.

“I’ll probably go to the Cocoa Bean. You’ve got managers for your businesses, I still have to find people that I trust enough to leave them to it,” he said. He made it sound like that’s all he would be doing. He’d be going to work, and that was it. He lifted the mug and took a small mouthful, testing the blood, swirling it around in his mouth before swallowing. Deeming it palatable, he swallowed the rest in a few large gulps.


<CASTALIA> She would have blushed if she could. “It may be spotless, but I can assure you I can find something in here that is not the way I like it.” It was something that drove her mother crazy when the woman used to visit the house back during her marriage. Everything was neat, pristine. Sawyer had once joked that Castalia was OCD, but in truth, she just didn't like the way she could lose something if it wasn't in the right place. Her keys, her phone. They all had a spot.

Brushing her hand through her long hair, she pulled at a knot left in one of the loose curls as she watched him from underneath her lashes. “I may go out to Allure, socialize or something, he cannot kick me out of my own club.” She still needed to feed, but it was one of the lesser desires on her list of things to do.

Her lips twitched in amusement. “I have a thrall who works in doing whatever I tell him to do, giving him time off when he wants and pay his tuition in college, and an old bartender, who accepted I was a vampire and let me hunt in his bar. They are just good people. I have one manager… she is not the brightest but it gives me peace of mind they businesses are all easy to get to.” She rolled her head on her shoulders and took another drink of her coffee.

“But I will see you before dawn?” Castalia asked as she looked at him, wondering if the morning bite had blown it or if he would still be coming over for their cuddling sessions. “I cannot promise I will not bite you again as I wake, at least until I get used to you being there. I will probably start facing you… as it would make it easier.” She grinned crookedly, tapping her nails on the side of her mug.


<CEDRIC> Cedric did have Costello, that was true. And Costello was trustworthy, in that he knew everything that Cedric did, and worked as hard as Cedric did. The doppelganger did have his differences, yes, but he at least had his uses. Power, then, rather than curse.

But there was only one of him, and Cedric ran three businesses. Syn, for the most part, took care of Ryde. Cedric ran the bar and the record shop, still keeping an eye on Costello to make sure he wasn’t going to take off with all Cedric’s money. He just nodded, assuming he would eventually find a handful of people to trust. Good people. 

“You will see me before dawn,” he said with a smirk and a small laugh. “Though I’m not sure how facing me would make it easier?” he asked. “But I do not mind you biting me. Warning, though, is nice,” he said. Earlier, he was only surprised. There was nothing wrong with the action, it had just caught him off guard. “Though, I am curious. Why did you? Bite me. Why is it a habit? Are you accustomed to sleeping with your food?”


<CASTALIA> There was a bit of relief as he said he would be back at dawn, a smile playing across her lips. “I would be able to properly see you.” She explained, although she knew given the fact she was shorter, there was still a chance she would. Her lips twitched in amusement, “I can warn you, from now on.” She chuckled before leaning back against the counter. She took another drink from her coffee, sipping the warm liquid.

The question had her tilting her head, thinking about it. “It hardly gets past the door, unless they actually have interested me. You were the first, and only that had been brought here.” Castalia chewed on the inside of her bottom lip. “And are the only one I have ever turned. I do not plan for more.” A shoulder was lifted and dropped, “If I’m interested in them, and they don’t bore me, I have slept with a couple. And fed with them after.”

She thought about the last man. “It’s not often. Stupid men irritate me.” Reaching over, Castalia poured a bit more coffee into her cup before moving closer to him. Her teeth showed as she smiled that time. “Plus some believe they get lucky, become handsy and I am known to break their necks.”


<CEDRIC> Cedric chuckled. The entire answer was a veiled compliment -- or so he took it. Men barely got past the door, but Cedric had. The only one she had turned, the only one for the foreseeable future. He was not boring, nor stupid -- nor did he end up with a broken neck. A bitten neck, yes, but not a broken one.  The conversation was one long temptation, the woman licking at the man’s ego.

“And yet, my neck remained in tact. No broken bones here,” he said, head canted to the side. Cedric wondered whether he should have taken a page out of Castalia’s book; should he have been siring as often as he had? Only a couple had survived, one of which was still new. Who was to say that she would continue to survive, too?

The compliments could not be echoed, not entirely. Cedric couldn’t say that his interest in women had ever been rare. Before he was married, he took them home often. Even when married, he had been known to wander -- it was part of the reason that marriage had ended, though the whole reason. He was a noble monogamist, which was why he didn’t hold his curse entirely at Castalia’s fault. He realised that his lifestyle choices when human might have had something to do with it, too. Though he did laugh.

“It has been a very long time since I slept overnight with a woman and woke up still clothed. It was… nice,” he said.


<CASTALIA> “No, you are nothing like the others.” She took a drink from her cup, running her tongue over her bottom lip as she thought about the night she'd met him. “Something about you drew me to you.” She explained, as if she were still trying to figure it out as her mismatched eyes scanned the man. “It still does, to be fair.” It wasn't to a lesser degree, either. It was simply easier to control urges now that he was a vampire.

Or at least, that's what she chose to think.

“The sense of… familiarity, or perhaps the fact we are outright honest with each other.”

She shrugged her shoulders to show that she hadn’t figured it out. It wasn’t something she needed to figure out so she wouldn't obsess over it. “I wouldn’t say intact. You did bleed quite a bit. I suppose I should have thought about the difference in height.” The brunette looked at his neck, a soft grin on her lips as she folded her arms in front of her chest once more. She made a noise of agreement. It had been a bit of a while for herself, as her tendency to bite had Rhys refusing to share a bed with her any more.

“It really was.” She agreed, having forgotten how good it felt to fall asleep in the arms of someone she trusted. To know they’d be there when she woke. “I look forward to it again.”


<CEDRIC> This whole conversation about being drawn to each other wasn’t doing Cedric any favours. Sitting still at the kitchen bench was becoming less of an option. He wanted to test Castalia’s theories -- he wanted to be outright honest with her, not just with words but with actions. What Cedric could not figure out yet, however, was whether it was more than just a physical attraction -- the need to have what one could not.

“Yes. Try not to follow me to work, ja?” he said with a wink and half a smile. Honesty about the rest of it could wait. For now, he thought it best to leave. He stood up and made sure that his cup of blood was drained, before wandering over to the sink to rinse it was hot water, making sure that every last dreg of the red cruor had been rinsed down the drain. 

“I am going to go. If I stay I will only embarrass myself, trying to seduce you,” he said smoothly. Either way, even if he succeeded, there would be embarassment. Or maybe not -- but he was not yet prepared to figure it out. He placed the mug upside down on the dish drainer, and meandered around to collect his things from the counter where he had left them the night before, as well as his jacket from the back of the chair.

“But I will be back later. Same time as yesterday,” he said.


<CASTALIA> The same smile still stayed on her lips, even after he finished speaking. Afterwards, Castalia gave a shake of her head and moved to get more coffee. “I’ll try oh so hard not to miss you while you’re gone.” She teased. The idea of going to Allure was still a possibility for the evening. Have a few drinks, people watch. Her mismatched eyes moved towards the bedroom as she considered it.

“It wouldn’t be hard.” She thought. She looked back towards Cedric as he rinsed out his cup, studying him. She knew her limits and she knew she’d fall easily into bed with the man. A sigh escaped past her lips as she pushed her thoughts out of her mind.

“I will see you then. If I’m not here, just make yourself comfortable. I’ll be around shortly.”

Castalia said as she pulled her hair over her shoulder and ran her fingernails through the strands. She smiled afterwards and then gave a soft hum as she set down her mug. The brunette then went to her childe, setting her hand on his back. “Be safe, mon ami.” She winked and then turned towards the bedroom, quietly singing to herself as she went.


<CEDRIC> Cedric nodded. Comfortable. He’d do just that. Maybe he’d bring some extra clothes with him this time -- or maybe he’d just sleep mostly naked, as he was accustomed to. The touch at his back had him turning toward Castalia, a subtle shift of his body, a tucking of his chin. He did not turn fully to watch as she made her way to the bedroom -- to do so would mean to resist the urge to follow. Instead, he pushed his phone and wallet and keys into various pockets, refraining from saying anything else as he walked out the door.

He did not look back. Nor did he think much about the apartment and the person he’d just left. Instead, he thought forward -- he thought about where he had to go next, what next he had to do. Work, feeding -- was it wrong, to go sleep with another woman before coming back to this place? Maybe, if he didn’t shower first. But he’d wash it all away, as if washing away the filth could wash away his bad deeds.

The Shadow’s shoulders squared, back straightening as his eyes turned cold, his stare blank and dead. These were the things that he had to do. And he would do them, shame or no.

<CASTALIA> “Still haven’t told him yet, have you?” The question was asked as her back was turned, the woman moving up to stand on the balls of her feet to put away plates. The action had her swaying briefly once she returned to her normal height, a mild headrush following as she gripped the counter. “Have I told him what?” Castalia asked. She knew who he meant and what he meant, as it was growing close to the time that her childe would be arriving before the two retired for the day. It had been a few days since Nolan’s death - that had been told to Cedric. After all, how could she explain showing up late, covered in blood and distraught?

“That you’re having issues keeping blood down?”

The question had her crinkling her nose. She had stopped feeding, her blood levels low enough that there was a constant burn in the back of her throat that she chose to attempt to ignore. And now, the human blood and animal blood that her thrall would pour into her coffee any time he made it was hard to keep down. She had also noticed that vampire blood, such as when she would bite Cedric as the two woke, was becoming easier to tolerate.[

“Cedric has enough on his mind,” Castalia looked in the direction of the clock on the wall above her computer desk, “And you are going to be late for the cafe.” She frowned and he rolled his eyes, but begun to reach for his jacket all the while muttering that people who went Christmas shopping early. “Have fun at work.” She called as the door clicked shut. Pulling mildly at the oversized shirt she wore over her leggings, the woman sighed as she moved to sit down at the counter and put her head in her hands. At least the apartment had gotten cleaned.


<CEDRIC> The Shadow was just arriving as Rhys left, the two men only nodding to each other in greeting acknowledgement before going on their way -- one headed out the front door, while the other entered the elevator to go up. Every now and again the thrall was home when Cedric arrived; Cedric quite liked the guy, though they never talked much beyond the expected small talk. It had been a couple of weeks since their ‘arrangement’ had started, and Cedric didn’t regret it. In fact, it was the only real thing he’d started since moving to this cold, dark city.

Most of the time he found Castalia ready for bed with a book in her hands. Sometimes she wasn’t home yet, and he’d get ready himself. He’d started to go to bed only in boxers, the smooth crisp touch of sheets against bare skin a comfort he could not deny himself.

Tonight, he rounded on Castalia at the kitchen bench. She looked exhausted, if a vampire could look exhausted. Cedric slipped onto the stool beside hers, hand brushing over the back of her shoulders and head bowed in concern.
“Are you alright?” he asked. It wasn’t often that he found his sire out of sorts. It wasn’t often, he thought, that he could be much help to her at all -- not in ways that he was proactive in, anyway. Maybe he helped just by being there. But he knew Castalia had a life completely separate to him, and there was every chance that something had gone wrong. He could feel the bones of her shoulders, the subtle rise of the bumps of her spine. Had she always been so thin?


<CASTALIA> It was hard, not having her sire to depend on, to ask questions and while she knew there was a chance she could reach out to Ambrose for aid, Castalia’s pride stopped her. And so, she usually found herself talking to Cedric for help, or tried to find an answer herself - the latter wasn’t too difficult, as she had been independent to begin with. But at times like these, as she could feel the significant burn at the back of her throat, and felt weak, irritable almost as if she were ill, it was rare that she wished her pride would take a hike.

She didn’t know what was wrong, but she suspected human blood was no longer something she could take. In part, it was her fault. Starving herself regardless was never an intelligent move, but she still had trouble smelling her exes blood, feeling it soak her clothes. For the first few days after the incident, she’d bite the inside of her cheek, make herself sick and then hide in the shower before going to work. Castalia let out a small sigh, rubbing over her skin.

The action stopped as soon as she felt Cedric beside her, heard him speak. Her lips lifted into a small smile, one always managed for him even when she felt at her worst. Despite his darkness, he’d become a bit of a light in her evenings and made things easier. “I’m just not feeling too well.” She spoke as she lowered her hands and turned her head to look at the man.

Her eyes were dull in color, the contacts having already been removed - she knew he didn’t like them and preferred the way they looked naturally, and so she’d gotten used to being without them in his presence. Castalia moved her hand to rest it against his knee, patting the spot before she leaned slightly into him. Was his scent always that strong? She wondered. “And you?”


<CEDRIC> Cedric narrowed his eyes. Castalia looked like she should have a fever; like he should take her to bed and tuck the blanket around her, put a cool rag on her forehead and rub vapor rub on her chest. These were the things he’d done for his daughter, once. But Castalia was not his daughter. Nowhere near. She was a grown woman. A grown stubborn woman who would not tell her childe what was wrong. Cedric shook his head.

“I am fine,” he said, sharply, quickly, dismissing any focus of attention upon himself. Nothing new had happened since he’d left Castalia and come back now. Though he wondered how he could have missed it. This illness, was it sudden?

“Do not tell me that vampires can get sick,” he said. How long had he been undead? There’d never been the whiff of a slight cold or flu. He always felt one-hundred-and-ten percent, unless he didn’t feed. But if he didn’t feed, there’d be no sex, either. And that was never going to happen.

“What is wrong? What is going on? Did something happen? You need rest. We should get you to bed…” he said, though he made no move to get up. Not with Castalia leaning against him like she was. His arm slipped around her shoulder, his embrace strong and reassuring. The kind of strength that brooked no argument -- his questions would be answered. He would keep asking, until they were answered.


<CASTALIA> “I know as much as you do in the subject of vampires getting ill.” She replied, closing her eyes and letting them stay like that for a few moments. Again, Rhys’ words that she needed to tell Cedric went through her head and she stubbornly batted the thought away. She was fine. “And that’s a lie.” She told herself, but she then opened her eye as she looked up at him.

“Now who’s the one who asks a lot of questions.” She teased, but fell quiet again as she idly pulled at the cloth on his knee, considering how to answer things without entirely answering them. “Might as well tell the truth. He’s almost as stubborn as I am.” Castalia made a small snort of disapproval. She would sire a man as difficult as she was.

“Bed sounds nice.” The woman replied and sat up properly, but remained under his arm. Strong, comforting. She appreciated the gesture and didn’t want to move far without it. She almost expected Rhys to have blabbed it as he went out the door, but it seemed her thrall respected the fact she didn’t want to worry the man. Not that he didn’t worry anyway.

Castalia slightly bit the inside of her lip, not minding the pressure as she could taste the blood. It tasted normal those days. Not disgusting or awful any more, but as it had when she was human. Metallic, but cold. “Come on. Still waiting to see if your abs change so I’m right about them being fake.” She mumbled, reluctantly sliding out from under his arm, off the stool and nearly onto the floor as she grasped the counter immediately.


<CEDRIC> Cedric had a feeling it was going to be a long morning; and if she still didn’t answer his questions he would keep asking them the next night. He’d follow her to work if he had to. He’d lock all the doors and disallow her to leave, more like. It didn’t matter if they moved to the bed, that didn’t stop them from talking. As Castalia shifted, Cedric lifted his arm.

There were plenty of teasing quips he could have made in regards to his abs. It was often the case -- people didn’t expect to find what they did under his clothes. Cedric, a mere pianist. His boxer’s build was at odds with his occupation; people expected musicians to be weak, sensitive types. Cedric never did like adhering to stereotypes.

Before they could get anywhere near the bed, however, Castalia was just about on the floor. If the kitchen bench weren’t solid, if it weren’t there, she would be. “Woah, hey,” Cedric said, hastily slipping from his own perch so that he could get an arm around her torso. Whether or not she thought she needed it, Cedric would help Castalia to the bedroom. And if she couldn’t walk on her own, he’d lift her off her feet and carry her there.

“Stop evading the questions,” he said, this time with frustration. Even a hint of anger. “How do I help?” he asked. “What has happened?” he repeated. What had she done? What had been done to her? And how did he fix it?


<CASTALIA> How much longer would it be until he’d fall asleep? Castalia couldn’t see the clock from her perch. To see it, she would have to turn around again and that required too much movement. But, she knew it had to be somewhere around an hour. The question was, could she keep it to herself until then?

The answer, she knew as she nearly met the floor, was no. Whether it was because she was likely to hit it again at some point, or because her childe was relentless, Castalia knew she couldn’t hold it off long. But she would try. “I’m alright.” She attempted to reassure him, but even as she said it, her hand went to his arm and she appreciated the help.

Castalia could only blink, however, when she heard the anger in his tone. Never in the time she’d known Cedric had she’d ever heard the hint of it, her mismatched eyes showing the surprise she’d felt. And because of it, she lost her train of thought. And the following train of stubbornness. “I haven’t been able to feed.” She spoke quietly and quickly in hopes he’d miss it, embarrassed. “Now, let me go. I need to go change my shirt.”

She murmured, but made no attempt to push off him. She was comfortable where she stood and knew at least there, she had her balance. Her chin tilted downwards, her gaze moving elsewhere. It was an almost childish reaction to admitting, at least in a way that he wouldn’t hear her, what was wrong.


<CEDRIC> Cedric opened his mouth to call ******** -- she was not alright. She asked him to let her go and though his grip loosened, she did not move. The mumbled answer was nearly lost, but not enough for Cedric to misunderstand.

Cedric imagined that those feral vampires in the Quarantine Zone were what happened when feeding was ignored. The wild, masterless things in the sewers -- that was what happened when a vampire failed to take care of itself, or had no one to take care of them. Castalia was not without someone to take care of her, however, and in this instant Cedric did not feel like the childe. He felt like the sire. He walked with Castalia to the bed and made her sit on the edge of it, before he crouched down in front of her. She needed to hear him.

“You have not been able to feed…” he repeated. “This is serious. Were you just going to let it keep going? Were you not going to do anything about it? That is not smart…” he said. It was a diplomatic way of saying Are you stupid?! He did not want to demoralize his sire. But nor was he happy. “I don’t think it is something that will go away if you ignore it. Why can you not feed?” he asked. If they could figure out why, they could figure out a solution.


<CASTALIA> In truth, Castalia didn’t trust herself to walk too far. She’d been swaying every now and then, and so, she stayed where she knew she was safe. She’d drawn the curtains earlier, so the sun wouldn’t be able to penetrate the main living area in case she fell asleep on the couch. But as she wondered if her mumbled answer had escaped notice, as she was led by the man to the bedroom, it was apparent that it hadn’t.

Her only response to being made to sit on the edge of the bed was to glare. Where there would normally be some sort of heat behind the glare, there was nothing. She couldn’t muster up the extra energy, really. “Let me rephrase that. I have fed. It is not staying in my system.” He wasn’t going to let the subject drop and she was getting irritable. “Therefore, I cannot feed.”

Her arms folded in front of her chest, uncomfortable. “I was trying to figure it out, Cedric. You have enough to worry of.” She admitted. Her mismatched eyes, took in his features, taking in his frustration. It wasn’t something she saw on him and it was… different. Between the two, she was normally the one that got angry.

She could only shrug. “I have no idea. Occasionally, usually when Rhys puts blood in my coffee, it cannot stay in my system long. It had the same reaction when I would bite you and your blood would get in my mouth.” The woman uncrossed her arms, leaning back. “My body would reject it.”

<CEDRIC> Cedric shook his head, and even managed a short laugh.

“I don’t have anything to worry about,” he said. “What has happened to me, it’s like a disease, ja? It has been diagnosed, that is the first step. After diagnosis there is treatment. Some diseases, they cannot be cured. Treatment lasts a lifetime. I have it under control. I have my treatment. At the moment, I don’t have any hurdles. The disease is steady, no spikes. You are a priority,” he said. As tempting as it was to baby Castalia and change her shirt for her, Cedric did not want it to be taken the wrong way. He was not coming on to her. He would not. Not now. He was starting to get some answers out of her.

“Then maybe it is my blood. Is that when it started?” he asked. He did spawn fadebeasts, so it wouldn’t be a huge leap to think that his own blood was poisonous. And yet, he’d managed to turn his own childer. They weren’t monsters. They had their quirks, but there was no proof it had anything to do with his blood. Maybe it didn’t matter that it was him, it could have been any vampire.

“I should sleep on the couch. A few nights, maybe you will get better. You can’t not feed, Cast. It is not good for you,” he said, sternly. She was irritated with him, she was angry, but he would not accept it. He would not bow down and let it be. The anger and irritation was echoed. She couldn’t be angry with him for being concerned. That just wasn’t allowed.


<CASTALIA> She kept her opinion about his ‘treatment’ to herself. Castalia wasn’t clueless about what he did to keep the matter under control, as she could smell the hints of others when she was around him before he would come to the apartment. She didn’t have any right to get jealous over the matter, as he was not her boyfriend, nor her husband but she did. She didn’t like it, plain and simple.

“I do not only bite you, Cedric. I bite the inside of my cheek when stressed.” And the inside of her lip, and both methods certainly made it an unpleasant experience. Castalia frowned as she pulled at the hem of her shirt. “I do not want you to sleep on the couch, I rather like our arrangement.” She inclined her head, looking at his neck in consideration. Even now as she sat on the edge of the bed, she could smell his blood and it smelled… delightful once again.

She pulled one leg up to tuck it underneath herself. Considering it. “Besides, when I bit you when we awoke, I did not get ill from your blood. Remember?” For some time, she’d sprinted to the restroom and as of late, that incident had faded. With that, the woman sighed and moved to lay back on the bed, allowing her leg to hang off it as she glared at the ceiling. At least in that position she didn’t have to see Cedric’s anger.


<CEDRIC> She was right. The last week or so, Castalia had not run off to the bathroom to rid herself of the horrible taste of Cedric’s blood -- and nor had he reacted. He’d begun to expect the bite, to even look forward to it. He would not admit to it, but if he woke before Castalia he’d rearrange himself into a suitable position, an easy one so that his flesh was in reach of his sire’s sharpened canines. Was it this arrangement that had aided her current state?

“Does biting yourself even count?” he asked, standing even as Castalia laid back on the bed, his knee resting on the edge of it until he had shuffled his way beside her. She had moved to get away from his inquisitive concern, and he had only followed. Now, he was looking down at her, rather than up at her. He was still fully clothed, down to the beanie on his head and the large jacket over his shoulders. He was a heavy weight on that bed, all muscle and bone.

“My blood does not make you feel sick anymore, but the blood of humans does. Is that what you are saying?” he asked. Only now did he reach up to pull the jacket from his shoulders, to toss the weight off it off the side of the bed. Castalia wouldn’t like the haphazard mess he would make if he shed his clothes from here. But he wasn’t shedding all of them -- just the layers that hindered any access to his neck. Which happened to include the black knit turtleneck that he had donned that evening. With the turtleneck went the beanie, so he eventually settled back down with mussed hair and a plain white tank. He didn’t need the layers anymore, but it was a force of habit.

He waited, then, for Castalia to answer the question. But, given the quick disappearance of his two outermost layers, she might start to guess the suggestion he was about to make.


<CASTALIA> Even as she glared at the ceiling, Castalia could hear his movements - the subtle sound of his clothing moving against each other. She almost expected him to leave the room, but instead, she glanced down her body as she felt his weight on the bed. From where she was, she could imagine sitting up and pulling him down by his collar. She could imagine brushing her lips against his mouth, and then his neck before sinking her fangs into his throat. His blood did taste wonderful again…

“You bite your tongue one day and tell me.” She smirked. Deflecting, as it was. Her eyes fell shut once more as she decided to hell with changing. She was comfortable right there. And she settled quietly, deciding he could move her if he pleased, at least until she heard the jacket connect with her floor.

Her eyes opened to watch him, her lips parting to remind him of the coat rack by the door. She did not like it indeed, but before she could make a comment, her gaze moved back up to his features as she showed her confusion. “Oui.” Castalia said cautiously, almost weary. "You were just saying how you thought sleeping beside me was a bad idea." She pointed out, but ran her tongue over her canines as she felt them beginning to extent at just the thought.

<CEDRIC> “It is a lesser of two evils,” he said, then frowned. That wasn’t the meaning he was trying to convey. He sighed, and pushed his fingers through his hair. “If there is a possibility that my blood will nourish you, then it is better than letting you continue the way that you are. You will become a wild thing. You will wither away until you are only a shadow of a woman, barely here. I don’t know what comes of vampires that don’t feed but it cannot be good,” he said. He did not know the consequences of a vampire drinking another vampire’s blood on a regular basis, either. He did not know what he was offering -- but even if he did, he wouldn’t have offered any different.

“If this will make you feel better, it is something I will like to try. It cannot hurt, and it is better than just sitting here to watch you suffer,” he said, the last few words spat in a rare burst of emotion, the determination dancing behind the cool blue of Cedric’s eyes. Some might say that he was cold. They could accuse the Shadow of being unfeeling. They were wrong. He was just an expert at hiding his emotions; of controlling them. They never got the better of him.

Even as he shifted his feet and arranged his legs so that they could support his own weight and hers, he reached for Castalia’s hand. As tired and weak as she was, he was encouraging her to sit up, to straddle his lap. It was one of his favourite positions, though this time it would be used not for his own pleasure, but for hers. Fully clothes and with denim to keep his own needs at bay, his neck was clear and free of obstacles. He was her buffet, if she chose to accept.


<CASTALIA> She chose to narrow her eyes at him, contemplating. She’d fed a few times since she’d discovered that it was near impossible to keep human blood down, and every time, she’d fallen sick. Once, she’d even fed from Rhys - and he had gotten fearful and refused to let her try again. Her mismatched eyes searched the cool blue of his own as she thought of the offer.

“Why does it worry you?” She asked, quietly, although she knew they were close. Maybe it was because she was so used to being on her own that being helped was new. But, she appreciated it. And although in some ways she was still stalling, Castalia took his hand and moved with his encouragement.

She slipped easily into his lap, looking down at the man as her long hair fell down her back. It was almost a certainty that if this worked, she would need likely not one, but two cold showers as she was nearly flush against him, their clothes creating a much needed barrier. Leaning down, mindful of becoming dizzy, she brushed her lips over the flesh where she’d bitten him the night he had been turned.

Almost as if she were still deciding, and as her freehand moved to his shoulders, her fangs slipped down between her lips and she bit down. There were a few spots she could have fed from, she’d had the cardiovascular system memorized from her early days of being a nurse, but for the sake of simple and being weaker, she went straight for the jugular.


<CEDRIC> The question was answered, for the time being, with only a roll of his eyes. It should have been obvious. She was his sire -- they were friends, if not more. Friends seemed too simple a term to be applied to the couple who slept together during the day, all tangled in each other’s limbs. There was a subtle intimacy between them, and Cedric was not as cold as he was often assumed to be. He was not there only because it was something that Castalia had suggested, or even requested. The want and the enjoyment were mutual. Of course it worried him. He cared about her, and he thought that should be obvious, and it wasn’t something he should have to explain.

He almost expected resistance. He expected Castalia to find some reason to refuse his help, but rather than pull away from his encouraging grip, she followed through. As intimate as the two of them had been, it was a sweet kind of intimacy, one which failed to include the proximity the two of them shared now. He wanted to slide his hands up beneath that too-big shirt and drag his fingers down the bare skin of Castalia’s back. There was so much more he wanted to do with that hand, but instead he used it only to hold her steady, arms wrapped around her seemingly fragile torso, fingers splayed over the top of her clothes.

Canines pierced skin and Cedric’s moan of pleasure was purposefully cut short, strangled in his throat as he swallowed it down. He bit the inside of his cheek though he did not draw his own blood. He relaxed so that the blood might flow more easily, his neck arched as his lips rested against the clothed curve of Castalia’s shoulder. The tables had turned. He had a beautiful woman in his lap and yet she was not the one being bitten.

Did it feel this good for them, when he fed? Maybe it wasn’t such a bad way to go…


<CASTALIA> “This,” Castalia thought as she heard the strangled noise from Cedric, a soft curl of her lips felt, “is how it should have been.” Her eyes fell shut, a soft moan of her own falling short past her throat as she drank easily. The weight of his body under hers, the promise of close proximity; it made the situation one she was familiar, yet unfamiliar. Her fingertips curled against the tank top that he wore, her thumb sliding underneath to trace over his collarbone. As she drank, she let her fangs retreat for the time being. She didn’t need them, but she was debating on biting him again - for the suggestion.

The awful taste that had been there weeks before was gone. It was the first thing she had noticed as his black inky blood slipped over her tongue. While it wasn’t as sweet as it had been the first time she’d tasted him, Castalia supposed it had to do with her blood that she’d poured into his mouth to turn him. It wasn’t warm, either, but it was pleasant. And it was something she had missed without realizing it. And, the theory, she felt was correct, as she began to feel better after a couple of mouthfuls.

Her tongue slid slightly over his wound, sealing it as she pulled back enough to look down at him with a small smirk on her lips. Leaning down, she brushed her lips playfully against his jaw, her eyes seemingly brighter - her skin, though still pale, seemingly more like it should be. “Don’t want to take too much.” She murmured.


<CEDRIC> It was like riding a wave; one that reminded Cedric of the night he’d been sired. At least this time he knew what he was happening. At least this time he could appreciate it for what it was -- and this time, it wasn’t a threat to his life. There was no heart to slow after a significant loss of blood. Even after Castalia took what she did, he barely felt like she’d touched him.

As she leaned back, he peered up at her; he released his hold only so that his fingers could graze Castalia’s cheek, turning so his knuckles could run along her jaw. The way his eyes darted over his features, he was clearly looking for her health. Some colour had come back to her skin, her eyes gleamed a little brighter.

“You take as much as you need,” he said, clearly unphased. All shame about his obvious arousal had dissipated a few nights after their arrangement had started. There was no reprieve -- every morning, without fail, he woke with that single flag waving and here, now, with Castalia sitting the way she was, after doing what she had just done? There was no hope of control. But he ignored it nonetheless.

“If you need more, please…” he said, arching his neck invitingly. At least she didn’t look like she was going to be sick.


<CASTALIA> She couldn’t help but smile a bit, chuckling. Turning her head into his touch, she watched his features and was relieved to have him in her life. Caring and stubborn, even if she was still slightly mad at him. Perhaps it was a good thing, though. Sometimes she needed that shove and he seemed to have certainly no issue pushing her.

“I’m starting to think you just like being bitten.” She carefully adjusted herself on his lap to try and relieve some of the pressure she knew would be there for him. Despite her attempts, however, the position made it difficult and her body was settled against his. Her smile was partially sheepish, but she traced her thumb over where she’d sank her fangs in.

Leaning down, she brushed her lips against the curve of his throat once more and nipped at the flesh playfully. He didn’t have to arch his neck, she wasn’t going to argue - at least not any more that night. She was enjoying herself, even if she knew it wasn’t the best of proximity, tempting that desire. She bit down once without her fangs, placing a kiss to the spot she’d decided on next, and then sank her fangs in once more.

A noise of contentment slipped through, the taste of his blood having her slide her freehand up to the opposite side of his neck.


<CEDRIC> She wouldn’t be wrong, though he didn’t admit it. He had been thoroughly enjoying the nightly wake-up call -- though right now, he wasn’t thinking about himself. He wasn’t thinking about how much he was enjoying anything, because that wouldn’t be useful to him anyway. It would only be to his detriment. Right now, he was only thinking about his sire’s wellbeing.

Honestly, he would have appreciated being able to roll off the bed and stumble off toward the shower, but the invitation was not dismissed. For a second time Castalia’s canines sunk into flesh and this time, Cedric couldn’t control the sound that he made -- a moan of pleasure that was neither hindered nor strangled. He rocked back, as if he were going to take them both down into the welcome softness of the bed covers, but that would only send things thrusting where they shouldn’t. So he rocked forward again, his hand now slipping just beneath the hem of Castalia’s oversized shirt not by design, but by accident.

“Dit is goed,” he mumbled, and repeated himself. It would be fine. Castalia would be fine. This was either going to be a one-off, or it was going to be their new routine. Either way, it was going to be okay. It would just be another thing he’d take out on his victims later, but that was between him and them.


<CASTALIA> The men she fed off of normally didn’t last through the night. She didn’t let them live, and she supposed it was because she preferred to control the situation, but as she drank, Castalia tried to make it more pleasurable for Cedric. However, as she felt his skin against hers under her shirt, she couldn’t help but enjoy his touch, the sounds he made.

When she finished feeding, the brunette sealed off the wound and kissed the spot once more. The brunette pulled back, looking down at him as she bit her lip. She felt better, a lot better. Her thumb traced gently over the spot again, Castalia breathing harder than she normally would even without needing to. Lust. She could feel the emotion rolling through her and leaned down to brush her lips quickly to his.

“Shower. I’ll take Rhys’.” She murmured, slipping off his lap and away from his touch. Castalia offered a small smile before she nodded towards the bathroom. She cleared her throat after hearing her voice was almost thicker, shifting her weight as if to relieve the ache she became very aware of.


<CEDRIC> Cedric tensed as he felt the brush of Castalia’s lips, first to his neck then to his lips. Alarm bells clanged in all quarters of his brain, even if his body ached to ignore them. His brain had gained control over the situation, however, his hands shifting, ready to grab his sire and shift her by force, if necessary. He would not let this go too far.

And yet, she moved before he had the chance. Now looking a lot better, Castalia clearly hadn’t lost her desire for self-preservation, and sleeping with Cedric was the furthest she could get from self-preservation. He was left alone on the bed -- as prepared as he had been to push Castalia away, he had not been prepared to be left bereft. He stared after her with an animalistic kind of longing, before he grunted and nodded, shuffling to the edge of the bed he stepped off, waddling to the bathroom while cursing under his breath.

He didn’t even look back as he closed the door forcefully behind him. This was not Castalia’s fault, he knew. Whatever frustration was left wasn’t to do with her wellbeing but his own dissatisfaction. Up until now he had been selfless. Now alone, he was selfish. The shower had become overly familiar to him, at this point, though tonight he would spend longer in it than he was accustomed to. If he was not careful, he’d fall asleep within its four walls, embraced only by its steam.


<CASTALIA> As the door slammed shut, she couldn’t help but let out a quiet, “**** me” before she glanced towards it and bit her lip. She knew, to an extent, how he felt - she could hear the curses under his breath. Her eyes fell shut as she moved to the side of the bed, kneeling down only to collect his jacket, turtleneck and beanie before relocating them to a lounge chair. In some ways she was taking her time, in others, trying to distract herself.

Opening a drawer beside her bed, Castalia collected a pair of shorts she liked to sleep in and a tank top, followed by a simple black bag. Looking inside to find what she needed, she muttered under her breath in French as she left the room and headed towards Rhys’ where a second shower would be found. Turning the water on cold, the woman removed her clothes and could still feel where the pianist's hand had touched under her shirt.

Bringing the bag with her, she pulled the door shut and stood under the cool stream, heaving a sigh as her eyes fell shut. Trying to numb her feelings.


<CEDRIC> Several times, Cedric eyed the tub, wondering how comfortable it would be to sleep there. He wouldn’t feel it, right? He’d be dead to the world. The waves of weariness washed over him and he knew the sun was coming; he lay there in the tub, arms over the sides, feet up against the tile.

And yet he kept asking himself why he didn’t want to return to the room and the comfort of the bed. He wondered why he didn’t want to curl up beside Castalia like he did every other night. It had nothing to do with her, he realised, but everything to do with himself. He couldn’t stop thinking about the feel of her legs around him, of her body straddling his. The ghost-like tingle of her lips against his only left him wanting more.

And yet, he was a man. He could do this. He WOULD do this. With a groan he pulled himself up and out of the tub and tugged on his boxer shorts. Slowly, he opened the door -- the way to the bed was clear, the bed itself still empty. He pulled back the blankets and slid beneath them, keeping now to the edge of the bed, laying on his side and facing the room, rather than the bare expanse of the other half of the bed. He plumped the pillow beneath his head, stretched out one leg and made himself comfortable, before closing his eyes to sleep. Or at least pretend to sleep, until the sun was high in the sky.


<CASTALIA> Eternal damnation. She mused after her shower had ended. Even as cold as her skin was, Castalia hadn’t quite gotten rid of her arousal but she had made it bearable. “Should’ve stopped after that first time.” She murmured to herself and pulled the tank top over her head. Looking down at herself, she was relieved she’d not grabbed one that was thin. She glanced in the mirror, frowning at the corpsed appearance that was her face and then shook her head.

Afterwards, she stepped into her shorts, wiggling her hips to make sure they wouldn’t fall off as her normal pair would’ve due to the days she hadn’t been feeding. She didn’t know what would come of feeding off Cedric, if it would be a normal thing, but it had pulled them closer. It had showed his concern over her, and she was slowly getting over her anger at him.

Scratching at the back of her head, her fingertips pulled through the damp strands and she listened for the other shower only to notice it had stopped. “I hope he’s alright.” She spoke to her reflection, collecting her bag, dirty clothes, and towel before heading back to the room. As Castalia pushed open the bedroom door, she almost expected the room to be empty. Not to find Cedric already asleep on the bed.

In some ways, she felt relief. In others, disappointment. She knew his curse was not easy on him and as she shoved aside the disappointed bit, she dropped her discarded clothes into a hamper, followed by her towel and padded over to the bed. The bag was dropped into the drawer, pushed shut and then she crawled onto the mattress. “Bonne nuit.” She spoke softly before settling into the sheets, only after turning out the light. Even as she lay out in the mattress, she could still feel his body under hers, the softness of his lips, his skin. She decided she’d go to the gym when the sun fell back beneath the horizon.


<CEDRIC> There was something different tonight. For all their shared intimacy earlier, now there was none. With his eyes closed and his breathing measured, he heard Castalia pad back into the room, and the way she put things away. He felt the way she peeled back the blankets, the weight of her body on the bed. He waited, relaxed, for the feel of her body against his, for her arms around his torso, but there was none.

They were both reeling. Cedric wanted what he couldn’t have, and it was a rare feeling. He didn’t like it. He thought about just letting it go; he could stay where he was, and Castalia could stay where she was. When they woke up, everything might be better, back to normal. If it wasn’t, they could talk about it.

Instead, Cedric rolled over. He said nothing as he wound his arm around Castalia and buried his face in her hair. This was the arrangement. They met to sleep together to cuddle, for the physical comfort their bodies could provide each other. Cedric was not going to renege on the arrangement, not when he was laying right next to his sire. Cedric was a man who honoured the deals that he made.


<CASTALIA> As her mind ran through the events of the evening, Castalia came slowly to the conclusion that she was afraid of losing him. It was why she had pulled away at the moment she felt they’d fall too far, why she hadn’t curled up to him. She was giving him some space in case he needed it. Castalia was pushy and selfish, and often vain, but as she lay in the bed that had become theirs, the allurist was out of her element. The relationship, whatever it was, that she shared with Cedric as sire and childe, and as friends, was a conflicted one.

Idly as she ran her tongue over her teeth, staring at the ceiling, she reached to pull the sheets off herself so that she could retreat to the couch only to stop as she felt Cedric move. What tension she did not realize she held in her body escaped the moment his arm went around her, when she felt his face in her hair. There was a soft twitch of her lips as she adjusted to set her back against his chest, her hand sliding down to gently trace her thumb along the skin on his wrist.

Her eyes closed as she made herself comfortable, relieved that she felt like herself again - thanks to the man that lay beside her. Her fingers curled against his wrist after, squeezing in appreciation, before moving down to tangle up with his as they seemed to do anyway in their sleep.