RP:Holy Delicious
Summary: Larewen feeds on the paladin, Ember... again.
The Pass through Xalious
Dwarven craft is in this road, as it is well levelled, and smoothly done. The top layer is dirt, but beneath is an obvious layer of stone. Dwarven stoneworkers, being very good road builders, set this to keep rain from washing away the top layer and to also keep carriages from sinking into muddy ruts. It is a fine portrayal of ancient craftsmanship.
Larewen was walking westward, back toward Xalious and seemingly paying little attention to her surroundings. Her hair was drawn up beneath her cap, her veil obscuring some of her features. A shawl hung over her shoulders for warmth she did not need and her arms were curled around her torso.
Ember was, by contrast, heading east out of the mountains and into the forested areas of her birth place once more. After her encounter with the vampire at the cliff edge, the young paladin had taken shelter with the dwarves of Craughmoyle for a few nights while she recovered, setting out earlier this afternoon for more familiar areas. The construction of that ancient city had been impressive, but at her core, Ember was a creature of the outdoors and missed the sun overhead. Still, the place had possessed an air of history about it, as did even this road she trod upon now which was itself of dwarven craft. She was dressed in her hodgepodge armor, a symbol of her faith hanging from a silver chain around her neck, and her spear held upright and leaning against her shoulder. A nice night at an inn, perhaps a touch of music… though when she sees the veiled figure approaching her ahead in the gloom of the early evening, her jaw sets into a firmer stance.
Larewen lifted her eyes from the ground before her, spotting the paladin as she continued along on her way. Taking note of her state, and of the woman's weariness, a smirk curled across her lips and her steps pivoted just enough to put her directly in Ember's path. Her steps quickened a small bit and soon she was, undoubted, too close for the woman's comfort. Her arms fell from her torso to hoist the hem of her skirt off the ground as she called out a rather friendly greeting. "Good evening!"
Ember doesn’t point the tip of her spear at the vampire though she does hold it in more of a half-ready stance; granted it wasn’t a close range weapon, but it could make an effective barrier against an assault if interposed. Perhaps amusingly, there’s a short sword now at the paladin’s hip and a dagger hilt sticking out of one of her boots, both appearing to be of dwarven make. Someone was determined not to get caught without a weapon again, the girl can learn! “Good evening.” Ember replies in turn, though she’s definitely wary. “I did not expect to see you again so soon. If ever.”
Larewen released her skirt, raising her hands into the air as she studied the added weaponry. The paladin was certainly smarter than Larewen had pegged her for, in so much as the fact she didn't wish to be caught again. Her smirk became an almost pleasant smile. "Come now, I don't intend to attack you again, little one," she said, in as sweet a voice as she could muster. "I thought I'd ask this time."
Ember looks at the vampiric elf before her, a mixture of distrust and suspicion in her green eyes… and, yes, perhaps a bit of curiosity as well. The paladin was not exactly adept at concealing her emotions as her ears give an agitated jerk; perhaps, in time, if she survived long enough she’d learn a better game face. “I would prefer my blood remain within my own veins.” She replies stiffly though the memory of the last attack flits a moment in her eyes and the mix of pain and pleasure that came with it. Her ears twitch again. “There’s no shortage of drunks wandering this area and oft up to no good, why not feed from them if your… appetite is roused?”
Larewen was not oblivious to the twitching of her ears. Like the paladin, she had once been an elf, after all. In lieu of the woman's query, Larewen closed what little distance remained between them, seemingly unconcerned with the prospect of being skewered or worse. Instinct told her that Ember was curious and, hopefully, wouldn't attack her anytime in the immediate future. "Because their blood is polluted, bitter, and low quality. Yours," she extended a gloved hand upward slowly, seeking to brush finger tips along the curve of her youthful cheek. "Yours is intoxicatingly sweet, and I have no intention to leave you for dead; you'll heal just as the young always do."
Ember keeps the spear crossed in front of her though the vampiric woman is far too close for comfort. A parasite, she’d called herself, and the paladin was inclined to agree. What type of curse must it be to be consigned to feeding from the living in lieu of normal food? Can vampires even eat normal food? Ember’s training on the undead had not been particularly in-depth on that subject though she’d been able to verify first hand that holy magic injured, rather than healed, them. “Why should I grant such a request?” The paladin asks. “You said yourself that you’re a parasite.”
Larewen rolled her shoulders upward. "You enjoyed it, did you not?" came her reply, sing-song at best. Those dark chocolate eyes were fixated on the other's verdant ones, even as the spear blocked her reach. "I could have killed you on our first encounter, if that was what I wanted. I think we both know that," she said quietly. With her nearness, Ember might noticed the braided chain that snaked downward from behind her right ear and across her chest to disappear beneath her clothes; she'd been dragon-marked since their last meeting, and with it seem to come an even heavier air of confidence.
Ember does look at that chain, not understanding the significance of it, but noting its presence. She shifts somewhat uncomfortably, her ears giving a twitch again. “You could have.” She agrees if not exactly happily. “And you didn’t, for which I am grateful. The experience… I did not enjoy being ambushed, no. The bite itself was… not entirely unpleasant.” She lowers the spear an inch or two. “Very well… but only a small bit.”
Larewen smiled at the consent, taking the opportunity to reach out and, unless prevented otherwise, tug the holy warrior hard against her body. This time, there was not a jerk against the woman's head to reveal her throat, but rather the snaking movement of the sorceress's arm upward as her fingers wound gently into her fiery locks. A soft nudge of her fingers is all that would be used to reveal the soft flesh and soon, Larewen's lips would seek to press against the warmth of her throat, moving across soft skin in search of the perfect spot to pierce the flesh. Only when that place was found did Larewen's fangs seek to puncture her vein.
Ember takes a sharp breath inwards when pulled, resistance for a brief moment before the moment was revealed to be more one of enthusiasm than violence. The feeling of the woman’s cold lips on her skin, as before, elicited mixed feelings. The elves ears twitched and, when the vampire’s fangs pierced her flesh once more, a quiet sigh came out of her throat even as a touch of a flush entered her cheeks. Just as before, the pulse is strong, and the blood both warm and rich as each beat of Ember’s heart spurts a bit more into the vampire’s mouth.
Larewen drank quietly, but not as greedily as she had before. Then, the woman had gone quite some time without feeding. Now, the woman fed almost daily, courtesy of finding purpose once more in her undying existence. What truly attracted Larewen to Ember's blood was its simple purity. Ember was a woman of values, a woman who held steadfast to her beliefs, and a woman not yet exposed to the embrace of a man. Not only had she said as much, but the way the paladin reacted to her touch gave it away. Having had her fill, the vampire's lips left the woman's throat and once more, dark eyes sought Ember's verdant ones. "Was that so bad?"
Ember had mixed feelings about the whole business, but one thing was certain, it was easy to understand why vampires developed those who enjoyed being fed upon. It is a sort of intimacy, a sharing on a very deep level, and the sensation of the bite itself was not terrible. “No, the sensation itself isn’t.” She replies, meeting those dark eyes. “But it is something I could become addicted to which might detract from the whole purpose of my even being out here instead of home with my people. I’ll need to think about this more.” As honest as she can be without truly knowing herself how she feels. “And I still know next to nothing of you.”
Larewen shook her head lightly to Ember, disentangling her arms from their embrace around the woman and drawing back from her. "If the feel of my lips upon your throat, and the piercing of my fangs upon your flesh are all it takes to detract from your path, then perhaps you are not on the one your heart longs for, little one," she said quietly. Her words were gentle, almost kind, and hinting at concern. "There is much more to the world than life, as my kind learn over the years." Her smile widened to a grin and then she moved to step past the woman. "If you wish to know more about me, then seek me out sometime. Either in the Dark Forest that skirts Vailkrin, or the cave that once belonged to the black dragon."
Ember brings a cloth from her pack up to the side of her neck. “No, the act itself doesn’t detract, but allowing an addiction to take hold and influence my actions could.” She answers. “Though it’s not something I expect you to understand. You follow a far different path than my own, I suspect, but perhaps I will seek you one of these nights. I am curious about you.”
Larewen chuckled softly, glancing back over her shoulder. "An addiction, and what I have said, can easily be one in the same." As for addictions? Larewen knew them too well. Her desire for power far outweighed any feelings she might have for those around her, including the very man to whom she is betrothed. Another smile was cast Ember's direction before Larewen continued toward the cave that she'd mentioned, which now belonged to Gheneroc.