RP:Miss Murder

Part of the The Day I Tried To Live Arc

Summary: After Khitti leaves Valen (and Maldor) in Larket, Amarrah takes over her form and murders several people in the Kelay-Sage area. She returns to KhittiDomiBrand's home in Frostmaw to not only taunt Brand with a quite naked Khitti, but to send both the Catalian and Khitti a message: she knows where Lydia is. After she releases Khitti from her clutches, the vampiress struggles to pick up the pieces of the atrocities she's helped commit and Brand begins to show the barest hints of affection for Khitti as he reassures her that it wasn't her fault.

Rented Room (Frostmaw Tavern)

Khitti had been gone for hours. While she’d said that she’d gone out for a bite to eat, and to drop those dragonscales off at Kreekitaka’s shop, it shouldn’t have taken her this long--not with all of that shadowstepping and vampire speed anyway. It had been the early evening when she left; she’d worn that black dress she so loved and had even taken her old duster with her. The dragonscale clothing was much too heavy for the time being on her tender skin, and the black pants she wore with them wouldn’t allow for bandages that had been wrapped around her legs and hands to protect what was left of the burns from the biting cold of Frostmaw. Now as it neared midnight, the vampiress waltzed into that apartment-like room they’d rented for almost a year now, reading from a book and drenched in blood from head to toe. “Ohhh myyyy. I didn’t know humans could bend like that. So naughty.” The foreign woman was seriously lacking in the accent department, and she also didn’t look up from that book either as she headed into the bathroom, leaving a small bloodied trail in her wake. Good thing Khitti was pretty damned good at getting bloodstains out of things nowadays. But, Khitti, as strange as she’s acting right now, didn’t seem to care. Book still in hand, and with her nose stuck firmly in it, she ran the tap and heated the pipe, filling the tub with hot water. As steam filled the room, her clothes would hit the floor with a soft wet thud, and the redhead (her hair made redder with the addition of the blood) would carry the similarly bloodstained book into the tub with her.

Something had seemed immediately off to Brand, even before Khitti had entered the room. By now, Brand knew the vampiress down to her very gait. Booted footsteps padded along carpet, a familiar weight but an unfamiliar cadence. Was she injured, perhaps? Brand looked up from his own book when ostensibly-Khitti entered, his expression quizzical. Green eyes lingered upon her blood-drenched face, but the stare was never returned, even fleetingly. And then, that voice. Another entity’s words, inflection, accent, borrowing Khitti’s vocal chords. Brand met it with the slightest narrowing of gaze, but that too went unnoticed as the target of said glare plodded her way into the side room. Calculations: complete. Result: definitely not Khitti. With a heavy sigh and a roll of his eyes, Brand snapped his book shut and slithered off the bed and over to the threshold between one room and the next. Not-Khitti stripped down to nothing, still ignoring his presence (intentionally trying to get under his skin by baring hers? That was a nice touch, he had to admit, but there was no way she hadn’t realized he was here) and Brand opted to lean shoulder to doorframe, arms folded in a casual display. Just how long would Amarrah play puppet master with Khitti’s body if he let her? Some small part of him was inclined to find out, if only for curiosity’s sake. What did Amarrah do when she -wasn’t- actively trying to murder everyone around her? Well, the answer to that was probably ‘antagonize Khitti,’ and seven frakkin’ hells did the vampiress really -not- need more of that right now. Was she aware in there, even now, watching that damned shadow creature piloting around her form? That thought was enough to finally stir Brand into action. “Nice of you,” Brand voiced evenly, “to give your host a good wash after that much carnage, I guess.” Your move, Lemoncakes.

“Nice of me? Oh, I guess I -am- being nice to her aren’t I? Only made her kill a couple people on the way back from Larket. Such a pretty little thing, this girl was. I think your precious princess might’ve fancied her a bit. Didn’t know she even had a thing for girls. Guess you learn new things all the time.” Amarrah-Khitti squinted at the book, a hand moving out to signal to Brand to wait one moment while she was reading. She soon lets out a gasp, the aforementioned hand come to rest against Khitti’s mouth. “Oh myyyy. Have you read this? You could probably learn a few things for your playtime with Red.” She turns the blood-tainted pages towards Brand, pointing at a paragraph, “This E.L. Landon reaaaally knows how to write. She’s so descriptive.” The book’s tossed behind her, the object hitting the wall with thud and leaving a smear of blood down the bathroom tile. “What’s wrong, Firebug? Didja miss her? Were you woooorrried? Come on, now. You keep acting like that and everyone’s gonna think you’re in love with her. We all know better though, don’t we?” She gave Brand a very un-Khitti-like grin, the expression twinged with malice and lunacy. The redhead picked up a washcloth that had been laying over the side of the tub, lifted an arm, and started to wash off the blood that clung to it. “Besides, I can’t let her have all the fun all the time, you know. It’s been my body for a long time too.”

Behind his stoic countenance, Brand was revolted. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard Amarrah’s voice -- frell, it wasn’t even the first time he’d heard Amarrah’s voice seeping unnaturally through Khitti’s pipes -- but it had never been -here-, in the place they’d called home for the past several months. He’d gotten too comfortable, expecting it to be a sanctuary, of sorts. Only his own demons to fight here, and sometimes Khitti’s -- but not like this. This could only be considered an invasion. “Mm,” grunted Brand, giving Amarrah a noncommittal nod and sidestepping questions of his emotional state entirely. “That almost makes sense.” If you weren’t a sociopathic shadow butterfly whose idea of ‘fun’ was killing for sport and toying with people’s emotions, sure. “Look, Lemoncakes, I’m kinda tired and was gettin’ ready for some shuteye before you came around, so how ‘bout you an’ me skip to the part where you tell me why you’re still here? I don’t get the vibe relaxing candlelit baths are exactly your thing.”

Amarrah was positively brimming with excitement as Brand decided to ask the right question. She didn’t, however, get to the point as quickly as the blonde would’ve liked. “What? You mean you don’t want to get into this nice, steamy bath with little old me? I -look- like Khitti. Isn’t that enough?” The psychotic shadow creature does her best to make the poor vampiress look as sultry and enticing as possible for Brand. “No, that’s not her style, though, is it? -She’d- rather spew out all of those nonsensical feelings. I simply cannot fathom that the man she claimed to hate not too long ago has her heart all aflutter.” There’s another wicked grin. “You were right, though. She won’t ever get that fairy tale ending--not even -if- she can go back to being human.” Amarrah waves Khitti’s hand dismissively, “She’s wishing she could just disappear entirely right now. Just -poof-! Wishes she’d never come to Lithrydel. Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. You know how her silly little mind works. Always with the tears and self-hatred.” Her lips pucker a bit, tongue poking out between them as she blows a raspberry, “So boring. So cliché. But, anyway. Yes. I did have something to tell you. Wanted her to hear it to, but I didn’t feel like using that old psychic link you two lovebirds have got going on. I’ve got a little secret for you.” Her last sentence was in a sing-song tone, an index finger waving about to match the beat, “I know where her precious sister is.”

Nothing personal, Amarrah; Brand wouldn’t get into a bath with Lydia, either. He was right on the edge of voicing that thought when Amarrah happened to mention that very same person. Brand awarded her with the barest raising of an eyebrow, though he remained otherwise still perched, aloof, in the doorway. “And?”

“She’s at home, safe and sound.” Brand was left with the riddle as she dipped herself beneath the red-tinted water, rinsing off what was left of the blood before she stepped out of the tub. She even got Khitti a towel, how thoughtful. Wet, bare feet pad across the floor until she comes to a stop, beaming brightly up at him, “Hey, Firebug. Catch.” Khitti’s green eyes soon rolled back into her head as Amarrah released her hold on her thin form, the vampiress immediately falling to the floor. It’d seem they’d get no more out of the shadow creature for now, but perhaps she’d give up more details as time went on and they got closer to going to the Shadow Plane. Yeah. Probably not. Sorry guys.

Brand did, just barely, manage to prevent Khitti’s body from making it all the way to the wet and bloodied floor -- but it was hardly ideal positioning. Between her proximity to him and the speed with which she fell, it was all he could do to awkwardly catch her under her arms before she slumped entirely. The towel draped loosely around her form fell away -- one last way for Amarrah to toy with the both of them, almost certainly -- and Brand scrambled to wrap it around her once more as he adjusted his grip and carried her to the bed. Even now he avoided showing too much care or trying to stir Khitti. This could still be another of Amarrah’s games. He wouldn’t believe she’d truly given up power over the vampiress’ body until Khitti told him so herself. And so Brand instead backed away, only keeping her in his peripheral as he eyed the bloody trail across carpet and into the side room. What a mess.

It didn’t take long for Khitti to come to. Her eyes snapped open, panic setting in almost immediately. Where was she -now-? Frozen somewhat, like a person waking up with sleep paralysis, she could do nothing more than stare at the ceiling as Amarrah’s hold still lingered, taunting her, showing her how much control she had. She was at least in the apartment still and she was definitely on the bed. Once the shadow creature went away entirely, she’d draw in a breath and let it out in a heavy sigh, her head turning towards where the Catalian stood, “Brand…?” There was that familiar Dhavislavvian accent, and the uncertainty and sadness that sometimes came with it. She didn’t say anything else, though, didn’t know what to say to him.

Brand’s posture stiffened as his eyes shot back to meet Khitti’s, but -- no. The moment she spoke, it was clear it was truly Khitti. Unless Amarrah was that good of an actress. No, don’t dwell on that possibility, dammit; you’re letting that miserable gorram butterfly get to you. “Hey, peach.” His tone was one of exhaustion. He -was- exhausted. He hadn’t lied about that, and the unexpected encounter with Amarrah had only drained him further. There was a bit of shuffling in the dresser before Brand arrived at Khitti’s side, her usual nightwear in hand. He hesitated now that he stood over her again -- should he ask if she was alright? Pretend like nothing had happened at all? She just looked so… vulnerable, right now, and if there was one thing Brand was uncomfortable with… “Here,” said Brand, shoving the clothes into her grasp. “Figure this isn’t a good time for you to be hangin’ around in the nude.”

Khitti took the clothes from Brand, her hands shaking like a leaf. There was no eye contact made again as she put on her pajamas, nor when she slid off the bed and went into the other room. The water in the tub was let out, and a new batch made--this time with a bit of soap--and her clothes left to soak in it. An air of guilt hung over her like a raincloud, and she let it pour on her in silence, her attention now focused on the bloodied carpet. A bucket of sudsy water and a scrub brush was gathered before she was headed back in the other room, the vampiress setting to work on the oldest stains near the door. She was like that girl in her fairytale book, the one covered in cinders that always sang while she worked and dreamed of better days. But there was no singing. There was no dreams of anything better than this. Khitti had been used and abused like a child's doll and then left to pick up the pieces afterwards. Brand was left to his own devices as usual, for she didn't dare ask for his help or even the hug that she so desperately needed. It didn't matter. None of it did.

Speaking of cinders, Brand had busied himself with the fireplace while Khitti went about cleaning up Amarrah’s mess. As Khitti set her clothes to wash, the ashes from previous flames were swept away and disposed of. Khitti gathered her bucket and brush, and Brand placed fresh logs on the hearth. Was he ignoring her? He certainly hadn’t looked her way since handing over those clothes. His jaw was set, his expression just as stony as it had been with Amarrah moments earlier. Only the flames betrayed him as a gesture sparked the wood alight. They nearly poured across the stony limits of the fireplace in their intensity, so bright as to eliminate all shadow from the room and with such a roar as to drown out even the innermost of voices. With a slight adjustment of his fingers the flame dimmed once again to something closer to the usual, and only then did he turn to regard Khitti. A moment’s observation later he was at her side, drawing the soapy water up from her bucket into an orb at his fingertips. “Let me,” was all he said, peering down at her.

Scrub, scrub, scrub. If she scrubbed anymore, she’d wear through the carpet and hit the wood beneath. Khitti didn’t answer him, nor did she realized right away he’d taken the water, despite his offer of help. Scrub, scrub, scrub. The events from Kelay played over in her mind as she continued, and only stopped when her thoughts were derailed by the waterless bucket. She’d gone to plunge the brush into the sudsy mixture again, but alas, it was gone. Verdant eyes shifted upwards, towards the orb, but still didn’t settle directly on Brand, still didn’t meet his gaze. Khitti would finally move out of the way, allowing the blonde to deal with the bloodstains, but as soon as he did, she’d get up and go to the other room. Slow, languid steps would bring her to the tub, brush still in hand, and there she’d start the scrubbing anew, this time on her dress.

Brand knew a thing or two about removing blood from carpet, and a magically assisted method was better than one without. In a fraction of the time it would have taken Khitti he’d wrapped up the task and was left surveying his work with a blood-tainted sphere in each hand. Now, another puzzle: what to do with the water? He’d added his own magic to it and it was now too much to fit in the bucket. Hmm. Soon enough he came upon the solution, and weary steps carried him to the drain set in the floor of the side room. A distant gurgle sounded from the pipes below them as they carried both water and blood away. The easy part was done, but Khitti… Khitti he had no answer for. The touchy-feely thing was Dominic’s forte, not his. He ended up merely staring at her, contemplating what to say and coming up with nothing but platitudes he wouldn’t mean and she likely wouldn’t accept, anyway.

Khitti felt his gaze on her as she continued about her work. The bubbles had long since faded away, leaving the water murky, but not so much that it couldn’t hold a reflection. Brand’s was there, of course, right along with her own, and she rejected it. What sort of expression did those green eyes hold? Concern? Disappointment? Judgement? She didn’t want to look, didn’t want to know. The dress and her old duster were dealt with accordingly and the water in the tub let out again, the clothing left to hang over the side to dry. The rest of the room was tidied up as he stared, until she came to that book that Amarrah had been reading. It reminded her of the things Amarrah had said to Brand. Up until now, there had been a severe lack of emotions on Khitti’s part--it was certainly an odd sight to behold as the vampiress was definitely the type to overreact at times. Something broke, however, as she stared at the text; the book had fallen open to a random page after hitting the floor, the pages stained with bloody fingerprints. -Her- fingerprints. The book was soon snatched up, and Khitti would take to tearing out the pages--nothing felt sacred to her anymore, not even her precious books. Amarrah had taken everything from her.

Pages fell to the floor, and Brand was stirred into action. With measured steps he closed the gap between him and the vampiress, halting just before her and the book she was ripping apart. The bulk of the pages remaining he pinched between thumb and index finger, not tearing the book away from her but simply making his intentions known. If she’d eventually let him, he’d remove the book gently from her grasp, take the briefest glance at its contents, and discard it over his shoulder -- but it would never hit the ground. Instead, it would be swallowed up in flame, and descend as ash upon the slick tile floor. And at last, Khitti would get that hug she so clearly needed. He could make an exception on his whole ‘gruff and tough’ demeanor. Just this once.

Khitti almost didn’t let Brand take the book from her. She soon did, despite wanting to still rip it to shreds, and the smell of burning parchment filled her nostrils, those crimson brows knitting together as she finally looked up at him. And then, he hugged her, and she was as still as stone, convinced that it was maybe some sort of trick. Brand didn’t do this sort of thing and she knew that. When nothing else happened but the embrace, the redhead practically melted against him and buried her face in his chest. There were no tears, however, strangely enough. Perhaps, there were no more to be had from her or maybe she just resisted doing so around Brand.

If Brand couldn’t think of any words, maybe that was because there weren’t any. That was the conclusion he’d come to, anyway. And so, he allowed this. ‘Allowed’ it. Ah, who was he kidding -- even he wasn’t -that- callous. In fact, some time into that lengthy hug he realized he’d been playing with her hair without really thinking about it. He of course promptly stopped as soon as he could make it appear he’d just been trying to wring the remaining water out of it or somesuch; literally anything would be better than revealing pure sentimentality. “So,” he said as he pulled away, the first word either had spoken in… twenty minutes? Thirty? “About Lydia… the hell you think she meant?”

Khitti hadn’t noticed he was playing with her hair until he had stopped, but he’d managed to cover up the action enough as dealing with the water that she didn’t think twice about it. Lucky him. She shook her head as he forced them to part from each other, breathing a heavy sigh. “I don’t know. ‘Home’ could mean several zhings or maybe even a combination of zhem.” The vampiress pulled her hair over her left shoulder, raked her fingers through it instead of retrieving her brush, and started to braid it as she slipped past Brand, heading into the other room. “I -may- have an idea, more like a gut feeling. Or maybe she’s not as good at hiding zhings from me now as she zhought. I’m likely vrong, zhough.” Sitting down on the edge of Brand’s side of the bed, she put her face in her hands, and rubbed her eyes--she was probably about as exhausted as Brand now and it was starting to show.

“Mm. My first thought was Dhavislaav.” Brand followed Khitti back into the bedroom and, after relocating his book to the end table, took a seat at her side. “Though, I dunno what sense that makes.” He was leaning forward, elbows on knees and hands folded between them, thumbs rubbing absently at the fingers of the opposite hand. “Just… knowin’ Amarrah, she’s got motivation behind sharin’ that, and it’s not a well-intentioned one. Frell, might be somethin’ she made up.” A shrug. “Figured you’d have thoughts on what to do about it, s’all. If anything.”

Khitti blinked a few times over at Brand as he sat down, eyeing him carefully, “Sometimes I’m not sure vhether to be frightened or impressed vhen you and I zhink zhe same zhings.” To elaborate on this, she gets up for only a moment, just long enough to grab one of the books she’d taken from the library, then returns to her seat. “I zhink it means more zhan zhat, zhough.” Flipping through the pages hastily, she finally stops on the section that goes on to describe the Shadow Plane. “It’s essentially a mirror of our vorld, but still different. Much, much darker and probably far less advanced.” Snapping the book shut, she side-eyed Brand, “A long time ago, after Amarrah and I made it out of zhat underground area zhat zhe necromancers kept us in, ve vent home. To -my- home. It vas very disorienting for her because it vas night time--so much so zhat she zhought -she- vas home. She was utterly convinced of it until ve made it to my village and she saw zhe houses. Zhe undead vas nothing new to her, but she’d never seen buildings zhat looked like zhat. Zhe architecture vas all vrong. Zhis is all in theory, but if I do manage to find a vay to magic us zhere, it may not matter. Zhat still vouldn’t be home. Shadow-Lithrydel and zhe real Lithrydel -isn’t- our home. At least, not zhe one either of us came from.” Trying to process all of this, she leans back onto the bed and sets the book on her face. “Zhere could be a shadow version of Catal...and probably all zhese other places foreigners like us have come from.”

“Gorram terrified, for sure,” Brand quipped, daring a grin. Her explanation was heard with attentive silence, broken only by him reaching for the bottle of wine he’d found in Raiez’s cave. He’d been waiting for a good excuse to crack it open, ideally in celebration, but -- frak it. He was out of whiskey, didn’t feel like tiredly stumbling downstairs for more, and he needed to take the edge off after recent events. “So, what are you implyin’, that Lydia’s all the way in frakkin’ Shadow-Dhavislaav? And you wanna -go- there?” Yep, he definitely needed that drink. Brand poured himself a glass and turned back to Khitti to find that book on the Shadow Plane obscuring her face. “Hey.” He peeled its pages off of her with his free hand. “Drink?” He’d get a second glass if she wanted, or she could just as easily drink -from- him, if insobriety was calling to her as much as it was him.

Khitti eyed the bottle warily, her lips pursed together in thought, “Should you really be drinking zhat? It did come from -Raiez’s- cave.” There was another moment of thought before she finally answered his inquiries, “Yes. To both of your questions. But, uh, I von’t need a glass...and if you’ll let me.” Yep. Getting completely wasted sounded like a good idea right now. She sat up again, “I don’t just vant to go zhere--I have to. If Lydia’s zhere -and- I can get rid of zhe bitch in my head, I’m all for it. I just...don’t know how safe it is zhere. Vhen I vas in Larket, I found Valen and talked to him about it. He’s zhe only one I know vith shadow magic around here besides he-who-vill-not-be-named.” Of course, she meant that idiot elder vampire that sired her. “He said he’d go vith us. Our magic vould likely be far stronger zhere zhan yours or Lionel’s. Regardless of zhat, ve vouldn’t really know vhat ve’re valking into. Not unless I can manage to get my hands on zhose advanced books in zhe restricted section of zhe library.”

“Eh, I’m sure it’ll be -fine-. The bottle’s labeled clear enough.” As for news of Valen, Brand started so severely at that revelation that he fumbled his glass, spilling a fair bit of the drink into his lap before he’d even had the chance to take his first sip of it. “Seven bloody hells, kiwi. Valen?! -That- Valen? The Valen that went from tryin’ to kill us to tryin’ to be best of friends with damn near every Frostmaw citizen of note?” Still stringing curses under his breath, Brand set his glass onto the end table and used the nearest blanket to dab at his trousers. For Khitti’s sake, it was lucky that the wine was such a variety of white as to almost be colorless. “I dunno what’s more infuriatin’, that you wanna trust him with somethin’ like that, or that you took bloody forever to even -mention- the whole Larket thing, or that you told -him- about this Shadow Plane business before -me-. When were you gonna say somethin’ if Lemoncakes hadn’t done her lemon-thing?” Y’know. Being fifty shades of awful.

“Settle down. Seriously. You zhink I -actually- trust him? Do you really zhink I’m -zhat- stupid?” Khitti narrowed her eyes at Brand, “I -need- him. It’s not a matter of vant anymore. Surely you can understand zhat vith all of zhe zhings -you- had to do vith zhe Daggers. Zhe instant you or Dominic or Lionel are able to conjure up shadows and raise zhe dead and likely help channel a portal to zhe Shadow Plane, I’ll get rid of him quicker zhan you can down a bottle of vhiskey. Otherwise, I’m going to need help. My magic may be stronger now, but I still don’t have any damned idea vhat I’m doing most of zhe time vith it.” She scoffed at him and got up off the bed, sarcasm dripping from her words, “I’m sorry. After Amarrah decided to drop me like a dead body, I vas a little vorried about zhe fact zhat I just murdered innocent people in Kelay...or did you forget zhat? Zhese veren’t criminals. Zhey veren’t corrupt politicians. Zhey vere living, breathing people zhat didn’t deserve to die!” Her tone steadily rose from her typical snark into all out shouting. The waterworks that hadn’t been there before finally started and she quickly pivoted away from him to hide it, “Gods’ damn it, Brand. You vant me to trust -you-, but you von’t even trust -me-.”

Brand pouted, because he’s mature like that. “S’not the same. It wasn’t even a matter of trust. That was survival.” Well, and now he’d just implied that getting rid of Amarrah -wasn’t- a matter of survival. And in the most technical sense, it wasn’t, but she wasn’t likely to think of it that way. Quick, change the subject, and maybe she won’t notice. “But that’s, er, problematic.” Because innocents dying is bad, yes? No, nevermind that. Dead is dead; nothing to be done about it now. “Cuz what if someone saw her? They’re not gonna realize that wasn’t you. That’s the sorta thing that could come down on you in a bad way.” Yes. Good job. A perfect ten out of ten for empathy skills. Well, he’d finished dabbing away at the spilled drink. Time to top off his glass to replace what he’d lost. Brand reached for the wine bottle, did his thing, set it down again -- and stared. “Frakkin’ thing’s not emptyin’,” he mumbled, reaching for a second glass and filling that one as well before examining the wine bottle a second time. Despite what he’d poured, it was every bit as full as it had been when he’d opened it. “Well frak me. The damn thing’s enchanted. Cuz -of course- it is.”

Khitti couldn’t possibly glower anymore at Brand, once she composed herself and turned back around to face him, as he dug himself an even deeper hole. “Ding ding ding! Ve’ve got a freaking genius here! Did you suddenly forget who I vork for? I vas zhere. -Everyone- on the main road in Kelay saw it. It doesn’t even matter so much zhat I’m a vampire; it’s zhe fact zhat I vork for Hildegarde.” As his attention soon turned to the wine again, she rolled her eyes, “Wunderbar. Just vhat ve need around here, more magic junk.” The redhead sighs, “Maybe I should just go out to drink. Already killed people tonight, might as vell add more to zhe list.” Looking down at her current clothing, and remembering the fact that her other clothes--including her boots and coat--were still very much soaking wet, she let out an irritated grumble and plopped down into the armchair instead of leaving.

Not that he should give Amarrah ideas, but… “That bad? I’m surprised she let witnesses live. What kinda novice does that? Unless… the whole gorram point was to get you in trouble.” Now that he thought about it, it made more sense that Amarrah simply killing people because it would bother Khitti. Killing people to bother Khitti -and- possibly hampering her freedom to research ways to get rid of Amarrah at the same time? -That- sounded far more like what he’d expect from her. “In which case, I guess you’ve gotta hope, if or when it -does- come down on you, you can prove it wasn’t you. I daresay Hildegarde knows well enough, but if enough voices call for your head...” He downed his first glass of wine and part of the second while chewing on the thought. Geez, Brand. It’s not a race. Slow down enough to maybe taste what you’re drinking, at least. “...So, maybe you -do- need Valen. Seems he shows allegiance wherever’s most convenient, so as long as you’ve got somethin’ to keep him on our side -- he could maybe get places you can’t, if the worst happens. Talk to Larewen. Get into the restricted libraries. All that jazz.”

Khitti shook her head, “No. No Larewen. She’s completely vorthless. I may not be an elder vampire, or even like being a vampire in general, but I’m pretty damned certain of how one should act, and she’s not any of zhat. Anything having to do vith her magic is even vorse. Couldn’t even frakking seal a soul into a body vithout siphoning me and Amarrah’s magic to do it, vay back vhen. I don’t care if she’s head of zhe necromancer’s guild or not, I’ve fought novices zhat vere better trained zhan zhat pointy-eared bitch.” Clearly, she was still quite bitter about the whole thing. Her lips parted, and she looked like she might say more on the subject, but she chose to bite her tongue instead. “I’ll steal zhose goddamned books if I have to. Valen might end up being just as useless.” Her fingers drummed along the arm of the chair impatiently as she stared at the fire. “And, vith regards to Hildegarde, if something happens and I can’t manage to convince people… vell...I guess zhat’s zhat.” She peered around the side of the chair finally, fixing her line of sight on him, “Are you drunk yet?” Sheesh, Khitti.

Brand nearly snorted the wine he’d been drinking out his nose. Well, even if he had, it wasn’t really a waste if he had an endless supply… “Peach. You’ve not been a vampire so long you forget how human biology works, have you? It takes a while.” A beat. “ ‘Specially if you drink a lot.” Not that he was guilty of that, nooo. Of course not. Sighing, Brand beckoned her over to his side once again. “C’mere. I’m workin’ on it, okay? Jus’...” This might be a good time to apologize to her. She seemed extra sensitive after everything with Amarrah, and Brand was being, well, Brand. “Jus’... c’mere.” Nah. Brands don’t apologize.

Khitti somehow managed the tiniest grin as he nearly lost his alcohol again. It soon disappeared when he asked her to join him, obvious hesitation written all over her. With a sigh, she pushed herself up off the chair and reclaimed her seat beside him on the bed. It didn’t seem like he needed to apologize, though, as she slumped over against his arm, resting her head on his shoulder like nothing even happened, as if they hadn’t just had an argument--even if it was a brief and relatively tame one in comparison to others they’d had. “Sorry. I’m just being impatient.” The redhead’s lips twisted into that signature frown of hers, “I just vant to forget…”

Brand wrapped an arm around Khitti, loosely squeezing her at the waist. Brands don’t normally show affection, either. What the heck. “Doesn’t work that way, kiwi. Jus’ goes away a little while.” Which glass was this now, the fifth? The fourth? He was starting to feel -something- at least. Maybe he stop knocking them back so fast, so he wouldn’t go from zero to wasted with virtually no time in between. No? Okay then. Onward to drink six. Or maybe five. Wine was weaker than his precious whiskey, anyway. Right? It wasn’t his usual drink of choice, but damn if the stuff from this bottle wasn’t delicious. “You’re still gonna have to deal with it. With her. You’re still gonna have to wake up and know what she did. What -you- did, sorta, by extension.” Brand eyed her sidelong, trying to judge how she was taking that wisdom. It definitely wasn’t from experience or anything, nope. “But look, you’ve got help, alright? You’ve got me -- an’ the kid, if he can actually manage anything. And Firesword Boy.” It had taken him a while, but that’d do for a nickname. “And, er, Valen.” Hmm. Valen needed a nickname, too. Brand pondered, and down his gullet went more of the drink. He was going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning. “...Suckerfish,” he announced decisively. Maybe don’t ask the logic behind that one.

Khitti scrunched up her nose a bit, peering up at him as he listed off all those nicknames, “You’re ridiculous. But, also, yes. Valen is certainly zhat. He sure did move on from Lionel real quick-like. I’m surprised he didn’t try his hand vith you either.” She narrowed her eyes at the thought, “He vould not have seen zhe light of day again if he had.” There was that overprotectiveness again, something he hadn’t seen when she had her second run-in with Valen. The vampiress shakes her head then opted for silence, instead of continuing on a Valen-inspired rant, as she lifted a hand to meet his face, staring at him with those perpetually saddened eyes of hers. Lightly, her fingertips scratched at his stubble with the barest hint of amusement written on her own features, then slowly moved down to his chin to pull his mouth to meet hers. He was right--she did have him, and Dominic, and Lionel. And unfortunately Valen. Regardless, it was something positive for her to focus on. The kiss didn’t last very long, at least not as long as she’d liked, as she was nice enough to let him get back to his drinking.

Brand stuck a finger into the air, to interject in that kiss. It was wholly unnecessary, as by the time he did so Khitti was already pulling away again. “Ah, he hasn’t tried his hand with me -yet-. I’ve seen the type before. Wouldn’t surprise me.” He sloshed around the last little bit of wine in his glass before upending it. This would do for now. A moment later, he’d discarded his shirt off to the side (was that really necessary, Brand?) and held out an arm for Khitti to drink from.

Khitti pursed her lips a little at his interjection and eyed that finger in defiance. Ha. She was quicker than he was. That bit of spite was washed away though once he’d stuck that arm out for her. Crimson brows furrowed, and even a frown surfaced. Right, she has to actually drink from him in order to get drunk. She knew this, but somehow in the time it took him to actually get sort of drunk, it’d slipped her mind entirely. There’s clear hesitation, but she does it eventually, the need for insobriety greater than the want to never drink a drop of blood again--to never see blood again. She was even gentler than usual, as she took his arm and cradled it in her hands, almost as if she’d just been freshly turned. Almost like she’d been back before she ever took her first drink of fresh blood. But, she did drink and her head began to swim with that wine, and she drank all the more until she couldn’t deal with the taste of that red life force any longer. It disgusted her, revolted her to the point of nausea. Or maybe that was the wine. Regardless, she’d heal up the wounds she caused and would release him from her grasp before falling backwards onto the bed with a sigh.

Just in the time it took Khitti to feed, Brand could feel that wine starting to hit him harder. He leaned back onto the pillows as Khitti did, staring at the bottle and contemplating if he should pour himself one last glass for the night. He was still staring at it as he voiced a thought to Khitti: “Y’know, I figure I’ve been here ‘bout a year now. Never thought I’d’ve been okay with lettin’ a vampire feed off me, much less semi-regularly.” Khitti received a wary glance, as Brand mostly expected that thought to be met with further revulsion regardless of what he meant by it. “Lemoncakes runs off hate and spite and feeds off misery. Most of those frakkin’ story vampires, they do the same. For whatever it’s worth, kiwi, you’ve never been one of ‘em.”

Khitti wasn’t like them? She wasn’t some horrid monster? It was hard for her to believe, even especially after today. Verdant eyes would focus on Brand as she turned on her side, one arm draping across his chest, even giving him a small squeeze. She had watched him stare at that glass longingly before shifting his attention to her, and before she said anything she’d lean over him to pour him once last glass for the night. For a moment, as she handed over the glass, there was a glimmer of happiness written on her face, “If you say so, Brand.” It almost sounded like she actually accepted one of his compliments. Coming from him, it was -surprisingly- reassuring. Once he took the glass, she’d return back to her former position; one arm across him, snuggled up alongside him with her head on the pillow. Whether it was that strange wine or his comforting words, it didn’t take long for her to fall asleep.