multiversallogs | Growing In the Dark

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Growing In the Dark

Who: Ivan and Ilde
What: Checking in.
Where: Ivan's apartment.
When: Sometime around Sukkardi, give or take.
Notes: None so far.
Warnings: Ditto.

Ivan hasn't been answering his CiD for a few days. In part because, even with Njoki's remedy, his face still feels terrible. In part, however, he's been thinking a great deal. He'd laughed off the growing anti-vampire sentiment for a time, but now it was clear to him that more was going on than simply fear and prejudice. By the time he was well enough to leave his apartment regularly again, he wanted to have a plan in mind, and he had little time for keeping up to date with the Network beyond news postings.

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He shakes his head. "No. I won't say the Old Ones can't, they're canny as hell about what they do or don't do but - we can look dead, but it's not the same." It was basically a matter of choosing to be still and not pretending to breathe anymore. But you were still aware, and still felt hunger.

"Wrong flavour." ...of vampire. She does wonder how many of them can - and how many of those will. Réjean must be along the right lines, which gives her a frame of reference...but differentiating between them is a different concern entirely that doesn't have much to do with what's going on right now, offhand. She tabs through a few other posts, pausing- "There's one from the 'Concerned Citizens', as well."

"Let me take a look." He'd probably seen it, but he wants to make sure.

Passing the CiD off to him, Ilde slides a hand under the back of her neck and makes a face. "'Murder is not a lifestyle choice'. It's PETA-catchy."

She vaguely recalls PETA campaigns always making her want to buy a fur coat, and considers briefly that Ivan might be the equivalent.

"I wonder if people will start throwing red paint at us," he says, mild to cover how amused he isn't.

He hands her back her CiD. "It helps I can go in the daylight, but I'm not terribly good at pretending to be human. I might have to go to ground." Or go to Hellsing, if they were taking a stand against the movement.

The CiD goes back in her purse, carelessly almost, and she makes a face up at him from his lap. Seeing as how he's been killed twice before that she knows of, it doesn't seem unfair to be slightly concerned that third time might be the charm; she's getting accustomed to him, she wouldn't want him to be gone yet.

"What are you going to do, then?"

He touched the corner of her mouth with his thumb. "Careful, people will think you're getting attached."

Just for that, Ilde sinks her teeth into the skin between his thumb and forefinger; he did present it to her at such a convenient angle, after all. Licking away from her teeth the small amount of blood that wells, she says, "It's a fair question," in her most reasonable tone.

His expression catches when she bites him, though in nothing like displeasure. "If such a thing exists." He runs his finger along her jaw, lightly.

"I'm going to be as careful as I can for as long as I can. I don't have a better answer yet."

"All right. I'll make you copies of what we've got this week. It's in a box in my new room somewhere." She'll figure out which one and where when she gets home- they're newly moved in and she's been unpacking as she needs things, by and large. It had seemed important to have those papers, but they've largely sat untouched since making the duplicates and putting them away.

Maybe there's something useful in there. Maybe it's just pages and pages of bile that won't tell them anything but far too much about the inside of the mind of whoever wrote it.

"Try not to get maced again in the meantime," she suggests, 'helpfully', lifting her chin under his hand.

"I will take that under consideration." He kisses her; she's been in his lap awhile, and besides, he really does have no idea what to do next.

Ilde thinks, briefly, that in the future she should remember that biting him isn't conducive to conversations continuing for very long. Here and now, at least, there's not much else to say on that subject and she's disinclined to mind kissing him instead, sitting up and half-turning for an easier angle. Eventually, she'll do her own share of poking around, but that's later, and for now she's...also taking the opportunity to press her fingertips, curious, to the red marks where he was holy-maced.

The skin feels a bit tight, still, slick as if it's still healing. But he doesn't wince away from the touch. He bites at her lower lip enough to show he's noticed, but Ilde's been with him long enough to know that a bit of pain is far from a dealbreaker.

(Had she come a few days earlier, it might have been different.)

Her nails press in, contrarily, and she looks pleased with herself with they break, the hand she was leaning on behind her resting against his thigh for balance. "That feels like it was painful." For some reason, this doesn't sound exactly sympathetic.

"When it happened or just now?" he asks, wry. "It was," to both, though more the one than the other.

Either answer suffices, judging by the little hum of assent; Ilde's mercurial mood is veering in a new direction, lazily entertained by the concept of macing a vampire and vaguely enamoured of the way his healing skin feels under the pad of her thumb. (The fae, like cats, have a little bit of sadism about them.) "You'll live." For a given value of living, and her hands are moving further afield.

"So they tell me." His attention drifts down to her neck, as it will. "I won't even have a dashing scar to show for it."

"I'm sure I could get my hands on some holy water if you want something more deliberate-" her voice rises on the last word, somewhere between a response to what he's doing and a laugh.

He bites the base of her throat, though not hard enough to draw blood. (Yet.) "I think I'll manage without, but it's a very thoughtful suggestion."

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Growing In the Dark

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