ashes and dust

It’s clear she is struggling, and he’s grateful she cannot feel him through the bond just yet, because he pities her so much that his chest aches with each slow breath. This is not the life he wanted for her. For any of them. To see her struggle so plainly with something that should be intrinsic to her new race. It only makes it clearer how much she regrets the decision she made, and he knows he can’t help her navigate that but he wants to all the same.

The bite itself stings only the briefest moment; the pleasure thereafter is far harder to bear. It brings red flags up in his mind’s eye immediately, training kicking in so hard he has to steady his own arm with the other, hand wrapping at the elbow so he doesn’t jerk it out of her teeth. He hates it, just as he was unnerved by Phoebe’s magical allure and ability to create pleasure from nothing. It is too similar to mind-altering substances he’d been trained to recognize and fight against. Jaw clenched, they both seem to struggle with the act, and when it’s over he clenches his fist to force himself to lower his arm at a reasonable rate. Smiling is easy, against all odds. A defense mechanism of joy. And he reaches to comfort her with a hand to the shoulder, as they stand there in the slowly brightening house, her freedom assured because of his offer - but neither of them happy about how it was achieved.

- FIN