what have I done

Slowly, as if in a dream, Isla's tongue flicked out to clean the blood away, and she hummed gently as if to bring herself back into the here and the now. She still held Remi's wrist loosely between her fingers, the two neat wounds she'd created bleeding very sluggishly, but otherwise seeming fine. The coppery tang of him lay heavy on the air, Isla very gently holding his hand between her own. She turned to gaze up at him with hooded eyes, all but lounging back against him. "That was good," she murmured. "You're alright?" Of course the idea of doing it again was at the forefront of her mind; her psyche was in shreds and any sensation of comfort or pleasure was welcome. But Remi wasn't an infinite supply of blood, and Isla wasn't foolish enough to assume that he was so relaxed and listless just because of pleasure. Blood loss did that too. ISLA Hush now, I'm here