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Press Start IV: Fallout Giftvegas
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Published:
2018-09-09
Words:
1,493
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
1
Kudos:
29
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2
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470

Leaving the Ivory Tower

Summary:

Eri buys a new thrall at a shockingly low price.

Notes:

Work Text:

Eri had been to many places, but she'd never visited a tower this large or this ominious. It cast a deep shadow over the forest behind it, even by the light of the moon. But the glinting metal leaves decorating its door confirmed to her that this was the right place.

A woman opened the door, glowering at her, and if Eri hadn’t steeled her spine before that she might have taken a step back or two.

“I’m here from the ad,” Eri murmured, and the woman breathed a sigh of relief, her demeanor becoming more pleasant.

“Right this way,” she crooned. Eri felt the payment in her backpack heavy on her back. She’d heard Tei before he was turned, even seen him briefly, but she hadn’t gotten to him before another had. The price for such a boon was high. And she couldn’t help but worry that the price would be higher still this time.

“And as it says on the flier, you’re not returning him once he’s out. He’ll be yours.”

Hearing footsteps, Tei stirred again. Felicia hadn’t come up the stairs in a week, and before then she’d been filled with rage, when she could look upon him at all.

It was a pair of feet. The pain he felt then was intense, coupled with the resignation he felt at his new status. Once upon a time Felicia would have never let another being look at him, living or dead, without tearing out their eyes. Now…

He was worthless.

He stood to greet her anyways, but the woman who came in wasn’t Felicia at all.

“Hi, I’m Eri,” she said, holding out your hand. “You’re Tei, right?”

“That’s my name,” he said, smiling politely. “Why are you here?”

“I’m here to take you into my service.”

That was… better than he’d been expecting. Some part of him had wondered if she planned to burn him.

“Come with me,” she told him, with a faint whisper of that commanding voice. Too dim to move him.

He followed her anyways, down the winding cold stone stairs.

“Where’s Felicia?”

She stopped walking. If not for the intense stare he’d leveled at her back, he would have bumped into her.

“She…” Eri picked over her words carefully, starting at a slow walk. “She didn’t want to say goodbye.”

He’d suspected as much. He wanted to let disappointment settle in like a shroud, but his mind kept turning too quickly for that, once that was out of the way. He was going to another vampire’s service. A new house.

“Why did you pick me as your new thrall?”

She kept walking, but he sensed a keen mixture of joy and embarrassment from her, despite the lack of blood to flow to her face. It was a light feeling, heady in his blood. His blank mouth lifted at the corners, almost unconsciously. The embarrassment was fainter than he’d expected by far, and the joy greater.

“I’ve actually wanted to have you for a while! Remember the Midnight Ball a year ago?” Her voice rose in excitement.

“I could never forget.”

He listened to her talk about it all the way down, the way he made her feel almost like sunlight hit her again, his charm and grace, how he seemed so calming and intelligent.

He eventually interrupted her. “Did she tell you why she’s getting rid of me?” He could feel Felicia’s emotions spike from where she was listening, shock and anger all the way down. He kept going, fed on some self-destructive urge. “I’m damaged goods now.” She could probably smell it even now, the healing ointments he kept trying even when it’d become obvious it would never truly go away.

She turned around, wide eyed. “You don’t seem damaged to me. Scars are just something that happens.”

He read her face carefully, searching for the lie. “Are you scarred too?” He felt the hope now, growing in his heart.

Eri thought back to her past, to her skin. He wondered if she could taste his anticipation in the air. “No,” she said.

“Oh.” His hope all came down like some sad house of cards. He watched her collect the chest of what must be his old clothes at the foot of the stairs.

They left the tower behind containing only the echoes of their footsteps, and a vampire ready to find someone purer.

They walked until the night grew lighter, and Tei’s feet felt just about ready to fall off his legs. He was thankful for the silence.

“I’ve got plenty of money for an inn,” Eri said suddenly, looking to the sky, and then looked over at Tei. “Do you want a break?”

He shook his head at her. “I’m fine.” It was a welcome distraction from his emotions. Pain from his feet was just pain. He wondered facetiously if they were bleeding, though his feet were far too dry for that.

“That’s good. Though actually, I was wondering if you could get on my back for a bit? I can’t be out in the light.” Eri slipped out of her backpack and handed it to him, settling down the chest as well.

He took it and strapped it on. “Well, practicality has to take priority.” He climbed onto her back, though he didn’t think there was enough of her for that, and she held him up.

The next few minutes were a rush of sound and wind and clinging to her with his arms while she clutched him with one of her hands to account for his weary legs.

At the inn, he explained that he and his wife needed a room for the night, and she carried the chest to their room through the window.

She really was better than him, and he respected it more than the dull loathing swelled in him. If some stranger tried to attack her, they’d have a hard time even leaving a scar.

He’d learnt that there were ways to get around this, though, when he was looking and hoping it was some curse and not his own human limitation, something he could lift. Something he could reverse. Some of them could be prepared with simple garlic and cloves.

He wondered if the kitchen of the inn downstairs had any, watching her settle into bed to sleep the day away. She looked like a statue in slumber, pale and beautiful.

Eri slept like the grave, and woke with only slightly more grace than one of the shambling undead, feeling the moon in her bones even as some deader part of herself wanted to lay to rest forever. She looked to the other side of her bed out of habit, but she was alone.

The disappointment burnt in her heart, and she left quickly, changing and heading down to seek him out.

She found him helping the matron of the inn clean the table, letting her chatter away at him animatedly as they worked to get most of the stains from the heavy wood.

He abandoned his task almost immediately, scrubbing away the water and dunking it into the bucket. “Oh Eri, you’re awake!” His warm smile woke her heart. He turned towards the matron. “I’m going to bring our meals upstairs. Thank you for keeping me company.” The matron’s eye when they left told Eri that she thought that she was very lucky to have him as a husband. Although they weren’t married at all.

The soup Tei brought up would be wasted on her, though. He sat on their bed and looked at her calmly. “What do you want to do about this?”

She looked at him, brushing his hair aside shy. There were marks there, pale and smelling faintly of herbs. Someone hadn’t been clean when they were repairing their mark. But the scent underneath the smell was delicious, all him. She thumbed his neck, and he bared it just slightly.

She sank her teeth in, tasting the euphoria of his magic and his self, and he resounded back at her, melding together.

Tei thought about how to please her, on their way back. Perhaps he could pick flowers for her that would dim in the light of the moon. She would smile at him, and hold them close to sniff, and the pollen from them would make her face break out in a harsh rash. Or they could have thorns, consecrated by prayers, to prick her flesh and mar her hands.

But she didn’t deserve them, just because she was unfortunate enough to live in his presence. He was fortunate enough to be with her, even if he knew that his days with her were numbered because he himself was marred, and she could find better than him.

It was hard, to not think of trying to tie them together in some way deeper than their blood bond. It felt almost superficial, too easy to dispose of.

He succeeded, for another hour.