milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Damian wasn't surprised to find himself alone by the time night fell. Whoever chose to be in Nathaniel's bed near dawn was usually up and about long before he rose with the setting sun.

Now, however, he has taken to the grounds surrounding Milliways... or, more accurately, the skies. Usually he isn't keen on levitating where he can be easily spotted, but the desire to feel the wind in his hair is too much to ignore tonight. It is one thing that reminds him a little of the sea, though the air doesn't have that salty density to it. The sea has been a comforting thought throughout his long existence, even though he hasn't more than glanced it in centuries.

He loses himself in the sensation of flight, letting his mind go blissfully numb for a short while before picking an inviting, sturdy tree and sitting high in the branches so he sways lightly with the pulse of the wind.

Escapism can be a wonderful thing sometimes.

He's botherable by those who can climb well (or don't need to climb in order to reach him). He has no intention of coming down from his perch.

[[ooc: Primarily slowtimes, as the mun has an appointment and a worsening cough... plus homework. Slowtimes welcomed! ^^]]

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She does, stepping nimbly into the curve of his arm, looking up at his eye. They're pretty, alluring, and like nothing she has ever seen.

"You ask, and I come," she murmurs, less cautious now, and more curious.

Damian wraps his arm around her, and her dark skin feels incredibly warm to his chilled arm. All sensation seems heightened in his anticipation, and he gathers them close so their bodies are touching.

Such a juxtaposition they are... her pale hair and dark skin to his ashen skin and night-darkened locks. Her heat to his cold. Her life and softness to his death and stone-like presence.

Fingers slide through her hair to the other side of her neck. His eyes swim in a striking green, the pupils lost to a sea of colour as he tilts her neck and leans down to it.

He noses her metal earring away, cold lips pressing along her skin in a caress close to a kiss.

The chill doesn't frighten her; it is alien, and she isn't sure what sensation it could really be called, but interesting. When he leans down to her neck, cool lips brushing against her skin, her heartbeat picks up, making her pulse jump at the unexpected touch.

But she stays in his one-armed embrace, feeling quite safe here, despite what she knows he is about to do. Perhaps it is that the act is such an unknown concept to her, but all she can see is a glimpse of his pale skin, nearly the color of her hair, and a few locks of white and dark red, mixed together where her long bangs brush his hair.

"I will not faint, or run," she whispers, confident that he is close enough to hear her fine. "You may do what you wish."

Her trust and confidence are intoxicating, and he inhales deeply at her neck. It is what he scents under the blood that pulls a soft, anticipatory moan from him.

"You smell of the sea," he breathes against her neck, but there is no time for a response as he sinks his fangs into her. His magic rolls through her as crimson pours into his waiting mouth, and he covers all discomfort and pain with pleasure.

His other hand finally establishes contact, supporting her hip as he swallows thickly again and again.

"I live...in Atlantis," she manages softly, eyes slipping shut under the roll of unanticipated pleasure the bite, to her, creates. It's nice, and one hand of hers, the one not bracing her at his waist, comes up to curl in just the feathery ends of his deep red hair.

It is pretty, she thinks faintly, in a lull of the deep and blanketing sensation.

To him, her blood will be old, powerful and untouched by anything, pure as clear water.

It is a rush that he has never experienced before. She is old... ancient, and yet her blood is not that of an immortal, not even a long-lived lycanthrope. She is pure, preserved, and the fountain of her blood is potent in a way that is unfamiliar and captivating.

He moans softly, barely hearing the name of her dwelling, which gives so many answers to him all at once. Several swallows and he feels that final push that makes his heart pound to life. His skin warms rapidly, and he draws only one more mouthful before releasing the wound and allowing it to seep. He shivers against her as he licks the neat cuts left by his teeth, his flesh malleable and warm now with her blood.

The rush, the burn of her heart just underlies the current of pleasure, when she thinks about it, before it's gone again, just the pleasureable side of it roiling through her, over her, sluggish and serpentine and faintly tired, lightheaded.

"I...have never--never let anyone do that... Did it help?" she asks, leaning against him as her fingertips come away wet and red when she brushes them against her throat.

"Yes," he whispers, his voice thick and sensual with the high of feeding from someone potent. He intercepts her fingers, licking them clean of the blood in a friendly gesture. "Thank you, Kida... I will take you to your room so you can rest."

She nods faintly, swallowing repeatedly as her head clears.

It takes a while. "How many years...have you been like this?" She imagines it would have to get old after a while, but holds her tongue on that. "Thank you..."

He keeps his face close to hers, bent over slightly so he can feel her skin and hair against his now-warm cheek. "Just over a thousand."

"You are young...to me," she murmurs. "By the calendar from the surface, I am nearly six thousand..."

Kida leans her cheek against his, feeling the soft warmth with a little curve of her lips that falls short of a smile, but is contented. "Everyone looks so different, here...nothing like Atlanteans."

Atlantis... the city lost beneath the sea. It would astound him if he let himself think about it more thoroughly, that she was actually from that place, which had somehow survived and kept its people preserved for thousands of years.

He shakes his head minutely in surprise as he effortlessly lifts her up into his arms. "Even on Earth, Atlantis was a singular place. With all the worlds that meet here, I doubt there are many like you."

He glides smoothly back toward the bar, his gait graceful and easy.

"I am the only one, that I know of..." she moves with him, a little unsteady until she relaxes into his arms, warm now. "I remember coming here as a child, and then I lost the door. And now, I am the only one of my people to come here."

She lets her eyes fall closed, and leans her head onto one arm, hung over his shoulder to keep her upright. "Do you sleep?"

"I can sleep during the night in a manner similar to yours, but I rarely do... My soul flees my body with the coming of the sun each dawn. It is more of a temporary death than sleep."

They enter the bar, and he speaks to Bar a few moments, securing Kida a room and paying it through the following day on his own tab. Not something he would normally do, but it seems courteous, a way to thank her for being so willing and unassuming. Handing her the key, he carries her up the stairs to her new room.

Kida only watches this, silently as Damian had been.

"You may sleep there, if you wish, come the morning..." she would be gone by then, almost certainly.

Damian shakes his head gently. "I will be missed by my... room mates... if I do not show up at my usual room. I appreciate it, though."

They reach the room, and, once inside, he settles Kida on the bed. Grabbing a cloth from the bathroom, he cleans the bite mark at her throat, glad to see that it is no longer bleeding. He doesn't have the materials to bind it, but he does his best anyway.

"Rest now. You should feel well enough to move about in a few hours, though you won't want to exert yourself for another day." He hadn't taken too much blood, but it was enough to give her fair warning.

Kida sits still, moderately, through him cleaning up the bite mark, and true to what Damian has said, does feel tired, a little drained. But alert enough, still, to take in her surroundings, and attempt stripping off the skirt of her clothes; the knot that holds it in place has never been quite so complicated to undo.

"Thank you," she murmurs, taking his hand--now warm, and surprisingly human, and soft. "You may stay here, for a while, if you would like," she offers, diplomacy she has known since being a child still ringing clear in her voice. She is the heir, and does not tend to forget this. "But if you must leave, that is alright."

Damian nods his head, his red hair partially obscuring his face. "I should get going," he says quietly. "I have much to think on tonight before the sun rises." She is being very kind to him, despite it all. Women he bit tended to be either hot or cold, wanting to take him to bed forever or wanting him to leave immediately. He is not used to such a neutral, unaffected reaction.

"Rest," he tells her once again. "You have my thanks for providing me sustenance."

He releases Kida's hand after a small, grateful squeeze and makes his way to the door. He gives no formal words of parting as he exits, deeming them no longer necessary. A final look and he slips away, silent but for the beating of his reanimated heart.

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