Greystone River And the girl was very beautiful and very hungry

Fit | Night

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For such a hideously ugly place, the river had its advantages. Because it had its advantages, it became beautiful. Therefore, Greystone River was one of the most beautiful places Eirene had ever seen.

Her malleable point of view held hands neatly with her malleable conscience, and she returned here often to feed. Unclaimed! No jaguars! No cowboys! Besides, the raucous parties felt like home. Reminded her of a fateful night when she'd wandered into either the worst or the best Woodstock tent. Who was to say? Judging that night in either direction didn't serve her or her pretty fangs, straining uncomfortably against her gums.

She was seated on a rock a little way off from a bonfire party, equipped with her travel painting supplies. Her paintbrush hovered uselessly over the pad of watercolor paper. Fully prepared to lure a reveler to her little art station if things got too dire, but they were all terribly intoxicated :(. That depressed her. She wanted conversation. A little sparkle with her meal. Was that so awful?

And then...

A smell best described as "sparkle" registered in her nostrils. She turned, still sitting (though she wanted to bolt up and throw her arms around the passerby and bury herself in their neck, yum!), and made wide, smiling eyes in their direction.

"Would you like a portrait?"

fit

---

Ness did have a lighter.

Not to smoke, but because Misha told him to carry one around when he was out at night, and Ness was prone to doing whatever Misha said.

He had an acoustic guitar with him and was looking for a nice quiet place to play. Greystone River was nature enough to sooth the "touch grass" in his brain, even if he couldn't hear the radioactive city river frogs chirping over the music blasting in his headphones.

He passed a woman, barely noted her when he walked by, but the lilt of a voice carried over the thrum in his ears. He plucked one headphone out and looked back to her, "What sorry?"

Oh. He hadn't heard her. Having music blaring in one's ears had multiple downsides. They couldn't hear her, but they were also keeping music to themselves. Maybe she wanted to hear the music too :(.

Her mouth, downturned when she realized she would need to repeat herself, was prodded into renewing the smile. Hopefully not a desperate-looking one!

She gave a little nod toward another rock, neighboring her own. "You can play here, if you'd like. I can paint you."

The woman was smiling, well dressed and accompanied by art supplies. A couple months ago, before he’d met a certain sanguine friend, he might’ve just thought her eccentric. He’d agree to the company and sit happily next to her.

Now he felt a prickle of uncertainty. His hand dug around in his pocket. Maybe he should just say no and keep walking?

"Oh that’s uh, that’s really sweet but I was looking to play by myself," he replied sheepishly.

"Play here for ten minutes and then be on your merry way!"

It didn't work. Terrible Eirene. Cursed braindance. They were so whimsical and charming when they worked, otherwise they were horrible, horrible things.

"Never mind."

She slumped in her seat and brought her eyes glumly back to her paper. The sooner he was gone the sooner she could find someone else.

---

suggestion failed

His gaze had only grazed hers, a mistake that made him tense up when she spoke. It wasn’t a question but a demand, one that easily could’ve stolen his free will just like Misha had said.

He snapped his eyes shut, heartbeat racing.

For some reason her magic didn’t work, but he refused to open his eyes again just yet. His grip on his guitar strap tightened and his fist curled around the lighter in his pocket.

"Are you a vampire?" he asked, voice quaking slightly.

"Yes..." she sighed out the response forlornly, eyes fixed ahead of her through a haze of bitter disappointment. Completely oblivious to his shut-eye state.

"But more than that, I'm an Aquarius." Siiiiiiiiiiiiigh.

"And an artist and hungry and I wouldn't have bitten you much at all and I really did want to hear music..." That last part felt important to add, even though she wouldn't get to hear it. He needed to know she would have taken genuine enjoyment out of his playing.

A hungry artist, damn, Ness could relate. He’d settle for a McRib but she couldn’t. Which wasn’t really fair was it?

Hmm.

She hadn’t attacked him, just tried to uh, mind control him or some shit? Which was creepy, he didn’t want that, but.

He kept his eyes shut tight, still fidgeting with his lighter.

"Is- is it like getting blood drawn with a needle?" something he very much couldn’t do.

Talking. He was still talking. Could she spare a moment to talk? Surely she could. Do it, Eirene. Get a grip. No need to get ugly you know how much you despise getting ugly.

A quiet reply. "No pain." She could promise this, at least, thanks to some past lovers. "Faster." Faster than an interminable length of time filling up a blood bag.

She continued averting her eyes. If he was going to run, it was best she not see it. Did not want to be provoked into an ugly chase.

She seemed so… disappointed. It was such a strange thing, to know you’d ruined the spider’s day by slipping through the gaps in her web.

Why did he feel bad? Why did he empathize? Maybe if he’d never met Misha and didn’t know vampires could be cool, he wouldn’t be considering what he was considering.

Fight, flight, or fawn. Maybe the whole “offer yourself up before they take it” was just part of the third.

"I- you could have some, if you need it. Or, I- I don’t want you to attack me or somebody else," he sounded very uncertain, and his eyes were still pinched shut.

Hope fluttered near her like a skittish little moth. Difficult to admit that she was afraid to acknowledge it. It would be far easier to let it fly away, feed in some other fashion, and repaint her memories later. Craft them into something prettier.

But she dared a look at the HopeMoth, whose sweet eyes were shut, and who was quaking like a leaf on this warm(?) night.

"Thank you," she offered. Less poetry than usual. Simple in its gratitude because, unfortunately, she really did need it and would take it by whatever means required. Though she didn't like to think what she did was attacking. Just sit nice and quiet while she lapped at your neck! Honestly.

"No commands! Promise! And your choice of where!" she added, brightening. See how nice she could be?

The spider thanked the moth, inviting him back into her silken strings with the promise of free will. His choice. No pressure, no expectations, just a little blood.

"I," he said again, a word he kept getting stuck on, "I can come sit there?" He wasn't sure what the implied question even was, everything just felt so uncertain. He did peek his eyes open though, gaze aimed at the ground. No eye contact for her, even with the promises.

The sudden joyous lilt to her tone made his heart flutter, unnerved and restless in its cage.

"Oh! Certainly...?" He could settle on that rock, of course! If her addled braindance had actually worked, he would already be sitting in that very spot, playing music, and she would be done with her meal by now. Truly, her incompetence had rendered their interaction infinitely more laborious.

She forced herself to stay seated, hands keeping themselves occupied by smoothing out the fabric of her dress. Just a little longer, Eirene.

Considered asking the question again, but clarifying she meant where would you like to be bitten? Perhaps she shouldn't push the little moth, though. Perhaps the wrist (though dull, in her opinion) was what this evening called for.

"I am Eirene."

He wouldn't know this, but she didn't tend to offer her name. Not even out of concern for secrecy. It just didn't occur to her. Here and now, through the hunger, it was occurring to her.

Ness's question was met with a chirp of agreement and he found himself regretting his offer more and more. But this was the smarter thing to do, running might set her off, he couldn't turn his back. This way maybe everything would be fine, and if she took too much he could catch her off guard with the flame in his pocket.

That's what he told himself at least, though part of it was surely trying to rationalize the way fear had turned his legs to lead. Could he even run if he wanted to?

Gaze still cast to the dirt, the moth was given a name that sounded too normal to belong to this woman. Eirene, like his 3rd grade teacher, the one who had gone by her first name because she was "cool" and "relatable". An unhelpful thought that did not soothe him.

"I'm Ness," he offered back, making no forward movement to fulfill his part of the deal.

"Ness," she parroted back to show she was listening, though her ears were faintly ringing in an unpleasant way.

"Nessus was a centaur!" That bit of mythology trivia pleased her and served as an anchor to continue the conversation. "Are you sure you're not half-horse? A wandering, neighing minstrel?" It was a joke, offered with a slight smile. Perhaps if she was funny enough he could be enticed to sit. If she stood, and he bolted, it could not go well at all :(

His blood smelled like caramel. She would share this fact with him later.

Everything she said was so cheery, as if he weren't currently shaking, as if all was going according to plan. It was an uneasy complacency that kept him on the track he'd started, and he really couldn't tell if she was helping or making it worse.

He wouldn't see her smile anyways, gaze cast to an ant who didn't have a clue.

"It's short for Nestor," he replied. He didn't know how else to respond, all he could do was wait for her next command. He'd asked to sit but he couldn't move without her guidance. Her spell may have fizzled but Ness was easily manipulated without.

He still would not take his hand from his lighter.