warnings: blood, allusion to unhealthy eating habits (eri has not been feeding on blood regularly)
There’s blood on her shirt.
Miorine opens her eyes drowsily, somewhat convinced she’s surfacing from some sort of weirdly vivid nightmare, and the girl holding her in the low gravity blinks down at her like she didn’t quite expect her to survive.
“Oh,” Miorine says.
The girl’s eyes — soft and infinitely blue — widen. “Oh,” she agrees. And then, “I’m so sorry.”
She raises her head slowly, feeling rather like she’s just been hit by a bus. “Sorry about what?”
Probably not the first question she should be asking, seeing as there’s still droplets of blood floating in the artificially warm air around them.
The girl’s face contorts. She turns away from Miorine, suddenly looking inexplicably guilty. “My sister. She, um. She d-didn’t know she needed to feed so badly. She sort of, uh, ran off, but she says she’s sorry too. She didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Feed. It doesn’t send horror thrilling down her spine like it should. Maybe it’s the after-effects of the awful day she’s had, maybe it’s the exhaustion and the nightmares and the blood loss and the weirdly comforting guilty smile of the girl holding her still in the middle of her father’s space station, but she can’t really bring herself to care all that much.
“Feed,” Miorine echoes. “Feed?”
Her eyes really are distractingly gentle. “O-oh! That was rude of me, I’m sorry. I should have — well."
The girl glances between them, then down the corridor, scanning for something. Miorine settles her head against her shoulder and watches her, piecing together the last few hours in her mind.
(She had been coming from the last meeting with her father — the last one of the day, she’s sure of it — and something had tackled her away from the propulsion vehicle and pushed her to the metal ground. She’s sure she must have blacked out after that.)
“I think,” the girl says carefully, “we’re not being followed. Or listened to.”
“Security cameras,” Miorine manages. She shakes her head.
“Eri is very thorough. All the cameras will be down.” She smiles, almost to herself. “She’s good with computers.”
//
Suletta Mercury, it turns out, is a vampire.
Miorine thinks she takes the news rather well.
“... So your sister ruined my shirt?”
Suletta scrunches up her face. It shouldn’t be endearing. “And nearly drained all the blood from your body, Ms Miorine. I think that’s —”
Miorine huffs. “Yes, but she also got blood all over my shirt.”
“And I don’t know how I’ll ever make it up to you —”
“You’re not responsible for her actions,” she says snippily. “She’s a decades-old vampire and you’re — what, 16?”
“17,” Suletta corrects slowly, realisation dawning in those soft blue eyes. “I-it really would be easier if you just —”
“I can get her — and you — a regular supply of animal blood if you promise you’ll stick around.”
“Wh — wait, what?”
//
Their arrangement is this: Eri, who has never regularly fed on blood in her life, sneaks once a week into the station’s kitchens. Miorine bribes the cook into leaving the doors open, even though Suletta assures her that Eri could break in easily. And, in return, Suletta promises her that she’ll figure out a way for Miorine to vanish out of her father’s reach, even if it takes all of her immortal life to do it.
“I want you to rely on me,” she says one night, holding the door open for Miorine with one hand and a blood bag in the other. Her voice has that wonderful determined quality to it. “I want you to know that you can rely on me, Ms Miorine. It’s the least we can do.”
Eri steps up behind them, pushing Miorine gently forward and breaking her from whatever spell Suletta’s voice had her under. “Just say the word,” she says cheerfully. “And — hey — invite me to the wedding?”
Suletta elbows her sharply and she spins backward, laughing as the momentum sends her rotating back into the kitchen.
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FILL: TEAM CATRADORA
Date: 2023-09-02 01:01 am (UTC)ship: suletta mercury/miorine rembran
words: 661
warnings: blood, allusion to unhealthy eating habits (eri has not been feeding on blood regularly)
There’s blood on her shirt.
Miorine opens her eyes drowsily, somewhat convinced she’s surfacing from some sort of weirdly vivid nightmare, and the girl holding her in the low gravity blinks down at her like she didn’t quite expect her to survive.
“Oh,” Miorine says.
The girl’s eyes — soft and infinitely blue — widen. “Oh,” she agrees. And then, “I’m so sorry.”
She raises her head slowly, feeling rather like she’s just been hit by a bus. “Sorry about what?”
Probably not the first question she should be asking, seeing as there’s still droplets of blood floating in the artificially warm air around them.
The girl’s face contorts. She turns away from Miorine, suddenly looking inexplicably guilty. “My sister. She, um. She d-didn’t know she needed to feed so badly. She sort of, uh, ran off, but she says she’s sorry too. She didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Feed. It doesn’t send horror thrilling down her spine like it should. Maybe it’s the after-effects of the awful day she’s had, maybe it’s the exhaustion and the nightmares and the blood loss and the weirdly comforting guilty smile of the girl holding her still in the middle of her father’s space station, but she can’t really bring herself to care all that much.
“Feed,” Miorine echoes. “Feed?”
Her eyes really are distractingly gentle. “O-oh! That was rude of me, I’m sorry. I should have — well."
The girl glances between them, then down the corridor, scanning for something. Miorine settles her head against her shoulder and watches her, piecing together the last few hours in her mind.
(She had been coming from the last meeting with her father — the last one of the day, she’s sure of it — and something had tackled her away from the propulsion vehicle and pushed her to the metal ground. She’s sure she must have blacked out after that.)
“I think,” the girl says carefully, “we’re not being followed. Or listened to.”
“Security cameras,” Miorine manages. She shakes her head.
“Eri is very thorough. All the cameras will be down.” She smiles, almost to herself. “She’s good with computers.”
//
Suletta Mercury, it turns out, is a vampire.
Miorine thinks she takes the news rather well.
“... So your sister ruined my shirt?”
Suletta scrunches up her face. It shouldn’t be endearing. “And nearly drained all the blood from your body, Ms Miorine. I think that’s —”
Miorine huffs. “Yes, but she also got blood all over my shirt.”
“And I don’t know how I’ll ever make it up to you —”
“You’re not responsible for her actions,” she says snippily. “She’s a decades-old vampire and you’re — what, 16?”
“17,” Suletta corrects slowly, realisation dawning in those soft blue eyes. “I-it really would be easier if you just —”
“I can get her — and you — a regular supply of animal blood if you promise you’ll stick around.”
“Wh — wait, what?”
//
Their arrangement is this: Eri, who has never regularly fed on blood in her life, sneaks once a week into the station’s kitchens. Miorine bribes the cook into leaving the doors open, even though Suletta assures her that Eri could break in easily. And, in return, Suletta promises her that she’ll figure out a way for Miorine to vanish out of her father’s reach, even if it takes all of her immortal life to do it.
“I want you to rely on me,” she says one night, holding the door open for Miorine with one hand and a blood bag in the other. Her voice has that wonderful determined quality to it. “I want you to know that you can rely on me, Ms Miorine. It’s the least we can do.”
Eri steps up behind them, pushing Miorine gently forward and breaking her from whatever spell Suletta’s voice had her under. “Just say the word,” she says cheerfully. “And — hey — invite me to the wedding?”
Suletta elbows her sharply and she spins backward, laughing as the momentum sends her rotating back into the kitchen.