Small Exchanges

It had been several weeks since the estranged siblings had made a pact in the woods with the ancient vampire, Eydis. It would only be a matter of time until the mercurial nature of the aged vampire placed her directly in the pathway of Claud. But this meeting was by no means by happenstance. Although far to fast to the human eye, Eydis approached Claud with determination. There was a means to an end with this evening encounter.

Eydis approached Claud, staring at him curiously. “Well met, little kit.”

Claud broke into a cold sweat at her approach, not knowing what she intended to do to him.

Eydis ran a hand around Claud’s waist as she wrapped herself around to his side “Would you care to... take a small vacation?”

Claud freezes and looks at her, confused, "Take a what? Where?"

She took up his larger hand with hers, “Away from here, back to family.”

Claud's hand is cold in his fear, but hers is colder, "What, to, to see Gladys?" His voice is low and soft.

“To be with my sparrow. To fly,” she offered with a cherubic smile and a squeeze of his hand,

This sounded suspiciously like an offer. "I, I want to remain a human, if that's what you mean."

Eydis giggled and tugged a little harder on his weathered hand. “That’s an option. But why do that here?”

Claud relaxed a bit, he saw why Gladys likes this one—she was charming when she wasn't actively tossing you like a wet rag. "Where would you like to take me?" he asked, taking a cautious step towards her tugging once he caught her meaning.

Eydis could feel the immediately release of the anxiety throughout the boy’s frame. “You are up next to bat.” Pun totally intended and hoping a baseball reference isn’t too ahistorical given the time period. Otherwise, a wizard did it.

Claud tensed up again, not understanding the reference to a game he didn't know about, "Uh. I don't want to be a bat?"

Eydis smiled and pat his hand. “You’d make a fine one,” she said wryly. “But that song is over. You pick the next hymn.” Hopefully that would drive the point home better than her last turn of phrase.

Claud smiled nervously, glad that she seemed to be dropping the subject, confused that she was being so nice to him. But he didn't know what else she wanted with him, and so stood there awkwardly holding her hand. Did she actually want him to choose a song to sing?

Eydis sighs and pulls him towards the town and uses the moment to swing him slightly ahead of herself. “Lead on,” she said, gesturing in no particular direction. Technically he could bring her back to the church if he wanted.

Claud stumbled a little, but caught himself and turned to look back at Eydis. What did she want from him? He decided it would be best to avoid the heart of the town and simply walk the paths and roads that surrounded it, at the edge of the Knowchenwalde. "Alright," he said, and started to walk, hoping she wasn't planning on ambushing him from behind.

If she had wanted, which she really didn’t, Eydis could’ve snapped the boy in half at any point in time with little interruption. But that wasn’t her intent. Honestly, it was rather frustrating dealing with everyone’s hesitation. There were very few who tried to challenge her regardless of their ability. She missed the sport. “Fantastic,” she chortled, “where shall we make landing?”

"Uuhh," Claud warbled, "I don't know, I thought you just wanted to walk and talk?" Truthfully he just wanted to go home and sit by his fire a little before going to sleep.

As if reading his mind, Eydis looks back over her shoulder towards the church. “Some journeys don’t require a single step,” she said rather ominously before turning her gaze back to him. “There are always choices. Which have you made lately.”

Claud felt... scolded? But he wasn't sure why or for what. "I suppose that's true," he agreed softly, not knowing what else to say.

Eydis wasn’t in a scolding mood, but she wasn’t one to suffer sycophants. She looped her tiny arm around his very lightly. It would appear she was frail rather than the ancient being possessing untold strength Claud had encountered before. “Tell me of the past, present, and future, mage,” she asks in an innocent tone.

Claud raised an eyebrow at that and walked along with her. "There's not much to say of the past, I suppose you've heard enough of that from Gladys."

Eydis giggles and patted Claud’s arm. “Two books never tell the same story.”

Claud huffed out a small laugh, "Yes, I suppose that's true." Even he could suss the meaning of that cryptic statement. He was silent for a while. Eventually he admitted, "I don't know where to begin, I'm not good at, well, talking."

"Good," she mused, "bad. Those don't reflect in mirrors." Clearly someone had made the boy feel this way. She saw it in Gladys as well, although her little hellion did a much better job of hiding it at times. "In the beginning....," she offered, swallowing down words that made her mouth practically crackle with a power that sought to consume her. The phrase should end with God creating heaven and earth, but the words got stuck in her throat. It was impossible for her to swallow. She had been toying with that power far too much lately, and she wasn't the young, evil undead creature that challenged the heavens like she once was. All this show just to offer a simple start. Eydis didn't care and didn't judge if she was just a listener.

Claud nodded, agreeing but distracted, lost in thought. The beginning. The beginning was boring though, wasn't it? He was born, he was a child... there wasn't much there than he could really even remember from the beginning. "Gladys and I were born in late summer and our family was large then. Many aunts and uncles." He stopped and sighed, feeling the stirrings of melancholy and loss. Feelings he worked to keep pressed down in the dark corners of his subconscious. His throat was tight. The task of communicating his history was too daunting of a task, too charged with emotion, with meaning. Events that meant something only to him. Events that were small in the scheme of things, but which accumulated into who he was as a person. Learning to walk safely in the dappled light of the Knowchenwalde, the way of speaking with the fair folk so they didn't steal your name, how to skin an animal, lay traps, holding a bow, his father's strong hands on his, weaving, mending, spinning, his mother's strong hands on his. Why should this cherubic, ancient creature care about any of this? His heart rate had picked up, his breathing quickened. Why should anyone care about any of this?

Oma caught wind of Claud's sudden burst of anxious tension. Her small fingers intertwined with his. "Sometimes the messages are more important than the passages," she wasn't sure how much Claud really knew of the bible. But in essence, she didn't want him caught up in the details. It seemed like there was great deal. She would listen if he wanted to talk, but it was about as much or as little as he wanted to offer. "Or shall we skip a few chapters," she offered him the opportunity to move forward and worry less about trying times. She knew all too well about how much history can be accrued in only a few years. Her lifetime would fill a library and then some. "Or we can walk," she said before falling silent. There was a great deal to learn just by walking beside someone.

Yes, walk. He would like to walk and say nothing. But now that they had started talking, there was an unspoken pressure to continue talking, to answer her question, her command, to the utmost. Her small hand in his was comforting, though her body was as cool as the night air. He wondered if she would eventually warm up, her hand in his, like a stone kept in your pocket. He wondered if she felt the coldness of her own body. He wondered if Gladys did.
"I don't know what to say," he admitted at length. "I am not an interesting person." It was a half truth; he did believe that he was not interesting, and he didn't want to reveal the secret and tender parts of his past, of himself, to someone who might make laugh or make light, or simply not understand.

The boy still seemed so tense. Rightfully so. He was far more cautious and reserved than his sister. They made an interesting pair. "Each star shines in the darkness," Eydis offered as she lifted her eye upwards. Oddly enough, there was not a cloud in the sky. The farther they moved from the lights the brighter they seemed to grow. He just required a little encouragement, a little like his sister. Although this time, she couldn't exactly dive into his memories in the same way she could with Gladys. "I thought I could never sparkle," she said quietly, "once." The words swirled around her mind as she tripped into some of the darkest parts of it, looking for a lost glow. "I was born in the fall around the second harvest. My family was large too. We helped the giants move the bones of earth and each year painted it in its own blood."

Claud listened with interest and surprise, then vague horror. How literal was she being? Were there actual giants? What were the bones of earth? The blood? The only question he dared asked was, "To what end?"

"That was when I lived by the sun, not the moon," she offered, "we all did. And we sang to it." The memories so fuzzy it didn't even really make sense to her. It was a different time, a different place. Her head began to ache swimming that far back. Her consciousness snapped back quickly and she physically stumbled by the force of it. Righting herself on the boys arm, she turned back to him. "I've made a small sacrifice," she stated once she had regained composure. "Now it's your turn."

Claud held out his other hand to her when she stumbled, to catch her if she started to fall. When she had recovered and given her command he nodded, and they kept walking. Moving the bones of earth... he thought. Could that be plowing? Clearing a new field of stones? And what was the blood of the earth if not water? Irrigation? But giants... he could not imagine what that might be. Still though, her example seemed to be nothing spectacular, and so he didn't need to offer anything other than that in return. "I remember making my first bow, Gladys too, in our ninth spring." It must have been, or maybe he was ten? His mother was still with them. "It was more for practice than for need of a bow. I had only been allowed to help make arrows, so I was very excited." He huffed a chuckle. "It was very bad, but the next one was better. And the next." He was smiling now, still sad and reserved, but a smile nevertheless.

"Bows," she repeated, "So simple and personable." Thereafter she gave a slight sigh. Man had made such technological achievements, but to what end? To place himself above nature, to kill fellow man. If you asked her, humans had far surpassed vampires in their pursuit of bloodshed. They valued life less and less. "You were taught well." Then again, she assumed more and more of her kind would spring from this new world. "We both were. Observe, respect, and honor." Her mind drifted back to a crackling fire and the ancient rituals that took place in the dark. Seldom did. They were the dark ones, acknowledging the night and calling the day. "Your first kill?" Her curiosity anchored her to the present.

Claud wondered where she had formed that assumption about him, though it was true. He was taught well, he was taught to respect life and take what he needed and be grateful for what he took. "Ah, a rabbit," he answered when he had been able to recall the memory. He liked rabbit fur and rabbit leather. It was very soft. He also enjoyed not being hungry or cold. He also remembers being sad, but that had passed quickly. Killing an animal was a part of his life from a young age, mainly he hoped he didn't cause them pain.

Eydis giggled. Rabbits were a good snack. They reminded her of the young vampire priest who lived in the woods. She would find him now and again sporting animal-like appendages. And it he had been sporting long fuzzy ears more than a few times. Their fur was soft, and warm... she believed, although the ability to perceive that sense had left her some time ago. "I remember tending a small.... garden," was that the right word. It was not a field by today's standards and it was more utilitarian than garden. The word once existed for it, but it no longer did. That was another one of the difficulties Eydis faced. Language changed faster than she did. "All life sacrifices itself to beget life," she offered from many years of experience, "that is the pact made upon birth." She paused as they reached what appeared to be the highest part of the hill, staring down into the valley. "Those that kill worry the most about being killed."

Claud nodded, agreeing with the truth of her words. He wondered how often Gladys feared for her life, or Oma. Invulnerable though they seemed, they had their weaknesses. He thought of his family, each of them sacrificing for the group, some of them sacrificing everything. He thought of the farmers, laboring in their fields. Even if they stayed there, tending their plants, were they not still taking the life of the plant? "That includes everything and everyone then, doesn't it? Just being alive means being afraid of death. Or at least expecting it, someday eventually."

Eydis nodded as Claud chewed up and digested her words. A garden took seeds. While she was done planting for the most part, she enjoy scattering a few to see where they landed. While Gladys was a track of fertile soil, she wasn't sure how her brother would take to these thoughts. His holy friends would see things differently, or most of them would. "How is it you came to this cage," she asked tossing her eyes upwards once more as if she could spy something encompassing them that he could not. "The door was once open," she added, "long ago, but was shut in time."

Claud considered her words a moment, just which cage did she mean? It sounded like she was speaking of this area itself. Perhaps once there was no curse, and this woman remembered that. "Do you mean my family? How we came to live in this forest? I've been told we were a group of wanderers, always moving, until, well, here." And like a fish stuck in muddy waters, we eventually all died, he thought.

The tiny vampire paused in stride and turned to face the young man. "There is plenty of space here to wander," Eydis almost colorless eyes fell upon him, "and get lost." Her fingers squeezed his gently. None of this was new. The stories of life and death filled this invisible cage. It trapped and the stories and sorrow inside like a thick miasma suffocating everyone who was trapped. Where it began would give rise to where it would end. "What of the future," she asked her question once more. "What do the stones sing of you. Did they mention your loss?" Her free hand drifted up and grazed the razor sharp edge of his recently cut hair.

Claud smiled at her cryptic words and gentle mannerisms towards him. "The stones do not speak to me. I don't know what the future holds." A small sigh, a puff of air from his lips. Truthfully the future terrified him—so much potential, concentrated and dangerous, daunting, but also precious, he was terrified of wasting what could be.

"They speak to everyone," Eydis said after giving the boy some time to get lost in his thoughts, "It's just that not everyone knows how to listen." She thought he might. His people were of the earth. They moved the bones and sang to the blood once. Everyone forgets over time. Their collective memory fades. Her fingers wiggled in his as she urged him onwards but nowhere in particular. "Everything can happen," she said, "it already has. So what do you want?"

Claud smiled and nodded, yes, he had a feeling she would say something like that. He wasn't the most zealous in his religion, but he still believed firmly that everything had a spirit, was alive in its own way, and therefore could communicate if you knew how to be receptive. However, Claud had never been able to listen or hear the way that some of his tribe could.
What do you want? Claud huffed a gentle breath as he considered her question, walking again, still following whatever path they were on. "I don't know." He paused in his speaking, the silence filled with his boot-falls, the soft padding of Oma's feet, the sweep of her skirts. Finally he admitted in a soft voice, "I want to be happy. To have enough so I'm not on the edge of starvation all the time. To be with people who I care about, who care about me." Even that seemed impossible, too far beyond his reach, and he felt silly for having voiced this deeper desire.

Eydis moved in a little closer so her arm brushed against his. While seemingly innocent, it was a little indulgent. It had been a while since she was this close to a human. It was nice to feel the warmth and receptiveness of the skin as well as sense the ample life force beneath the skin. Not that she was starving. Or was it that she was always hungry? It was hard to tell. She laughed off the thought, although the chuckle might come off as dismissive. "What a noble squire," she said matter-of-factly, "one that had seen hard work and hardship." Maybe she was so far removed from humanity that his ability to be this simple, yet to have such a sordid past with Gladys confused her so. It still bothered her that he had turned his back on her entirely. But it was what they both needed to survive. "Your turn," she said, brushing up against him once again a bit more deliberately.

"Ah, sorry," Claud apologized the second time Oma bumped against him, thinking it was his misstep that had caused the gentle collision. His turn? For what? Asking a question maybe? He tried to think of something he wanted to ask her that was also not offensive. How old are you? immediately came to mind, but... that was almost never appropriate. A few other vapid incidentals came to mind as well, but he didn't really know if he would get a straight answer anyway. "Are you, are you happy?" he asked when nothing else came to mind. It was all at once insincere and too personal, flippant yet prying. Though, he supposed it was his business to know—it would put his mind at ease if he knew Gladys wasn't at the mercy of another unhappy parent figure.

Eydis walked along in quiet contemplation. Happiness. What a fleeting, human concept. "I am....," she said softly, "...content." While it was naive of him to ask, she didn't fault him. Vampires and happiness were not necessarily two words considered together. In fact, most of them were born out of misery. Few willingly chose to die, and those that do realize the full extent of "the gift" after it is too late. Vampires could have everything they want and still not be happy. The Lord of the Villa was a perfect example. She couldn't tell Claud all of this. It would upset him. Then again, Gladys had already let her displeasure known to him. "And I'm much older than that tree," she said gesturing to a sturdy looking oak as they passed. She didn't have to read minds to know what question people most wanted to ask.

Claud thought contentedness was the most he could realistically hope for here, and he nodded. Then Eydis supplied a benchmark for her age and Claud blushed, for he really had wanted to ask. Looks like it was a common point for inquiry. Realizing just how old that meant she might be, he was glad she wasn't as mad at him anymore, and especially that she was fond of Gladys. His sister needed someone powerful and kind looking out for her.
More silence, more walking. What else could he think of to ask? Then a thought struck him with such suddenness and clarity it made him feel a little lightheaded. "Do you ever think," he asked, pulse quickening, "that there could be peace between our peoples?"

In a blink of an eye, Eydis brought the boy to the ground with only a hint of her raw strength and power. But she did so in a manner so as to only knock the wind out of him, not to cause him any great harm. She lingered for only a moment above him, a dark shadow, before looming down over him. "Does this dance bring you joy," she asked stroking his cheek gently, "is my sparrow a fair partner?" Should Claud look, he would see no malice in her eyes, but an odd softness of one who had wrestled with this question for far too long. The waters lapped at her toes reminding her of one such scenario. "The style and song is all wrong," she said with a soft sigh, tumbling over him and staring up at the stars. There were moments of peace in her lifetimes where she had taken human lovers and forged pacts with communities, but Time was a cruel thing. So was nature. She could feel it stirring with her as well. He smelled good. She rolled back on to her side and decided to make a point. "Would you dance with me," she held out her her hand for his and made her fangs known to him.

Suddenly Claud was looking at the sky, his diaphragm struggling to remember which direction it was supposed to move, and he had a short moment of panic before he caught his breath again. He looked at her, grappled with the meaning of her words, and tried not to whimper in fear. But he held still, and listened, and saw that she meant him no harm, and the fear subsided a little.
Would you dance with me?
Claud looked at her like a rabbit might look at a weasel, a small creature, but no doubt one that could take him down without an effort, and had on two occasions now. She was dangerous despite her looks, or perhaps because of them—underestimation was deadly after all. Dance? Surely not actual dancing? No, she meant something else, a veiled meaning in her words. What did the priests call it? A parable? And she was baring her teeth, a clear sign of aggression, or at least another demonstration of her power. After a moment of thought he was able to come up with a possible interpretation. Since dancing was cooperation then it mirrored the cooperation he was asking about between their two races. No, the vampires would not be a fair partner in such a scenario, they were much stronger in many ways than the humans and would come to rule over the humans, if they chose to. But they were also as trapped as the humans were; these were special circumstances they existed in. Claud sat up and looked at Oma. "It depends on the conditions, the agreement between us. We are trapped here, you and I and everyone else, and so I can't see how either of our races could thrive except at the expense of the other unless we cooperate. Without humans, what would you eat? Animals?" He knew how that went.

"There," she said flopping her hand back down upon the ground and making her mouth smaller. "There it is." With a sigh, Eydis rolled onto her back and stared upwards once more at the sky. The hand that made the offer fell over her gaze and she stared at the darkness instead. "Words. Sticky things. Gum everything up," she said quietly. How many of these philosophical quandaries had she pondered? How many humans and vampires had quizzed her about the same thing. It all came from the same place. Fear. "I wanted a short twirl," she bemoaned, "You want a partnership, a career... job security." But she understood where the child came from. Instinctually, animals feared predators, as it was their nature to live. There was more to it. Ego- the source of those syrupy words. Vampires had it in spades, as it was seemingly heightened with the gift of eternal life. But living or undead, everyone focused on the future. They forget the present. Eydis laughed softly, as only one trapped in the past could. "Are you not curious," she said, her eyes peeking out from underneath her arm.

Claud worried that he'd said, done something wrong. It was beginning to dawn on him that Oma just didn't seem to really like him all that much, though she had been polite enough. She made some more puzzling statements, and he was pondering when she asked him a direct question. "Curious about what?" he asked. Because of course he was curious. He was always curious.

"Being prey," she said with another flashy smile. "Or will you reserve that honor for my sparrow?" She laughed sullenly. He hadn't killed her on sight, so the priests hadn't worked their way into his head. There was still time. Maybe, just maybe she could... she shook her head. That was meddling and that was off the table. Or was it? Eydis had a keen interest in Gladys, why not reserve some of that for her human counterpart. But then, would she be doing exactly what he feared, treating him like a means to an end. Well, nudging people in directions was different than treating them like pawns, she reasoned. She rolled over to her side. "She will need you. And on that day, will you offer her a contract, or will you offer her your trust?" Or... she didn't like the other option of Claud falling in with the church entirely and turning on his sister completely. "Ah, but I'm being selfish now," she smiled, "I'm rather curious myself." She stuck her tongue out momentarily and then licked her lips in what to her was a childish pantomime, but could be read differently by Claud.

Claud felt scolded, and appropriately so. "I just don't want any more people to die. I didn't know that she had learned to, to eat without killing." He paused, realizing, "She's telling the truth, right? I, I want to give her my trust... I do..." He was seeking the truth, but he was also hopeful, he wanted to believe in the path that preserved the life of his sister, such as it was now. But he also remembered Francis, that starved, miserable looking vampire who claimed he was too young and lost without his master to be able to exercise appropriate control. Too young to not accidentally kill when feeding. And then there was Koby, attacked by a vampire who fit Francis' description... But surely Braydon wasn't helping Gladys now, was he? Did he even care?

Eydis rocked in her spot momentarily, gaining momentum to roll entirely over Claud. She didn't pin him to the spot, but did hold herself up by her arms, so that blonde hair cascaded down at him. "The only binding contract," she said, "is the one between life and death." Everything else was bound up by words, and those could always be forgotten. Gladys could promise she would behave, but her nature could take hold. Claud could promise never to take up arms, only to stumble with a blade. There were a myriad of possibilities. The child was surrounded by anxieties, some of them the outcome of his upbringing and environment. "Only fools think they can outrun the setting sun," her head dipped down and she nuzzled his neck with the tip of her nose. "Walk forward, expecting the darkness," she whispered, "but looking forward to the next day."

Claud pressed himself back against the cold earth and held very still. Oma was pushing hard now at the boundary of his deepest discomforts. Her touch sent chills through him and despite his best efforts he was now trembling, his mind threatening to blank out from fear. What she was saying was true, it made sense to him, but he didn't see how it fit in with their conversation. She was full of contradictions.

The smell of fear rolled off of Claud, oozing from every molecule of his being. For a predator, it was intoxicating. "There are humans that regularly consume snake blood," she whispered into his neck, her lips tickling his flesh. "But the heart is the prize." Her tongue flicks out and catches the edge of his ear lobe. "The chef antagonizes the snake before death, because the agitated state makes them all the tastier." Her one hand pressed up against his arm as her thumb massaged his wrist. Despite all this, she still wasn't using her full weight against him. She was using his fear. It was easier to keep humans motivated to stay in one spot than to actually confine them. Throw them in a cage and they will rattle it. Break their will and they will stay.

Claud whimpered and further withdrew from Oma's touch, gravel crunching under his boots as the heels dug themselves into the dirt. Finally he squeaked, "Enough, please!" He was ashamed, but his sense of self preservation was overpowering his pride. He hoped she was a being that could still be reasoned with.

Eydis' head rolled away from Claud's and with good reason. Her eyes had closed and sharp teeth had extended. All this play had gotten her worked up. Her mouth moved towards the wrist she was massaging. It was a good thing she couldn't breathe or Claud would've felt how close her mouth was to his flesh. But no pain would come. She pulled away and upwards with her thumb in her mouth, looking oddly childlike. Her teeth slowly detached from her flesh and she put the sluggishly bleeding hand on the ground beside them. Carefully, she rolled off of him, taking up a seat beside him. By the time she had done so, her finger had already healed "Well, you are cut from a different mold than my sparrow," she said with a sigh. "But I'm still peckish. What would you do if I asked for a sample?"

As soon as he could, Claud sat up and quickly scrambled a short distance away from Oma like a crab, one or two steps. His heart was hammering away and he hugged his knees to his chest, a shaky sighing sound escaping him as he bowed his head, feeling dizzy. The juxtaposition of this small and beautiful young woman with the sharp teeth and predatory body language was disturbing. She looked so much like Gladys did in those moments of anger and mischievous malice, when she had harassed him in the forest, stalking him, half-seen in the dark, her contorted features haunting him into his dreams. After a moment Oma's words registered and he looked up at her for a few moments with silent, careful scrutiny. This was what he had wanted, wasn't it? If he could keep Gladys alive and keep her from killing anyone else then wouldn't he make that sacrifice? Shouldn't he? "Then I would ask you to be careful, and to show me how such a thing could be accomplished." He hoped this wasn't a mistake.

Eydis gave the boy his space as her interest turned to an ant crawling its way across her palm. She lifted her hand up and flipped it around as the bug made its way to the other side. Eventually, Claud regained his composure and his words snapped her out of her momentary daze. With slow, human movements, she crawled back over to him and placed a hand on the hilt of his hunting knife. Her eyes caught his and she took the blade out of the sheath. One hand held the blade still over her heart, while the other took up his hand and placed it over hilt. "There," she said, "Now, your other hand." Her hand lifted from the hand she had placed on the hilt and waited in midair. At any moment, he could've driven the dagger deep into her heart and ended this existence. However, she had, up until now, shown him a great deal of restraint. Hopefully he would do the same.

When Oma let go of his hand, Claud withdrew the knife from her breast, deeply uncomfortable with pointing any weapon at someone who was not currently threatening him. In fact, he was beginning to suspect that she was merely playing with him. "Should I cut a wound?" Would that be better or worse than if she had bitten him? He was also deeply wary of causing a cut on himself. Though, he reasoned, that a cut would look less suspect than a bite should anyone see it.

Eydis laughed as the knife fell away from her chest. Had even the wildlings forgotten their old ways? Or was this the same streak of innocence that ran through her sparrow? It was hard to tell. Her hands grasped his one more and guided it back to her chest. She dug the tip past the fabric and into the flesh to make a point. "If I take from you, you take from me," she said her gaze a bit more stern. "Trust lives only in moment and dies within seconds. Never prolong its suffering and never trust anyone who would do so." One hand remained firm in its grip as the other grabbed at his free wrist. Her nail dug into the soft, thin flesh but did not yet break it. "You don't need a measuring cup to pour out a teaspoon." When she was finished talking, she sat there in silence, waiting for Claud's reply.

Claud's breathing had gone shallow, again not understanding her words. Her fingers felt like they had grown claws, and the pain spiked his panic. But he didn't understand the insistence that he hold the knife to her breast. He certainly didn't want to stab her. To what end? She needed food but he needed nothing from her. Well, not her blood, certainly. But perhaps this was a precaution: keep this knife on my heart in case I don't stop maybe? Looking back at her his eyes were vacant of understanding. What was she waiting for?

Eydis closed her eyes and took in a deep, yet completely unnecessary breath. The boy had pushed her patience with his naïveté. Claud may notice the subtle shift in her demeanor or, if he was so inclined a shift in aura around the ancient vampire. When her eyes opened, they were no longer pale and lifeless, but bright and golden. "Take a deep breath," she said looking into his eyes, but not pushing any kind of otherworldly persuasion. "All assumptions that this will hurt are warranted, but I will take away that pain shortly thereafter." Her eyes drifted to the knife at her chest. "You spoke of peace, agreement, and trust. Here, in this moment, we create it. But it ends when our exchange does." She pulled his wrist closer to her, not yet breaking skin. "Claud Moray, never trust anyone once they are out of eyesight," she said, "never trust a contract, a handshake, or someone's word." There was so much more she could tell him, but her concentration was fading and her hunger grew. "With your permission," she said, bowing her head and awaiting a response.

Claud frowned, he didn't like this bleak, pessimistic view of the world that she was instructing him with, but he didn't disagree with it either. It was sad and true and it was just another cruel reality that he had to learn to live with. "With my permission," he agreed, nodding his consent. Foolish, he should have removed his belt to bite down on it to better bear the pain. Ah well. He breathed in deep.

"I humbly receive your gift," she recited the words as if they were part of a ritual. Her teeth dug into her lip to keep a small giggle at Claud's apprehension. His muscles were already wincing as if he was anticipating torture. The sharp nail flicked across his flesh, creating a wound that on it own would seem like nothing more than a bad scrape. The flesh was more than willing to release the blood that moved beneath. Eydis brought the arm towards her, careful so as not to spill a drop. Her eyes, however, never left his gaze. She wanted to reassure him that there was no rush, no feral nature in this transaction. Instead of biting down, she pressed her lips to his warm flesh as though she were kissing the wound to make it better. Like a cool drink on a warm day, Claud's blood was immediately satiating. It took a great deal for the ancient vampire not to indulge. She had forgotten what it was like to take from a young, virginal offering. That said, true to her word, she made sure that whatever pain Claud had was quickly replaced by a rather pleasurable sensation.

Claud sucked in air when he felt the sharp nail open his wrist, and the short glimpse he caught of his own blood combined with the sensation of the two sides of the cut moving against each other left him feeling queasy and light-headed. But soon Oma's mouth pressed over the wound, her lips cool at least, and that soothed the hurt some. Then the pain subsided entirely and Claud looked back into her eyes, questioning. The absence of pain then grew to a gentle warmth that spread through his body, and Claud relaxed in spite of himself. What was this? A trick of the mind? Some special power the ancient vampire had? A natural phenomenon common to all vampires?

Eydis closed her eyes as she took in more than just blood. This was vitality. It was Claud. It carried stories of the pain, physical and otherwise the boy endured. Reaching nearly a pint, she knew to slow, but the moment was so enjoyable. Her face felt flush and her own body came alive. Claud would feel the rush of warmth against his wrist as color rose to Eydis’ lips and cheeks. In a way, he was giving life and it was beautiful, even though it meant a sacrifice. With some hesitation, the ancient vampire pulled away. Her tongue dragged across the wound, easing the pain and aiding in its recovery. She fell backwards onto the grass and lay there quietly enjoying the sensation of fullness, of feeling alive and human. It would’ve been better with three or four pints, but that would’ve seriously hampered her lesson for Claud. “Thank you for your sacrifice,” she breathed out, waving her hand for him to join her once more. She wondered if he was aware of how intimate the moment had been.

Claud had never lost so much blood at once; his arm felt cold and his head light, despite whatever kind of comforting magic Oma was using on him. But his ever present curiosity overcame his discomfort and initial revulsion, and he watched the vampire drink with a growing sense of fascination. There was a peacefulness about her now that was different from her normally detached and distracted nature. Contentedness, certainly, but more like something approaching reverence. It reminded him of his own people's teachings: take what you need and give thanks for it, for everything you eat has a life that is sacrificed to sustain your own. She finished and he winced a little at the sudden cold and wet on his skin, but it helped soothe the sting. "You're... you're welcome," he murmured softly, carefully laying down next to her and assessing how he felt. Dizzy, a little tired, but overall he was fine, for now. He'd see how he felt in the morning. He stared up at the stars, still processing what had just happened, and what it could mean for him and Gladys going forward.

Blood was both a blessing and a curse. It was like a drug- all the wonders of the high with a crash that followed. For now, Eydis was rolling in the faint bliss of a small snack. How long had it been? She couldn't quite tell. "You did well, my kit," she said with her eyes still fixed on the sky. "But such delicacy, both of taste and method is rare." The villa stank of aggression and impulse. Blood had been spilt so wantonly over the years that the building was more red than it was marble and wood. "There will be more pain, there will be more blood," she wasn't trying to scare Claud, just educate him. "Learn this sensation." He may have to rely upon it one day. His sister was young and other vampires were reckless. Knowing how much he could lose without it impairing him was important when dealing with vampires or otherwise. She wondered if her little hellion would be upset at this exchange. Would Gladys have wanted to be his first? By all accounts, she hadn't bitten him, so he was still hers to take should she decide to do so.

Claud frowned a bit, he was having his doubts and pondering the fate he was pointing himself towards. But he took in her words, considered their wisdom. There really was no other choice, was there? Either he made this sacrifice or his sister would prey upon some other human. But what if she didn't agree to the plan he had concocted? Claud's stomach went cold. Up until now he had just assumed that she would agree, but what if she liked her current lifestyle? Surely she was well fed, she still looked very much as she did the last time he saw her as a human. If he became her main source of nourishment, she would have to eat less often lest his health be adversely impacted. And if she truly was no longer killing to eat, then what was the harm? Still though, still... It wasn't right to let other humans bear a burden he should be helping to uphold.
Claud realized he had been silent quite a while and replied with a soft, embarrassed, "Yes, Oma. Thank you."