Lesson One: Digging Deep

Sleep, dreams, waking, reality. All these concepts were both completely abstract and utterly unfamiliar to Eydis. She laid in the bed for a while surrounded by the living and the undead. They would never understand the sensations of drowning or floating the way she did. But she could feel and empathize with their existences. The pulsing, the ticking, the air. Humans were so noisy. And then there was Gladys. Her mind was so active, whether awake or at rest. Thoughts bumped around in that tiny frame and tugged at the weak bond they shared. Would that be a good place to start? Without warning, she rolled into Gladys and nuzzled into her cheek, greedily fussing with her hair in a manner she might find familiar. "Why haven't you taken me yet," she whispered in a husky, masculine pantomime.

Gladys tried to quiet her mind, to find that peaceful space between dreaming and oblivion. She found that if she lay still and held her mind clear, she could enter something of a meditative state which allowed her to consider the things she had learned, test her ideas, and make plans. She certainly had a lot to think about, and many days she lay there from sunrise to sunset, lost in her thoughts. It was in this state that she received a double surprise—a familiar touch, a question in a familiar voice. It took her a moment to realize who it was not, and her eyes snapped open wide, her nose slightly wrinkled, her brow knit. What she had felt and heard did not match up with what she was now seeing. "What?" she asked with fear in her voice, backed by the steel of resolve and defiance.

Eydis sat up, looming over Gladys and blocking out what dim light there was filling the room. The hair cascading over her shoulder appeared dark from being backlit. Not necessarily the familiar red, but the shape and hue were true to the role she was playing. Her hand swept over the younger vampire's cold cheek in a tender manner. "What is keeping you from what you want," she rephrased the question with her voice hovering between two different tones.

Gladys grit her teeth together and pressed into the pillow in an attempt to put even the smallest amount of distance between herself and Eydis. Where was this coming from, and why? What did Eydis hope to gain from digging into the most painful vulnerability Gladys had? "I think you know well why," she hissed, torn between the love she felt for her elder, and the hurt she was feeling which was giving rise to the desire to hurt in return.

In almost an instant, Eydis was above Gladys, pinning her arms to the bed. Her tiny legs wrapped around her torso. Despite their delicate appearance, her legs acted as immovable shackles. This is what Gladys had asked for, wasn't it? She wanted access to the knowledge and the strength the older vampire had. But Eydis' lessons weren't conventional. They were raw and powerful. This was love, and hurt. She leaned in towards the face buried away from her and she nipped at the pointed ear. "Do I," the familiar voice continued, "or did you abandon me without a word?"

Gladys had always known Eydis was powerful, frightening, but she had only ever known these things in vague abstracts, or subtle demonstrations of skill at best. Now she was trapped beneath her by more than just her weight and strength, she was trapped by the sharpness of her teeth at her flesh, the fear of what else her elder knew.
The question and pain came so sudden, so unexpected, that it tore right through Gladys' remaining composure and ripped a horrified cry from her chest before she could stop it. The thralls woke and some murmured in sleepy confusion, another reminder that she could not fight Eydis, not anywhere, but especially not here. She faced Eydis now, eyes wide and full of rage, teeth clenched against the angry torrent of words that felt like they might crawl their way out of her throat if she didn't utter them. "Leave us," she hissed at the thralls, upset that their rest had been interrupted, but not wanting them to witness any more than they already had.

"No," Eydis said with a quiet command. "They bear witness to your weakness, sister." She paused to lick  her lips. There was the faintest taste of blood upon them. There was no real damage done to the Gladys's ear. Or at least no more than a mother dog putting one of her children straight. But that taste drove her deeper inside the younger vampire's head to the part that throbbed and consumed her thoughts. It was overwhelming. Eydis did everything she could to not completely fall into the role, lest she lose control of the situation and lose her grasp on reality for days. "They always have. You have not grown stronger. Not yet."

For a moment Gladys' mask slipped a bit, revealing the fear of a child barely a woman before being eclipsed by the anger she always hid behind. "That is. Entirely. THE POINT!" she said at length, trembling with the pain of being humiliated, of being made to admit her own weakness in this way. "How can I ensure the survival of my childe when I am but a few months fledged!" She didn't know who she was addressing anymore, but she refused to call Eydis by his name.

Eydis paused. The young vampire was acutely aware of her shortcomings. But it was the answer that came next that nearly knocked Eydis back to an ancient memory—back to a  vampire consoling her first childe. Her pupils softened momentarily before snapping back into place. Her grip seemed to slack around Gladys's wrists. "Is that what you want," she whispered softly, "for me to belong to you?," she asked softly, "When we could belong to each other once more?"

It took Gladys a moment to understand what the implications of that last statement were, but when realization hit she groaned with the pain of the decision. It was a complicated matter involving her pride, her desire for power, and a debt she could never repay. She cringed at the idea of being a debtor for eternity, and it chafed her to think that anyone else should be involved in her relationship with her brother.
"You say that, but would you come between us? The love of one's master is powerful beyond reason," she explained, her voice finally cracking under the stress, "I could not bear to lose him a second time."

Eydis broke character once more to giggle, although it came out more like a hiccup—unintended and disruptive. And if she was quick, Gladys would catch a look in the older's vampire's eyes she had never seen before. It was judgement, but also knowledge of the truth behind Gladys's statement. "You could," she declared as she once again took up ghost of the young man. This time she elected to free Gladys from her grasp, leaning over her instead. "You could lose all this. You could lose me." Her hand reached out and brushed hair away from Gladys' face in a familiar manner. "You've always been strong enough."

"What would you know of my strength?" Gladys said in a quiet, lamenting tone. "If he dies, or worse! If he chooses to leave me, it is all the same. I cannot lose him, I cannot..." her voice continued to move towards a whisper, and she shut her eyes against their burning. Claud was the point by which Gladys was made weak. Her human half, out of her control, vulnerable and exposed.

"We've already lost so much," Eydis said in a hushed tone, her hand continuing to pet the young vampire's face. She leaned in slowly and kissed away the tears threatening to run down Gladys' face. "You gave me a way to find a new family. I found one of my own." In a way, the siblings had grown apart already. That divide was cleft the minute Gladys approached Asher. "Why? Why did you leave me?" She didn't want the bravado, the falsehood. She wanted Gladys to say it out loud and in doing so admit it to herself.

Gladys' eyes snapped open, hot with anger. She had had enough of this charade. Eydis couldn't possibly know Claud's inner thoughts and she was sick of the small vampire inhabiting his perspective, though at the root of it what she was really most galled by was the surgeon-like efficiency with which she was tearing into her most tender and private feelings. "I was and am sick of being weak!" she yelled, slamming her hands into the mattress as she sat up, tipping Eydis into her lap. "I did not leave you, you would not FOLLOW! Why didn't you help me? Now I'm under the thumb of a man no better than the first one." Anger cooled to remorse and self pity—and then horror. She'd succumbed to the act.

Eydis allowed herself to tumble upwards and allowed Gladys to rage in front of her. These were words buried under her skin, itching away in her head. They kept her up at night and even into the day. It drove her every step. Exposed, open, raw. It was a wound that would not heal, despite Gladys' newfound regeneration. Eydis wrapped herself gently and honestly around the young vampire. "You're wrong," she whispered, "he's far worse." There was no humor in her voice, only what could be described as empathy. "And I couldn't not help you," she said at decibels the thralls could not hear. "Nor will I now."

Gladys wanted to shove Eydis to the bed and run off somewhere to be alone, but it was full day outside, and there was no place truly safe or private in the villa. "I know," she whispered, miserable, humbled, bowing her head to rest on Eydis' shoulder. The double negative confused Gladys, and even after repeating the words to herself in her mind, she couldn't decide if they were meant to be comforting or not. She was not comforted.

Eydis cradled Gladys’s head, feeling the heat of her humiliation. She let the young man drift from her mind. How exhausting it all was. This was more sense than she had held on to in some while. The younger vampire would feel her frame go slack against her. “You are young,” she whispered, “not weak.” There was folly in conflating the two. It was a lesson she had learned well. Thin fingers pulled back the tufts of blonde hair. “You are bound to no one,” she craned her neck in the girls direction, displaying her own vulnerability and an option Gladys had yet to take up.

With a few sentences, Eydis had calmed much of Gladys' high emotions. Another form of power. Gladys tilted her head ever so slightly to the side to look at Eydis' exposed neck. She had, in fact, considered it, had been considering it ever since she had witnessed and then understood what had happened between the strange doctor and her master. Sighing she closed her eyes and nuzzled the crook of Eydis' neck. "Perhaps, but for now it is wise, I think, to keep close to my enemies."

A dreamy smile lingered on Eydis’ lips. What a good girl. She would make a fine queen one day, provided she could overcome this curse. Her story was enough to inspire a few more years in the older vampire. “You cannot keep what you kill,” she warned in a soft whisper, bringing her investment in the topic to a close. Gladys’ family, living and dead, would continue to haunt her. She was not ready to bury either of them. How many had it been for her, Eydis tried to remember. Eventually she gave up and allowed her hands to rove through Gladys’ hair playfully.

"Hmmm..." Gladys sighed, a sad, tired sound. Gladys knew that, in all likelihood, she would ask Eydis to be the one to turn Claud. In the pit of her stomach she knew this. However it would take her some time to acclimate herself to the idea. And of course, she would have to let him choose for himself. If she could not turn him (and she could not) she would have no power over him, and he would have to come with her willingly if there was any hope of reconciliation. It was a better solution, but a less likely one to occur. Gladys knew Claud had moved on, had formed new friendships, new familial bonds. Gladys was, after all, dead.
Eventually she said, "I'm sorry I yelled."

Though her thoughts still churned about, there was less turmoil coming from Gladys. Things had quieted down. It brought the older vampire peace too. She carefully rolled off Gladys and flopped back down on to the bed. “Never apologize when your foot get stuck in a bear trap,” she said lazily. Things began to spin again. Her sense of where she was and who she was with drifted away slowly, like boats on different currents. “My apologies for the terrible drag, “ she called out across the ocean of her mind, unsure if the words found land. They were small and strained by the time Eydis finally formed them. “But he needed to hear that.”

Gladys lay back down next to Eydis, too riled up now for meditation, let alone sleep. The mere fact that the older vampire was not only unbothered by Gladys' outburst, but seemingly understanding of it meant a lot to her. Eydis' speech was lapsing back into indecipherable territory, and Gladys began to relax more. But then... "Surely you don't mean to tell him. Right?" she asked, thinking maybe Eydis was joking with her, but not being so sure.