Something awoke. A thing that had always been on the fringes of her senses, but never had sought the prime and centre spot of the light shining on it. Her anxiety did peak, but it was soon swallowed, the usually reserved and calmly still, Seraphine, sank under the rising current of the huntress within.
They fell against something, or she had pulled them, it didn’t matter. The pressure of his body over hers, that delicate squeeze and press, soon shifted into her elevation. Feet left the ground as layers shifted, her hands returning the rise in urgency by slipping and snagging themselves around the hair, tugging and pulling him closer. Pinned, between him and the wall, the first grounding of his pelvis a tantalising prequel to what could be. Her mind hazed, the hunger returning the restrictive dance he began with a breathy needy groan. Words were not required, for Sera, they were unobtainable as she became swept up in the sensations, the position all unfamiliar, new, and overwhelming.
Yet it did nothing to deter her, only spurned the animal within to want more. She craved it, his warmth, his blood… his life... and when his mouth found hers, solidified the dark resolve overtaking and driving her. She answered any question unclearly, a soft gasp here, a hummed moan there, but the woman never pushed him away. Her hands simply trailed through his hair, along his back and downwards, growing in surety with every pass.
Sera was a mere puppet, watching as the hunger acted on its own, silencing her under the flooding endorphins. There went her first kiss, stolen by a bard in an alley. An exciting, if scandalous tale, but no-one needed to have known. Fogged, she may not even recall it fully in the after. His tongue flickered against hers and she responded in turn, inexperience quickly following his earlier ministration, sweeping around to taste him. Not enough to sate, a mere appetiser to what dwelt under the surface of his skin.
She succumbed to the dark. Mind muddled by the mixture of sweat and scent, the intermingling of damp rain, spices and wood smoke, a concoction she had to fully experience. A sudden, cold focus rose above the increasingly frantic dry rutting between them when she went to bite down. His hand pressed silk against her, the delicate, delicious friction causing her to bite down harder, fingers clawing and clenching what skin she could hold, brace herself on. He thrusted upwards at just at the perfect moment, the enamel breaking through to let red gold spill.
Fuck yessss… fell as a whisper, mumbled before her body went rigid. Her eyes, already faded from the curse, now assumed their full shift. Gone, was any tether of control over the monster lurking in the shadows of her mind. She unlatched her mouth only to immediately bite him again, her adjustment offering better control when she came to drain him of everything. The surge of power that came with that first few drops fuelled a strength that would catch him off guard, switching their positions so he was now the one pinned against the wall.
He, belatedly, realized he tasted copper in that second kiss, his tongue chasing after hers further, deeper, the press into her mouth in time to the movement of his hips against hers, a mimicry of what he was trying to work them towards, soon enough he'd need to finally find his way through all the silk to make sure that she wasn't blindly agreeing, to make sure she was responding just as enthusiastically as it seemed, because even with caution tossed to the wind, he wanted a fully willing partner, and the growing dampness between them along his thumb certainly felt like they both were very much into this moment coming to pass between them, ..that sounds and feels like a yes, he whispered to her, as he thrust up against her once again -- later when he was afforded the opportunity of a look without the cast of a spell throwing red light over them, he would realize what he had been using as lubricant between them had been his own blood, but that realization would be much later, chased by a bad infection, and fever that would follow him the entire way the Arlathan, but for now, he could feel the building pressure that only increased with each returned movement.
And then his partner went rigid in his grasp, and he took that as his cue to add a second finger to his efforts to circle that bundle of nerves he knew would have her seeing stars, his hips stopped as he went to move one of her hands to between them, to have her show him how she wanted to be touched further, under the silk when he finally was able to get it up around her waist, Show me, Sera, show me exactly how you want me to touch you here now, Yoon's vice rose at the end, the second bite puncturing deeper into his skin, past where the first bite had had him just bleeding, where those sharp teeth finally broke through the haze and registered as painful, before he was back against the wall, a feral hellcat riding him, and the next bite seared through any remaining haze, thrusting him straight back into what was really happening as the yell started but was cut off into a strangled curse as he felt the woman ripped off him, part of his shoulder going with those teeth.
Go. Now, otherwise you're dead.
He was going to argue that Sera needed help, but he caught a look at both sets of eyes staring back at him, and he knew that he wasn't dealing with anything normal in that moment, and the better part of discretion finally had his legs in motion, sending him scattering for his horse, and the nearest eluvian as fast as he could, not a single look back at those sets of eyes that would follow him in the years to come.
The rain was a problem, he realized, as he followed them towards the alley-way in his cat form, his nose able to pick up the scent of them both, arousal and danger that meant it was time to shed his feline form and follow them on foot. Of course she would go and court danger on her name day. Of course it would be with a man too. She couldn't go off and find a female lover that would prevent her from having children, no, she had to go and find a male to fuck her.
He'd examine that sharp sting of jealousy later, he told himself, even though he knew there was no way he would, as he let the animal form wash off him in a wave of magic, the whiskers once again the last thing to meld back into his human form as he took off after them on foot, no longer able to rely on keen eyes and ears, he had lost them in the few moments it had took to find somewhere dark enough for him to change and then pick back up the chase.
It had only taken him a few moments, but in those moments he had lost them in the darkness, so his search had started with the nearest off shoot of the alleyway, the tents that were tucked back in corners, under overhangs, crates making different branches that he had to trace, and quickly. He couldn't risk using his magic to search either. It was the whisper and then grunts that had caught him, hidden out of sight as he watched them, rolling his eyes. He was about to stalk off, when even his human nose caught the blood and the curse sang to life in him, urging him forward into the darkness as he grabbed Sera around the throat and forcibly ripped her off the man that stumbled into the darkness. Go, now, otherwise you're dead.
He said as he lifted Sera up by her neck, a shudder running through him as he caught sight of the blood on her, on how her eyes were blown wide with hunger, the same hunger that had his own eyes fully dilated, a tongue darting between lips. Spit it out. You don't need to hold on to that chunk of bard. You bit off more than you can chew, little dancer, Malik's voice dropped into a lower register, richer, more seductive as he tried to coax her, all while fighting the need to take the other man's place between her legs, under her teeth. The idea of having her lips on him, trying to drink him, trying to ride him like she had been the bard..
Open up. He ordered, bringing his other hand up to forcibly take the hunk of flesh from her mouth if he had to.
Brief insanity overwhelmed her. The Curses song had bewitched her, locking sense away behind the overriding taste of him.
Drink, echoed like a command within her mind, and even when her meal was torn away from her she first whined with the loss. Why did it taste almost like lyrium? Then rage flooded her, offering resistance to the hand holding her against the wall with a mixture of snarls and grunts. Her feet shuffled across the alley’s surface, trying to gain leverage while wild eyes darted between food and the fool interrupting her.
And then she saw his eyes, through the strands of dishevelled and tousled hair. The same familiar look. The need rising in him. Sera seemed to briefly still, her attempts appeared to wane under his strength, but she was studying him, his stance, the tension in his shoulders. She smirked, but then it quavered slightly. Sera suddenly felt… aware of something else. For the first time her magic felt like the common background hum, that comforting presence at the edge of her senses that she could call too. It caused her eyes to widen briefly, chest tightening in grief of the years spent with only a mere trickle of sense.
The twinned predators gazed back at one another and as he commanded her to spit out the chunk of bard. Sera tensed, a hot shudder ghosted across her with how his sensually low tone tried to coax her. Playfully, she made a point to roll the piece in her mouth around before spitting it out, the hauntingly dark gleam still fixing him firmly in her sights.
The approach of his hand was the opportunity she needed. Her blood thrummed with magic, a wave of it exploded, causing the lights overhead to flash brighter, illuminating the space in white light in an effort to dazzle him. His grip loosened, Sera kicked back off the wall to grab him, a surge of ancient power more than doubling her strength as she attacked anew. One found his hair, angling his head while the other gripped his shoulder to support her efforts. She had enjoyed the kissing… and he smelled delicious, even in the rain…
It wasn’t her best, her inexperience obvious at the first moment but it wasn’t her objective. Her bite to his lower lips in the next was hard enough to split skin on the first go, greedily swallowing what he’d denied her with Yoon.
Only his blood felt different. Sweeter. Euphoric, and as she breathed through her nose, the dancer moaned. Fingers clawed at the collar of his robes, pulling him into her and back against the wall, the memory of Yoon erased the second her tongue tasted Malik’s blood.
Malik tried to keep his composure even as the beast inside him threatened to snap it's leash at the smell of blood. With the bard truly gone now, he could turn, his stance wide to be able to hold her if she chose to try and run, try and bite someone else. The time clock had begun for them, in that moment, an ever steady race towards an known, but joined future, either ending in death, or a cure for them both -- as much as Malik wanted to believe in a cure, the moment he had scented the blood on her, he had known, deep down, that the two of them were racing ever more in lock step, towards their mutually assured dooms.
He fought, even harder, as the beast strained the lead even tauter, the chunk of flesh dropped to the ground and kicked off an edge into a further down alley way still, there a dog, or a rat would find the morsel and dispose of the evidence, one way or another. Be it one scavenger or another, it would be gone come morning, and that was as much as he needed to assure. The male would be gone, as fast as he could from the capitol after that performance, and Seraphine?
Seraphine was currently trying to pull every single bit of his considerable willpower free from him and let the curse reign free. The inexperienced undulation of her hips against his, even if he knew it was the man from before she was still reacting for, reacting too, there was no way in her blood lust that she was seeing him, sensing him there in the moment. Still, he was ashamed as his body reacted, ashamed as he let himself be drawn into those lips, still covered with blood that tasted like sweet, blessed relief, even as he felt the sharpness of teeth along his lip, felt the skin split, and more blood join into the mix, his own, scant relief to the hunger the curse was whipping him into, even as he lost himself further into her grasp, breath coming rapidly through his nose as his tongue swept into her mouth, chasing after the coppery tangy taste that lead to the small high that even Tevinter mage wines couldn't recreate.
His hand, just barely tightened around her throat, as she jerked them back towards the wall, fully taking the place the bard had been in just moments before, his free hand going to pull one of those slender legs up over his hip as he screamed inside his head don't. He teetered there, on a precipice, on a choice, even as his body continued to respond to hers, hard and ready to fulfill what the minstrel had started there, to sate the driving need that twined around the blood lust until it was hard to tell which hunger was which, which need drove the moments as he forcefully pulled away from the kiss, the fingers around her neck tightening just a bit more as he watched her face, hips grinding up into hers as his thumb pulled down on her lower lip, how easy it would be to just, press the sharpened nail into the plush pillow of flesh there, to prick skin, to see a bead of blood well up on her lip.
The breath Malik pulled down into his lungs was shuddering, paused here and there as he felt his cock twitch against her center, as he tried oh so hard to stop, even as those predator eyes of his searched her face, No more, little dancer, not like this, not here, not in this dirty place. His thumb slid over her lower lip, once more, the idea of piecing flesh still there, even as he had to grind into her again just to appease one of the twin hungers burning inside him, later he could take himself in hand and imagine having her mouth on his neck, on his lips, to feel his life slowly draining into her and leaving him on the very edge of damnation before he'd come, feeling ashamed again that the woman he would eventually have to kill, or be killed by, could bring such a reaction out of him -- but only since that first fainting ]spell, he tried to reassure himself, pitifully as he leans in and kissed her again, gentler this time. The way he had wanted to kiss her, not as a beast, spurred by a need to rut deep inside her, to spill seed in her over and over, to put a child in her belly as the curse demanded, all while opening her pretty little veins, blue under pale, pale flesh, and lapping at her life's blood.
Maker help them, if he didn't kill them both soon, while they were both still sane enough, they'd kill one another in the process of falling prey to the curse's more twisted magics trying to proliferate itself. Littler dancer, if this is truly what you want, let it be in a bed, where I can make certain that you're fully sated, and ruined for anyone else you may have in the next years of life we may yet enjoy. If this, he whispered as he leaned his head back down to hers, lip still beading blood as he swiped his tongue over the crack, and traced the bead gathered there over her lips, his own teeth worrying her lip but just a moment, courting temptation and danger ever still. Thumb stroking over the column of her throat, the curse telling him to grab her again, to bend her over one of the crated and fuck her until she screamed, to bury himself in her just has hard as he would bury his teeth into that pretty neck. Is what you need, let it be somewhere I can make sure that after you're safe, and cocooned in blankets for when the high wears off, because little dancer, it will wear off, and you will crash so hard that not even the blood will help again. But not here, not now. Not in a rainy Dock Town alley, and not while you're wearing another man's blood and come stains on your underdress.
He leaned down to scoop her legs up from under her, to pull her up to his chest, Because when you ask that of me, mine will be the only blood on your lips and hands.
Seraphine's head tilted back against the rain-slicked wall as her breath came in shallow, desperate gasps. The tang of blood still lingered on her lips, a siren song for the curse that twisted within her, binding her will beneath its suffocating weight. Her hands clawed at Malik's chest, trembling as the beast inside her demanded more. More of him, more of his blood, his flesh, his soul. She couldn’t see him through the haze; her eyes, normally bright and mischievous, were dimmed by the unnatural glow of the curse, pupils dilated wide like a feral creature caught in its primal urges.
But then there was his voice. Low, commanding, steady.
"No more, little dancer, not like this."
The words rippled through the fog of her mind, cutting through the curse's cloying grip. She blinked, the veil over her vision faltering, and for a fleeting moment, she saw him clearly: Malik, torn between his own hunger and something deeper, something that tethered him still to humanity. His hands were firm yet careful on her body, their touch grounding her as much as it inflamed the fire within. He slowed everything, even as it pained them both.
Her lips parted as if to argue, to beg, to surrender, but instead, a weak, shuddering sound escaped her as he traced the blood across her mouth. The curse bucked violently, dragging her back into its thrall, and her body moved on instinct, pressing closer to him, seeking his warmth, his strength. Her fingers fisted in his shirt, desperate and shaking, even as a sharp pang of guilt pierced through the madness. This isn’t you. The thought was faint, fleeting, but it was enough.
Her hands loosened their hold, and her glowing eyes flickered, the unnatural light dimming to reveal the soft amber of her natural hue. She pushed weakly against his chest, her strength sapped and failing as the weight of her actions, and the curse, bore down on her. L-Lord Vr…? she murmured, her voice hoarse, trembling with the first hints of clarity and shame. Her strength buckled, and the world tilted violently as the crash he had warned of came far swifter than either of them had expected.
She crumpled into his arms, her body boneless and cold, her head lolling against his chest as unconsciousness claimed her. In the darkness, flashes of the night assaulted her: the feel of Yoon's hand in hers as they danced, the vibrant whirl of skirts and music, the intoxicating laughter that had spilled from her lips. Then the memory shifted, jagged and fractured. Yoon’s face twisted in horror, his bloodied hand clutching at his neck as she lunged at him, the sickening sound of flesh tearing, the overwhelming hunger that drowned out her humanity. And the Vrai, pulling her back, steadying her even as she clawed at him like an animal.
His words echoed in the void, low and steady, anchoring her even in the depths of unconsciousness. "Because when you ask that of me, mine will be the only blood on your lips and hands." The promise, or warning, reverberated through her mind, sharp and haunting.
She stirred suddenly, gasping as she woke in an unfamiliar bed, her limbs heavy and unresponsive at first. The room was dimly lit, the scent of rain-soaked wood and herbs filling the air. Her throat was raw, her body aching in ways she couldn’t fully name, but it was the memory of Malik’s gaze, his restraint, the terrifying hunger that burned most vividly in her mind. She pressed trembling fingers to her lips, her heart racing as she struggled to piece together what was real and what was shadow, shrinking into the blankets when a door nearby opened.
The curse whispered in her ear, faint but insistent, promising more if only she would surrender again. S-Stop it… Stop… hands pulled at the sheets, her body twisting to try and get off the bed, to escape, but unable to make it far in her condition.
He was glad that he had stopped, to pull her into his arms when he had, because the woman was crashing already, as predicted, the high was gone and so was she to the blackness that he could only imagine would leave her feeling confused and empty when she woke. So he did what he had been planning on doing anyway, wrapping his cloak around her as he went through the back alleys and elevators to take him up into the richer parts of the town, into the area where his townhouse was, next to his sister and her wife. The old woman, Sari, was there, with his niece when he arrived, and he nodded to her.
If you'd take care of her a bit longer, you know Lord Tilani will be at the Palace till much later, and I will take full responsibility if she throws a fit over something by you being over here still. Could you stay in the nursery with her, until I get the Lady situated? Leave if you need to for basic comforts, but please stay locked in the nursery until I come get you and Annie. And send down for Benson, I need Annie's crib moved into my chamber please. Thankfully, the older woman had never had a bad experience with Malik, and while loyal to the Tilani household, accepted his commands as easily as they had come from his sister, or her wife. Malik should have made her go next door, but, no. He couldn't have his attention split between the two of them once Sari would need sleep, her advanced age, and while Benson was of the same family, he was more groom than nurse and childcare. He could help with the child, but Malik trusted the slave family matriarch more than the son.
He waited until he heard the lock on the door latch close, before he took Seraphine up the stairs to the bathroom, cradling her as he worked the bloodied clothes off her, and piling them over in the corner, his eyes purposely only looking where he needed to, as he cleaned the blood off her with a damp warm cloth, and even as he did, he made sure to focus down to the only bits of skin he needed to see to wash the dried blood away. The scent was overpowering, as he finally went to pull the silk free from where it was caught between her legs -- the other man's scent and her own, the had been grinding there in the alley way, and as he finally freed the slip free and tossed it over into the pile of dirty clothes, he gritted his teeth. That smell, the smell that mingled with her own, needed to be gone. It was enough to send him towards the edge, to send the thought through his mind that had he been a few seconds longer...
His hand reached behind him to pull his night shirt down from the peg it normally hung on behind the bathroom door, and he gently tugged it down over her, the soft cotton coming down to nearly her knees, swallowing her, and the beast inside him was lulled back into some semblance of comfort, as he cleaned the rest of the dried blood off her. If he had been a weaker man, he would have derived pleasure from having her in his arms like that, of having seen naked flesh, of having washed her, but the only pleasure he had from it was knowing she was safe, smelling his own scent start to mingle with hers, chasing off any trace of the other man's scent. He'd ask Sari to take the robe and slip next door and have them washed and ready for the morning. The old woman wouldn't ask questions, hadn't asked questions in the past, when he came home in much the same shape before.
Malik had tucked her into his bed, making sure that there was a candle lit beside the bed, before he had gone to collect his niece, to spend the evening hours feeding her, and then giving her a bath, before rocking her to sleep and tucking her down into the crib. He had asked Sari to come back and sleep in the nursery in case Annie cried in the night, to help him manage both Ladies, before he had taken on his little feline form, and jumped up behind Seraphine on the bed, curling up behind her and purring for hours to help Seraphine sleep.
Annie woke, as per usual, around three in the morning, and Sari came to rock the child, waiting until she was fully back asleep to sneak back into Malik's bed chamber to settle her back down into the crib, Malik had stirred, sometime a few minutes before, and having took his human form again, had crawled under the cover to wait for his niece to be brought back in. He was able to keep a better eye on the two of them, if he had them both right there, and so when Sari came back in, and Seraphine stirred, he snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her back against him. Shh, Seraphine, Shh, you're safe and sound. Sari, thank you, you can head back next door now, the three of us will whether the rest of the night fine.
He propped up on and elbow, as he watched the elderly woman tuck Annie back into the crib, and then leave, pulling the door closed behind her, the quiet foot steps retreating down the stairs, and finally through the back door. The townhouse was quiet, when he spoke again, leaning his head down so that he could whisper to her without waking the child, Lay back down and rest, you expended a lot of energy this evening. We're at my home, you are safe, and the other man is alive, I had someone follow him to the Eluvian to make sure.
Seraphine stirred against the warmth of Malik’s arm, her body taut with the kind of tension that comes from waking up somewhere unfamiliar, wrapped in someone else’s scent, wearing someone else’s clothes. The cotton shirt felt soft against her skin, but its foreignness unsettled her; she clutched at it instinctively, her fingers curling into the fabric as she tried to orient herself. Had he really undressed her? The heat of embarrassment spread throughout her, cheeks burned while she tried to put an inch of decency between them.
Her breaths came fast and shallow, the edges of panic clawing at her chest until the scent of him came in steady, grounding, familiar in a way that shouldn't stir the uncanny calmness, washing over her senses. It was confusing, disarming. The part of her mind that was always on guard seemed to quiet, lulled by his presence. Yet the quiet came with a gnawing discomfort, a struggle against the clarity that lingered just out of reach.
She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper as she tilted her head back slightly to catch his gaze in the dim candlelight. It quickly shifted back to the cot and then the rest of the room.
What… what did I do? Her words quivered, laced with dread. What was that?
Her mind reeled with fragments of memory—her own voice, but sharper, more forceful than she remembered it ever being. Hands moving, actions that felt half her own and half… something else. And then the blackness. The abyss that followed left her feeling as if she were hollowed out, her soul brushed by a force she couldn’t name, something ancient and hungry.
Her fingers pressed against her temple, her exhaustion palpable as the curse inside her stirred faintly. It didn’t gnash its teeth or strain against her control. Instead, it rested. It was content, subdued. The strange calmness unnerved her almost as much as the memories she couldn’t piece together.
She twisted slightly in his grasp, her voice trembling as she continued, I don’t… I don’t remember enough. Just flashes. And now I’m here, in your clothes, in your bed. Her voice broke, soft and unsure. Why? What is so wrong with me, Death follows me every… everywhere?
She closed her eyes, the weight of the night pulling at her. But even as her exhaustion begged her to rest, her heart thudded with the question she wasn’t sure she wanted an answer to: What am I becoming?
