[Closed] Return To... Civilization. Or something.

[goldenclothes]

Who: Alexander and Reilanin
What: Alexander comes over to visit Reilanin once he's back from being out of Locke City, and the two get around to hashing out some of the future's more... immediate concerns.
Where: Reilanin's apartment.
When: Dec 2nd, evening.
Warnings: References to cannibalism, self-inflicted injury, and vampire bloodsucking. S-sorry to people who are squicked by those, this is... not a good log for you ;-;

It's also long. Whoops.



Human blood was different.

The epiphany sat like a block of dread in his stomach. Alex had consumed more pig's blood in one sitting than he ever had before, but his thirst remained unsatisfied. It wanted something different. It wanted the blood he'd drank yesterday out of a used soda bottle, fresh and warm and different.

'Different.'

An hour later, he was at Reilanin's door with a small cooler in one hand and his keys in the other, fingers rubbing the metals together in agitation. He'd contacted her before coming (he always did), saying that he had cuts of beef from home and that his tastes may have changed.

She would understand.

More than she had ever cared to, she did.

She was curious what it was like to come back after such a long absence, wanted to know how it felt, what it was like to be away, to forget- it didn't seem appropriate to wonder at this point, not with that disclaimer. She was hungry, but didn't eat- anything she made wouldn't be enough, regardless, and she was still hesitant to eat meat. He said he was bringing some- she hated that it sounded like a good idea to everything but her brain.

The door opened a moment after the knock and she peered out, her eyes brighter than before. Or maybe that was just imagination. She stepped back, glancing aside before up again. "Welcome back," she said, thumb rubbing over the curve of the doorknob. "C'mon in."

Simple set-up. No television, but a stereo setup and a laptop lurked on the couch somewhere, everything done in neutrals though that could have just been the way the apartment came. A few plants added colour, but otherwise it was a couch, a chair, and a lot of books that greeted anyone walking into the living room.

He greeted her with a wan smile, short-lived and unusually quiet, and stepped inside, removing his shoes out of habit. He'd automatically shoved his keys into his pockets, but without that release of agitation he sought another, rubbing the opposite side of his neck as he set the cooler onto the kitchen counter.

"How've you been?" he asked, looking up at her. He didn't bother to conceal the fatigue in his voice, though his interest was genuine. "How'd the full moon go?"

She shut the door after him, biting down briefly on the inside of her cheek. Even if he hadn't told her what was in the cooler, she'd know. Not unlike a dog, she followed after him, hanging back a little with her arms folded loosely in front of her. She couldn't tell a lot of things about him that she could tell from others, due to his own nature, but he was making it easy, even without those things to back her up.

The question hung in the air a moment, expected but not entirely wanting to be answered. "...I don't know. No one died." There had been a few worse scenarios than what had occured, and a few better ones. "...both Randolph and I got loose. In the house. Hajime kept us occupied." There was a brief hesitation, her eyes on the ground, before she sighed. "He was also the one that let us loose."

And now he felt absolutely terrible about it, and she hadn't spoken to him about it at all, one way or another. She reached up to tug at a lock of her hair. "...it's... it's an experience."

It came out softer than she meant for it to. She'd had a dream where all she could remember was the sound of bones cracking. She tugged again at her hair. Should she mention the other bit? She held it back for now.

His hand pressed firmer against his throat and failed to relax even after Reilanin had finished answering.

She had turned. They'd both gotten loose. All three of them fought?

But his surprise was mild at best, and he didn't feel terribly concerned -- probably because he was still acutely uneasy about his own development.

"Is... everyone okay?"

"It took some time to recover... Hajime didn't take it well." She put her hand back down to keep them in front of her again, hesitating. "Well. I know for next time."

She smoothed her skirt down, all nervous motions, and stepped up, taking the container from him. It was heavier than she'd thought it'd be, just looking at it.

"But I'm not the only one that's changed," she said, prompting him. She moved over to the fridge, opening it and looking in, before looking back to him. "...it happened when you got back?"

He immediately looked away, fingers curled into his throat. It was an uncomfortable pressure.

"I came back hungry. Vin..." he trailed off, lips curling with disquiet at the memory. "...gave me some blood."

He'd been too thirsty to feel disgust then, but thinking about it now...

"Do you remember when she said she ate and ate, but never got full?" His voice was tight, almost strained. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. "I think it's like that now."

"...yes, I remember. I know."

She looked back into the fridge. Did he want the cooler back? Probably. Did she have anything to put the meat into? She shut the fridge quietly and set to opening drawers, looking for ziploc bags.

She should feel stranger about this, but she didn't feel as strange as she thought she ought to. So he'd fed from his roommate. The next step up.

"It felt like that, even afterwards?" She turned back to look at him, careful not to look away. She didn't distrust him, or think ill of him. But it was hard to watch him be so uncomfortable. "When was that?"

He dropped his gaze, frowning at the counter while she rifled through the kitchen drawers. It was unlike him to feel so defeated, but here he was, giving meat to a vegetarian because of an inevitable diet change while relaying his own change of a change with no hope for a solution.

This wasn't acceptance. This was surrender.

"Today. I realized today, after I drank the pig blood." He removed his hand from his throat to make a half-hearted gesture in front of him. He glanced at her, crestfallen. "It's not enough."

She looked at him a moment longer, then looked away, opening one last drawer and getting the bags out once she found them. It wasn't as though she had given up meat on some high principle- it had simply ceased to interest her, or seem necessary. It certainly hadn't given her any appetite before.

"I'm sorry." Not that she'd done any of it herself, but she understood.

And it helped her feel a little better when that one memory surfaced. Not alone. How selfish had that other her been...?

"And... after Ravindra's help?"

They'd have to get used to more straightforward means of communicating, but... she was willing to let it slide, for now. "It wasn't enough?..."

He kept his eyes on her a moment longer after she had looked away, then looked away himself, ashamed. The apology made him feel worse.

He didn't answer immediately, her questions confusing him until he realized he hadn't explained the order of events clearly. "No, I-- when we came back, when we crossed that barrier, boundary," he closed his eyes and shook his head, "whatever-- that's when he... did it. And I didn't know that anything had changed until today."

He shifted his weight. "I haven't told him."

That in itself was a can of worms he wasn't ready to open.

"Oh..."

She'd assumed- well, now that she thought about it, this made more sense. Her thin mouth twisted slightly. And he hadn't told him... did he plan to? He'd have to, eventually- being roommates, that just created a liability. And they seemed good friends- that didn't seem worth ruining, either.

...so, it was the next day, and the hunger hadn't gone away. And he hadn't told Ravindra (yet), and seemed reluctant to. Meaning he had no ready supply.

"Is it bad?"

"Not yet."

With that kind of answer, he obviously expected it to change. He shifted away, placing both elbows on the counter and holding his head in his hands. "After the first one-- when I had to drink any blood-- I didn't know it, but I had a feeling. We ignored it. Then I-- I got so hungry that I tried to take it from him. I don't know-- I don't know if it's going to happen like that again."

Telling Ravindra was just one of several worms in that can. If animal blood couldn't satisfy him, then the proximity of other people suddenly became a threat. His job-- not every call was blood and guts, but enough of them were.

If he couldn't maintain a barrier between this Echoed part of himself and his mundane life, then he'd lose his job and his source of income. The uncertainty shook him.

She allowed some silence between them, not sure what to say just yet. As clearly she knew he was upset, it wasn't natural to her to just go and comfort him, either. Couldn't even be sure it'd be welcome, even.

It couldn't happen like that again. It was in his voice. She didn't have to think too hard to understand that.

"Is it just a matter of- of a steady supply?" she asked finally, realizing she'd taken to staring at him again.

He took his next breath deeply and expelled it, shoulders drooping. That was it-- that was the main problem: a source. A steady source. His own discomfort with the notion played second fiddle to the simple fact that he needed human blood to satiate his thirst.

"Maybe I'll raid the hospital." There was a note of self-derisive humor in the deflection, the kind often found in statements obviously flawed but nonetheless spoken.

"Mm..."

She thought about that a moment, hanging back on making her own suggestion and sounding unhelpful, if not outright apathetic.

Then she said, back turned to him, taking the meat out of the cooler, "I have a fairly quick regeneration. I'm sure it wouldn't be too taxing on me. So long as I watch my own hunger."

It took him a moment of wondering to figure out what she had implied. He pressed the pads of his fingers against his closed eyes and saw stars.

"How much do you eat?"

Another pause. "...probably not enough. Not yet. I didn't echo back being able to digest raw meat."

There was something almost funny about what she said, how she said it, almost conversational. "We both might have to go hungry for a little bit."

"Does it have to be raw?" he asked, turning his head to glance in her direction, but not actually seeing her. Raw meat. That was some cruel humor.

"It's the closest to what I want," she said, a little on the deflated side herself. She had been trying a little bit at a time. It made her stomach hurt, but she could only assume she'd be able to get over that... or echo something back, she supposed.

"If it's just a little bit, for now, would that help?"

He clenched his teeth and swallowed, acutely disgusted again. She could ignore what her system craved, but he couldn't? This exchange was unbalanced. It wasn't even an exchange; she wasn't getting anything out of it.

"Yes," he said, the disgust evident in the one word. He wasn't starving, but he wasn't satisfied. The notion of keeping in close proximity to his rig partner for twelve hours in that state worried him, a terror at the fringes of his concerns he desperately did not want to focus on. Realistically, his hunger wouldn't be so great that he wouldn't be able to restrain himself, but he didn't know the limits of this new development. He didn't want to risk it.

He was pretty sure no one would be quite as understanding as his roommate had been.

Turning to look at her, his eyes flicked down to the meat in her hands, then up to her face. "Is there something I can do for you in return?" Something. Anything.

She at least kept her face turned from his while he answered, not wanting to see as much as she heard the tone in his voice. And she had to think on that question, as much for him as for herself. What could he do for her?

As a vampire, not much that she could see. She didn't quite know what his capabilities were, but- and this was simply from what she'd been reading lately, having started to go through lore for a few different things on her breaks- there wasn't much besides strength that could help her at all, and after Hajime, that wasn't something she wanted to subject Alexander to.

(God, she'd have to find something to do for the coming month...)

The meat he'd brought was nice, but that wasn't exactly something she could ask from him again. It was a gift, not something to make a request of. And his job as a paramedic-

An answer came to her, and she brought her hand up to her mouth reflexively, her expression a mixture of sick and horrified. Could she even really seriously entertain that as a possibility?

"...I'll have to think on it," she said, too quiet, rubbing her lips briefly before she brought her hand away, wiping her hands on her hips before she looked back to the counter.

She undid the buttons on the cuff of her blouse and started to roll the sleeve up. "All I really need right now is an idea for the next full moon." A clear lie, but whatever she'd thought of wasn't about to be said out loud, by the looks of it.

His eyes darted to her arm, alarmed. That alarm was squashed just as quickly as it'd flared up; uneasy anticipation took its place. He looked up at her face again. After a moment, he pushed himself away from the counter.

"You said silver weakened you?"

Pure silver... Surely that came in wire form. He'd search the internet later, but he thought about the possibilities now, distracting his mind from the immediate situation.

"Silver," she said, frowning slightly at her elbow as she sought to roll her sleeve up one more time. "Blessed items... I can't even touch my mother's cross without gloves."

She looked back up to him, her own expression blank. Reilanin did not generally "deal" with things. She distracted herself. This, somehow, was a better distraction.

"I've read mistletoe, as well... mm, and mountain ash. Not that much of it around here, though, so I'm not sure."

He sought around for a clean kitchen towel to stem the bleeding when it happened. "Mistletoe," he echoed, smiling humorlessly. "And the birth of Jesus. Happy holidays."

She paused a moment, fingers frozen on the roll of her sleeve. "...the seventeenth," she said, setting herself into motion once more, going to the sink to wash her hands before drying them off. "So I've a week to recover."

Her mind was blank as she went over to the knife block and sifted through them. Would they be sharp enough? she wondered, pulling the smaller one out. She'd had them sharpened a little while ago. Or longer, maybe. The issue, she decided, would be force. She'd given herself scratches before. A full out cut she wasn't too sure of, but she was confident it would heal well enough given how she'd recovered from her transformation.

She held it, a little awkwardly, staring at it and at her arm. Emotion pushed aside, rationality decided she'd offered, she may as well go through with it. It wouldn't be right to make him do it.

Biting her lower lip, she slashed her arm, inhaling sharply, biting down hard enough to taste blood in her mouth. She could already feel that hot sensation coursing through her, seeking out the damage to close up the wound, even as the blood welled up and over the curve of her forearm, dripping onto the floor both the gash and the knife hanging midair in her other hand.

A week to recover for Christmas? He thought to ask, but bit the inside of his lip instead, watching her choose a knife with fresh unease. Perhaps she had pushed emotion aside, but he hadn't-- couldn't, really, not when she was about to cut her arm open

There were so many things wrong with this situation. He was a paramedic. He wasn't supposed to passively watch this happen.

"Stop," he said, stepping forward, but he spoke too late-- she'd made the cut. He closed the distance between them with a quiet curse, automatically wrapping the towel around her arm and applying pressure to it. "This is crazy. This is--" He was babbling, shaken not only by the act, but how easily she did it. "I'm sorry, this is crazy, how fast do you heal?"

Easy- yes, easy. It had been easy. That bothered her, somewhere, but it was lost to a sudden reverberation, eyes unfocused as the memory came back to her, the smell of sulphur and burning and ash, a dog on fire, a matching slash on her arm nothing in comparison to the garish wound the dog displayed. It would be fine, she knew, it would be safe- there'd be no problem giving him her blood-

She staggered as he took her arm, the tea towel wrapped firmly around it, looking back up to him with wide eyes, having lost that moment in between.

"Alex- Alex, what are you doing? It heals fast enough, it already is- don't waste it!"

Her alarm came from his. She dropped the knife, forgetting she'd been holding it, taking one of his wrists tightly but whether it was to keep it there or pull it away she hadn't decided.

It was a miracle the knife didn't slice either of them on its descent. Alex moved them away from it, not eager for either of them to accidentally cut their feet. Her grip on his wrist prompted him to look at her face, brows drawn together in thinly contained concern.

Don't waste it.

He opened his mouth in rebuttal, but found that he had none. He lifted one of the towel's corners to look at the wound. It was messy, as expected, and looked worse than it truly was, but it was a large gash -- far too large for his purposes. But it would suit them.

He risked a quick glance at her, then covered the wound and placed his hand on her shoulder, pressing down. "Sit down." The panic from earlier was better contained, though he still didn't sound right. He lowered himself to the kitchen floor with her, resting on his knees. Swallowing, he uncovered the gash and reluctantly lowered his lips to the closer end of it.

There was no way to drink her blood without awkwardness. He sucked at the wound in the same way he'd give someone a hicky which was really fucking awkward in this context. Not even Alexander Does Stupid Shit Shamelessly Varista could escape from this unscathed.

So even though his saliva, with its Belief-tinged properties, kept her blood from clotting, Alex pulled away before he was fully satisfied and covered the wound. "How are you feeling?" he asked, unable to maintain eye contact with her.

Sit down. Yes, that made sense. Still processing the memory that had just hit her, she let herself be nudged down, sitting on her knees and then slumping less rigidly to the side, not noticing the drops of blood on the floor soaking into her skirt. She let his wrist go, propping herself up with the hand instead.

It was so bizarre that she accepted it as normal, the gash on her arm and Alex's auburn head bent over it. She noticed how cold he was- not just his hands, which she took for simply having been outside, but even his mouth against her skin was chill, and she stared, slowly tilting her arm as though it might help the awkward angle he was at.

Ah, she'd been too hasty about it, hadn't she? She felt vaguely ridiculous. Even now she could feel the wound starting to stitch itself together at the ends, could feel the blood flow slow, but not stop. Like fighting off an infection, she could feel a sluggishness settling over her as her own blood tried to fight off the properties in his saliva. Otherwise, things felt... surprisingly fine. A little hazy, but it raised no alarms.

She blinks and looked at him, noticing he wasn't looking at her at all. The earlier sheepish feeling came back over her and she looked down at her arm, moving it slightly to test it.

"All right, I think." Ah, maybe not so much when she stood up- she'd overestimated herself, maybe. But she gave no sign of it, shifting to sit up again, shoulders hunched slightly as she tried to look at his face. "And you?"

Once she had stopped moving her arm, he took her other hand and pressed it against the wound. "Keep it there," he said, though he needn't have, because he was keeping it there himself as he took her pulse. He lifted his eyes to hers, then the color of her cheeks, then down again.

Satisfied that she was stable, he said, "I'm fine. Do you have an iron supplement?"

He was... fine. Better off than her, at least physically. He'd dwell on the weirdness of drinking another person's blood and agonize over the long-term implications later. Blood smears covered his hands and surrounded the sides of his mouth, but his first and foremost concern right now was Reilanin.

"Yes, of course. I've been taking them since I became vegetarian."

The words rolled out easily, her hand pressing down on the cloth, the blood seeped through but had stopped flowing after he'd pulled away. If anything, she seemed a little flushed, a little feverish, her skin hot to the touch as a side effect of the accelerated healing. Her breath came in a little quick- the healing process wasn't without some pain. She couldn't tell if it was better or worse than what had caused it. Pulse-wise, it beat strongly- perhaps too strongly- all to get her blood coursing again.

He hadn't answered her. She looked down as well, shifting so she could bring her shoulder up, rubbing her cheek against it to try and get rid of a sudden itch.

"Could have planned that better," she murmured. "Sorry. I just... wanted to help."

He smiled. It was fleeting, but genuine. Definitely could have planned that better, but all Alex said was, "Thank you. You did. I appreciate it."

He glanced around the kitchen, then returned his attention to her. "You should lie down. I'll help you to the couch, alright?"

"I'm fine," she said, stubborn, before she relented a short moment later with a sigh, "I'll be fine. All right." If it hadn't been the loss of blood, the healing would have made her dizzy. The slightest motion had her vision swimming. "Help me up, then. Ah- wash your hands first."

It was fairly easy to help her up- she was determined to rise by at least some of her own power, and she was a short woman, less to maneouvre into a standing position. She grabbed on to his jacket though, being upright causing a wave of vertigo.

"You're cold, you know," she said, once it had passed. "Maybe next time you could- I don't know. Drink some tea first."

He did as he was told, leaving her side to wash his hands at the kitchen sink. The soap suds turned pink with blood. He thought to wipe his mouth, too, and patted his hands dry on the thighs of his jeans.

He was patient with her, not minding that she'd grabbed his jacket (and probably got blood on it.) The suggestion caught him off-guard, though, and he paused to consider it before helping her to the couch. "I could do that, yeah."

Was he really that cold...? But she felt so hot against him, too. Different.

He set her up on the couch, propping the cushions behind her back and grabbing the throw to drape over her. Taking the suggestion as a cue, he asked, "Do you want some tea? Or anything?"

She didn't notice until she was on the couch looking up at him that she had, in fact, gotten blood on him. She looked at her hand and scowled, rubbing her fingers together, more bothered, for now, by the stickiness than its actual presence, but was moved from that as he fussed with her, moving the cushions around and taking the caribou-themed throw off the back of the couch and settling it over her. She nearly went to adjust it, but stopped, recalling the state of her hands.

"A washcloth would be nice," she said, finally having the grace to look guilty. "...I wouldn't mind some tea, either. I should probably make something soon... I hadn't eaten yet."

"Okay." Having spent the night here on October's full moon, he was familiar with the layout of the apartment. He went to the bathroom for a washcloth, then the kitchen for a bowl. He filled the electric kettle with water and turned it on, then wet the towel and wrung it out. Playing a supportive role was fulfilling right now; it gave him something to busy his hands with as he tried to sort through his tangled thoughts.

He did feel better. He still felt a little thirsty, but not terribly so-- it was, in any case, easily ignored, and that was the important part. How long would it last? He'd find out. And then...

He set the bowl with warm water onto the side table and handed her the towel. "What sort of tea do you want?"

She'd said 'next time'. Next time, next time, there was going to be a next time, wasn't there? Of course there was-- on his end, at least. He found it difficult to believe she was willing to give him blood on a regular basis after today.

He'd ask her later.

While he was gone, she reached up to rub at her forehead. The dizziness was passing into lightheadedness while she sat still, listening to him go through the various rooms of the apartment as she shut her eyes. Sight and sound were overwhelming, so she let the one take over and rested the other.

As he came back out she opened her eyes again, watching him put the bowl down and put the washcloth into her hand. She rubbed it between her palm and fingers before she thought to put the cloth down a moment and carefully lift the washcloth off of her arm.

It had already closed considerably, leaving only three or so of the original five inches open, though there was bruising and a dark, pink line marking where the skin had been cut. She looked at it a moment, fascinated, before she turned slightly and dipped the cloth in the bowl, dabbing at what was left of the cut carefully.

"Mm... there's a vanilla one that I like..." It was as much to drink as it was to smell. Her own seemed to be clogging her nostils, wild with an iron, coppery tang. She wiped carefully at her skin. "The container's just next to the toaster."

He stared at her arm and hoped her werewolf healing wouldn't leave a scar because it wasn't pretty. The speed at which her cut had closed up was, however, amazing, so there was a bit of awe in his stare as well.

His first inclination was to offer to wipe her arm for her, but he squashed it down, not wanting to be overbearing. Instead, he made a sound of acknowledgement and reentered the kitchen. As he got the tea ready, he asked, at a regular volume, "Is there something in the fridge you want, or...? I can cook you something."

Regular volume was all she needed. She noticed that her hands were a little unsteady, and she took a deep breath to try and calm herself down. It was probably her body, not so much her, that was reacting to what had just happened.

She'd turned into a wolf, after all. That had been horrific enough. This was little compared to it. Not well thought out, maybe, but the mortification involved had also been markedly less. She'd take a rolled up sleeve to undressing any day.

"...I should probably eat some of that meat," she said, her voice almost childishly unhappy. "Maybe it would be easier if it were cooked...?"

"Easier to digest? Yeah." Honestly, he felt better about her eating meat than taking the iron supplements, but he hadn't wanted to push her boundaries (anymore than he already had today.)

Some scrounging in the cupboards procured a tray on which he brought her tea to her, exchanging it with the bowl of sullied water. He checked her complexion and eyes again, then returned to the kitchen to cook her meal.

Reilanin's blood satiated his thirst. She wasn't human anymore, though, so maybe it wasn't only human blood that would satisfy him. Maybe it was only animal blood that wouldn't satisfy him. That changed very little, though. A regular blood source... How often would he need to drink? If it was everyday, as it had been until now, then that was going to be a problem. He didn't expect one person to bear the burden of feeding him (ugh.)

He was still reluctant to tell his roommate, though. Ravindra may have been a pragmatic candidate with his healing, but Alex wasn't blindly idealistic enough to believe using him as a food source wouldn't change their dynamic. And that was assuming Ravindra would want to fulfill that awful role.

In this, solidarity was found only in Reilanin. She understood. They had been like this back then, too. They understood.

Dinner was sliced beef, well-done, over a bed of salad he'd found in the refrigerator. He set it on her tray and waited for her to situate herself before asking, "Mind if I sit?", gesturing to the empty side of the couch.

She blinked at the tray- usually it only made appearances when she wasn't feeling well or when her brother came to visit, a rare thing these days- and waited until it was set down and the bowl taken away before she reached out for it with her good arm, the other resting in her lap. She pressed her lips together as she sat back, the mug in her hand, and let her breath out slowly. She could feel the skin stitching itself back together, and it sent a small spasm through her hand the more she concentrated on it.

She turned her head to watch him busy himself in the kitchen instead.

This would turn bad fast if she weren't careful, but she'd anticipated that to some degree. When she'd said they'd both have to go hungry- at least until she could look after herself properly, could get over this particular hurdle, she would have to be sparing in what she offered. So long as it was enough.

Her mind wandered again. It wouldn't be any good to go in hungry like that as an EMT. Accidents were sure to happen, involving blood and gore

And limbs

She pressed her lips together again tightly.

But there was a strange familiarity in the situation. It was almost like confidence, this strange feeling, the way her past self had treated the idea the first time. What was a little blood compared to a chunk of flesh?

Thinking it ought to make her feel sick, her stomach instead betrayed her by growling when he put the food down. For everything else that had happened, that was the thing that got a genuine blush out of her. She buried her face in her mug before she leaned forward, carefully putting the cup down.

"Ah- yes, of course."

She flexed her other hand curiously, looking once more at the gash. Thinner now. How long had passed? Twenty minutes? The same twinge as before ran up her arm and she let it be, resting her hand once more in her lap as she leaned forward. Salad first. Take that, stomach.

He pretended not to notice the growl for her own sake. He turned to sit, shrugging off his jacket and balling it up as he sat down, holding it in his lap. The blood prints went unnoticed.

After the events of his jarring return and today, it was nice to just sit and zone. The sound of Reilanin eating was quick to fade into the background. Several minutes passed in companionable silence before Alex, seemingly out of the blue, said, "I got another journal."

It was better than she wanted to think it was, and not as good as she hoped. There was still that something gnawing at the back of her mind, but she had experience in pushing things out of the way. She considered how often she ought to go out, trying to gauge with each echo what would be a good day, and what would be a bad day. She'd had an echo earlier, she was sure of it. A memory, though. Thinking of it brought back the whiff of smoke and sulphur.

A million times more manageable than most everything else she'd received so far.

She looked up to him, chewing a piece of the meat. She'd forgotten the texture and found herself thinking on it, though that stopped at his statement, chewing thoughtfully.

"...another?" she asked once that mouthful was done. Her brow creased and she settled her fork by the side of the plate after a moment's consideration. "Who does it belong to?"

"Me. It has my name on it. The other, it," a light shrug, "it was an alias because I'd been dead. But this one... It's about a god attacking that place."

"That place... the one with the library?"

Names were a little fuzzy still. She remembered the look of the place, recalled napping in what she remembered as a library. She looked back down and poked at her food with the fork again, still undecided if she'd eat more.

"A god... the god of the big white building, maybe?"

She put the fork down again and leaned back, wiggling her fingers on her bad arm- which wasn't looking all that bad anymore, actually. The last vestiges of it healing, leaving only the scar, and even the ends of that were starting to smooth out.

"I wouldn't be surprised to hear that something like that happened. Two books... I keep mine in my purse," she said, lifting her arm to twist it this way and that. "I haven't gotten anything else out of it yet, though... funny things, aren't they? You really can't read what I wrote in that entry, can you?"

"The... first one?" he asked hesitantly, watching her move her arm. "I, um. I haven't actually finished reading it. I didn't see your name, though."

He lifted his hips to pull the second ledger out of his back pocket. It was plain leather, not like his first one, covered in material polka dots. This one looked more like hers.

He flipped to the sole entry inside of it and tilted it towards her, pages held down with his thumb. Several filters had been made, all of them in terribly messy handwriting. If one guessed 'rushed', they'd be correct.

"I suppose the first one... it's the only thing in mine."

She blinked, realizing she was getting sleepy. But she sat up and tilted her head a little, curious, seeing him pull the ledger from his back pocket, and she took it once offered to her.

Very little about it was familiar to her. Names slipped by without meaning a thing to her. She did pause several times, however, upon seeing Ravindra's name (or nickname) pop up, and to realize-

A daughter?

She frowned again slightly, going back to the beginning and reading it through again.

"...Ravindra was there?" she decided to ask. The fact he'd had a daughter- plausible, she supposed. There was no reason to think it wasn't.

The whole 'having a daughter' thing was so removed from Alex's grasp on reality that, after the initial surprise, he didn't think much of it. It was just... there. If anything, reading an obviously distressing exchange to himself then that lacked the context to convey those feelings to himself now had been a little uncomfortable. He didn't have any memories of Amelia. She didn't exist outside of a concept.

"He was... and wasn't. The things he and I remember, they conflict." He tapped the bottom of the page where his exchange with Duncan Evandros was located. "I remembered her before. Rayna. I wonder what happened to her."

"Your memories don't match up...? That's odd..."

She looked back to the part he tapped at and read it through again, unable to know that there were long stretches of time between some of those responses and not thinking that there would be. A straight reading gave it some of the urgency but none of the tension.

"How did you remember her?" It was interesting, in a way, to hear more about that strange little world they shared. Earth, though- it must have been Earth. She remembered Latin (badly), and Thailand- well, Siam- was mentioned right here in his ledger. Everything just seemed to start expanding, giving life to their past. Reilanin looked back up to him, ledger in her lap.

"I--" remember writing to her about a werewolf attack fuuuuuuuck.

Realization, regret, standstill. All of these emotions were easily read on his face, and she was looking at it.

He looked like he'd swallowed a bug.

She looked at him, for a moment patient, the next wondering, and the next after that seemed just shy of exasperation.

"Out with it, Alex." He'd done this to her before, she was sure. She didn't know what he was going to say, but- but, she felt she had an idea. It didn't make it any better to drag it out. "I'd rather know sooner than later."

He averted his eyes, bringing his hand to his mouth, then dragging it down his throat. "A werewolf broke out at the academy. I don't-- I don't know if that was you, though," he said, glancing at her. "I remember two other wolves."

His eyes widened slightly. He gave her his full attention. "When you turned, what did you look like?"

Watching him steadily, Reilanin gave no outward sign of what she thought of this revelation once he spoke it. A small glance aside to dwell on it, perhaps. The words of that "Lord Myron" character came back to her, but the details of it were so vague, it was hard to know... there had been multiple werewolfs, she knew.

...but as far as she knew, she'd been the only one to admit to causing problems.

She looked back to him, blinking, arms folding in front of her over the throw on her lap and squeezing herself a little bit. "What did I-? Oh..." And she frowned, trying to remember. Trying to take her mind away from what had happened and think on the details was difficult.

"...blonde fur? And I could stand on two feet... I seemed taller...?" She shook her head, not knowing how else to describe it. "That's all I know. I don't think I saw myself in any mirrors."

He glanced down at her feet. "The wolves I saw-- they were on all fours and dark." His eyes wandered to the window, narrowing in thought as he went through the memory again. The woods filled with angry men, a person with long hair hitting others with a fiddle, and two wolves who lured and devoured another.

"It wasn't the full moon," he said quietly, realization dawning on him. Neither of those wolves had been her.

All fours and dark? That didn't tell her much. Not her, though.

The next but caught her attention, however, and her eyes narrowed. Not the full moon...? The conversation with Jack came back to her.

"Did they have tails? There were others- I spoke with one, who alluded to another. I never saw him, but we described each other..."

He covered his mouth again, brows furrowing in thought. After a moment, he said, "No... No, I don't think they did." He glanced at her, hoping for an expansion on her acquaintance with this other werewolf.

"I only know of one of them... he wouldn't... he wouldn't give me the name of the second," she said after a moment, looking down to her lap, spinning his ledger slowly. "He didn't outright say there was another, but it was obvious. He was another werewolf. Born that way. But we talked about how we were different- I was curious, because I'd never met another. He could shift at any time- it was just harder not to on the full moon. He said they had no tails and he was born that way."

She paused, stopping the spin of the book. "...I wasn't. I don't know how it happened yet, though."

His brows slowly rose. Alex was aware of two methods to become a werewolf: get born into it (thanks, Twilight!) or get bit by one. Both were fictional. Furthermore, he hadn't a clue what the limitations of these not-so-fictional fictional concepts were, given their shared background.

Leaning back into the couch, he hesitantly offered, "Maybe you were bit...?"

Her eyes went down again. "...maybe. That or a curse. Some texts say it was a curse from God for sexual licentiousness."

Her lips twisted slightly into something like a wry smile. "Medieval texts. And they seemed to target men."

The idea of being but by something like her was disturbing, and she seemed to squirm a little. "Well... I don't think it's anything for you to worry about, if you do. I think there's a limit on what I can turn."

His brow arched. "A werewolf-vampire, huh? By the way, the only 'big' words I know are medical," he added, flashing her a small grin. Alex had no idea what 'licentiousness' meant, but he could guess, given the context.

"How's your stomach?"

She smiled slightly, lips together. "Hybrids aren't a thing, really. Or maybe they are. Seems overcomplicated. I've no idea, really, but I think it'd only work on... on." Something living. She winced slightly and reached up to tug at her hair. Her forearm had closed up, though the bruising and scar still remained. "I don't know medical terms. You'll have to use your imagination."

The question had her sighing. "Sore. But I'm still hungry. Maybe I'll just call off work tomorrow." She paused. "I've never taken so much time off before. Maybe I should make up some sudden longterm illness story," she said, squeezing her eyes shut and rubbing at the spot between her eyes.

His smile fell. After a pause, he said, "What about Strider and Solus? They might be willing to help you with a cover story."

"Sorry," she said softly, looking down, rubbing her thumb on the cover of the ledger still in her lap. Why had his first one been different? Customization, likely. She let there be silence until he spoke again and she had herself look back up.

"...Maybe. I don't know what they could do." A faint tinge of bitterness, perhaps. "Mordin said that there really wasn't much to be done with so many unknown variables when I went to him last time. Or something to that effect." There had already been a lack of trust there, but she didn't feel it had turned for the better in recent experience, regardless of how right the statement had been. "...maybe I should. Or just tell them the truth. There are enough myths about vegetarians going back to eating meat. I could probably just feed off of that. Easier than the werewolf myth."

"That could work." He glanced at her plate, then at her. "I can cook you some more."

Unless the problem was the matter of satisfaction. In that case, well... He had no solution.

She had a solution, but... there was no way she would say it out loud.

Swallowing instead she said, "if you could? I'd appreciate it.

"And Alex," she said, straightening some, "look- it's weird, I know, but... I really don't mind. If it's something that's just me, or if I've gotten it from her- it doesn't really matter, at this point. I don't have to ask questions, I don't need any explanations- just let me know, all right? If it's too much."

More than happy to help in any way he could, Alex shifted to get up, but paused when she continued speaking. He knew she was talking about the distinction he'd tried to establish between the Reilanin from the ledgers and the Reilanin in front of him now, but the last part...?

After a moment, his brows creased just the tiniest bit. "If what's too much?" he asked.

She was silent a moment, if only because it was- well, it felt ridiculous to say it out loud. "The bloodthirst," she said finally.

"Oh!" He glanced away. "Oh. Um," he said, holding his jacket in one arm as he rose. "Yeah..."

He shifted on his heels, eyes on the kitchen as he processed the significance of her offer. So, even after the discomfort of today, she was still willing to help him with his thirst. That was... a little overwhelming, honestly. It wasn't a perfect solution -- it was still uneven -- but just knowing that he had a fallback was an immense relief. He felt like he could afford to avoid agonizing over 'what-ifs' for the rest of the night.

"Thanks, Reilanin," he said, finally looking back at her with a small smile. It lifted a little more as his tone grew lighter. "No slicing next time."

She glanced away, nearly pouting. "Yes, well... I thought it... I thought it would be less awkward than the more traditional way."

There was a stubborn set to her jaw that said she wasn't quite repentant about how she'd done it, despite her words.

She frowned a little bit, seeing his jacket and shifting as though to stand. "Let me clean that up for you, Alexander." It was strange, smelling her own blood everywhere.

The 'more traditional way', ha ha...

Awkward.

"Hey, no, it's fine," he said, automatically putting his hand out to keep her from standing. Still unaware of the blood on his jacket, he had no idea what she was referring to, but he was quite adamant about not burdening her any more than he already was.

"I'll get you a refill," he said, taking her bowl and mug on the tray and, hopefully, any chance for a challenge.

She stopped trying to get up, but her eyebrows drew in, concerned. "Are you sure you want to walk out with it like that?" she said, one hand curling around the ledger and the other resting on her knee, fingers tapping restlessly for a moment before spreading out again to cover the surface of her knee. "Ah- ... just the tea, Alex..."

She leaned over a little to watch him, and then sat back a little, uneasy, turning his ledger in her hands again before flipping it open a second time.

No mention of her in there...

"...how was it back home?" she asked finally, idly flipping through the pages.

"It's fine," he said again, walking into the kitchen. As he went about refilling her tea and readying her another portion, he continued, "Home was fine. My dad's recovery is on track, the ranch is... Well, they could be doing better, but they're okay. Mom's okay, everyone's okay-- It was nice to see them all again, nice to get back into the saddle."

"Back in the saddle- literally?" She arched in eyebrow in his direction before looking back to the ledger. If the other one hadn't had his name... no, it hadn't, she realized. This one did. So they both had their own names...

The journals were activated by names...

"Alex, when you get a chance... can you get my purse? It's just hanging by the front door." She didn't feel entirely comfortable asking him to do it for her, but it was better than being scolded.

"Huh?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder at her, then to purse in question. "Yeah, sure."

He lifted the purse in question, thought about tossing it, but decided not to and instead walked it over to her. He grabbed the tea on the way and handed both of them over, saying, "Yeah, literally. We use horses to get around mostly."

"Never been on a horse," she said thoughtfully as she took her purse from him, settling it in her lap to sort through it. "Ah... I'm not very good with animals in general, so it's probably for the best..."

She took out her own ledger and opened it up, easily finding a blank page. She took out her pen as well and scribbled down a few things.

She made a noise, clearly pleased. "They still work here," she said, smiling.

Not good with animals? That was truly unfortunate, and something Alex honestly couldn't imagine. Then again, he'd grown up surrounded by animals. Dogs, cats, cattle, chickens, goats, horses...

He chose to stay and watch, interested in her objective. "How can you tell?" he asked. "Does it show up in mine?"

"Mmhm," she said, showing him the page it had shown up on in his ledger with what may as well have been gibberish, the Latin phrase in omnibus requiem quaesivi, et nusquam inveni nisi in angulo cum libro, written down in her exceptionally tidy, tiny handwriting. "Seems a moot point with the network, but..."

She took up her teacup and sipped at it carefully, not wanting to burn her tongue on it. "I wonder what makes it work... it seems like it was a very strange place, doesn't it? I guess I can't say anything."

"Holy shit," just kind of slipped from his mouth as he stared at the two identical sentences in two different ledgers. "That's amazing! We might not need it, but we can totally use it--"

Wait.

He shot her a surprised look. "You know Latin?"

"If the network's ever comprimised, maybe," she said thoughtfully, looking at the ledgers. It was a nice surprise. She liked nice surprises.

She looked back up to him. "Ah-? Ah, yes... it's rusty, though. I took some in high school, but... I remembered more of it recently. Apparently Anthony knows it as well."

Quiet a moment, Reilanin kept her cup in her hands. "...it seems he might be from the time of Charlemagne. How bizarre is that?... it's odd when things have a historical connection..."

"... because they're closer to home," he finished, surprise fading into somberness. "Like that connection makes their... believe-ability 'more valid'." He shrugged. "I guess."

Turning back to the kitchen, he said, "That's cool, though. How do you know Anthony?"

"Believe," she muttered to herself, frowning a little. She felt as though it meant something, but whatever it wasn't hadn't come clear to her.

She hummed a bit as he turned back and went back to her tea. "Hm? Oh... he was one of the kids from the school that would come in to the library for a kind of history club, I suppose." She let her hands drop to her lap. "...I'd sort of noticed he'd stopped coming around at some point, but it wasn't something I was going to ask about..."

"Ah..." Once again (and certainly not for the last time), Alex wondered how Anthony's family was taking his disappearance. "Have you, uh, seen him lately?"

"I've... I've dropped off some books..."

Apprehension creased her brow. "...I don't stay long. I can't." The smell was just... not something she was used to. Or ever would be, as far as she could tell. She seemed to hesitate before saying, "you know, Anthony- he's about the same age as my brother. And it's just... you know, the idea that... that it could happen to my brother, all of this..."

She hadn't gone home for Thanksgiving. She wouldn't for Christmas. She just wanted to stay as far away as possible. "I just don't like that it's happening to so many young people, too."

"Yeah... Though some of them are taking to it better than others," he said, hand hovering over the surface of the skillet to feel its warmness. Ready.

The steak sizzled as it hit the pan. "It'd be nice if the earth chose its saviors a little less randomly."

"I don't know how it thinks I can do anything," she mumbled to herself, looking down to the ledgers again before closing both. Unless it wanted her to eat the person, she couldn't really figure out what sort of use she would be.

She sniffed the air reflexively. Ah, why did it have to smell so good... she turned her head and watched him, gone back to sipping her tea. It was a little unfamiliar, having other people in her space, but she was in no mood or position to complain.

"Trash the enemy?" His tone was casual, but his suggestion was serious. "Or, uh, track them? You know," he rolled his shoulder and cracked his neck, "that kind of stuff-- the stuff you and Randy got-- that has some serious potential if we could only figure out where to apply it to."

She had some ideas, having gone to the abandoned part of the sewers with Lyall... and she'd left almost immediately. Running wasn't her forte, and she couldn't fight anything- it seemed a waste of everyone's time to have stayed. "Something like that," she said instead, not wanting to get into it just then. It didn't even really seem worth mentioning. "I can smell things... which only works if I know what I'm looking for. Hearing's sort of the same. Can't do much with everything else yet."

Except, maybe, give in. But that wasn't an option yet. "Not to say they won't be useful, but... until we know more, anyway, there isn't much to be done."

He made a noise of agreement. Not wanting to get into 'it', either, he fell silent. It wasn't until he returned to the couch with another serving that he said, hoping to lift her spirits a bit, "Well, wolves are good at running, right? So maybe you'll get that one day."

She seemed to perk up despite herself as he set the plate down. Part of her was disgusted- part of the reason for not eating meat anymore had been a dislike of the texture- but it wasn't enough to keep her from wanting it, or eating it, even if the dislike persisted. Having overtaken the anti-coagulents in her bloodstream, the fever-like flush had left, and she was back to a more normal complexion.

She sighed. "Does it work that way? I mean, I can't even run now, it'd seem like cheating to be able to run after."

Fork and knife retaken, she poked at the steak and began to cut off small pieces.

He slouched back into the seat. "Running's probably something you want to get good at..."

"Well, you know," she said, popping a piece of the steak into her mouth, pausing a moment to chew, "it wouldn't be a bad idea... if nothing else, I've had the energy for it. I've never been so restless before. Maybe if I could wear myself out?... it might help with the... the wanting to eat... things." She cleared her throat and ate another piece of the steak, not looking up.

He bit his lower lip. Yes, something to distract her from her peculiar appetite would be a very good idea.

Fingers tapping his thigh, he asked, "What about, uh, jogging?"

She looked at him. Her eyebrow went up.

"...jogging?..."

Nnnnng jogging. It sounded terrible. Somehow more terrible than running.

"I... suppose that would be the simplest answer."

Her reluctance drew an unexpected chuckle out of him. "It's not that bad. I used to do morning runs before. You know, before I switched to night shift. It was nice."

She looked somewhat dubious at first before her expression smoothed out. "Do you still? Not in the morning, obviously..."

"Nah, not really... Kinda stopped as I was adjusting and never picked it back up again, I guess." He glanced at her, brow lifting. "You wanna try it?"

She screwed up her lips a little, a brief twitch that said she didn't really.

But she remembered how utterly useless she'd felt, running out of the sewers because she knew she'd be useless running after the man that had been down there, and she sighed a little.

"I.... yes. Yes, I think it would be beneficial to try, at least."

Mildly amused, he smiled and said, "Let's figure out a routine after you're done."

That would be a nicer end to how this night began.