One of the few bad habits that I allowed myself was sleeping close to nude if I was in a place of civilization. Whether or not I had taken the opportunity to sate my body’s physical desires, I enjoyed being freed of the confines of even my relatively loose and well fitted clothes. So when dawn girl called me, demanding I come drink with her, I'd tried to put her off long enough to get dressed.
Then she said she was bleeding. Which normally wouldn't have done much to entice me - I was too far away to appreciate the blood so I didn't care. It did concern me though, because most alcohol, including the firewhiskey that she adored, was a potent blood thinner. And I'd seen that her revival ability didn't always work properly - fuck, what would happen if she bled out and no one who knew how to help her was nearby? So I sighed as I had barely had time to get my pants on and grab the rest of my things before I felt the strange pulling and tingling feeling emanating from my right leg.
Dawn girl looked like shit. The black lines running across the exposed parts of her body were even worse now, thicker and darker, likes cracks leaking out the corruption inside of her. By the moon, what had happened to her to push her this far down? I folded my arms over my chest as she waved drunkenly, ordering me to get booze and a chair. As blood fell from her arm. Fuck, she was too out of it to appreciate the pain, I bet. Ugh.
I strode over to the bartender, who had been doing his best to ignore me. I fished out some gold from my pocket and dropped then on the counter. “I need the cleanest rag you have, and more Yurik’s Firewhiskey. Then you might want to take a break and sit in the back room.” the man stared at me, then nodded. He bent down and I heard a lock click, then his hand came up holding another bottle of the distilled, powerful booze. He stood back up and searched around before he found a rag that looked clean. He ran it under a faucet for a moment, wetting it down, and I took both rag and bottle back over to dawn girl - who had to have picked this golden dress to reinforce that nickname - hooking my foot around the leg of a chair and kicking it into place near her.
“Hunter…” she crooned, reaching out to the bottle. Her eyes shifted to me. “I’m surprised you came.” She paused and held out her bleeding arm to me, “See, told ya. This doesn’t hurt though.” She stared at her arm and her eyes furrowed. “Probably would be better if it did.” I thunked the bottle down just out of her reach, and took her wrist in one hand, drawing her arm closer. I was right, she was too drunk to relish in the pain properly. Or - she needed a lot more than one small cut to feel. Either way - I was right, her blood was flowing a little too freely.
While that disgusting torture demon would probably never have cared, I didn't enjoy my partner or plaything bleeding out. Not because of alcohol, at least. So I wrapped the rag around the cut, swiftly tying it tight and binding the wound.
“You’re no fun.: She muttered with a huff. :”Sit…” She pulled my chair right up against hers. I snorted.
“Of course I'm no fun. You didn't even remember kissing me last time you were this drunk. Despite being a sadist, when it's for sex I'd prefer intelligent consent, not..” I trailed off and sat down in the chair, my legs on the outside of hers from how close she had brought it.
“I like being this way.” She said, “This is warm.” She snorted. “Sides, I have an easy out to sobering up…” She drew a finger across her neck and a thin red line appeared. Barely breaking the surface of her skin. “Dead. Boom. Revive. Hangover cure. At least, I think.” I stared at her, slowly tilting my head to the side. She was different this time - more… Morose. I poured a glass of whiskey for both of us, and sat back, slowly sipping on it.
“I came because you called me, like I told you I would. But - dawn girl what happened.”
“Well that was fuckin’ stupid.” Her eyes glanced up and down my form. “You’re a hunter and you come at my beck and call for a drink?” She shrugged as she nestled her back against the chair and sighed. “I killed the only person that considered me a friend. She wanted to die. Friends to the end, right?” Scarlet asked as she turned to me. “And yet I’m still here. Ugh…”
She pushed the glass away. “I’ll sober up if that pleases your gloomy ass. Your skin is already the colour of charcoal, do you really need to be a moody shit to boot?”
Instead of responding right away, I filled her glass back up and pushed it over to her. “You're right. I am a Hunter. But I'm also your ally.” I'd gone to the tit faun when she wanted to talk, and I was checking in on the dhampir because she'd asked for it. If dawn girl needed someone to drink with after -
After helping a friend commit suicide, I couldn't blame her. Nor could I fault her. That was - not an easy situation to handle. Especially not after everything she had been through, and that was just based on what she had shown me. I sighed.
The glass broke in her hand and she laughed at it. “It’s a good mix.” She mused. “The warmth of a belly filled with alcohol...the tingling burning of pain…” She began to pull the shards out of her hand one by one. “I’m not in a stable state Hunter...I probably shouldn’t have...ah...called you.” I snarled and reached out, taking her injured hand in mine, and pressed my thumb in, hard. Then with a twist and a flick I shoved a large shard of glass from her palm, ignoring the fact that my rougher method probably hurt a lot more than just pulling them out. She grumbled but didn’t pull her hand away. Instead she splayed it open for me. I started working the other shards out in a similar manner, digging my thumb under them and shoving them out as I spoke.
“Wrong, dawn girl. You called me because you knew you shouldn't be alone. And I promised you that I would come - and I am a man of my word. I told you I would stand at your side if you needed me. Helping you is not something I am adverse to.” With a shove the last shard popped out.
Then, she pressed her head to mine. “Why’d you stop?” she grumbled. I raised an eyebrow. “I’m fine with being alone...just make me feel more things.” Without a word I slowly pressed my thumb into the largest cut on her hand, scraping my nail against her flesh as her blood ran down out hands. Her head fell from mine to my shoulder as she slid back into her seat with a satisfied hiss. “Better.” She mumbled.
This woman. If I was more sexually driven I would probably take her to a room right now. Instead I just forced my thumb in deeper, using more strength to tear through the meat and flesh - until my nail dug against a bone. I scraped, then slowly drew my hand back, staring at her. I sat back myself, and ran my hand up my face and through my hair, staining the black skin and the white hair red with her blood.
