#biquoiwriting

[zaestya]

hello there, dont be fooled by the art, this is actually “chapter zero” i guess you could call it of my ocs’ uhhhh fiction? without the fan? hope you guys enjoy some vampire love and angst

“Does your heart desire revenge, my love?”

Katarina’s words echoed in the spacious bedroom, from the luxurious bed she was laying on all the way to Ema’s toilette, where she was fixing her hair and putting on a de-aging mask.

The question lingered in the air for a while.

“I don’t think so, no.” she answered, quietly. She stood in silence now, but Katarina could feel just by looking at her from the back that she was thinking about it, considering it.

“I don’t have to remind you I’m pleased to do whatever you ask of me, do I?”

This doesn’t necessarily sound reassuring, or sweet, Ema thought. Katarina was willing to start a war for her but it felt more like showing off rather than taking care of a loved one. On the other hand, though… revenge, huh. She guessed it wasn’t hard becoming drunk with power in their position.

Ema had finished her routine, so she got up and started undoing her new silk robe - a gift, of course. Her pale skin, almost of a translucent gray, shined under the soft light of the crystal chandelier. Katarina looked fascinated by her walk, but something in her eyes betrayed that she had seen countless girls join her in the bed like this before. The stupor wasn’t about the novelty necessarily but more about retrospective comparison. I did well saving you, Katarina thought. We really did well putting some meat on those bones and some good quality blood in your veins.

You could still hear the vampire club’s music playing - it was only 1 pm. In a couple of hours the visitors would start moving through the tunnels to get back home. Katarina was almost naked, but not yet undressed: she was supposed to make one last appearance in the club before closing time. Ema could swear sometimes her tattoos moved around - she didn’t know enough about vampire cosmetics, but could guess it had to do with the constant healing. She surely had never seen something like it. 

The silence was starting to feel heavy. 

“Is this the impression I give? That I’m a revengeful person?”

“You aren’t a person anymore, love.” Katarina corrected her. “Besides, who isn’t revengeful among us? Some would even consider it a good quality. Revenge builds character, too-” She bit her lip. “Sorry, that’s not what I meant. But you know that, don’t you, sweetheart?” 

Ema didn’t seem to give the supposed insult much thought, and instead she smiled softly. It was new, being with someone who apologizes after a mistake, even a little one. “Don’t worry about it.” She paused. “I suppose you’re right, actually. The truth is that I never gave revenge any consideration because, you know - I wasn’t really in the position to plan anything. But it’s been so long at this point, I don’t know if he’s even alive.”

“Oh he’s alive alright” Ema shot a glare at her “What? A girl’s not allowed to do some research? Besides, it’s not exactly like he’s a new face around those parts, I just had to… pry a little, from a common friend. I know you like to think you’ve put a good amount of miles between you and him, but the truth is he isn’t that far away in my terms.”

Ema was now sitting on the edge of the bed, turned the other way. This is not a conversation she wanted to be having. Why does Katarina care so much about her taking her revenge? 

“Come on, lay here next to me. I don’t have much time left before I gotta go down there again. Don’t think about it too much for now, if it makes your head spin - maybe you just weren’t born a killer.”  

Ema kept quiet, but she was now looking her way. Softly, she snuggled in Katarina’s arms. 

The huge suite echoed with the muffled bass lines, the beat drops, and the general commotion coming from downstairs. Katarina’s skin was soft, and smelled of several different perfumes and body lotions, but Ema could still detect a faint iron trace - she smelt like your hand smells after holding pennies for too long. With the decades passing, vampires get more and more accustomed to this odor, until they can no longer identify it, and in fear of humans detecting it they start wearing fragrances, trying to cover the inevitable blood scent. 

With her head laying on Katarina’s chest, Ema had to admit to herself once more that she was never going to hear her lover’s heart beat, nor her own, again. It was never truly clear to her how their bodies even worked, but ever since she was turned she never had the chance to lie there and think about those things. She was sure Kat knew some sort of vampire medic, though, or at least a chemist, who worked with them on the drug side of the club. Ema was guessing normal drugs wouldn’t have worked on vampires. But she was so new to all this, she knew she couldn’t push too much with the questions, not right there at the time. 

Her heart may not be beating, she thought, but K sure is breathing slowly right now. Did she fall asleep? Lifting herself from her chest just a little bit, she was able to look at Katarina’s face: her mouth was slightly open, breathing deeply but slowly, maybe twice in a minute. Her head was tilted to the right, her hair relaxed and spread on the deep cushion, thus revealing a side of her face Ema rarely got to see. Curious… she seems to be wearing makeup on her right eye too, even if she never shows it. Without giving it too much thought, she approached her face. Close, closer, until she could see the reason behind Katarina’s constant and heavily curated hairstyle: it seemed she had a discoloration of her skin, starting around her ear, and rightward toward her temple and cheek, avoiding the eye. It didn’t look like a condition, though, more like… a paint stain, absorbed by the skin. You could say it looks like the illness humans call vitiligo? But the color…

Ema suddenly noticed Katarina’s eyes starting to move behind her lids. There was no time to pull back: in one moment, she was staring right into the always concealed right eye. At once, the air around them got heavy, dark, as if full of electricity. Katarina’s right hand sprung to Ema’s neck, clutching tight. Her nails had grown an inch in a split second, and were now clawing on her skin, almost making Ema bleed. Their eyes were still locked. Katarina’s kept shifting between her usual deep red hue and a new, bright gold. Ema’s started crying, while she gasped for air, with her hands up to her neck trying to break free.

The vision of tears streaming down her lover’s face finally stunned her out of her combat mode, her hand eventually letting go of Ema’s neck. She fell back on the bed with a loud thud, while Katarina was still on her knees, her arm extended, as if she was still holding her pray. 

Some long, silent minutes passed. The club’s closing mix was playing: Katarina’s cue to come give her goodbye.

Ema seemed to have passed out. Nothing a quick nap couldn’t fix, Katarina estimated. She lifted her head up, laying it down on the pillow as gently as she could, then pulled the blanket over her. She finished getting ready once again, put on her shoes and oversized fur coat, picked up her earrings from the bedside table, and left.