itinere | open | everything's just fine!

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open | everything's just fine!

She had been cursed for days. Throwing herself at Myrnin like a lovesick puppy in heat. And Myrnin, being Myrnin, had really shown all the restraint that anyone could expect of a vampire... or of anyone really. In hindsight, Claire knew that he had resisted for as long as could be expected. In hindsight, she remembered throwing herself at him on numerous occasions. She had been a sure thing for him. And in hindsight, she was mortified. How couldn't she be? She had never... not with him. They had never... And now an already complicated relationship was made even more so.

Honestly, she was never touching another red rose for as long as she lived. Never again.

So far, she had kept busy, pretended like everything was back to the status quo, imagined that none of it had happened at all. She worked at Subtext, the massive bookstore that Itinere had given her and Myrnin. She could often be found there with her nose stuck in a book or trying to put the multitude of books into some semblance of order. This was easier said than done in a bookstore that randomly made books appear out of thin air. Needless to say, she had plenty to do.

More recently though, right before the dubious mass text from some lady named Brig, she had started feeling her skin itch. Her skin itched so badly that she would scratch it in her sleep or find herself scratching without realizing it. Sores were starting to appear on her skin and she was trying so hard to keep everyone and anyone, especially a certain vampire, from noticing. The weather was nice outside but she wore long sleeved hoodies with thumb holes and jeans so that every inch of her skin was covered but her face and fingers.

Claire was sick, but still able to operate in the day to day. And as the mysterious Brig had instructed, she was waiting for further instructions.

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Seeing things more clearly is appreciated. However, the humiliation isn't necessary. Myrnin certainly doesn't regard her any differently except...perhaps to think a bit more about a physical relationship with her. Whether that's good or bad depends on Claire. He could force her into one, but Mynin has never been that sort of monster even when he was a monster. It is scary because she's right: there are reasons she shouldn't feel those things for him. He is, perhaps even more than her, aware of that. However, he's not selfless enough to discourage it.

He's not certain he's okay with that...

He could smell the blood on her, even the sickness. Those things were impossible to hide from him. He'd simply assumed she'd gotten a mosquito bite or something like that then scratched until it bled. He would be worried about her. If she still wanted to be a vampire, this was her best chance at making it happen. He would turn her to save her.

He reached out to pull her sleeve up, to look at the sores for himself. He would decide if it was bad or not thank you very much.

She should have known that Myrnin would know she was getting sick. Maybe deep down, a part of her had known and just didn't want to confront the issue. Because confronting the issue would mean talking to him and possibly confronting other things as well. Honestly, it was a miracle that it had taken him this long to confront her.

When he touches her hand, she can't help the way goosebumps break out over her skin. But then he's pushed her sleeve up and there, the evidence of whatever was happening to her. Spots where her skin was rotting away, boils that itched so badly that she had to really consciously think about not scratching them.

"Okay... so when I say it's not too bad, it's objectively speaking since we both know it could be a whole lot worse." She rambles. "That lady said people are working on it. And I've run a few tests myself. Nothing conclusive." He could probably also smell the nerves and fear rolling off of her in waves. But damn it, she was trying so hard to be strong and logical about this.

He's been trying to give her space. He'd assumed, being the fragile human she is, that the smell of blood had come from a bump she'd received while walking...or breathing. Humans did that, didn't they? Get wounded while breathing? In any case, space. Yes. He'd been attempting to give it to her while carefully watching her and trying to decide where this left he and Claire. He'd been distracted by it so much so that he'd lost a bit of track of time and hadn't realized he'd been smelling old blood for as many weeks as he'd been smelling it.

"I need to look at this. Do some tests. Come along. We'll start now." His voice is laced with concerned, brow furrowed with worry. He isn't letting go of her hand either.

No, Myrnin. Humans do not get wounded while breathing... normally. The ironic thing here is that everyone who is infected here is infected due to breathing in the air of Itinere. But Claire doesn't know that. Joke's on them.

Without letting go of his hand, Claire reaches out to pull her sleeve back down to cover the scabs. "If I let you do that will you quit looking at me like I'm about to keel over and die? Please?"

Then he's correct: humans get wounded while breathing. Glad they got that settled. He doesn't know he's correct, but he will assume he is regardless.

He furrows his brow at that. "Is that what this look broadcasts?" He's avoiding the question, but he's tugging her toward the stairs.

"Yes. It's definitely making me feel like you're already looking at me as a ghost." Or dinner, one of the two. She was hoping it was the ghost and leaned toward that end of things anyway. He had only just recently withstood her throwing herself at him begging him to change her while under the influence of whatever that was. There would be no turning her into a vampire.

Claire lets him lead her, leaving the books she had been working with behind. "So home to the lab, huh? Blood analysis. Culture swab... what else?"

He smiles too broadly, showing off fangs. "Better?" he asks. It's not. It's creepy and probably a little scary, but he doesn't mean it that way. He's trying to be comforting when, in fact, he's very worried. Yes, he remembers that very clearly, however, he's got enough tact not to mention it right now.

"I'd like to draw a vial of blood. I'm going to taste it," he tells her matter-of-factedly. It isn't the first time he's tasted her blood (she probably still bears the scars on her neck from his bite) but he's at least going to draw it properly this time. "i'm also going to look at it under the microscope and see how it responds to a variety of things including my blood. You can help."

That part is meant to be comforting. She likes helping! And it'll give her something to do.

His fangs were less startling than they used to be. What startles her about them now is not that they're there, but that not a week or so ago they had been buried in her neck. She remembers how good that had felt. She remembers how good all of it had felt. In fact, she was hard pressed to think about anything else, lately. And it had nothing to do with any curse affects.

"Good. Helping is good." Myrnin giving her something to do is better than anything else Myrnin could have given her.

They make their way through the City, the short trek from Subtext to their apartment building and up to their apartment. "So before this gets any worse. I should probably thank you." She says, as they enter the place they call home here in Itinere.

Sometimes he thinks that she's thinking about that night (he spends enough time thinking about it; it's so damn distracting...). He thinks he can tell by the look on her face, the way she smells, the flush under her skin. If he had any idea how to deal with this, he would, but he doesn't so he keeps quiet. He hasn't had a relationship in over a century. He hasn't wooed anyone since before then. It's not exactly his area of expertise and women weren't scientific formulas he could work out given enough time.

He nods. He does know her, probably better than most people.

His brows lift at her thanks. "Whatever for, My Dear?" He's truly baffled as to why she'd thank him or what for. He keeps her hand in his as he leads her through the flat toward the lab.

"For not turning me... when I was acting weird." Practically begging him to turn her so she could spend eternity with him. Myrnin had shown considerable restraint then and in hindsight she could tell that he had in spite of how far they had gone intimately. She and Myrnin had had sex. She and Myrnin had had sex.

She and Myrnin had had sex. More than once. But he hadn't turned her into a vampire. Sure, he'd drank her blood a few times. But no vampire. She was thankful for that.

Claire follows him into the lab. "You know I was under the influence of... something."

"Ah," Myrnin hums, focusing very intently on some paperwork. He remembers the sex very well. He's thought a great deal about it in the last month. It's not something he generally has. Sex for Myrnin is unusual and rare. It's not often that anyone piques his interest sexually. Claire has for some time. "I hadn't been lying," he clarifies. "I much prefer you human. I suppose in three decades or so, if it were up to me, I would turn you. Like your brain inside your body, particularly more after last month and turning you is the best way to keep your brain and your body together and with me for a reasonable amount of time."

Please note: reasonable amount of time=forever with Myrnin. Also, yes. He mentioned the sex. Favorably too.

"I much prefer me human too. And having my brain... where it is." Although she couldn't say that she wasn't relieved that Myrnin wanted to keep her brain in her body now, and not in some jar hooked up to machines. That had always been a concern, of course. So to hear him say that, was a positive in her book.

Then there was the other connotation to what he was saying. Myrnin liked her body. She wasn't Eve who had curves in all the appropriate places. She had very few curves, was just on this side of too thin, but he liked her. Myrnin, who was so old and had seen so many women, liked her.

She hesitates, just inside the lab door. "So about that... you're okay with what happened?"

"Hmmm," Myrnin hums. "It does have it's advantages," he says as he gathers up the things he thinks he'll need for this little experiment. There should always be concern about her brain in regards to Myrnin. He would be very sad to take it out of her body but good assistants are hard to find and Claire is the best. Good company is even harder to find and he's found company in Claire that delights him, that keeps him human (relatively) and sane. He refuses to let that go even if it means taking her brain out of her head, putting it in a jar and hooking it up to a computer. He would try other means to keep her first, like turning her into a vampire. Hope that's some consolation! :)

Indeed he did. He'd been with women that had curves and while he's certainly not immune to or opposed to curves, he finds he's much more attracted to Claire and her lack of curves. Logically, he knows that he was attracted to Claire's mind first and that has a good deal to do with his attraction to her body, but it's exhausting to explain that and really, Claire has been there; she ought to know. She's much better with emotions and how they occur than Myrnin is anyway, isn't she? Aren't all humans? (yes and no, Myrnin).

At her question, he looks up from what he's doing, eyes wide, blinking owlishly at her. "Of course. I've entertained the idea before but I'm under the impression that without the influence of those roses you've no desire to have sex with me." And yes, he knows he took advantage. "Should you change your mind, I'd be open to having sex again. After we're done here, of course." Work first! Or Science first more correctly.

Claire watches him gather his things, a hand lifting to idly scratch at a particularly red spot on the side of her neck that itches. Her nails dig through the skin, causing another sore to open up. She realizes it's there when she feels wet and pulls her fingertips away to find them bloody. She moves across the lab to grab some gauze and press it to the side of her neck as she moves back to the stool she had been sitting on.

As soon as she sits back down she sees his eyes on her. A part of her had hoped he would stay busy while they talk about this. But he's looking at her and she feels goosebumps on her skin. She probably wouldn't have goosebumps if she was turned vampire. Her skin wouldn't flush when she thinks about how they were together.

She nods at him, waits for him to go back to work. It isn't the most romantic of propositions, but Claire probably shouldn't have expected anything of the sort. She isn't very girly, after all. Only very rarely, only since Eve has started to help her out a little and make her feel... pretty. She's been wearing eyeliner and mascara lately. Some of the clothes Eve had bought for her and let her borrow had popped up in her closet. Girly is something she's learning.

For awhile she's quiet, thinking about it. But then finally she speaks again. "I liked it. I like you."

The moment he smells blood, his attention snaps to Claire, more specifically to her neck. Eventually he tears his gaze from her neck to her eyes. "This is going to be quite difficult if you continue to make yourself bleed," he warns her a bit idly. He knows that it's a compulsion, something she's not really thinking much about. He's not worried about attacking her; he's got more self-control than that, but it is distracting.

No, she wouldn't have goosebumps nor would she flush and he would miss those things about her.

He is capable of romantic, but under a different set of circumstances, a set of circumstances in which he's certain that aforementioned romance and desire is mutual and wanted. He will get better should they continue this relationship. However, he will always be Myrnin. Honestly, if she were more girly Myrnin would be nearly so attracted to her. For example, Eve simply confuses Myrnin. He doesn't understand her and that confusion would muddle any attraction should he be attracted to the sort of person that Eve is. He does like it when Claire makes an attempt, when she dresses up and the like. She might have noticed it in the way Myrnin's gaze on her gets a bit more heated, a bit more intense when she is dressed up.

His eyebrows pop up at her confession; the look on his face is entirely surprised. "Oh." His brow furrows a bit as he processes this information. "Then you're no longer opposed to a relationship with me? As...boyfriend and girlfriend I believe is what you young kids say."

"I'm not making myself bleed. My skin is just... coming off." Which was actually kind of terrifying. Scabbing and decaying skin? Her concern ratchets up a bit and she looks over to Myrnin. "What if it all falls off? Muscle can only hold in so many internal organs before they... don't stay in." In truth, humans are such fragile creatures, Myrnin is right in that regard.

And oh wow are they really having this conversation while her skin is falling off? Of course they are. Her and Myrnin can't ever do anything in a normal way.

"Boyfriend and girlfriend. Yeah, I... I mean if I live that long. This is so not the way I saw this happening." She shakes her head, grasping at straws for any way to make this better, both her sickness and this conversation. "I mean you liked it too, right? You seemed to like it. And you've proven you can hold back from drinking too much..."

That makes Myrnin furrow his brow and abandon his current work, moving over to get a look at Claire's neck. He'll lean in and sniff at it, lick the blood against her skin and collect some of the skin onto a slide. "We'll wrap you up in saran wrap," he answers blithely before reaching up to place his hand against her cheek, his thumb along her jaw. "I won't let you die, Claire. I promise."

Wow, they really were and he didn't think it was that odd.

"Of course, you're going to live that long. I'm going to test my blood against this and see what it does. It might provide some sort of gap-stay." Actually, he's thinking that she might get her chance to be turned sooner rather than later because he meant it when he said he wouldn't let her die. At her question, he grins a bit manically. "Oh yes. Very much in fact." The manic grin falls a bit. "Yes, well, it would be a shame to have you pass out in the middle of such things and miss the best parts."

Claire lets him take some of her skin (gross) and listens to his promises, promises she knows he can't actually keep, not unless he intends to turn her. She doesn't want to be turned, not yet, maybe not ever. But she has no doubt that Myrnin will do so whether she wants it or not in order to save her.

She nods at his idea. Maybe his blood will slow down whatever's happening to her. That's a good plan. She's glad Myrnin is thinking straight right now. Her own thoughts keep oscillating between panic and uncertainty. It's one thing to do science in general. It's another to do science on herself because her skin is boiling and falling off.

Claire hates this part of herself. The part that doesn't want to react or be like a girl but still is. She wants Myrnin to be attracted to more than just her brain. She wants Myrnin to want her. She wants him to have liked what happened between them while she had been cursed. She wants him to still want that with her. She wants him to be sane and not drink her blood dry. And yes, she wants to know what it's like to be romanced on occasion... and she hates that the most.

She watches Myrnin for a moment before he went to work with her blood and skin samples. "You won't let that happen... me passing out."

That's the thing about Myrnin; he's inherently selfish and he rarely takes into consideration the feelings or desires of others when his own feelings or desires are involved. Really, it's a miracle that he's considered (for as long as he has) Claire's feelings on having a relationship with him. She's correct in assuming that if she's dying, Myrnin will turn her against her will. She can spend several centuries being mad at him for all he cares. She'll eventually get over it.

He's fortunate that he's not sick and maybe it's a vampire thing or maybe it's that he doesn't often breathe. Either way, he is thinking straight and it is fortunate for the both of them. In fact, it's probably fortunate for the entire town. Myrnin has spent enough time doing science on himself that it wouldn't bother him, but it does rattle him a bit doing science on Claire because this matters. If he doesn't get this right then Claire could die and that is unacceptable to him.

There's no reason to hate that part of her. Myrnin doesn't in the least. He's just unaccustomed to catering to that sort of person and it will take a bit of time for him to figure it out. It'll be good for him and she certainly puts up with enough from him. Give him some time. He will always have his crazier moments. His mind is far too damaged by the disease he's now cured of, the centuries he's lived and the things he's done to ever be entirely sane. However, Claire makes him better. She makes him saner and more human. She makes him want to try and that's a very good thing. He can cater to some of her girly whims in return. He can certainly avoid draining her dry, or at least he will do his best and hope that she's sharp enough to stay away when he can't.

He smiles a bit sadly at her, watching her with an incredibly amount of fondness. "Your faith in me is one of the things that endears me most to you, My Dear, and it scares me the most as well." He moves closer to her, putting his hand beneath her chin and tipping her face up to kiss her on the lips. It's not a chaste kiss in the least, but a desperate one, a grateful one; it's a kiss that says he can't lose her; he would be so entirely lost without her.

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open | everything's just fine!

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