not giving up // just giving in

She knew Jami must still feel out of place in ‘civilized’ life, but in some ways, Briseis almost envied her unapologetic wildness. 

People likened brown eyes to those of a doe, but hers were hardly comparable to a prey animal of any sort. They were brighter, anyway … hazel. No, with that mane of hair, the intensity of her gaze, and the power clearly in her limbs, she gave the impression of a lioness. 

One who was trying desperately to remember how to live in a cage. 

She could certainly see why Proteus was attracted to her. And how provocative being near her must be for him, if this was how she typically dressed. Tantalizing and suggestive and bold, as though she’d rolled out of bed—specifically Proteus’s bed—this way. 

She suddenly felt obscenely uptight in her structured knee-length formal dress and heels, modest and proper, but there wasn’t much she could do about that other than grip her clutch almost the same way Jami held onto her sketch pad, the two of them a study in contrasts. 

“He does, yes,” Briseis nodded, her smile widening cautiously. She wasn’t sure why, but hearing that Proteus had told Jami about her stirred a strange feeling in her heart. Pride? That wasn’t quite it, but it was close. 

“It’s almost like we already know each other, at least a little bit,” she tried, working up some confidence. “But I’m glad to finally meet you, Jami.” 

She noticed the notebook in the other woman’s hands, and peered closer at it. “Are these your drawings?” Briseis wondered aloud. Words always came more easily to her than images, so she admired artistic talent greatly. 

It wasn’t that Jami wanted to live in a cage. The wildness that thrummed in her rusted veins longed to run wild. It was the woman who lived in her heart that drove her towards civilization. When she had awoken, she had brought her a different kind of hunger. Hunger for humanity, for love, for life. For flirtation and vanity and affection.

Jami was a lioness – hunting not for a cage but a pride.

She lifted a foot to rub at her ankle. Briseis’s uncertainty wasn’t surprising, but it was unsettling. Jami drifted slightly on one foot, hips slightly swaying as she kept her balance.

Following Briseis’s gaze, Jami caressed a finger over the book’s black cover. “Yes…” It only sounded a little like a question. Most of her speech did; hesitant and off balance. Always treading carefully, unsure if she had understood what had prompted her words. She tried to emulate Briseis’s false confidence. “You, ah… Like look? Like…” her eyes shut briefly as she exhaled. “To look? You like to look?”

She moved towards a counter, setting her sketchbook down as she made space for Briseis beside her. Avoiding her recent messy attempts, she flipped back to earlier drawings. There was no doubt in Jami’s mind that her art was good. She thumbed through a few pages – the mountains of the Black Forest, the Isle’s High North. At last, she settled on something she thought Briseis would recognize. Part of Normandy’s coastline stretched out on the page, full of looming jagged cliffs and sea-carved stone arches.

But Briseis was so tired of being afraid, of constantly needing to be sheltered and protected. And now, it seemed she wasn’t the only one with doubts and fears. And from what Proteus had said ... 

Perhaps she and Jami were more alike than either of them expected. 

Brightly, she nodded. “That is, if you don’t mind showing them.” She remembered how some artists were very private about their sketches, and certainly didn’t want to intrude. But Jami seemed open to the idea, so she followed her to the counter, heels clicking on the floor. 

Setting her purse off to the side, Briseis peered at the pages as Jami flipped through them, noting that even though she didn’t recognize the other landscapes she glimpsed, there was no denying the skill that had rendered them. The place that Jami settled on was familiar to her, however, and took her breath away for its likeness to a stretch of coastline here on the Isle. 

Her eyes widened as she leaned carefully closer to the drawing. “Amazing!” she declared, exchanging a glance with Jami before scanning her work once more. “It truly captures the scale and atmosphere of this place ... so raw and majestic.” 

The pronouncement was enough to send a shiver down her spine, and Briseis’s hand dropped away from her four-legged conversation partner slowly. The strained syllables were almost an accusation, one that prompted a moment of stillness and internal panic. 

She still usually introduced herself to strangers as ‘Damla,’ not wanting to risk falling into that conversation immediately, so the sound of her more intimate and ancient moniker from an unfamiliar voice was chilling in and of itself. Steadying herself with a deep breath, she peered over he shoulder as she turned to face the source. 

“Oh …”

What she saw was both frightening and relieving. She was unmistakable from her profuse golden curls and wild brown eyes, and now she realized she’d heard this voice before: distorted, on the other end of Proteus’s phone calls. 

Briseis had wanted to meet her for quite some time, but the thought of them in the same room—or on the same island—seemed to terrify Proteus. She understood why, but she’d been a second-hand witness to the formerly feral vampire’s rehabilitation, and was more intrigued than fearful. 

Briseis gave a small, wary smile, and nodded carefully. “And you … you must be Jami. Proteus has told me so much about you.”

Perhaps Jami was just as curious to meet her as Briseis was of her, but something in her tone betrayed a hint of … displeasure, of some sort, that kept her on her guard.

Jacqueline’s voice had never held that sort of power. No one had ever frozen like a frightened deer at the mere sound of it. As Briseis turned, Jami’s grip tensed. The quickening of the blood in Briseis’s veins clawed at her. Canines sank into the inner flesh of her lips. Blood trickled into her mouth. 

The edge of the sketchbook crumpled under her grip.

That brought her back. Blinking, she forced herself to envision how she would sketch Briseis’s face. Those eyes would have to be in colour. Black and white wouldn’t do them justice. She hadn’t done portraiture since she had been human, but she could still sense that they would have to be a diptych. Proteus and Briseis. Briseis and Proteus. They shared a sense, an impression of…

Jami wasn’t sure of what. She didn’t know what Proteus and Briseis shared.

Her unoccupied hand touched her chest. “Yes. Proteus…” She trailed off, fingers playing with a button. With Briseis standing before her in her dress and shoes, she was suddenly, fiercely, aware of her own self. Despite wearing one of Proteus’s shirts as a short-skirted dress, it was obvious she didn’t fit into Proteus’s life the way that Briseis did.

It was tempting to lash out. Jacqueline would have. But there was no point. Proteus loved Briseis, it was obvious. And Jami, she… Since her return, the forest was no longer a place of solace. But Proteus had become her anchor, keeping her steady in a world she didn’t understand. If Jami wanted Proteus in her life, then Briseis couldn’t hate her.

She tried again. “Proteus tell you.. about me? Proteus tell me about you.” She gestured to Briseis, her fingers spinning as she tried to find the right word. “He, ah… Talk! Talk about you. So much.” 

People likened brown eyes to those of a doe, but hers were hardly comparable to a prey animal of any sort. They were brighter, anyway ... hazel. No, with that mane of hair, the intensity of her gaze, and the power clearly in her limbs, she gave the impression of a lioness. 

One who was trying desperately to remember how to live in a cage. 

She could certainly see why Proteus was attracted to her. And how provocative being near her must be for him, if this was how she typically dressed. Tantalizing and suggestive and bold, as though she’d rolled out of bed—specifically Proteus’s bed—this way. 

She suddenly felt obscenely uptight in her structured knee-length formal dress and heels, modest and proper, but there wasn’t much she could do about that other than grip her clutch almost the same way Jami held onto her sketch pad, the two of them a study in contrasts. 

“He does, yes,” Briseis nodded, her smile widening cautiously. She wasn’t sure why, but hearing that Proteus had told Jami about her stirred a strange feeling in her heart. Pride? That wasn’t quite it, but it was close. 

“It’s almost like we already know each other, at least a little bit,” she tried, working up some confidence. “But I’m glad to finally meet you, Jami.” 

“Damn … Just wait here, I left my phone again!”

“We have plenty of time, don’t …” rush. Like a flash, Proteus was out the door and headed back to the house, doubtless forgetting in which room or on what table he’d last seen the device. Briseis chuckled and shook her head softly, thankful that these things were much easier to keep track of when one carried a purse. They had nearly two hours before a performance of Medea was scheduled to begin at a theatre in Olympia, and she and Proteus would likely spend most of it whispering criticism in the play’s original Greek from the back row, anyway.

Turning in place, she glanced leisurely around the shelter, much subdued at this time of evening compared to the constant activity of the day. The animals were certainly quieter, calmer without so much stimulation. A soft but insistent meow came from behind her, and she looked back to see a slender calico cat reaching her paw through the bars of her crate, presumably trying to get Briseis’s attention. The cursed woman grinned and approached, scratching the appreciative feline’s side gently. 

“Any other time, sweetie, I’d take you out and play, but I can’t get fur on my dress,” she explained idly. The cat only mewed once more, brushing her cheek against Briseis’s fingers. She laughed lightly and angled the tips of her fingers to itch beneath the cat’s chin. “Maybe when we get back, hmm?” 

No. That wasn’t fair. He had called her every day and had stayed on the phone with her when she couldn’t find the words to say. He hadn’t left her. He just. Hadn’t taken her with him.

Flipping the pencil over, she erased the line. This time, she shut her eyes and let muscle memory guide her. She cracked an eye open. Better. Slightly.

The front door burst open as Proteus rushed in and scanned the room. Their gaze met. The hectic light in his eyes faded to… To… Dismay? Concern? Regret? She didn’t know what to call it.

Then he was gone, disappeared into the bedroom. Foregoing any and all artistic attempts, Jami pressed her cheek into the couch. Ever since they had spent Christmas apart he had been different with her. His eyes slid away from her. His hands retreated from her. Even when she had succeeded in carrying an entire conversation after his return, he hadn’t caught her up and spun her around like before.

She heaved in a breath and– What was that? Past the scent of paint and Proteus… Eyelashes fluttering, she looked around the room.

The sketchbook dug into her hand. She pressed it deeper. It grounded her, even as she slipped from the house and followed the scent of human blood.

Jami didn’t know the woman by sight. She wasn’t familiar with the chestnut of her hair or the shape of her shoulders. But she knew the scent of her perfume. And of her blood.

The corner of her sketchbook pressed into her palm as she stepped forward. “You is…” She swallowed hard. “You are Briseis.”

She still usually introduced herself to strangers as ‘Damla,’ not wanting to risk falling into that conversation immediately, so the sound of her more intimate and ancient moniker from an unfamiliar voice was chilling in and of itself. Steadying herself with a deep breath, she peered over he shoulder as she turned to face the source. 

“Oh ...”

What she saw was both frightening and relieving. She was unmistakable from her profuse golden curls and wild brown eyes, and now she realized she’d heard this voice before: distorted, on the other end of Proteus’s phone calls. 

Briseis had wanted to meet her for quite some time, but the thought of them in the same room—or on the same island—seemed to terrify Proteus. She understood why, but she’d been a second-hand witness to the formerly feral vampire’s rehabilitation, and was more intrigued than fearful. 

Briseis gave a small, wary smile, and nodded carefully. “And you ... you must be Jami. Proteus has told me so much about you.”

      365 day challenge - favourite songs, favourite lines

40/365 - Riptide by Vance Joy {listen}