all by design

Teagan ached. All the way from her skin, to her muscles, and then all the way down to her bones. She could hardly see out of one of her eyes, too swollen to allow her to discern more than just blobs of color and light. Nova said the swelling would go down in a matter of days, and as of that day, she was through the worst of the pain. Not that Teagan had asked. 

Since the scuffle with the vampire, Nova had made it clear she had no intention of leaving Teagan to care for herself. She should’ve been grateful. She should’ve been happy. Nova came in and saved her life despite all the nasty things she said. That was supposed to be admirable. Noble. But Teagan only found herself annoyed and angry. Terribly so. 

Alone now, the nix was left to rest and heal, but she could hardly keep still. Busying herself on her phone was out of the question, too. Teagan didn't want to think of how Laure may look at her now if she had to tell her about her failure. 

—

When she returned from California, Laure had deliberately not told Teagan of her return. She was curious to see how resourceful the nix would be, and how deep her devotion already ran. She also had other items to accomplish. In truth, she expected the younger woman to show up a few hours after she returned to Wicked’s Rest, a pout on her lips that she had not been immediately apprised of Laure’s reappearance in town. 

When she did not appear, Laure wondered if perhaps Teagan had managed to find something else to occupy her grief, but a handful of weeks hardly seemed like enough time for her to find a new fixation. After a day, a simple nod sent George into the town while Laure continued to work at her desk. It was near dusk when he returned, whispered a few words into her ear, and already had the car waiting when she rose. 

Her fingers drummed on the windowsill as George drove them towards Darkling Lake, and she trusted he knew where he was going as they wound along the back roads in the forest that surrounded the body of water. Eventually, a small cabin emerged in the trees, and Laure was already moving as the car came to a stop. 

Inside, the cabin was swathed in shades of brown and green, a rustic sort of charm that Laure could see Teagan’s touch in. She floated by the furniture, moving towards a closed door near the back and making an educated guess. The sight inside was pitiful indeed, the nix curled up in her bed with bruises decorating her face and neck. Laure was sure that there were others that she could not see. “And what happened to you?” she asked as she stepped into the room. She stopped a few steps away from the bed, already sensing the frustration rolling off of Teagan. “You seemed far more capable the last time I saw you.”

—

The cats sensed Laure before the nix could, sleep almost consuming her. Hobbes and Alffi scurried to the door curiously, pawing underneath right until the doorknob turned. When the door began to swing open, the cats dispersed and the quiet creak stirred Teagan awake. That prompted her to take action, knife swinging from under her pillow in a pointed threat toward…

“Laure?” The nix asked, exasperated, her anger growing as Laure poked at her obvious failure. “Bugger off.” Teagan huffed, trying to scowl. Instead, white-hot pain scorched her nerves, leaving her to swallow the yelp that wanted to escape her as her wound festered. Blood slowly trickled from Teagan's brow and down to her cheek. She could feel it, and still, she let it fall, pulling the knife back under her pillow. It was already embarrassing that Laure was seeing her in such a state. Fussing over her own blood just seemed like added insult to injury. 

“I found the next vampire.” The words came out rigidly through Teagan's teeth, jaw set and tensed. “My magic failed me. I couldn't…and then she–whatever.” She swallowed, gesturing vaguely at the wound at her neck. It was obvious she was made a meal, only just barely making it out with her life. “I'll try again soon.” And if Laure kept that mockingly pitying look at Teagan, she might very well try again that night.

“I'm only resting to heal, but it's at a normal human speed with my magic gone.” A pause. “I did…I did keep myself busy as you requested, though.” Teagan turned angrily away from Laure, pointing to the keyboard propped by the windowsill. 

—

Laure paid no mind to the blade that was suddenly brandished in her direction, looking placidly at Teagan for an explanation. The scar on her throat itched, but she reminded herself that a common blade could not hurt her again. The nix seemed far less pleased to see Laure than she would have expected, though she could also sense the embarrassment that wound around Teagan. Blood welled up from the injury above her eye, and Laure watched dispassionately as the crimson droplets slowly made their journey down the soft plane of Teagan’s cheek. A waste, in her mind. Blood could be such a useful specimen, and already she was thinking about the pigments she could use to recreate the vivid tone.

Teagan’s story was not all that surprising to Laure. During their last encounter, she had witnessed the brutality that the younger woman was capable of, but it had taken some prodding. Their victim had also not fought back. This one evidently had. Seeing the scars on the nix’s throat left a sour taste in Laure’s mouth, a reminder of another bloody and mangled throat flashing through her mind. She resolved to cover the marks with some of her own. The expression on her face did not change much, there was a miniscule shift once her mind realized she had found an answer to the question she set out to resolve.

The fury didn’t respond to Teagan’s petulant pouting, instead glancing over at the keyboard that she had pointed out. “Good,” Laure praised. It would be a simple task to stoke the fae’s ire. The taste of revenge flickered on the edges of Laure’s consciousness, but it was dulled in comparison to the first night they had shared. “I am sure that the next time, you will be better prepared to handle the situation.” It would be a pity if Teagan succumbed to her quest for revenge, moreso if Laure were not there to at least appreciate the final meal. 

After a moment, Laure realized that she had been silent for some time.”How long will it take you to heal?”

—

Something warm ebbed at the center of the nix's chest at Laure's praise, the corner of her lips threatening to tick up in relief. Getting ahold of herself, Teagan bit the inside of her cheek and resolved to reach for a cloth on her nightstand. She pressed it firmly to her wound, exhaling slowly as she staunched the bleeding.

“I found leads on two others.” She took a moment to breathe through the pain, removing the cloth to test if the bleeding had stopped. It hadn't. “Aside from this one.” Teagan clarified, pressing a clean section of the cloth back onto her wound. “I should be back to normal in two weeks' time, but I will be up again in the next day or two.” She gave a more visual explanation by removing the blankets from her body, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed with a groan. 

Even with Nova's help, the vampire proved a worthy opponent. She struck at all the right points, not wavering from lethal ones. It was only by Teagan's speed that she was able to escape with her life. Never mind the fact that Nova wrestled with both her and the vampire to ensure everyone got out alive. Teagan felt herself growing angry at the thought, choosing instead to tease Laure in return for her patronizing. 

Teagan smiled coyly, almost renewed. “And you? Missed me so much you had to come look? I didn't even give you my address.”

—

She watched passively as Teagan addressed the wound that had opened up, and the blood faded from view as she pressed the cloth against her skin to stop the flow. “Three more to deal with then.” At least for now. Laure had been doing this long enough to know that there were always others who could be easy scapegoats for a person’s drive for vengeance. A bridge to be crossed when they got to it. 

She deliberately chose not to take a step back even as Teagan got to her feet, eyes raking up and down her form to make sure that there was no serious concern. Bruises mottled along her skin and Laure could imagine from the way the nix held herself, that she likely harbored bruised or broken bones that were invisible to her eye. Laure’s relationship with physical pain was unique to say the least. Her human life might as well have been spent in a padded bubble, with every whim waited on hand and foot. The worst pain she had ever known was when the knife, still wet with Kiri’s blood, sliced across her own throat. 

In the time since, Laure had been injured many times, but her healing rarely made it an issue. If someone managed to land a blow, her abilities had her bones realigning and flesh knitting back together after a few moments. Pain that lingered for longer than a few minutes was foreign to her. But she did enjoy how it looked on other people.

Laure raised an eyebrow at the nix’s teasing, and without hesitation, she reached out to press lightly on one of the bruises that marked her throat. “As I told you, George is quite adept at sourcing individuals. I have known where you lived since before you left my bed the first night.” Her fingers continued to knead at the purple marks, not digging into her flesh but pressing a reminder of her presence anyway. “I had assumed you would appear for your reward, greedy girl.” 

—

Even in her heels, Laure was still a scoche shorter than Teagan. Her power and presence domineered regardless, sending a pleasant shiver through the next as she looked down at Laure. She loved the exchange, really. The way Laure's expression could barely be read and how she carried herself with a deadly precision. 

Her help was a possession that wrapped itself tightly around Teagan. And she let it, all while knowing what Laure was doing under the guise of collaboration. Because possession, no matter how caring or equal it felt, was still theft. 

It was made more true when Laure acted with cruelty, flaring one of Teagan's wounds with a harsh grip. She let out a gasp, unwilling to give the fury the satisfaction of a real cry of pain. Someone else had marked her pet, and it was the nix's own fault for letting it happen. Laure had to rectify this by inflicting a new pain on top of the current wound. 

“I'm greedy? Look at you.” Teagan hissed with a smile, hearts nearly appearing in her eyes as she smoothed a hand over Laure's to make her squeeze more. She continued, voice shaky. “Couldn't wait to touch me.”

—

Teagan’s gasp sent sparks rippling down her spine, and Laure merely smiled at how responsive the nix was to her touch. Girls had flitted in and out of her life for centuries, so intoxicated by Laure’s presence that they would do anything she asked of them. Unlike the others, however, Teagan was unafraid to ask for what she wanted, seemingly unbothered by Laure’s wealth and power. She seemed to realize that there was no happily ever after when it came to the fury, and that did not bother her at all. 

“I have always known I am greedy,” Laure agreed as she tightened her grip briefly before loosening. She wanted to see tears form in her eyes. “You have done such an abysmal job of taking care of my possessions. A correction is in order.” It would be so very easy to let her claw extend and nick the artery that pulsed under her thumb. Teagan’s heart was beating fast enough that it would lead to a beautiful spray, as unique as a fingerprint. Laure had done this before, an art project that had resulted in an exquisite piece that still sat in her studio.

Despite Teagan’s impertinent tongue, Laure reluctantly released her grip on the nix. It would be a shame to injure her further because she felt like being a brat. “Bed rest until you can stand without wincing. No further action until the bruises are no longer visible.” She grasped Teagan’s chin to make sure the fae was looking at her. “If you disobey me and injure yourself further before you have healed, consider this arrangement terminated.” There was no warmth in her eyes. “I expect my investments to be worthwhile, not a short-term endeavour.” She shook her head as she clicked her tongue. “And I do not appreciate when someone else marks my canvas.”

—

“Your possession?” The fae trembled from the pain, but kept what little composure she had. It fueled her, in a way. Pain was just another source of energy, and instead of letting it rule her, Teagan used it as a means to defy Laure further. She smiled, “Didn't expect you to get so romantic with me so quickly.” She scrunched her nose playfully, her expression breaking with a gasp at the added pressure. 

Teagan fell back onto the bed but she caught herself before she could be made a total fool of herself. Her eyes darkened at Laure's orders, the rebellious nature in her acting. “Consider it done, Tanwen.” The name was said with affection, Teagan's tail circling around to Laure but never quite touching her. She knew the fury's limit was already met. Still, Teagan was curious by nature. She had to tug that veil that Laure kept wound around her so tightly for a glimpse. Just a small one. 

“Your eyes…” The nix began, leaning into Laure's hand at her chin. She kissed the webbing between her index finger and her thumb when her grip loosened enough. “You were making poetry with them when you looked at my wound, weren't you?” For a moment, Teagan's eyes darted toward a journal on her nightstand, going back to Laure in an instant. “Tell me what it was, and I'll play you a song.”

—

Laure hummed in assent, not taking back her choice in words. Like this, despite having a few inches on the fury, Teagan was not the one in control and she smiled placidly when she was rewarded with a sharp gasp. A part of her expected the nix to buck against her orders, poking to test the boundaries as Laure had grown accustomed to her doing, but Teagan acquiesced without further fuss, and she let a pleased expression cross her face. 

Lips brushed against her hand, and though she raised an eyebrow at Teagan’s framing, Laure could not deny that she had indeed been enraptured by the marks that decorated her body. “Not poetry,” she shook her head, fingers dipping down to trace against the mottled skin, not pressing this time as she admired the colors. “I was thinking of what shades of paint would best recreate these.” Bruises were temporary, and Laure found that fact both infuriating and exhilarating. It meant each mark was special, never to be recreated in the exact same manner again, yet that didn’t stop her from trying. If these faded before Laure perfected her technique, then she would replace them with her own. 

Her eyes skated upward to meet Teagan’s, and Laure smirked. “I believe you owe me a song now, dearest. “Something that resonates with you.”

—

“Art, nonetheless.” She shivered, engrossed by Laure's cold glare. Under that cool, Teagan could see something in her begin to melt. Not out of affection and not quite out of lust, but perhaps mild admiration. She was developing a craving for it, learning quickly how special that look was. 

It was a rush to be revered in that way. It was bliss to cause Laure's face to exude anything more than surface interest. Teagan intrigued the fury, and she liked seeing it on her face. “I have a soft red undertone. An autumn, as some would call me.” She stood again, leaning into Laure and waiting to see what she'd do. If she even twitched, their lips would brush, but Teagan wouldn't be the one to cross that line. 

Instead, she moved back just a breath, and smiled. “I have just the song in mind. Will you grab the keyboard for me…” She leaned in again. “Tanwen?”

—

Laure mentally filed away the note, mind already racing with the possibilities. She had painted her lovers before, though usually that desire took more time to develop. Teagan surged closer, breath ghosting across her lips, though she did not cross the boundary that Laure had set, even though she could see it in her eyes. The naked desire that bloomed deep in her irises made them even darker up close, and Laure’s fingers twitched. She resisted the urge to wind her hand into Teagan’s hair and tug her head back until her back arched. There would be time for that later. 

Instead, she stepped back to collect the keyboard in question and brought it over to the bed, sitting across from her so she could face Teagan and see her face. “What does that mean, the word you keep calling me?” Laure used pet names frequently, often because it was easier than remembering actual names, but few reciprocated in that manner, not that she had really minded. But now her interest had been piqued.

—

Teagan breathed deeply, sigh shaky as she exhaled with a bright smile and her eyes half-lidded. Biting her lip, she plopped herself back down on the bed and gave her shoulders a few experimental rolls. A few winces proved it was as she feared. Her body would protest through her playing. No matter. The show would go on regardless. 

“Tanwen.” The nix repeated, watching Laure place the keyboard in front of her. She finagled with the props until the instrument rested firmly across her lap, giving Laure a glance as she warmed up with scales with the volume low. “It means white fire in my native tongue.” Teagan informed, her smile reaching her eyes brightly. 

When she was ready, without another word, Teagan then raised the volume on the keyboard and kissed the A key with her right pinky. She closed her eyes and brushed F sharp tenderly, hands falling into the melody of Peaches Etude with a growing strength. It wasn't until the song was finished that she opened her eyes again, scanning Laure's expression. Almost desperately so. 

—

The nix’s bruised and battered body rose to the challenge without complaint, fingers settling over the keys in a flowing motion. They glided up and down the keyboard with the sort of ease that only came with practice. “Tanwen,” Laure repeated, her accent lilting slightly with the unfamiliar word. She didn’t quite get it right, but close enough, and she decided she liked the way it sounded to her ear. She didn’t have further time to comment on it before Teagan began her performance in earnest. 

Laure’s eyes remained glued to her frame, watching as the fae fell into the music. Like everything Teagan did, there was a fluidity to the way she played. It reminded Laure of the tide sweeping out to the ocean, starting slow and sweeping, and it grew in power until it was an undeniable inevitability, yet without feeling overbearing. She could see the places where Teagan connected with the notes, pouring as much of herself as she could into the song. It was something Laure had experienced when she was painting, and she understood the look in Teagan’s eyes when she finished. 

“Bravissima,” she praised, with a genuine smile. Art was a language of its own, with different mediums serving as different dialects, but there was a familiarity to that connection all the same. “I look forward to seeing what you are able to accomplish on real ivory.”

—

Teagan was surprised at how relieved she was to receive praise and see the smile on Laure’s face. She memorized it. She committed to memory the curve of her lips like it's evidence in a trial she can't afford to lose. Her sitting alone trying to prove her devotion could make churches look useless. Court would be adjourned in seconds. And Teagan? Guilty. With a smile on her face. 

“Thank you.” She breathed, shutting off the keyboard and closing the pegs so she could set it aside. “I know you told me to rest, but maybe when I'm less sore, I can come by for a visit?” Teagan felt shy, asking for permission as an adult. “Getting on my bike may be difficult for now.” She arched a brow, smirking. “Unless you'd send a car for me?”

—

Praise was a convenient tool, especially when used sparingly. A simple prize to be dangled over the heads of the neediest, and Laure enjoyed watching as the words settled on Teagan’s shoulders. As petulant and pouty as she had been when the fury first arrived, she looked more akin to a perfectly content cat by the end of her visit.