𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖆 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗

The blonde watched closely as Alistair removed Hana’s painting from the wall, using more care than she assumed he ever did with art. Eleanora then turned to Hana and found herself unable to contain the curve of her lips as she watched the other vampire. The reaction was so viscerally satisfying, and knowing she helped facilitate this was more than enough of a thank you that she needed. Alistair returned to the women, canvas in tow, and Eleanora detached herself to allow Hana to receive it. A fondness washed over her face as she watched, practically helpless to the way it made the other woman settle. Alistair then turned to complete the rest of the tasks assigned to him. Eleanora watched him go before turning to Hana. “Are you ready to leave? Or do you need a few minutes?”

hana didn’t answer at first. the painting was in her hands, and for one terrifying second, she was no longer in alistair vale’s polished little gallery. she was standing in a garden that no longer existed, watching her mother kneel beside the basin with ink on her fingers and leaves caught in the hem of her sleeve. the canvas was smaller than grief had made it in her memory, lighter too, almost fragile beneath her touch. hana held it carefully, thumbs resting near the frame, and felt eight hundred years fold in on themselves until all that remained was a red branch turning too soon and the terrible kindness of being given back a piece of herself. “tomorrow night is too late,” she said at last, voice quiet, gaze still fixed on the painting. “you can be stubborn after you feed. not before.” only then did she look up at eleanora, and whatever she found there made her expression tremble into something dangerously close to wonder. “you did this for me.” it wasn’t a question. hana knew why eleanora had done it. knew, too, that the blonde would try to shrug away the magnitude of it with vanity and a crooked smile, as if she hadn’t just reached into hana’s past and pulled something living from a dead man’s wall. hana stepped closer, painting held against her with one arm, her free hand rising to touch eleanora’s cheek. “i’m ready,” she murmured. “if i stay, i’ll start feeling sentimental about the theft, and neither of us has the dignity for that.” her thumb brushed gently beneath eleanora’s eye, lingering on the fatigue there despite the vampire’s attempt to hide it. “we’re leaving. you’re feeding. then you’re coming home with me, and i’m hanging this somewhere no one like him will ever touch it again.” hana leaned in and kissed her once, grateful and aching and careful with all the feeling she couldn’t fit into words. when she pulled away, her mouth curved faintly. “and yes, before you ask, this means the date went well.”

God, she loved the way Hana looked at every part of her body. The adoration, the hunger, the reverence; it was so overwhelming that Eleanora gnawed her lip to ground herself. Wordlessly, her thighs parted slightly, allowing her girlfriend to see every ripple of her muscles and splash of unblemished skin. Their lips were back together again—where they belonged—and once they parted, the blonde found herself herded back onto the bed. Adjusting on the mattress, her body already responded to Hana, thighs parted even wider than they were for the painting. The pressure of her fingers against her thigh made Eleanora sigh, grinning as soon as she felt Hana’s lips add themselves to the fray. “Talking like that from between my legs is such a dangerous thing for you to do to me, baby,” she breathed, twitching in anticipation. “Because now I’m expecting more than a bite.”

Looking up, the blonde mirrored that warmth as she nodded, lips tugging into a sweeter smile before she rolled over into Hana’s lap. She watched as her girlfriend kissed her knuckles, and in turn, she leaned in to place a lingering kiss on her forehead. Eleanora placed her cheek against the skin of Hana’s neck, not wanting to stain her with her blood. Her free hand threaded through her girlfriend’s hair, scratching absentmindedly at her scalp. “When you’re ready to tell me, I will listen to everything.” The blonde pressed her lips to the base of Hana’s neck. “Thank you for trusting me.” Silence crept back up on the two vampires as they sat. Feeling better than before, Eleanora squeezed her hand. “I need to wash my face,” she stated plainly, allowing herself to laugh before shifting herself off her girlfriend’s lap. “Do you want to continue the art tour?”

the tenderness in eleanora’s promise settled deep within her, loosening another careful knot hana had kept tied for centuries. there was no impatience in it, no expectation that she offer up her history simply because eleanora had shared hers first. only the assurance that, whenever hana was ready, she would be met with the same attention and care she’d given tonight. she leaned into the fingers moving through her hair, eyes closing briefly as eleanora kissed the base of her neck. “you never have to thank me for trusting you,” she murmured, though she knew trust wasn’t a small thing for either of them. when eleanora finally shifted away, hana let her go without resistance, her hand lingering at her waist until the last possible moment. the laugh drew a fond smile from her, relief warming her expression at the return of even a trace of that familiar brightness. “yes. you should wash your face before the blood dries any further.” she rose with her, smoothing an affectionate hand over eleanora’s hair before leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek, careful of the crimson staining her skin. hana was still carrying the weight of everything she had learned, but it no longer felt intrusive. it felt entrusted to her, another part of eleanora’s history she would hold with care. the offer to continue the tour reignited her curiosity almost immediately, and her smile widened despite herself. “and i would love to continue,” she said, slipping her fingers through eleanora’s once more. “but there’s no hurry. we have the entire night, and apparently the rest of eternity, for you to show me every painting in this house.” her thumb brushed across eleanora’s knuckles as she gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “lead the way when you’re ready.”

F.R.I.E.N.D.S 02.23 - The One With The Chicken Pox.

Eleanora took great pleasure in the way Hana’s reaction shifted from amusement to desire just by exposing her neck. She adored seeing the other vampire like this, and she hummed approvingly as Hana’s lips ghosted against her neck. “It always seems to be my fault,” The blonde mused, quieting as Hana kissed her neck. The bite came swiftly after her reverence, just like it always did. A soft whine filled their bedroom from the initial pain, then melted into a gentle sigh. Hana’s tongue lapped at the wound, and Eleanora could smell her blood in the air. It made her shiver in delight. Looking down, a lazy smile tugged at her lips before she kissed the other woman. Before she pulled away, she whispered against Hana’s lips. “There’s still one more mark you need to make before I look exactly how you imagined me on your canvas.”

The silence enveloped both women again, and Eleanora didn’t attempt to fill it like she normally would have. She sat in it with Hana, braved it with her in a way she would have never dreamed of doing alone. The tension in her body dissipated at this point, and the only person keeping Eleanora upright was Hana. She felt the incessant stroke of her knuckles and reveled silently in the safe space slowly being created around her by Hana’s unwavering patience. The declaration made Eleanora’s arms tighten around Hana, and she strained her neck to press a kiss against her throat. “I love you too,” she murmured, glancing up to see the side of Hana’s face. “The same goes for you.” Although her voice faltered, Eleanora’s sentence carried the same confidence she always shrouded herself in. “I know you’ve suffered just as much as I have. If you help carry my burden, I help carry yours.”

a small smile touched her lips the moment eleanora said she loved her too, quiet and helpless in its sincerity. hana had lived long enough to know that love was rarely enough to undo what had already happened, but sitting there with eleanora curled against her, she understood that perhaps it didn’t need to. it couldn’t return matteo to her or erase the loneliness that followed her turning, but it could make room for those memories without allowing them to consume her. hana tipped her head toward the kiss at her throat, her fingers continuing their gentle path through eleanora’s hair as she absorbed the promise being offered to her. it would’ve been easy to dismiss it, to claim her own grief was old and manageable, but she knew that would only deny eleanora the same trust she’d just been given. “then we carry it together,” she murmured, looking down at her with warmth still lingering in her expression. the words felt heavier than a simple agreement; they were an acknowledgment that hana could no longer ask eleanora to loosen her hold on control while refusing to do the same herself. she lifted their joined hands and pressed another kiss to eleanora’s knuckles, thinking of all the parts of her own history she kept hidden behind paint and practiced composure. one day, she would open those doors for her. perhaps not tonight, while eleanora was still raw from her own memories, but soon. “i’ll tell you everything,” hana promised, thumb brushing across her skin. “not because you owe me for listening, but because i trust you with the parts of me i’ve never known how to share.”

Withdrawing from Hana, Eleanora stepped forward, grinning predatorily as she looked towards Alistair. Their eyes met, and her pupils dilated, the black voids squinting briefly to adjust to the sterile lighting. “Alistair,” the vampire started, her voice overlapping with something primordial and acidic hidden away in her throat. The otherworldly tone clawed out the syllables of his name until his eyes glazed over. Eleanora’s fingers coiled in his open hand. “We are going to leave now. You are going to take down that painting—” Eleanora motioned to Hana’s painting behind her. “and give it to us. We are going to leave with that painting, and you are going to let us. You are going to destroy any evidence of the two of us being here tonight and of that painting being here. You are then going to forget we came tonight and forget that you had that painting in your collection.” Once the commands were given, Eleanora nodded, releasing Alistair’s hand and watching as he began to follow her instructions. An immediate lightheadedness washed over her, and her eyelids fluttered heavily at the sensation. The first thing she’d do tomorrow night is feed. After collecting herself, the blonde rejoined Hana as Alistair went to remove the painting. She slotted her arm into Hana's before squeezing her forearm comfortingly.

hana watched eleanora step forward, and for the first time all night, she had no clever thought waiting behind her teeth. she’d seen compulsion before. used it, on occasion, when survival or discretion demanded it. but eleanora wielded it like an old inheritance, something ancient moving beneath perfume and silver fabric, beneath beauty sharpened into command. there was no flattery in it, or begging, or performance for alistair’s ego. only her voice, darkened by the thing immortality had made of her, wrapping around his name until the man who had spent his life purchasing significance became nothing more than a body waiting to obey. hana should’ve looked at alistair. she should’ve tracked every instruction, possible flaw, or loose thread that could punish them later. instead, she could only look at eleanora. terrible, radiant, precise eleanora, bending the room toward hana’s grief as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do. when eleanora came back to her, hana saw the cost immediately. the heaviness in her eyelids, the brief unsteadiness she tried to tuck away before anyone could name it. hana’s awe changed shape at once, becoming concern so sharp it almost broke through her composure. she let eleanora slot against her, then covered the blonde’s hand on her forearm with her own. “you overdid it,” she murmured, but there was no scold in it. not really. her gaze moved to alistair as he began removing the painting from the wall with obedient care, then back to eleanora’s face. “beautifully, infuriatingly, almost offensively well.” her thumb brushed over eleanora’s knuckles, grounding them both as the canvas came free. hana’s throat tightened at the sight of it in motion, at the impossible fact of her mother’s garden leaving that wall after all these years. “after this, we’re getting you fed,” she whispered, voice low and serious now. “and then i’m going to thank you properly. probably after yelling at you for making me feel this much in public.”