#bdrpkiara

SIMBA: Simba stood on the outside of Kiara’s hospital room door, frozen there. He felt the dread in his veins like ice. Could feel Nala and Ber and his mum all watching him quietly and knew he had to turn the handle and go inside, but he was scared.

For four days, Simba had been useless to Kiara. He had failed her. She should be furious at him. He was furious at himself. And he had no idea what to say to her to make it better. He didn’t know if he could make it better and that was the worst part. He didn’t even know if she really wanted to see him. If he was in her position…he didn’t know if he would want to see him.

All he wanted was to talk to her, for real. To hug her, hold her close, know, really, truly, for himself, that she was okay.

He hadn’t gotten to do that. The last time he’d seen her, touched her—she was cold as ice. She wasn’t even awake. She was unmoving and pale. She was not Kiara. Sure, he’d seen her from that little slice of window, he knew, objectively, that she was alright, but it still didn’t feel real to him. It felt like she was still lost to him, somewhere out in the woods all alone, frightened and unprotected.

Should’ve walked her home. Should’ve walked her home.

The tears burned his throat and he hadn’t even turned the door handle yet. He needed to, just—do it. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been begging and pleading and hoping for this moment for days. Had to content himself to pacing back and forth outside her room while Nala sat inside. Paced and paced until he’d practically collapsed into a chair in the hallway with exhaustion. And still, he hadn’t been able to sleep, every time he closed his eyes for longer than a blink, he saw behind his eyelids, Murphey going into Kiara’s room and he’d jerk awake again, get up, and start pacing. All the while longing so fiercely to be on the other side of the door.

Now that he had the opportunity though, he hesitated. It only lasted a few moments before he took a deep breath, and quickly turned his head to glance at Ber, holding his gaze for a brief second before twisting the handle and stepping inside.

He kept his eyes on the ground as he closed the door behind him. All he could hear was his blood rushing in his ears and the whirring, beeping of Kiara’s monitors.

She was okay. She was okay. And that was all that mattered.

At least, that’s what he was telling himself as he dragged his eyes along those thirty-two and a half tiles and up to Kiara. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes lingered for a few moments on the bandage against her neck. The IV in the crook of her elbow, the greenish bruise on her other arm where she’d ripped it out. He’d caused that bruise. And he’d caused her to be in that hospital bed.

She’s lying in this hospital bed because of you. You’re the one that’s done her harm. Murphey’s words were clear as if he was still standing in the room with them. It felt kind of like he was, his dark presence looming even though he was nowhere in sight. Simba felt sick to his stomach, but he knew he couldn’t cry, or be sick. He was going to have to put his shoulders back and smile and be strong for Kiara. Stronger than he’d been before.

That was hard to do when all he felt like he was doing was crumbling.

Still, he took another breath and finally met her gaze, striding in a few long steps to her side. His scabbed over knuckles grazed against the scratchy hospital sheets by her hip once he reached the side of her bed. There were so many words and feelings stuck in his throat. He didn’t know where to start (I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry).

“Hey,” he finally managed to get out. It sounded strangled but he kept his shoulders pushed back and he was smiling—looking completely unbothered by this entire situation.

KIARA: Health-wise, she was fine. Or rather-- on the road to fine, which is what her doctors liked to say. They said a lot of encouraging things to her in an effort to keep her spirits good (best medieine or whatever), not that they were liars or anything of course, Kiara just knew that they said those things mostly to make her smile, or Nala smile, or even her mother (who was gone now).  So they came in, checked her chart, said positive things, and Kiara smiled right back. She gave a thumbs up sometimes. She didn’t let anyone know that she didn’t care about what the charts said at all.

She still felt the ghost of Murphey’s hands pushing her back into the bed.

It made her heavy all over.

After she’d passed out, or been sedated, she came to a few hours later, only this time, Nala’s face was the first face she saw, not her mother’s and not her stepfather. Nala had taken her hand and kissed at her knuckles and her palm. She’d held back tears, stroked Kiara’s hair, as she explained what had happened to Kiara. Kiara had listened like she was outside of her own body. The shit Nala had said...that her doctors confirmed-- a fucking  vampire attack. She’d faced the ceiling and tried to pin it together. She tried to remember being lured off the sidewalks and into the woods. She tried to remember being bitten.

She’d remember that, wouldn’t she?

According to her doctors, no. It was rare-- nearly unheard of-- that vampire bite victims remembered what their attackers looked like, or even what happened. A symptom, said Kiara’s doctor. Your body was in so much shock anyway.

It was then-- as she gave up trying to remember, as she stared at the blank ceiling, and the room grew quiet around her-- that she thought to ask about Simba.

Nala told her about that too.

Kiara knew she was supposed to feel grateful. Or upset. Or terrified. Simba could have been severely hurt and he’d been arrested and it was her fault, but he’d been trying to help her, to get Murphey away, and he believed her, really believed her, and he was going to help, Nala said-- he was going to fight for her more, Nala said, only this time Simba was going to win.

“We’re all going to fight for you,” Nala had grasped Kiara’s hand as she whispered.

Kiara smiled and felt very little inside. She was just too heavy.

Fast-forward through her hours of sleeping, on and off, and taking meds and talking to doctors. They were optimistic about releasing her soon, they said, probably tomorrow. And Simba was going to be coming by.Kiara sat up a little in the bed as the hour drew nearer and tried to remember that she was supposed to feel grateful. Simba fought for you. He wants to adopt you. He’s going to take care of you.

The door opened. Simba slunk in with his head down, pushing the door shut idly behind him. It clicked shut and the air conditioning shuttered overhead. Kiara’s machines beeped steadily on.

He looked up at her and she saw his poor, beat- up face and she was flooded, instantly, with the feelings she’d been lacking over the past so many hours and she could only think one thing--

My fault.

Her eyes flooded with tears and spilled over. She couldn’t stop them. “H-h-hey,” she warbled out.

SIMBA: The sight of Kiara’s tears froze Simba in place.

It was the first time he’d felt genuine fear during this entire ordeal. When Kiara had been missing, he’d only thought of finding her. Hadn’t stopped to consider that they may not. It was find her or nothing, in his mind there had be no other option, no alternative. When he still hadn’t been able to, his stomach had been curled tightly with anxiety but it hadn’t manifested into fear. Not the stop you dead in your tracks ice cold kind of fear. Simba was never afraid, not in the true sense of the word. Momentary hesitations were the only thing he could really consider fear--but Kiara sitting in her hospital bed and crying--it was like he’d been turned to stone.

All he could do was stand there by the edge of her bed for a few moments and try to figure out why she was crying. Was she still scared? Did he somehow trigger some memory or something? Had he done something wrong when he’d come in? Was she angry at him? Scared...of him? Of the cuts and bruises on his face and neck and wrists and knuckles? Should he leave? Should he touch her? What should he do?

He had no idea. No fucking clue and the panic seized him like a snake constricting around his chest, squeezing out all the air in his lungs, squeezing his heart. Silently, he fought against it--tried to breathe, tried to release the guilt pressing down on him. I need to do something. I need to do something. I need to do something. He repeated the phrase again and again in his head until the constriction lessened and then fell away completely.

Then, Simba sprang into action. He sunk down onto the hospital bed next to Kiara, one foot still on the floor and reached for her, like his heart had been telling him to do since he first walked in. His hands hesitated for just a moment about her face and he remembered that first night when she’d shown up at his house all those months ago, where he had been unsure if he should touch her then too and she’d curled into his side without hesitation.

His palms cupped her cheeks, thumbs sweeping under her eyes as he hushed her quietly and then he leaned forward, pressing his lips and then his forehead to hers and squeezing his eyes shut tightly. His own hot tears burned at his eyelids but he refused to let them spill. Instead, he just wrapped his arms around Kiara’s shoulders, pressing his face to her hair.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice thick and scratchy. “I’m so, so sorry, Kiara. I don’t know what I--” was thinking. Would’ve done if anything happened to you. The words caught in his throat and he turned his head to kiss the crown of hers.

KIARA: Her tears could not burst forth, though she felt them hot and bundled in her chest like a little grenade. She wanted nothing more for an explosion, rather than this, all her tears dribbling out of her eyes and down her cheek, gathering on her chin before they drip-dropped on the sheets. If she could just hunch over and sob, she might feel better.

But she couldn’t unpin the sadness. It had to leak out of her this way, as the pressure continued to build inside.

Simba unpinned it when he drifted to her side and swept his fingers over her wet cheeks. Kiara made a terrible choking sound then, as her head bent forward and her eyes squeezed shut and she cried harder.

She didn’t even know why she was crying either, she—she had so many reasons and she couldn’t figure out which was the one that was pushing her over the edge. Her shame, her fear, her sadness, her pain, the fatigue, even, still drifting through her body like a terrible ghost, but a solid one, solid as concrete. She hunched her shoulders as her arms—still poked and threaded with plastic tubes that felt itchy and uncomfortable—came around her stomach. Her fingers gripped at her sides.

Simba was holding her, touching her so gently, but she didn’t feel any safer, or any less alone. She still shook and shook, terrified.

Yeah, it was the fear. It was knowing that Murphey had attacked Simba too. She’d brought him here. And he’d lurk around like a boogeyman, her nightmare come to life, and he’d hurt everyone. Who would be next? Nala? Tiana?

She let out another choking noise.

She couldn’t speak. She could barely breathe. Her life felt over. It was over. She was dead, she was dead and only these tubes kept her alive, and she was so so so sorry, for dying on Simba, and leaving him all beat up with her problems. He couldn’t solve them, even though he was trying, running all over town for her.

He was apologizing to her, because even he must know it too: how dead she was.

SIMBA: Kiara’s sobs clawed at Simba, like they were demons, brought to life by Kiara’s pain. They made their home in his gut, made their food out of his insides, shredding his gut until it was raw and bloody. God, he hated the sound of those tears. Hated the way her sobs shook through him. He could feel her shaking, but she didn’t pull away, so Simba just clung to her.

For Kiara, he could be solid and strong. In front of her, he would be immovable, a stone for her to beat against if that was what she needed. To hide behind. To be weak in front of. Simba would be strong for her, would stare Murphey dead in the eye and would not flinch. Would not raise a fist to his antagonizing. No matter how bad it got, Simba would rise above him, take him down the proper way. Murphey would never again lay a single finger on Kiara.

Simba would make sure of it.

In the meantime, he would deal with the effects of what he had done. And what had happened to Kiara to the best of his ability.

Which meant pressing his cheek against her hair and letting her fall apart in his arms, sobbing roughly against him. He just squeezed his eyes closed and begged Allah to give him the strength he was going to need to get through this, for both of them.

Every time Kiara’s body shuddered, breath clogging up in her lungs, Simba held her a little tighter. He didn’t want to hold her too hard, but he didn’t think that was possible. Not the way she was crying. Whenever he cried like that the only thing he wanted was to be held tightly and not let go of.

“It’s okay,” Simba said softly, just loud enough to be heard over Kiara’s ragged breathing. “It’s okay, baby, just breathe. I’m h-here.” He didn’t know if that actually helped. He had failed her in the first place. The whole problem had been that he hadn’t been there. Even after he’d promised her he would. Even though he promised her that she’d be safe with him.

His hand reached up and touched the back of her head, stroking over the thick hair. “It’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna fight for you, Kiara, I love you and I’m not letting you g-go. Believe me. I love you, Ninakupenda.”

KIARA: Simba squeezed her tighter, and tighter, and tighter still, until she felt her body tingling and the warmth from Simba’s arms enveloped her entire body. His arms cut off the panic’s circulation. Stopped the fear from running rampant through her. It got stuck, building up in her veins, and that’s why she was tingling, as though she’d just plunged head first into a cavern filled up with sand. Kiara thought she might just pass out, but instead, the fear and panic began to evaporate out of her.

The gulping breaths she’d taken began to slow, her swimming vision clearing too.

I’m here.

Her arms moved from around her own shaking body to gripping at Simba’s arm. Her fingers grasped at his copper skin, as they radiated all that warmth--she was still so cold, had been cold since she woke up--she remembered being cold, lying near-breathless on the forest floor as the trees cried over her and death crept quietly her way. She’d gotten so cold that soon she’d not even felt the cold and she’d been so relieved.

She didn’t want the cold now. She would prefer the nothing-feeling, because she’d become so calm. But her body was acting on instinct, clinging to Simba and the strength he was trying to give her way. It worked for the most part. It was a different kind of calm. It wasn’t the nothing-feeling, but-- her chest stopped heaving.

She just started feeling tired, the sobs having exhausted her. Kiara let her head fall against Simba’s chest. She turned her face in, smearing all the leftover tears on his shirt as she took deeper and deeper breaths. By the time he was murmuring more, the sobs were sporadic hiccups, nothing more. Her body was too tired. It was too tired to hear his words-- “I’m going to fight for you”--and believe him. There was no relief to be found in those words.

Kiara didn’t want to fight, she wanted to run. She only fought when she had to.

And now, now was a time to run. She’d tried to do all this once. She’d gone to her mother and cried about what Murphey was doing to her and her mother had told her not to lie. She’d asked Murphey in a warbled breath-- Please, stop. And he’d just grunted over her and told her not to move.

The only thing that had ever worked was to run. So she didn’t want to fight, and she didn’t want Simba to fight or Nala to fight or anyone to fight, she just wanted to disappear.

He’s going to win. No one ever believes me. The words tingled on the tip of her tongue, but she was too tired to inform Simba of this, because she knew that Simba would just tell her as fiercely as he could that she was wrong. Then she’d have to fight.

No more fighting.

She leaned heavier against Simba--he was the only thing holding her up. She grasped at his arm rather weakly and didn’t say anything until--

“I’m sorry,” she croaked, barely audible.

SIMBA: The entirety of Kiara’s weight rested against him by the time the sobs finished wracking her body. It should feel like a lot, holding her up like that, but it didn’t. Even though his stomach muscles were straining, making him feel a little sick. Even though the side of the hospital bed was jamming into his back. Even though he was so tired himself—he didn’t feel any of it. All he felt was Kiara’s warmth against him and the way her tears soaked his shirt, they were warm too.

He just wanted to be there for her. Let her cry all over him. Let her fall asleep in his arms. He wanted to crawl up on the bed behind her and tuck her up to him, kiss her hair and murmur to her until she fell asleep. He’d tell her of African sunsets, and the stars, and all the good things he knew in the universe until her breathing evened out and she relaxed.

Because, even though she was slumped against him. He could still feel how tightly she was wound and wondered how long that ball had been waiting to be untied, just a little, and if he could untie it more. He just wanted to pull a string and make the entire thing unravel in his fingers so that he could follow the line until he got to her heart—to the root of the problem—and he’d give it a sharp tug and remove it from her entirely. With the ball of her fear and sadness so twisted up, he still had no idea where to begin.

Simba hated feeling helpless. Wanted to do whatever he could to make her feel better, just the smallest amount. But, what could he do? Besides try to get her away from that monster? Something he’d failed once already. Though, he refused to fail again. He let that thought solidify his resolve, turned it solid. There was simply no other alternative. The precious girl in his arms would be his. Was already his. And he was going to keep it that way.

He was so caught up in his own thoughts, that tightening in his chest that he always felt when he set his heart to something, that he almost didn’t catch what Kiara had said.

The phrase was like a knee to the gut. Only harder. He wasn’t sure how he didn’t flinch from it like it was a physical blow.

Sorry? She was—she was sorry?

Simba was baffled actually. Maybe that was why the hit of the words didn’t sink in fully. Sorry? What did she possibly have to be sorry about?

The words hung in the air for several seconds while Simba reeled, trying to reorient himself to her thinking. To how she was feeling. This must’ve been terrifying for her. Was she sorry because she’d been attacked? That wasn’t her fault. Of course it wasn’t. Was she sorry for Murphey? There was nothing to apologize for there either, he was evil. Sorry that she’d dropped this all in his lap to deal with? Simba wouldn’t have it any other way as long as she was safe. Was she sorry about being scared and upset? Funnily, he could understand that. Hadn’t he just been apologizing for the same things a few hours ago?

He scooted a bit on the bed, readjusting his arms so that he could hold her better, feeling her breath puff across his collarbone. His hand still petted her hair softly, his cheek pressed to her head.

“It’s okay,” he assured her and meant it fiercely. “You have nothing to be sorry about. This isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault. You didn’t mean to get attacked. It wasn’t your fault that--they--were called here or that I, erm, got in a fight,” he chuckled a bit but it was humorless. “And look, Kiara, I want you to stay with me, okay? I’ve wanted that this whole time, even when you haven’t been living with me I’ve wanted it.”

Simba kissed the top of her head and pulled back a little, reaching one of his arms around to grab gently at her chin, turning it up to look at him. “And don’t you dare apologize for those tears. You cry if you want to, whenever you want to. It doesn’t make you any less strong, alright?” Simba released her chin to push some of the hair back from her red and blotchy face. Smiling down at her softly.

KIARA: Simba’s words blurred together.

She’d heard such things before. She’d seen it on TV shows. Adults liked to say these things-- they probably rehearsed them in some secret adult meeting group, or maybe even in the morning, looking into the shower. None of this is your fault. None of this is your fault. None of this is your fault. Repeat it enough and it became true. Repeat it too much and the words lost all meaning. And you were just saying it to hear yourself speak.

She felt like the latter, because she’d spent many years telling herself it wasn’t her fault, while Murphey told her the opposite. It was her fault for not listening to her mother. It was her fault for kissing girls. It was her fault for wearing what she wore, for breaking all the rules. She brought it on herself, he said, and she had to keep repeating to herself, while he was on her, that he was wrong, that he was wrong, that he was wrong, wrong wrong wrong…

Stopped being a word. Stopped meaning anything. Simba, to her, was speaking a language she couldn’t understand anymore.

Not her fault. Sure—whatever. She was tired. She didn’t…care. Whose fault it was.

So she just nodded at Simba, now quiet, except for the rough breaths that still passed through her chest. She shivered, body slightly trembling still and just leaned into Simba for the second, third,  fourth time. Her breath was ragged against his shirt.

“’M glad you’re here,” she whispered. That’s all she wanted to focus on. Her cousin, here, holding her. Nothing else should exist but that.

SIMBA: He couldn’t see into her eyes.

Well, he could, obviously—he was looking right at her. But, her eyes were locked down. All her thoughts hidden away from him.

That wasn’t Kiara. Not the one he knew anyways. Kiara was like him—she was full to the brim with emotion, overflowing with it. She didn’t know how to hide how she felt, no matter what those feelings were—hurt, fear, anger, love, desire—they were painted easily on her face. They shone brightly in her eyes.

It bothered him, that he could see nothing in them now. She didn’t believe him. She wasn’t listening--he could tell. She was in some unreachable place, far away from him. Simba desperately wanted her back. Didn’t know how to make that happen. At the moment, he could only feel the tiredness as she slumped against him again.

He felt that tiredness in his own soul too.

When will this all be over? he asked in his head, looking up at the ceiling for a second and blinking back tears.

Simba was meant with silence. But, he wasn’t surprised. He had come to expect nothing else from Allah, from the stars. They’d all turned their backs on him a long time ago. He kept praying anyways; for Kiara and for Berlioz and his mother and Nala. For his family and his friends. Any prayers that weren’t for him.

Kiara’s words had him looking back down at the top of her head—snapped out of that spiral of self-loathing that he was sending himself down.

He blinked and a tear fell into her thick tangled hair. He sniffled and then let out a deep, relieved breath, trying to push the worry and the guilt out of him.

She was right. Simba was here. That was all he could do at the moment and he knew it. And he could do it well. The calmness of that feeling filled him up and he felt himself truly relax a bit for the first time since all this had started.

He kissed at her hair again and pressed his nose against her head, inhaling the sharp scent of nasty hospital shampoo—he made note to bring her some of her own bath stuffs—and ask her if there was anything else she needed. The doctors said she’d be in the hospital another day or two. He could ask Ber to go get them, or Nala, or his mum. Simba would be hard-pressed to leave the hospital again until Kiara did.

KIARA: Another day of play practice-- done. Jiji and Blaine dismissed the actors from the stage and everyone went to their adopted cubbies to collect their things. Conversation idled through the air. Kiara saw the same people peel off in their little groups to walk home together-- she briefly glanced at Zella and then away before the girl could look at her. Like always, Zella would probably be walking home alone.

Today, that would be Kiara too.

Usually Simba escorted her and they’d chat a bit, but he’d had to duck out a few minutes early anyways to make it to a shift at Pixie. Nala had offered to come pick her up, but she’d just rolled her eyes and told her to stay put. How tiny was this town honestly? How many times had she walked from one side to the other by herself?

All this shit, see, was routine. She went to do sets, then she did practice, then she went home, then she chatted with Nala, then she went to sleep. She woke up and did it all again. Tiana remained distant, their relationship a bit tense. By now, Kiara had her lines memorized. And she was restless. When Simba told her he’d have to head out early, she’d actually gotten excited, not because she hated walking home with her cousin or anything, but because it was a change. Kiara might even take the long way home, just to remind her feet they knew another way of walking.

What she really wanted to do was call Tiana and ask her to get ice cream with her, or something.

She almost asked Zella. Almost. That’s how desperate she was. But she’d just watched the back of the girl’s hair as she beelined out of the playhouse as fast as possible.

So it would just be the long way home for Kiara, a brief respite from routine, until tomorrow. Sighing, she slung her backpack on her shoulders and swept her hair from underneath it, so it spilled over it instead and on all her sides. She was one of the last people to leave, passing a few people chatting, giving a tiny wave, before the door shut behind her.

It was sticky and hot in the air, a thunderstorm rumbling in the distance. Fuck. Kiara rolled her eyes at the noise. Maybe her half-ass plans would get canceled anyway for more fucking rain. Whatever. For now she just walked slow anyway, from patch of light to patch of light underneath the streetlamps.  

SNOW: Snow was starving.

That was the problem of confining yourself to a little town: hunger. It clawed inside of her, ached, never really went away unless she had Eva’s body to distract her, or a meager, pretty little snack. But, the snacking was the thing. They were all just snacks. It was never enough to stop the burning in her throat, in her stomach. After three hundred years, it was easier to ignore but sometimes the feeling was just so violent--it drove Snow half wild.

And she needed to eat.

The way she was meant to.

The hunger followed her. Made it almost impossible to concentrate at practice. She had several little backstage workers on rotation that she'd snacked on here and there. People no one would miss. And people who not remember it anyway. Eva had given her free range there, but the bloody cast was on the no-eat list until the play was over. Which would be the middle of August. Snow could simply not wait that long.

She'd amassed herself quite a pretty little following. All the fairies liked her well enough, except that awful blonde actual-fairy, but fairies were too sweet anyway. And Snow did not make a habit eating fellow Magicks. Unless they were particularly annoying.

Truly, her eyes had been set on one girl. Kiara. Who didn't really have anyone. Who so desperately was looking for a place to fit in. Who wanted a friend. Snow had provided that easily; listening to Kiara’s petty relationship drama, listening to her whine about that buffoon of a cousin. She had the girl wrapped around her finger with a sympathetic ear and a few smiles.

Unfortunately so far, that fucking annoying cousin turned out to be a bit of a wrench in her plans. They walked home together every day. For someone who acted like they were alone, the girl always had someone at her side. It was infuriating.

But soon came the day, as she knew it would, that the cousin would have somewhere else to be and Kiara would be alone. Vulnerable. Exposed.

Snow made sure to leave the playhouse before Kiara took off and she waited in the shadows. Her hiding spot perfectly chosen as the sunset and her fangs began to itch--wanting to descend. Sensing a meal close.

Eventually, Kira made her way out, easy to spot with her bright blue hair. Snow slipped behind her, quiet as the shadows she dressed herself in. Slinking along in her truest form: a predator on the hunt. After they were well away from the playhouse, she darted ahead of the girl--simply a blur if one had been paying attention. Snow lay in wait around a corner, listening intently to the sound of Kiara’s trainers scuffing against the pavement.

As Kiara rounded the corner, so too did Snow, until they had practically run into each other. Snow gave a little theatrical shout, and put her hand over her unbeating heart.

“Oh! Kiara! It's just you, thank god. You startled me.”

KIARA: Snow appeared out of nowhere. ‘Course, it could have been Kiara’s fault-- she had her eyes glued to the sidewalk as she kicked the pebble over the cracks, as she tried to go over her lines. She had most of them down by now since there really were only a handful, but it was something to do, something to murmur softly under her breath, which made her feel less alone as she idled home.

And then Snow just popped into thin air right in front of her. Kiara started too, trainers giving a squeak as she stopped in her tracks. She didn’t shout the way Snow did. She didn’t make a peep. Fear for Kiara often meant becoming very, very quiet.

But then it passed and her grin broke across her face, the blush already crawling over her cheeks.

Because it was Snow. By all intents and purposes, her best play-friend, who often popped over for a quick chat. Kiara was, like, ninety percent sure the girl just saw her as a little-sister type or something, but Kiara didn’t care. Every time she wandered over, smiling and sweet, Kiara had basked in her friendship.

Maybe now she wouldn’t have to walk alone after all!

“Oh-- sorry,” she said and giggled a little. “I was definitely not paying attention. I don’t even think I saw you leave,” Kiara mentioned. She thought about it, but-- no, she didn’t recall Snow coming by to say goodbye. Which she did sometimes.  “Swynlake is a bit creepy at night though, innit?”

SNOW: No, she wouldn't have seen Snow leave, would she? That just made Snow smile at the poor girl, though it was a small and controlled smile. So silly, so naïve. Not that it was that strange to miss someone leaving, but, she still prided herself on being able to sneak around unnoticed. She was worried that the small town had made her rusty, made her let her guard down too much and get comfortable.

She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and then crossed her arms, as if warding off a chill (which was impossible because vampires did not get cold, or hot.)

“Yes,” Snow nodded. “It can be.”

Pausing, she chewed on her lip--looking around to scan the streets. They were empty; perhaps it was the rumbling of thunder in the distance that made them wary. Or perhaps they sensed creatures on the hunt tonight.

“I must say I am awful glad I ran into a friend, though.” She reached out and gave Kiara’s shoulder a squeeze (over her shirt sleeve, of course.) Twisting her face into a frown, she sighed. “Eva and I got into a fight, which is why I did not say goodbye to you. I left early and I have not found the courage to go home yet.”

KIARA: Instantly, Kiara’s face fell for her friend, eyebrows pulling down. She tilted her head, drew in a breath and sighed it out to mirror Snow’s own. Another fight, the sigh seemed to say, just as the sigh also said I’m so sorry.

And Kiara was. She remembered the first time Snow told her about Eva. Kiara had poked and prodded for more details and heard a lot about their courtship and romance. She’d spotted Eva, too, in the theatre-- as stunning as Snow, though Snow was rather soft in the same way that Eva’s beauty was sharp-- and had watched them exchange glances and smiles. She kind of wanted to be them, you know? Like, they were so obviously in love, at least to Kiara, and she had no idea why they kept getting into fights. Love was supposed to be enough.

But that’s how it was for her and Tiana too. Only Tiana wouldn’t even look at her.

“Man, again? I’m really sorry,” she said to Snow. Now it was her turn to reach out and squeeze her arm. “You wanna talk about it? I think Elsa’s place is still open if you wanted to get ice cream or something.”

Yup-- ice cream and talking. It might not solve Snow’s problem, but in Kiara’s experience, it definitely did temporarily numb the frustration and heartache.

SNOW: At the offer of ice cream, Snow’s lips twitched up.

The smile seemed to say: oh, what a splendid idea! But what it really meant was: that was easy.

The ice cream shoppe was near the lake which was near the edge of the woods, which would be their destination for the evening, whether Kiara knew it or not. Now, how to get her to actually go into the woods with her? Snow knew enough about Kiara now to know she probably couldn't entice her to cheat. Kiara mooned all starry-eyed over Snow and Eva. Which was kind of hilariously cute, in its innocent way.

But, there were other ways.

“It’s all right, really. Just a little spat. I'm probably being overly sensitive.” Snow waved a hand about her head. “Ice cream sounds like an excellent idea, Kiara,” Snow said, though she tempered her voice, didn't want to seem too excited. “I would love to go get ice cream with you.”

She turned fluidly on her heel and took a step towards the lake, waiting to make sure Kiara was following, and then continuing on when Kiara fell in step with her.

KIARA: Kiara had to bite her tongue at Snow’s comment. Usually, when Snow came to complain to Kiara--and it felt like it happened more lately-- it was always a ‘little spat.’  And they were, Kiara figured, because the next day Snow was always cheerful again, and dismissing herself just as she did now. And then came the next ‘little spat’ and it was the same cycle, all over again.

Kiara would never tell Snow to break up with Eva. Because, uh, again-- those glances? And the smiles? The way they were around each other? Kiara knew love and they were in love. But after a while, a spat wasn’t a spat. A spat was a symptom.  They probably needed to have some big knock-down, drag-out fight just to get it all out.

But hey, Kiara wasn’t here to give relationship advice. Especially considering her own.

“At least you’re fighting,” she said as she fell into step along Snow, trying to be cheerful as she spoke. “I mean, Tiana’s still barely talking to me. We text mostly.” She snorted into the night air and scuffed the toe of her shoe against the sidewalk, like she’d been aiming to kick something. “So really, I think it’s a -- good sign you’re spatting. Maybe?”

Yup. Always look at the bright side.

SNOW: Right. Kiara’s little relationship was certainly not getting any better. Poor thing. You know, if Snow was working towards making the girl all vulnerable and like putty in her hands, she would’ve told her to break up with Tiana from the very start. See, Eva and hers fighting (even the petty made up fighting) was really never anything. They were just passionate people--who fought. They did not ignore each other (okay, well, except for when Snow ran thousands of miles from her, but hey, she had a pretty good reason).

Avoiding your girlfriend because you didn’t want to tell her you loved her? That was some right fucked up shit, even Snow could admit that.

But the whole heartbroken thing worked to her advantage anyway. So, instead, she leaned slightly into Kiara for a second companionably. “Yes, I think you’re right. It just means she cares. And really it’s over such frivolous things. Like flirting. My Eva is of the jealous sort. She would not be fond of the fact I’m grabbing ice cream with you, but don’t worry, it will be just fine.”

Snow gave her a charming smile. “Besides, she can’t tell me what to do.” She tossed her head back, so her black hair--straightened today--would fall down her back. “And she knows that.”

KIARA: Kiara grinned wider as Snow threw a smile her way. This lady was-- like-- awesome.

Kiara couldn’t put her finger on it really. She just had this presence, an aura, like she could float on air. Even when she was sad, she still appeared strong...resilient, Kiara thought. That’s what Kiara always wanted to be: resilient. She wanted her love for Tiana to be resilient, she wanted their relationship to be resilient, she wanted to bounce back the way that Snow and Eva did, and she wanted to feel that confident-- that her girlfriend couldn’t control her or tell her what to do. Kiara right now walked on eggshells, scared to twitch in the wrong direction to scare Tiana off even further from her.

But not Snow. Snow was resilient. Confident.

Kiara gave a friendly eye roll. “Well that’s just silly of her anyway, on several levels. I dunno, I sort of get jealous sometimes, but-- if my girlfriend loved me like you love Eva?” She looked at Snow, feeling her heart swell, both heavy and weightless at the same time-- she couldn’t describe it. Yearning, maybe.  She wanted so badly to be loved like Snow loved Eva. “Like, if she looked at me the way you look at her? S’bit obvious that you’re not going anywhere. Plus, she wouldn’t really think something like this--” she motioned between the two of them “--is flirting.”

SNOW: So naive. Only what? Sixteen? Seventeen years on this earth? Snow had lived tens of lifetimes more than this girl. She knew love in all its different forms. It was not as simple as Kiara tried to make it out to be. Snow wanted to laugh and explain to her the ignorance by which she spoke. Tell her that when one had loved as long as Snow and Eva had, things changed--and while love was constant, that didn’t mean it was perfect.

That would be giving away a lot more than any twenty-one year old’s wisdom allowed for.

So, instead, she gave a big sigh--forced air into and then back out of her lungs. Felt their emptiness as she did so.

“It is quite a bit more complicated, I am afraid,” Snow informed her companion. A small little smile split Snow’s lips then, her eye twinkling mischievously Kiara’s way. “I do not wish to talk about it any longer--and I do not know about ice cream either.” She tapped a finger to her chin.

“Kiara, do you know anything about rebelling? I’m feeling the urge to break the rules. Something small, of course, but I hate it when Eva tries to keep me under her thumb. Surely there is a way to get back at her that isn’t actually going to hurt her?” Her grin was a bit larger now. She’d smelled the drugs on Kiara before and she smelled them now. Knew in her long, blue hair and fights with her cousin on stage that she was a wild spirit--she only needed to entice her to the woods.

KIARA: Kiara smiled again, slowly, mischievously. If there was one thing she knew about, it was rebelling. Rebellion had been her steadfast stalwart when she had no one. It was what she turned to when she felt trapped, or suffocated, or so angry she wanted to explode and hurt something (sometimes that meant herself). Instead, she acted out. She dyed her hair, she snuck out of the house, she tried a funny new drug with a silly name. She flirted with people way out of her league. She stayed out too late.

Most of these, Kiara thought, were perfectly harmless and exactly the kind of thing that Snow needed. She should feel worse about this though. Because when Kiara didn’t feel like behaving, it meant she was unhappy. And acting out was a temporary fix.

Maybe that’s all Snow needed? Kiara glanced at her. Snow seemed so put together all the time. She reminded Kiara of a porcelain doll. She didn’t seem like the type to know anything about sneaking out or smoking pot or dying her hair. But she could learn. Her smile grew wider.

“Didn’t expect you to say that,” Kiara giggled, teasing just a little. “But yeah, I know some stuff about breaking rules. I mean—you ever gone blonde? You’d look pretty blonde.” Her eyes glittered under the lamplight, as she barely resisted reaching out and touching one of Snow’s beautiful dark locks. “I bet Eva would be pissed—or she might get into it!”  

SNOW: She rolled her eyes, it probably looked playfully--but really Snow was getting bored already. They were quite near the end of the road where it dropped out and turned to a more dirt path, leading down towards the lake and the forest. She could feel her fangs itching. Could smell Kiara’s blood pumping strongly through her veins.

“I was thinking something a little less...permanent,” Snow said, tugging Kiara to a stop, eyes glancing towards the woods and then around the lake, making sure no one was around. It was just them out at this time of night. Which just worked so well for Snow’s benefit. No witnesses. For as long as they’d been walking, not a single heartbeat had sounded like a warning in her ears. It was working almost too perfectly. But Snow was too hungry to really care.

Snow licked her lips and then looked Kiara up and down briefly. Then, their eyes connected. She was quite sure she could suggest her demand rather easily, but everything had gone so smoothly so far, Snow didn’t want to chance her dinner getting cold feet.

“We should go into the forest,” Snow told Kiara sweetly. “I know you’ve got something on you that’ll take all our troubles away. If only momentarily.” Her lips twitched in a catlike grin.

KIARA: And that was another surprise-- Snow could see it as it passed over Kiara’s face, her lips parting and her eyes getting wider. A second later though and she was smiling just as mischievously as before. She even gave a little skip and a chuckle.

“Gosh, didn’t think you’d be the type for that either,” said Kiara. “But yeah, totally. Make Eva worry about you a little.” She nodded. “You ever done it before?”

SNOW: If she had a heart that beat it would’ve skipped one, relishing in the surprise that sprung onto Kiara’s features. Her smile turned up even more in the corners. Too easy. But she was so hungry it didn’t even matter. Kiara’s blood smelled heavy and metal and would be hearty on her tongue. She grabbed Kiara’s wrist, starting to drag her excitedly towards the forest.

“Of course I have, don’t be daft,” Snow tossed over her shoulder to the girl. “It has been a while, Eva doesn’t exactly approve of mind altering substances. Except for wine. Eva loves a good, fine, dark red wine.”

KIARA: Snow grabbed her.

Kiara hadn’t seen that coming, not from this rather demure, gentle, sweet woman who Kiara had come to know over the past month.  But Snow was just acting weird in general in Kiara’s opinion. Agreeing for ice cream, then changing her mind-- wanting to ‘rebel’-- suggesting weed after playing like she had no idea what she wanted, when she had asked Kiara for ideas. It felt all too strange, the wrist-grab tipping her off as Kiara stumbled a few steps after her. She had no idea what was going on, but she definitely didn’t think Snow was being honest with her.

So she tried to dig in her heels and pull her wrist away. “Whoa, no rush--” she uttered from behind her. “Um-- you--you okay?”

SNOW: Kiara tried to pull away and Snow’s hand constricted around Kiara’s wrist. She could break the poor feeble thing if she wanted, but for now it’d just be bruised and battered, strained even, perhaps, if the girl didn’t stop struggling.

It was like toting an angry kitten behind her, she barely had to pay the girl any mind. Except for her voice. That she could use. Kiara could roar, she could scream, she could rouse attention. So, after only walking one or two steps more, Snow stopped. Spun on her heel. Yanked Kiara close to her so that she could catch the girl’s dark eyes even in the dim light of the trees they’d just broken through. It was dark, but Snow could still see perfectly fine. Could smell the dampness of the earth and hear Kiara’s heart pulsing soundly in the thin skin of her neck.

Once she’d snatched the girl’s gaze, had their eyes locked together--she spoke. She commanded. “You will not scream. You will not make a noise. You will not fight me. You will do exactly as I tell you. And when this is over; you will forget you even saw me at all tonight.”

Her hand clenched tighter on Kiara’s thin wrist. Really it was so fragile.

KIARA: One second of fear.

That was all Kiara got-- one second. It raced through her, curled its fist around her heart, and clammed up her muscles so she felt as still as stone. Depending on the fear, Kiara could be many type of animals, see--a fighter or a fleer. But in this case, the fear came quick and Snow’s grip around her wrist was tight enough to hurt. She felt like she was staring into the face of her stepfather again, as he grabbed her. So it wasn’t about fighting or fleeing, just enduring. Just playing dead.

One second of fear, and maybe one day she’d be able to remember how it flashed like lightning and how she realized she was in danger. Maybe she’d remember her brain trying to pick between fleeing or fighting or playing dead and maybe she’d regret the choice.

But the hand moved on the clock, the second vanished, and Snow’s voice spread over her as thick and hot as cement. She could feel that voice flowing through her veins, pumped through her blood. The words tickled, and then they comforted, and Kiara’s tense body gave way. Her shoulders went entirely slack.

Snow’s grip wasn’t so tight and scary anymore. Kiara didn’t want to fight at all. She wanted to listen and give herself over.

She nodded and smiled gently at Snow, but didn’t speak.

SNOW: “Good,” Snow whispered gently now, her own mood flipping as quickly as Kiara’s.

She reached up and moved some of Kiara’s hair away, smoothing it down behind her shoulder, tilting the girl’s head with a finger--exposing her neck. The vein pulsed subtly, Snow’s sharp eyes could see the flutter of skin. Her mouth salivated.

Tugging Kiara along behind her, Snow traveled deeper into the woods. Off the path, far enough where no one would find them. Thunder rumbled in the distance. It would rain soon. Hopefully, Snow could make it home before then. Not that she would be suspected anyway, but tracking mud into the house would piss Eva off.

Eventually she found a spot where a few trees pressed close together, the underbrush thick.

Snow’s fangs dropped with a hiss from the woman, almost pleasurable as they broke through the skin--tickling as they descended. She licked over one of them, feeling the sharp point on the tip of her tongue.

Kiara was glassy eyed, still had that dopey smile on her face, pliable beneath Snow’s hands and lips.

She pressed her up against the rough bark of the tree, not caring if the bark scratched at Kiara’s bare neck and arms. Her fingers shook slightly as she position herself, wedging a knee between Kiara’s legs and moving so they were chest to chest. Snow breathed in Kiara’s scent, all that gold and sunshine inside of her. It was intoxicating.

Truly, there were not many people who smelled as appetizing. And less and less as the years went by.

Snow was going to savor this.

She pressed her nose right up against Kiara’s cheek, where she could smell the blood behind her eyes and beneath her thin skin, in the pink of the girl’s lips and her tongue and mouth all red and alive with warmth. She was so, so warm. Snow always forgot how warm humans were until she was up against one of them like this, their heat awakening the blood that lay stagnant in her own veins. Her lips moved just to the side, kissing Kiara’s lips lightly.

The urge to bite down and suck was strong, but Snow swallowed against her dry throat and moved down Kiara’s chin, trailing her tongue cold and wet, like an ice cube melting, down the girl’s jawbone.

Making her way slowly downwards, she touched her lips to the thrumming carotid artery, felt it vibrate over the sensitive skin of her mouth. Snow wasn’t able to contain the hunger much longer. She snaked an arm behind Kiara’s neck, using that hand to tilt the girl’s head up and away, exposing all that sensitive flesh. Her other hand curled around Kiara’s shoulders.

There was a split second, a moment of letting all that hunger become all-consuming, and then--she bit down.

Blood poured quickly into her mouth, and Snow drank, sinking her fangs in deeper. She did not move her head too much--Snow had never been a messy feeder. It was hard to remove bloodstains and she was of the opinion that a messy, ripped artery made for blood that was not as fresh-tasting.

As it was, Kiara’s blood was everything its scent promised. Warm as sunlight glinting of Snow’s pale skin, except now it filled her up, warming her on the inside, invigorating her. She lost herself in the taste, moaning slightly as she bit harder down, lips spreading against the girl’s throat, tongue collecting every drop. Snow should’ve stopped after just a minute or so, but she kept going until she felt the girl go limp, sliding slightly down the tree trunk. Her pulse got thready, the blood flowing slower to Snow’s lips.

She would’ve kept going.

Snow wanted to keep going.

And then a twig snapped.

Her fangs ripped out of the girl’s neck, leaving two perfect holes behind.