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cw: pet whump, box boy universe/bbu adjacent, recovering whumpee, Institutionalized slavery, brainwashed/conditioned whumpee, memory loss/amnesia
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Swallowing down a gulp of thick spit, Prince stared with an unblinking gaze down at his clammy feet. He took one step, then one more, rocking back and forth on his toes.
The flooring - wood with a dark wash, not at all like another version of white tile - was cold to the touch, just as that of his sir’s home constantly was. To his relief, nothing bad happened - no pain or hurt came along with the step. Merely a switch from rug to wood.
It wasn’t a very important feat considering he’d been out of his real bedroom for days, he’d even been in several other rooms since then. Still, there was a flicker of something inside of him. While unfamiliar, he recognized it as pride.
The walls were green. No longer violently white like the facility, his sir’s room, and the inside of his mind, but a simple, soft green that blossomed warmth from his chest and sparked a glitter in his brightening face. He scanned the dark, unlit hallway, taking in the mere sight of another color. Fingers brushing the bejeweled collar sat around his neck, he fiddled with one of the emerald pieces.
Prince stole a glance back inside the room, just for a quick bit of a second, seeing to ensure his companion was still fast asleep. Whatever illness had caught up with him had successfully rendered him bed bound, but even so Prince knew well the other pet would stay loyal to his master’s wishes and never allow him the freedom to leave his side. He didn’t trust these people, and Prince didn’t necessarily blame him.
“Hello.”
Sipping in a sharp gasp Prince recoiled, stumbling back into the doorway with wide, startled eyes. He took quick notice of the figure standing tall before him, holding a gentle smile over a scruffy beard. He always had trouble telling if those were genuine - even if he realized the man’s definitely reached his eyes when no one else's ever had - thus holding himself in a shielded stance.
“You’re up early.”
“Y- yes, sir.” He stumbled, taking a scratch under the thick collar that still sat around his throat. Soon enough he realized he’d seen the man prior, helping out with the other pet’s diseased predicament. Even so, he maintained the distance between them. “I’m supposed to be.”
The man hummed in agreement, accompanied by a curt nod. “Would you like to come out further? Maybe to the kitchen? I’m making pancakes.” He gestured behind him to the soft, almost unheard sizzle of food that made Prince’s mind swim with hunger. Him and his companion hadn’t eaten nearly enough in the past days.
“Do… um, do you want… me to?” It wasn’t an order, rather a question, and Prince wasn’t good at those. He didn’t know the right answer, or if there was any answer at all because it was really a trick. Maybe he had already made a mistake by leaving the bed, and he was to be punished either way.
“I’d love it, but only if you’d like to.”
With an almost invisible nod, Prince resumed standing, still hunched over and creating a wall with his shoulders. It was difficult to force himself to move, and he waited until the man began walking to begin himself, stopping just as he did. Awkwardly, he stood in the middle of the room.
I’m doing it, I’m doing it, I’m doing it, his mind blared, gaze flying across the room to take in every inch. He’d never been in a kitchen before. Everything was so new and so exciting and so horrifying, a lump forming big in his throat. It was exhilarating, and yet at the same time he couldn’t wish more to return to the safety of his sir’s room right then and there.
The man grabbed a spatula from the drawer beside him, turning his attention back to the task at hand. “You can sit wherever you like. Or stand, of course, if you like that better.”
The order - again - wasn’t clear enough to tell him what answer was correct, anxiousness bubbling up from Prince’s belly. Somewhere on the floor must have been where he should have sat, he knew that much, furniture was only ever an option if he was on his sir’s lap, and the man wasn’t sitting himself, so that was already a no go.
Taking the only course of action he could muster with a furiously beating heart, Prince plopped down to a kneel right where he stood. No yelling or anger proceeded, only silence as the man flipped his food, so he must have done something right.
“How are you feeling about being here?” The man asked, as if trying to start conversation. Prince was not made for anything more than simple chatter, he was in no shape or form a companion designation, so he was well unused to inquiries. He was merely filling the silence, Prince had to remind himself, almost making the mistake to think the man actually cared how he felt.
“Uh, uhm-,”
“It’s alright if you don’t know yet,” he added, “Most don’t.”
“I, uhm, I… miss my sir.” Prince admitted, voice hushed low to whisper. It was true, and the mere realization of no longer being with his sir, locked away in his room with the promise of love and safety, rocked Prince to his core. Swallowing, he silently choked back an unwelcome oncoming wave of emotion. He’d gotten good at doing so.
“A lot of rescues feel the same way. Not all, but a good chunk.”
“…Rescues?”
Pushing the crook of his glasses upward with a knuckle, the man’s toothy little smile returned. “That’s who this safehouse is for. People - like you - who we’re rescuing from the wru system. So, rescues.”
The why sat atop the tip of Prince’s tongue, never to spill over into reality. He didn’t need to know why, didn’t need to ask so many questions like he always did. He didn’t need to know. Knowing was for the owner, not the pet, and pets that wanted to know were far too annoying.
He already knew why, anyway.
Prince blinked, nearly licking his lips as the man transferred the fluffy, delicious looking, and smelling, food off of the pan and onto a plate. His master had only ever made him pancakes on their anniversary, preferring Prince to eat a healthier breakfast as his usual. Of course, the pancakes weren’t for him, he had to remind himself.
Good, pretty boys don’t eat trash like that.
“Y’know what? I just realized I don’t even know if I’ve properly introduced myself yet.” The man laughed heartily, similar to his sir, but with a tender tint to it that reduced any intimidation. It was almost nice. “Yesterday was too hectic, and for that I am sorry. You can call me Oscar.” He paused, looking to somewhere else before his gaze returned. “And that is Edith.”
“Oh!” Flinching back, Prince was startled to find a woman standing mere feet away, adorned in a gently lavender nightgown as she waved. “Hello, dear! I had no idea you were sat right there!” Her face held almost the exact same grin as the man’s did, even if their appearances were distinctly separate.
She had a small yet still larger than normal gap between her two front teeth, one Prince knew his sir would have hated. But he would have hated all of this. “Prince, is it?”
He hung his head low, bangs falling before his eyes and covering a good portion of his flushed face. “Yes, sir.”
“You’re up early!” She giggled, pressing a short yet honeydew kiss to the man - no, Oscar’s - cheek, standing on her toes to reach his face.
“That’s what I said!” The two chuckled in a mixture of joy, a wonderful sound Prince had never before graced his ears. Such a magical noise it was, that almost he wished to join in. “We’re always up earlier than the rest of the house. Just two early birds.”
Early bird, Prince carefully mouthed. Somehow the saying was more to him, like he’d surely heard it before, even when he couldn’t recall his sir ever saying something so silly.
You’ve always been my little early bird, just like your brother.
“So, Prince, have you thought of any names yet?” Oscar asked, yet again, another question. He must like those, Prince thought, blinking himself out from his head. This one being even stranger than the last.
Edith clapped her hands together. “Oh, yes! Names!”
“It’s okay if you haven’t, of course! Maybe you can try and come up with one while you eat.” Edith said, bumbling about the kitchen as the shuffle of her fluffy slippers followed her along.
Names. Names? They wanted him to pick himself a name, didn’t they?
He already had a name. His sir so kindly gifted it to him, why would he ever want to get rid of it? Did they not like it? Did they find it ugly?
Was he apprehensive to the idea? Surely not, he would go with whatever they told him. Though, a want for one was there, no matter how much he thought wrong of himself for having such a thing.
He shook his head. It didn’t matter what he wanted. If they wanted him to pick a new name - which was already odd, having him pick his own name - then he would. He would be a good boy for them.
After a time of intense thought, Prince found a pair of socks slipped over feet before him, Oscar setting down a plate covered with a stack of beautiful cakes. “Here you go.”
“Would you like some syrup?” Edith exclaimed, face muffled by the inside of a cabinet.
So… so they were for him. His stomach grumbled, loud and clear, mouth watering at the sight.
Oh, did Prince remember syrup. His face, unbeknownst to him, brightened in awe. He clearly recalled the sweet, saccharine taste that stuck to and coated the inside of his mouth the first and only time his sir had ever offered him some. The mere recollection had him drooling. “Yes please, sir. If, uhm, if you would like to let me have some, of course.”
She must’ve noticed his excited anticipation, setting the bottle before him with a bubbly giggle. “Sure, dear, take as much as you’d like.”
Prince watched in fascinated fashion as the liquid dribbled out from the container, covering his breakfast in a layer of sugar. After dowsing his food in syrup, he looked to Edith for approval. He was such a good boy for doing so, even when he wanted to eat so very badly.
She nodded softly, giving him a kind look that hid something else underneath it. “You can eat. It’s okay.”
Immediately he dug in, figuring she wasn’t going to feed him from her hand like his sir did. Grabbing at chunks with his fingers he shoved them down his throat as fast as possible to satiate his hunger, failing to realize how much he actually needed to eat before then. And, God, was it good. The best he’d ever tasted in a good while. Prince was too overwhelmed by his taste buds to even think, especially not of names.
After a beat of devouring his meal, Edith slipped him something else. “Here, a napkin. You’ve got a little something… all over.” She said, and slowly he took it out from her hand, burning red with embarrassment, careful not to touch her skin and risk getting her dirty.
“Thank you sir.”
“You’re very welcome.”
Once his plate was practically licked clean, he sat for a moment as Edith swiped it away and placed it into the dishwasher. “Thank, th- thank you, sirs. Thank you.” Prince repeated, unable to think of any way to fully show his gratitude.
“You’re welcome. It’s the least we could do for you.” Oscar replied, tapping his head beside Edith’s.
“But-,” he started, before swallowing down his utter confusion in favor of a polite and thoughtless kneel. What had he ever done for them that deserved such kindness?
Ever so slightly Prince perked up at the weak sound of doors opening and closing from the other side of the home, bringing him back to reality. “Can… uhm…,” hair falling further into his face he motioned back to the hallway he had come from, “May I… go back to my room, please?”
Oscar gave him a slight nod, prompting him to stagger back to his feet. Edith gave him a little wave as he swiftly tip toed off, one that he discreetly returned. Before he was fully out of earshot, Edith whispered something he desperately hoped he’d heard right.
“It’ll take a while, but I think he’s gonna be just fine.”
I designed Edith soon after Chell, I wanted to expand the characters of my world a bit!
I imagine chell meets Edith with theyre both young, around 16? Shortly after chell runs from home.
Edith helped Chell with things when she could, and chell would rope her into mischief. Like stealing forbidden books from the library for Edith to study in her free time.
I think as adults they stay really close, become a duo known to get in trouble. Mostly for Edith sake. As she grows older her tastes in literature only gets darker, wanting to study all the forbidden magics out there. Chell is all too happy to supply her with the goods.
Kara and Edith are hunted as part of a centuries-old tradition.
3.5k
CWs: non-human whumpee, use of silver on a vampire and werewolf, slavery, hunting for sport, bounty hunting, mentioned murder, hate crime, discrimination, dehumanisation, burning, taunting, bound, broken bones, painful transformation, whumpee thinks caretaker is new whumper, caretaker turned whumpee, whumpee turned caretaker, implied past rape, mentioned panic attack, branding, grief, vigil mention, scared whumpee, expectation/fear of punishment, sadistic whumpers, gore, drinking blood
She should've known better.
That's all Kara can think as the bus grinds to a halt yet again. She should've known better. Tonight's Hunting Night, and everyone knows you don't go out on Hunting Night. Even humans don't, if they can help it, because it's so easy to pretend that, well, you attacked them because you thought they were a glamoured faerie or an untransformed werewolf and it wasn't your fault, really, and although Hunting Night is illegal the police don't care enough to even give cautions. No non-human would ever report an attack anyway.
They should never have gone out. Certainly not in the late afternoon. But the fridge broke, and Edith's blood apparently tastes bad (she won't say so, but the look on her face was proof enough), and she went so long without anything at all that Kara never wants her to make do with sour blood. Kara's food is going off too, she won't be able to eat it all before it's rotten. And on top of all that, Edith seems to believe it's her fault, somehow.
So they had to go and buy UHT mini blood cartons, and ice, and something for Kara to make Edith feel better, and Edith panicked because they were selling blood cartons laced with silver for punishing your vampire (her reading skills are still very rusty, Kara's going to kill whoever fed her them in the past), and then some people's treatment of Edith had reminded Kara of her own slavery and she'd had a panic attack, and everyone was staring and they'd almost left half the shopping behind in their rush to leave before someone called the cops.
And now they're stuck in a traffic jam. They're unlikely to make it back before moonrise, which is when the hunt starts despite being well before sunset, and this year's Hunting Night falls on a full moon.
She checks her watch. 19:00. Definitely won't make it back.
She presses the button, waiting anxiously for the bus to stop.
"We gotta get off an' walk, baby," she mutters to Edith, standing in front of her – slaves aren't allowed to sit in seats on buses if even one passenger objects and she hates it. "Moonrise."
Edith's eyes widen and she follows Kara off the bus when it finally stops, full rucksack on her shoulders.
Kara takes her hand and hurries along the pavement, taking a quick turn into an alley she knows far too well.
"Okay. Right. It ain't far, that bus takes the long way round, but we might not make it 'ome in time. If anyone attacks, Edie, run like 'ell. Ya got it? I can defend meself, jus' get outta 'ere."
"Yes, Mistress Kara."
Kara... isn't sure Edith will leave, actually, but if she pushes she'll get cowering or begging or freezing that they don't have time for, so she just nods.
"Good."
They're close when Edith does actually freeze, glancing up at the sky. Kara feels the heart palpitations she always gets when her body's partway between one form and another, at the start of her transformation, body chemicals shifting. She drops Edith's hand and backs away slightly, gritting her teeth.
Her bones and muscles crack as they break and reform, and at first it's not too bad, it's a bit like stretching, but then it gets stronger and stronger until she can't do anything but let out an ear-splitting scream. Halfway through, the scream turns into a howl, as her snout lengthens, vision changing.
She pants as she feels the aftershocks of the change, slowing down but still there. Edith is frozen entirely, eyes wide.
Vampires really don't smell good.
Kara's instincts are more animalistic like this, but as she's got older, she can recognise people, control herself a bit. When she was fifteen she may well have attacked Edith. Or perhaps not – the vampire is definitely in her pack.
Someone laughs from the end of the alleyway, and she shrinks into the shadows, Edith following.
"You might be hiding but I know you're down there! We heard you change! Come out, come out, little werewolf."
Kara sees them. There's five, and they smell like sweat and cheap aftershave and silver. And there's bloodlust in there too, excitement, the thrill of the hunt.
In a fluid motion, she grabs Edith, swings the vampire onto her back, and bounds the other way down the alley. She just runs, with no regard to where she's going. She has to get away.
She skids to a halt as the smell of silver hits her nose, so much of it, and more humans too. She hears a *thud* and hopes that Edith's okay. She emits a low growl and backs away, keeping an eye on the three heavily-beweaponed humans, low to the ground with ears pinned flat to her head.
Then there's laughter behind her, humans she somehow missed, and she yelps as her tail is pulled, spinning to see the five humans from the other alley.
"You were right about blockading these alleys. Two already. Tonight's gonna be a good night, I can feel it in my bones."
Kara snarls, lip curling so they can see her teeth. An instinctive movement that shows one of her greatest weaknesses to the hunters. What seems to be their ringleader guffaws.
"Oh, this is gonna be easy. It's no fun, it can't even fight back."
"Still adding it to the tally though. We've got ourselves a stray werewolf. How many points is that again?"
Edith steps between her and the humans with a growl. "Stay away from her."
Two humans grab Edith as she swings a punch, pulling her off to the side and throwing her rucksack and ear defenders into a skip. She struggles desperately, more than Kara's ever seen. More than she thought possible from Edith. But despite the vampire's strength, she doesn't manage to get away before silver ropes are wound around her arms, binding them together. Then four of the humans can hold her still.
"Guard-class vampire," reports one, looking at her bracelet. "Dunno whose it is though. Kara... Evans."
"Who cares? Must be a runaway. We need to mark these two for proof it was us."
"Might be safer to just mark the bodies."
"Now, where's the fun in that?"
Kara tries to rise slightly, in preparation for another escape attempt, but before she can even process it her skin's burning. Her snout's first, and then her body and she tried to shake it off, scratch it but that just burns her pads, it doesn't come off and she howls in agony. She can't hear or feel anything else beyond the burning that's everywhere, all-encompassing, completely overwhelming. It's so much and she can't stop it.
_
Edith watches, horrified, as the diluted silver hits Mistress Kara. She howls and immediately tries to get it off, scratching at her fur and turning endlessly.
She won't manage it. It'll burn and burn and eventually burn through skin and flesh and bone if it's left on long enough, that liquid sticks, and then her arms and legs will dissolve, and they'll taunt her, place blood where she could reach it if she had arms, if she could stand. And, well, if she only managed to control herself better, this wouldn't be happening. She might even be allowed some of that blood. A few licks off the basement floor would be enough, please, she's not sure she can keep going.
She hears an animalistic whine and jolts. She's not there, she's in the present, with the hunters, and that's just as dangerous.
Her arms are burning from the rope but it's not about her. Mistress Kara is being hurt and the hunters are going to kill them both and there's nothing she can do about it.
The hunters' laughter is raucous without any ear protection, but she can't do anything to help and she isn't about to show them that it hurts. She knows what humans do when she shows weakness.
"It's not going anywhere now. Time for the marking. Hold the vampire's face."
Edith's head is grabbed by multiple hands, all over, suffocating, sweaty hands and too much contact as a circular silver thing that looks like a branding iron is positioned above her cheek. She's been branded before, but she can't get away as the silver stamp comes down on her cheek.
The pain takes her breath away, she can't even scream as the silver's pressed in and held until it's nearly burned through her cheek.
"Stinks."
"Yeah, well, get used to it or go home, there's gonna be a lot tonight. Now for the werewolf. Paint it. It is an animal, after all."
A can's chucked across and some of the humans guffaw as one of them starts to spray.
"Should tag their ears as well. We're slaughtering them like livestock apparently, after all. Isn't that what those activists say?"
"Those idiots should be hunted too. Their views are too backward to let them live."
Amanda. They're talking about Amanda and others like her. That's the final straw for Edith. The hunters have slackened their grip and she focuses, ripping her arms free. She grabs the nearest hunter and sinks her fangs into his neck.
Oh, she hasn't had blood directly from a human in so long. Shame it's tainted by bitter alcohol but it's so warm, warm and pumping. She doesn't have time to drink the full hunter, instead turning to the next.
She's quick enough that they don't start screaming and fighting until she's on her third hunter.
It all becomes a bit of a blur after that. She comes out of a daze, stomach full of warm human blood, injured a little possibly, when the remaining hunters are all dead on the ground.
Good.
She's surprised she managed it actually, she thought she was trained better. But Mistress Kara was in danger.
Edith approaches Mistress Kara, careful not to touch any silver on the way. She's still pawing at the diluted silver, and Edith touches her snout cautiously. She shouldn't touch her owner in this way but she has to. The silver burns as she attempts to brush some off.
"Mistress Kara? Are you here?"
Mistress Kara yips at her, still pawing at her snout. The hunters didn't manage to get much spray paint on her before Edith killed her, that's good. About the only good thing, aside from them not being dead.
"We need to go home. Can you lead the way? This vampire does not know it."
Mistress Kara stops pawing herself and stares at Edith, and Edith repeats herself calmly. After a few minutes she seems to understand.
Well, almost.
She sniffs the air, and limps her way over to a large skip. Edith follows.
Oh. She didn't realise where Mistress Kara's belongings had gone. She thought the hunters had taken them or maybe she just hadn't thought at all. She pulls them out, swinging the backpack over her shoulders, holding her ear defenders in one hand.
They're not too bad. A bit smelly, and damp, but they'll be okay.
"Thank you, Mistress Kara."
Mistress Kara yips again, pressing her snout up against Edith's palm, and starts limping down the road.
Mistress Kara was right earlier, it isn't far, and Molly comes bounding up when Edith unlocks the door. She strokes the dog's head and drops the backpack in the hallway, grateful at least that they didn't bring Molly. Molly isn't hurt.
"Hello Molly. Mistress Kara, Edith is going to wash your fur, if that is acceptable, and then comb it out. It should get the silver out. Edith has done it on hair before, but not fur." Edith pauses momentarily. "Edith does not know how much you understand in this form, but please be lenient on this vampire. Edith understands this vampire needs to be punished for pretending she has agency but it is an emergency."
Mistress Kara whines, and Edith leads the way to the bathroom, Mistress Kara's snout pressed into her cupped hand. She wonders whether it's something to do with the familiar smell, if it's somehow distracting or grounding.
"Edith will make the shower warm but you do not have to wait, Mistress Kara." She strips down to her underwear and picks up the grooming brush, stepping into the shower. The water is freezing when she turns it on, but she stands under it anyway, washing off the silver that's made its way onto her. Slaves shouldn't waste warm water on themselves. But she has to wash herself, because it's more effective to help Mistress Kara if she is not also burning.
That's what she tells herself anyway. She shouldn't be cleaning herself without Mistress Kara's permission, if Mistress Kara wants her to stay with silver on her for any reason that's her prerogative. Mistress Kara will punish her later for her audacity, she's sure. She has to.
Mistress Kara bounds into the shower before it's warm and stands under the shower, turning round and round in circles. She lets out a happy yip.
"Edith will brush your silver out, Mistress Kara," says Edith, "will you stay still so this vampire can?"
Mistress Kara stills, vibrating in place and sticking her snout out. Edith takes the hint and carefully rubs it with a cloth, taking care to reach everywhere and get out every fleck and drip of silver.
The bright red burns stay. They'll be there when she transforms back to human form, Edith knows, and she only hopes they don't scar.
Then she cleans Mistress Kara's ears, careful of the burns that make her owner let out quiet, pained whines. It's not fair, she's so nice, far nicer than she should be to a vampire like Edith, but she keeps being hurt.
"Edith is going to brush your fur now if that is acceptable."
Mistress Kara tilts her head up into the stream of water, washing her eyes out. Edith crouches down and brushes her methodically. She uses Mistress Kara's nice shampoo and conditioner, careful to catch all the snags in her fur and all the silver, liquid and solid and scraps. So many strands are coated and Edith has to scrape them out by hand. It hurts but she doesn't mind, it's what she's for. The pain's nowhere near as bad as the burning brand on her cheek anyway. The transferred silver flecks are washed off now, but it still burns.
She's trying not to think about the brand. If the silver had been pressed there much longer she'd have a hole in her cheek, and she could start to heal but she can't drink without Mistress Kara's permission. Her healing will be slower, then.
She gently holds the werewolf's paws up as she cleans them one by one, gentle with the toes that have been cut, scrubbing the edges of her pads thoroughly. There's not so much silver on them, only the bits she transferred herself, but anything on the ground could've been covered in silver, Edith doesn't know. So she cleans everything carefully.
"Is there anything else this vampire needs to clean?" Edith asks uncertainly. In answer, Mistress Kara jumps out of the shower and shakes herself off. Edith rubs her with a towel, and then quickly towels herself off and dresses. Mistress Kara won't want to see her naked if she doesn't have to. Right? Right.
She is not sure where the burn cream is kept, unfortunately. She hopes Mistress Kara can forgive her.
"You should rest, Mistress Kara. You will be all right now." Mistress Kara nudges her hand, and she's taken aback, despite all the past kindness she's received from her. "You would like this vampire to come with you?" The werewolf yips. "This vampire will come then."
Mistress Kara bounds ahead and jumps onto her bed. Edith tries to lie on the floor or at least at the foot of Mistress Kara's bed, but Mistress Kara tugs at her until she's in the middle, the werewolf curled around her.
It's very warm and comfortable, and Mistress Kara falls asleep quickly. Edith has to resist the urge to join her – although she has finished most of her job, she cannot leave anything incomplete. It doesn't matter how little she's slept recently, or how comfortable she is here, she is a slave and needs to finish working before she's allowed to rest. Besides, Mistress Kara didn't say she was allowed to sleep.
_
There's sunlight filtering through the curtains when Kara wakes.
Her memories of the night before are vague at first, although she remembers the terror and pain. The longer she's awake in her human form though, the clearer the memories become. The hunters. Edith defending her and being hurt for it. The silver. The smell of Edith helping her back to herself. Edith tending to her.
Kara's face and hands still sting, despite Edith's best efforts. The injuries will heal with time, but they might scar. She'll have to check them over.
She's so much less stiff than usual after a transformation, though. Edith didn't just remove the silver, she did it so thoroughly, so carefully. Even her tailbone isn't aching as much as it should after her tail was yanked like that, and her hair is shiny and so soft. It gives Kara hope that the vampire's not just scared of her, she might actually care too.
God, Kara hopes so. She doesn't want to force Edith to stay with someone she's scared of. She'd never want that. She is not like her owner was.
A thought strikes her suddenly. Oh. Oh, god. She's curled up, in her human form, naked around Edith. She scrambles to her feet, face heating, remembering her insistence that Edith sleep with her. Okay. Okay. Edith won't think anything of it, right?
She hopes fervently that she doesn't. The first (and last) time Kara accidentally made an innuendo about having sex with Edie, she'd panicked and hidden for a week.
Time to look at her injuries, she supposes. The vampire's still asleep, and she heads to the bathroom, fully expecting to need to clean it. There was a lot of mess. But it's sparkling.
Oh, Edie. Of course. Kara feels a pang of gratefulness mixed with sorrow. She's not sure she could deal with cleaning it today but at the same time, she knows why Edie did it. Why she would've thought it was her job. She would've cleaned instead of sleeping.
Kara tilts her head to either side as she looks in the mirror. Her injuries don't look too bad. Edith must've gotten most of the silver off before it had a chance to burn her too much. It takes longer to burn her than Edith, after all.
She pads groggily into the kitchen and picks up a couple of blood cartons for Edith. She won't have eaten without express permission either.
When she gets back to her room, Kara tucks her weighted blanket around the small vampire, smiling helplessly as she pulls it tighter around herself, nuzzling into it. She's so sweet, Kara doesn't understand how anyone could want to harm her.
She needs to contact Amanda, tell her they're safe. Her phone was in her rucksack, and Edith unpacked that. Where would she have put it?
On the bedside table, apparently. Kara slides it onto her hand, muttering into it until she has a coherent message for Amanda. She's just sent it when she notices the breaking news alert.
Oh, god, why does she leave those on? Actually she knows why, but last night was not the night for them.
Vampire nest destroyed in Hunting Night raid
She sinks down on the floor under the window, hugging her knees to her chest and watching Edith. She doesn't even bother to open the article, slamming her phone into the carpet with a soft thump. She knows what it'll say.
She's exhausted. All the hate... it's too much. How can humans hate so many species so viciously, so thoughtlessly? How do they have the capacity for it? To kill and maim so many, and barely mention it, barely care. They don't even bother to try and get the terms right.
Not all humans, she reminds herself forcefully. Not all. People like Amanda... they care. But they don't always make it out alive.
She pulls herself up small, blinking back tears. Today they rest. Today the volunteers recover the bodies and count the missing and mark the dead. Kara and Edith will both start to heal, some scars fading faster than others. They're luckier than some. At least they're both still here.
Tomorrow the community remembers. The names go on the wall, in a vigil broadcast live from the Isle of Man, and they remember, and they grieve. Those they knew, those they didn't. Humans, non-humans. The vampire den on the news will only be the start of last night's casualties.
And then they'll try their best to survive another year.
Kara looks down at Edith, snuffling in her sleep, and amends that sentence.
She will keep Edith safe for another year.
And another, and another. And hopefully they can both stay safe for the rest of their lives.
My dnd character Edith, a madlad necromancer who's not allowed to speak on behalf of the party.
The sadcat owl came out by accident, but it's been one of the more memorable parts of the campaign, and i'm gonna miss it when it's over :(
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Okay so I promise I’m normal okay I promise I promise but
I kinda got inspired to draw her and now she’s a permanent resident in my sketchbook. You saved me from art block and that’s basically the same as saving my life so thanks for that okay bye I promise I’m normal okay I’m normal I’m so normal I’m so—
HIOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT OMGGG HOLY FUCK LOOK ITS MY LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT OMG
I GENUINELY SCREAMED OUT LOUD WHEN I SAW THIS NOTIFICAITON POP UP AND REALIZED WHAT IT WAS HOLY FUCK OMG LOOK ITS HERRR OH MY GODDDDDDDDDDDD
THE AMOUNT OF JOY THIS BROUGHT ME IS UNREAL SCREAMING IS NOT ENOUGH I NEED TO EXPLODE HOLY SHITTTT ITS MY GIRL ITS MY BITCH I LOVE HER HOLY FUCKKKKKK OH MY GODDDD
I CANNOT EXPRESS HOW HAPPY I AM TO HAVE FANART OF ONE OF MY OCS THIS WILL BE SAVED IN MY PHONE AND FAVORITED IN MY GALLERY FOREVER HOLY SHITTT HOLY FUCKKK IM HONORED AND DELIGHTED AND JOYOUS HOLY SHITTTT SHES REAL AND EXISTS OUTSIDE OF MY OWN MIND AND SKETCHBOOK AND SHIT HOLY FUCKKKKK
IM OGING TO END THIS POST HERE BEFORE I KEEP GOING ON FOREVER BUT JUST KNOW THAT I WILL CHERISH THIS FOREVER FOR ALL OF TIME THANK YOU SO MUCH HOLY SHITTT!!!!
