Three days passed while Lenard laid unconscious, recovering from the trauma; both recent and that which had been building up over the last decades. Eventually his coma turned to slumber and although he was frequently restless, he clearly needed the sleep.
Asphodel spent much of her waking hours never leaving his side except to attend to some of her own duties and to get food, and she would in fact sleep on a pallet they had moved into the room they'd set aside for him. The bed was large enough for both of them, but she did not want to disturb him or to presume on his consent.
At this moment she was sitting a chair pulled up to the head of his bed, occasionally glancing up from her book to gaze at him in concern. If he did not wake up soon they would need to start trying to feed him...but maybe it was best that he slept while his body tried to get over his addiction? Surely he'd be suffering if he was awake...she put her book down on her lap and turned to the nightstand to pick up the damp cloth, dipping it in the still warm water and wringing it out before wiping his forehead again.
"Any sign that he's waking up anytime soon? I still have questions for him, dear."
Ashopdel looked up towards the door. Standing in the doorway was her surrogate mother and the Overlord in charge of the settlement. Melisende Sentinal; she had been a vampire before being slain in 1808 and had been a sinner in hell for over 200 years.
Melisende was much shorter than the average sinner at 5’3” but she carried herself with confidence and high boots. She was as pale skinned as when she was alive, the pallor barely warmer than that of a corpse. She had vivid dark red eyes with a darker sclera and a slit pupil; similar to her vulpine features were the ink black vulpine ears on her head and her matching tail, Her equally dark hair, black with red highlights was pulled back in a dragon braid. Her legs were digitigrade and ended in paws although she usually wore thigh-high boots. She had a pair of smooth crimson horns sprouting from the crown of her head and curving back and they ended in blackened tips. She had carved into the base of each horn her old family emblam.
As usual she was wearing what amounted to a glorified brassiere and a micro-mini skirt over a garter belt (when she didn't even wear garters), and she was not in the least ashamed of her many scars, especially the most prominent across her abdomen from her death. Her wings, an angelic variety with feathers in a gradient from a pale rose pink to a darker reddish-gray, were currently folded away and transformed into a mink-like jacket, the kind rich debutantes might wear.
"Oh, Meli...he's...stirring more. His consciousness is nearer to the surface with every hour that passes, I'm certain he'll awaken soon." Asphodel replied softly.
