It was one of those late Dorrad days in Tantiac, where it had not rained for nearly a month. The rasping hum of cicadas cut through the devilish heat and the sun floated high and imperious in the sky, nary a cloud in sight. Two small girls made their way through a sea of golden grass, their dark-haired heads bobbing up and down, occasionally pausing to enjoy a gentle breeze that sent ripples through it.
This far from Yandreluul proper, the fields were always overgrown, the ever-encroaching forest looming in the distance, dark and green and threatening. The second, smaller girl spared wary looks at it and made an effort to catch up with the first. "Is it very much farther?" she needled, but her older peer ignored her. Rising from the artificial grassland came the great mushroom-shaped Carpex Trees, molded over centuries to suit the needs of the yasoi who occupied them. Their branches groaned softly and leaves swayed in their upper reaches. Great pools of shadow - oases from the heat - spread outwards from each and tiny figures moved among houses, shops, and rope bridges. The girls were currently in the no-man's land between two of the trees - Loireth and Wendreth - pushing their way through chest-height reeds and detouring around the occasional patch of brambles.
Miret was the name of the younger, and she began to fall precipitously off the pace now. "Tyrel," she gasped, "slow down, please." The first of the two had been enjoying her time in the lead, for she was almost always the one lagging behind. She came to a stop, leaning languidly for a moment on a pair of forearm crutches, and turned. She arched an eyebrow. "What's wrong, Miret? We're almost there. Come on."
"I dunno," she replied in a whiny voice. "I'm tired and you're going too fast." She still hadn't caught up.
"Oh for the love of Oirase, you have two legs, suunei. You should be twice as fast as me." She rested the stump of her right on a crutch handle and waited impatiently.
"You have magic," Miret responded resentfully, panting as she reached her suunei. In truth, they were cousins, but their mothers had been twins, as had their fathers. Tyrel was wilting in the heat as well, to be honest, and it had made her a bit snappy. She forced some calm upon herself. "So do you now, remember? You have to get used to using it."
The younger girl met her eyes, ashamed. "I... know, but I'm not good with it like you are." Unspoken between them were the changes since last year, since Tyrel had been named the living avatar of the goddess Vyshta. There'd been a self-assuredness to her, an assertiveness, and Miret had increasingly felt like her grander cousin's shadow.
"You will be, I promise." She grabbed hold of her crutches again and took a step toward her counterpart. "It's only been like a few weeks." She tried a reassuring smile. "But for now, it's Exi's butt hot. Let's just make a run for Wendreth, huh?" She started moving, boosting her body with magic. "Think you got it in you?"
Miret nodded bravely "I'll try, she mewed, trying to convince herself she could do it. This was weird, though. Tyrel was right. She had never been a fast walker, not since she'd lost her leg years ago. It was always Miret out in front having to wait up for her, maybe less so since the older cousin had gotten her magic and the younger hadn't yet, but still...Come on, Miret. You can do it. Just get there. She felt dizzy, though, and heavy, like her arms and legs weighed twice as much as they should. Her skin burned like it was being slowly cooked and her eyes constantly watered. She blinked away the sensory-numbing glare and squinted. Tyrel was already dashing out ahead gamely, head bobbing in the grassy near distance. Sick, the girl thought, I have to be sick, unless this is just a normal part of getting magic.
Wendreth
♬She barely made it, and the shade was the most blessed thing. All but collapsing, she lay there in the cool dark pool around Wendreth, the grass shorter and well-traveled and tickling the back of her neck. She looked up at the great green branches and the people traveling about the enormous home-tree. The scents of smoke and animals and pollen reached her nose and she breathed. Then, there was the distinctive click-thump of Tyrel's footsteps interrupting the songs of the dowsingjays and the faint sound of voices up above. She turned her head lazily to watch.
Her cousin sat down beside her and pulled a pair of water bottles from her satchel. "Here. Drink. You look like death." She thrust one into Miret's face and the girl pulled herself into a sitting position, taking it and offering a quick "qitoip." They sat there for the next half-minute, drinking in silence, the water rolling greedily down the younger one's throat. "How you feeling now?" Tyrel prodded, concern evident on her face and appreciated by Miret. She paused to think and do an inventory. "Actually," she admitted, "I'm fine." It was weird. "I feel a hundred percent back to normal." She blinked a couple of times. Her eyes were better too. There was a perfunctory smile of support from her cousin. "Good," Tyrel chirped. She grinned conspiratorially. "Thennn... maybe we can still try to make it to Mixto's? We almost never get out to Wendreth and I really want one of those Juuvet-style paint kits. You do too, right?"
That was classic Tyrel: always asking leading questions, getting you to agree with her so you didn't have to say no or look rude. Miret supposed that she did kind of want one of those paint kits, though. They had colours you couldn't get in Tarlon and only Velanii had one so far. Everyone would be jealous. She nodded. "Yeah, 'course I want one." She sniffed and blinked again, rising to her feet. "Let's go, I guess."
Tyrel rose beside her, awkwardly grasping her near-empty bottle and a crutch handle at once. Without asking, Miret relieved her of the former and she made a little noise of thanks. The younger girl didn't really think about it much, but it must've been annoying to never have your hands free when you walked. Walk, they did: halfway around the home-tree to where the pulleys were. There was a short lineup and they could always have just climbed one of the ladders or staircases, but Tyrel was slow on those and the pulleys were fun, so they waited. "Hey, suunei..."
Tyrel twisted to regard her as they moved up a spot. "Mhm?"
"This might be a dumb question, but... She trailed off for some reason, waiting for reassurance, maybe?
"Well, just ask it and we'll know." The older girl rolled her eyes.
Nobody had ever mentioned feeling sick or weird when you first got magic, but Miret's parents were back in Saliac for most of Dorrad and maybe it was something like when you got your first monthly blood that only your mom was supposed to talk to you about. The pause lengthened and they moved up again. Tyrel regarded her expectantly. "Doyougetsickwhenyougetyourfirstmagic?" It came out all at once, and Miret could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. There was no hiding it either. She'd always been pale as a ghost.
Her older cousin seemed taken by surprise. She blinked, fingernails tinkling against the glass of her water bottle as they drummed on it. Then, she shook her head. "Didn't happen to me," she admitted, "though maybe it's different for everyone?" She paused and turned the bottle upside down, draining the last bit of water. "Are you like... feeling sick?"
Miret shrugged awkwardly. "I dunno," she responded, as Tyrel took her empty bottle and shoved it into the satchel with her own. "Like maybe not sick, exactly. I'm just always hungry, but not like 'food hungry', and I feel heavy."
They were next, and the older girl furrowed her brow. "I'll be honest, that's kinda weird." She looked concerned, almost like an adult though, really they were only a tiny bit less than a year apart in age: Tyrel born at the start of the year in bleak, snowy Hundrii, her name meaning 'snow', and Miret at the very end in cool, rainy Somnes, with its dead brown leaves and cloudy skies. "Maybe, when we're done, we can go to the library in Qaloreth and see if there's anything about it?" She smiled reassuringly. "Maybe you have some weird rare mana type that just grows differently."
Then, one pulley was open and, moments later, the one beside it. A weird rare mana type, thought Miret, mind racing as to what it could be. Nobody was as special as Tyrel, of course, but maybe she could be a little bit special too. She smiled and her cousin smiled back as they stepped onto the little wooden rings at the bases of the twin ropes. "Niico," counted the elder, "lan... yr...PEN!" Both released the catch at the same time and the laughed and hollered as they picked up speed, the wind rushing past their faces, hair a pair of long dark streamers behind them. Then, as quickly as it had begun, the pulley ride slowed. The landing platform drew near and they came to a stop, giggling. Miret, perhaps a shade heavier, got there first, and jumped off, Tyrel joining her a moment later. "'Least you beat me at something today," she teased, and the younger girl rolled her eyes.
The two of them made their way to the shoppe and spent the solid next hour trying out all of the various body paint colours, tetsoi stencils, oils, sashes, and hats. There were tiims'archa in dozens of bright colours and little Imiis sloths in cages. Various rare finds from across the world filled the locked display cases and lined the walls behind the counter. Mr. Mixto sat there reading his weekly newsletter, smoke curling softly from the pipe clenched between his lips as dozens of mostly preteen and teenaged girls as well a good smattering of similarly-aged boys fluttered about.
Then, they were done, glow-in-the-dark paint kits secured in Tyrel's now-bulging satchel for the price of ten colacs each. They rode the pulleys down again, running into Chad'amis on the way, who definitely wasn't headed to Mixto's. For some reason, Tyrel talked extra loudly about how cool her new paint kit was when he was close, and she stopped to say hi to him, smiling and rocking back and forth from the ball to the heel of her foot.
Finally, they were back on the ground and edging towards the line where shadow gave way to sunlight. It was into the afternoon now and even hotter, were that possible. The distant trees of the Writhing Wood creaked and moaned as they batted each other's branches away and, presently, a small troop of monkeys peered out from the gloom at their strange bipedal relatives beyond. "Ready, suunei?"
Miret looked out at the vast dry expanse with apprehension. Wendreth was so far from everything else. The only reason anyone came out there was for Mixto's. They'd have to go through Loireth, Exuureth, and either Gaireth or home - Angreth - to get to Qaloreth. Whatever her hesitations, she did not want to be the one slowing them down, so the younger girl nodded. "Ready."
Merciless Sun: Pt. 2
♬The two of them took off, Miret in the lead as usual, wordlessly deciding to just make a run for it and sprint from one oasis of shade to the next. She made it about halfway there before Tyrel passed her. It was all a blur, faint and indistinct. Her head grew heavy, her breath sluggish, and her world swayed. The sun felt like it was peeling her skin back. It hurt and, involuntarily, Miret let out a little whimper. Up ahead, panting slightly, her cousin slowed and turned about, concern in her eyes this time instead of annoyance. She waited for her younger partner to catch up and smiled supportively. "Don't worry," she offered, "We don't have to run. We're almost there anyways." It was a bit of a lie, but not a bad one, and they slogged through the remaining distance until they'd once again reached the shade and blessedly - finally - Miret could feel like her skin hadn't been set on fire.
Tyrel, even with her missing leg and the extra weight of the satchel, seemed tired in only a normal way. The younger girl's stomach began to curl in on itself, though. This wasn't a problem that was going away, and now she felt the hunger again. "Hey," she tried, by way of distraction, "You wanna get something to eat? I'm super hungry." if they pooled funds, they'd have enough for a buudvuud and maybe one of those yanii-style ones with crushed tomatoes.
Tyrel pursed her lips and glanced up at the sun, which was low enough in the sky to be seen from beneath Loireth's canopy now. She shook her head. "I could eat too, but if we stop, we won't make it to Qaroleth on time." She paused. "Is it like... real hunger or that weird not-food hunger you mentioned?"
Miret glanced up at her guiltily and shrugged. "More like the second, I guess, but I'm actually hungry too."
"Suunei, I think we should get to the library. I wanna find out what mana type you have. I'm so sure that's it."
Glumly, Miret nodded and went along with her cousin like she always did. They made for Exuureth and it was at least a bit easier because there were actual trails leading there and other people. Miret burned, though, and her head pounded. Tyrel offered her satchel as something to hold up and protect her from the sun, but the younger girl could barely put one foot in front of the other. As soon as she reached the shade, she collapsed, the burning gradually fading. "I think I'm sick. It's some kind of fever. I have to be sick."
They took a long break before continuing and the shadows lengthened further. Miret could hear her cousin's stomach rumble, but she said nothing. The distance to Gaireth was shorter, but Angreth was... "I don't think I can do it," Miret finally admitted, expecting an exasperated look or some skin-deep encouragement that tried to cover up frustration. There was a long pause where she saw only Tyrel's back. Then, with a sigh, the one-legged girl turned. "It's okay, suunei. You've been really brave." She patted the paints in her satchel. "Think you can make it home with these? You can take your time."
Miret was already feeling somewhat better, having been in the shade, and she nodded tentatively. "I think, the longer a break I take, the better it is." Tyrel nodded back. "Good. Then we'll walk together to Angreth and you go up. I'll continue to Qaroleth and see if I can make it just on time. If they try to tell me no, I'll just be like, 'The Avatar of Vyshta demands it!' or something." She grinned mischievously and Miret so wished that she was going with her. For a moment, anxiety seized the smaller girl. What if this was a regular thing? What if it got worse and she couldn't do stuff with Tyrel anymore, or Velanii, Amiret, Chesuun, or Chad? Her heart began to beat faster with anxiety, but then Tyrel was moving and she had to follow.
She wilted two thirds of the way there and slumped to the ground. Her cousin hovered about, worried and encouraging. She pulled Miret to her feet, but the nine-year-old was in a full-blown panic now. "Okay, hop on my back. I'll piggyback you," offered the ten-year-old. Miret was on fire. Tears were trickling down her cheeks now. Still, she regarded her cousin dubiously. "You have one leg."
"I have magic. Now get on!"
Miret did as she was told and they even made it to the edge of the shade before a single incautious step caused it to all come crashing down. The younger of the two hit the dirt, just barely breaking her fall with her hands. The older one scraped her knee and rolled into a sitting position, letting out a hiss of pain and annoyance. "Suunei, are you okay!?" Miret exclaimed, crawling under the edge of the shade. "I told you it was a bad idea."
"I got you here, didn't I?" Tyrel reached down and wiped some blood away with a fingertip. There was a long, deep red stream, trickling down her leg and Miret found herself fixated by it. It looked so much like wine, or like tomato soup, or the colour of an apple's skin. It was warm, she knew. She knew the taste, too. The feeling in her stomach grew. The faintness from the sun receded. "I'm fine." Tyrel was watching her, a strange look on her face. Miret blinked and collected herself, stealing one last glance at the wound as her cousin grabbed a handful of grass and dabbed it away. "Okay," she replied belatedly, "If you say so."
"I've had way worse." Tyrel was fishing around in her bag, and out came the paint kits and bottles. The smaller girl stared at them dumbly for a moment. "Rest a little if you need. Then get home." She heaved herself to her foot, sparing a glance down at her knee, where another little trickle was already starting. "I have to run if I wanna make it there." She was already moving. "Stay safe, suunei!"
Hearth and Home
♬The sun was nearly set and crickets chirped in the clearing below Angreth when there was a bustle at the door and the long shadow of Tyrel appeared in its frame. "Tyrel'yrash!" came the admonishment from Aunt Tyrel as the girl set her satchel - heavy with books - down. "What's gotten into you?" Her eyes went to the fresh scab on her daughter's knee.
"I love you too, mom."
Miret tried not to snort in laughter. It was not good to incur her aunt's wrath.
"Tyrel, don't get passive-aggressive with me, okay? I was just worried. It's very late and you said nothing about being gone this long, and Miret said she wasn't feeling well on top of it."
"'M sorry," the younger Tyrel sighed. "I'm fine, mum. Really. I was just at the library."
Aunt Tyrel sighed, walking forward to pick up the satchel. "Your cousin told me, sweetie. You're looking for books on why she's sick?"
Tyrel nodded, flashing Miret a small supportive look. She cast about for Calidan, Derii, and Sendrii, but Miret explained that her older brother was still at the academy and the twins had recently been put to bed. "You feeling any better?" the recent arrival prodded, and it was Miret's turn to nod. "Way better. I just needed to get out of the sun and lie down."
"She's improved a lot," Aunt Tyrel confirmed. "It might've just been heat exhaustion." The cousins glanced at each other, sharing their doubts about that silently, but neither said anything. "Would you like to sit down and have some buudvuud?"
"With tomato?"
"With tomato."
It wasn't warm and gooey anymore, so Miret set it on a pan near the hearth for just long enough for it to regain its texture. Then, she and Tyrel sat there by the fire, as the light faded, and read. After an hour, they were ushered to bed in the turret where they always slept when Miret came over during Dorrads. Lying there in their twin hammocks under the moonlight, rocking silently back and forth, neither girl was able to find much sleep. Before long, a leg dangled from Tyrel's hammock, and then she shimmied across the floor, not risking the inevitable noise of hopping, until she was beside her cousin. "Miret," she whispered, generating a small tongue of flame above her fingertip for light. "You up?"
The younger girl rolled out of the hammock and landed silently in a crouch. "I guess that's one way to answer," remarked Tyrel, and Miret grinned. "Very up," she confirmed.
Tyrel shimmied across the floor to grab a pair of candles. "Wanna read some more?"
Revelation
♬Miret was already retrieving the books. It wasn't long before they were sitting cross-legged beside each other, reading by candlelight and moonlight in front of the large window. Then, Tyrel froze. There was a momentary silence that dragged. "Tyrel?"
"So, this book is about Sanguinaires," she said quielty, and a shiver ran through Miret at the word. "I was in a big hurry. I didn't have time to look, so I just took everything they had on weird mana types. I spent my buudvuud money on it."
Miret regarded her steadily.
"Look here." She pointed anxiously to a particular passage and slid it over. It was an old book, handwritten instead of printed by a press, and difficult to read. "Look what it says."
For those born sanguinaires, the onset of their Gift can be a traumatic experience. Most likely, they do not know or even have an inkling of what is coming. It is, therefore, a rude awakening in both literal and figurative terms when they first begin to notice the symptoms of their affliction: firstly, a burning hunger that cannot be satisfied by food; second, an extreme weakness toward the sun, characterized by a prominent burning sensation, heaviness, and notion of glare; Finally, and most tellingly, a fascination with blood, feelings of sudden clarity, focus and power, and a sense of being able to taste it upon sight.
There was more. The book continued, but now Miret's heart was hammering faster. She could feel her pulse in her ears. "No, I'm not a sanguinaire!" she hissed. "They're disgusting. They're monsters and, besides, my mom and dad aren't sanguinaires."
Tyrel regarded her sadly and, with a form of determination both dark and curious, began picking at her scab. Instinctively, Miret's eyes snapped to it. All five of her senses did, in fact, enraptured as a bead of blood built and swelled upon her cousin's knee, held there for a moment, fattening, and then broke, spilling down in a tiny rivulet. The savoury, iron-rich taste: she remembered it well from the dozen or so times she had bit her lip or had a nosebleed. The warmth: she knew it was warm, but already cooling. The - No! She started and forced herself to think of other things.
Tyrel reached down and swabbed the blood up on her fingertip. She held it out to Miret and now there was the taste of tears: salty and warm. "But I don't want it," the younger girl mewed. The older one smiled sadly, shaking her head. "We don't always want what comes our way," she replied, eyes sliding pointedly to the stump that was all that remained of her right leg. "But we have to accept it and, sometimes, it isn't all bad." She regarded her cousin nonjudgmentally.
Every rational, holy thought that Miret had screamed at her: You don't drink blood! That's for monsters and demons and crazy people! You'll go to hell if you do it! Her hand moved of its own accord, bypassing Tyrel's. There was a new bead of blood on the older girl's knee now: fresher and warmer. Miret's finger slid across it and, averting her gaze for the shame as she did so, she lifted that finger to her lips and past them.
It was like someone had lit a bonfire inside the cold, dark room of her being. For a flicker of time, it filled her: new energy, focus, and fullness rushed through the girl's veins. Clawing at their heels, however, came a dark, ravenous hunger. She needed more. Her eyes darted up to Tyrel's and she wiped a second bead of blood from her knee, sucking this, too, off of her finger. Her pulse quickened. Her eyes dilated. Her breathing became heavy. "See?" said her saviour, "You like it, don't you?" Her smile was somewhat unsettled, but a smile nonetheless. "It actually says in the book that you need to -"
Miret bolted forward. It was everything. She needed it. She'd been her whole life without it. She grabbed the older girl's knee roughly and squeezed. "Miret!" Her fingernails dug in and she leaned forward. She needed it! "Miret, oww!!" That was when she felt Tyrel's power. Augmented by magic, her cousin shoved her back with extreme force. Miret lost her balance and fell back, hitting her head on the floor. The pain shook her out of whatever state she'd been in and the world spun for a moment. She could feel a colossal surge of energy as the Avatar of Vyshta rose and hopped back a step. "Are you yourself again?" she called out warningly, and the younger girl could only pull herself up to a sitting position. She took a few breaths and tried not to look at the bleeding knee. "I am, suunei. I am. I'm sorry!" She began crying. "Don't let me see it. I might go crazy again." She continued to avert her eyes. Even the scent of it was too much. "If you can heal it, please!"
Then, there were footsteps on ladder-stairs. Tyrel was healing herself, clumsily but with power to spare. "Come close," she whisper-hissed, and Miret stumbled over, still not looking, trying to shut her senses off. "Grab a book and sit!" The door opened and Aunt Tyrel's head popped in and the girls were caught redhanded in their nightgowns... reading.
It was early morning, two weeks later, and the rains had come. Miret's parents would soon follow and, after what was usually a final fun-filled week as a family, she would return home with them to Saliac. She sat there, under the overhang on the balcony, chin resting on her knees. The sky was a soft grey and a lazy thunderstorm mumbled vague threats of violence from within the predawn clouds. Birds chirped and tittered and water trickled from the support beams to splash against the wooden platform in front of her. For the past ten days, in the throes of her strange illness, she had hidden herself inside, sleeping in a room separate from Tyrel and any of the others so that she did not infect her cousins. Mostly, she had read - though nothing about the 's-word' - painted, and prayed to Damy that she would soon recover from whatever this was. Her stomach had only grown more upset, though, to the point where it was difficult to sleep, and the heaviness had worsened as well.
Into this situation, after nine days of awkward and avoidant coexistence, came the distinctive click-thump of Tyrel and her footsteps. What do you want? She almost mumbled it, but then her cousin was there and she had to avoid looking at her. A pair of arms wrapped themselves around Miret from the side and, after flinching at the initial touch, she allowed herself to be hugged. She sat there like that for a good minute or two, just looking out at the rain and feeling Tyrel's arms around her and chest pressed against her side.
"I love you."
Miret turned her head to regard her cousin. That had sounded... apologetic and, for a moment, fear spiked inside of her. "You... you didn't tell them, right!?"
Tyrel pulled back a bit, arms still loosely on her, still kneeling, and shook her head. "You keep my secrets, I keep yours," she promised, "As long as you need me to."
The younger of the two sighed. "Thank you," she rasped. "It's just..." She trailed off and it all came crashing down, really: a flimsy translucent wall of rationalizations and excuses to protect her from an unwanted truth, but Tyrel knew. She'd been there and seen it: Miret had attacked her for her blood and that, she reflected, was the true reason she'd been avoiding her cousin. It meant acknowledging the truth. It meant she couldn't pretend. "I'm sorry for avoiding you."
"I'm sorry for avoiding you. You seemed mad at me and..." Letting her arms fall away, she shrugged. "I didn't wanna make it worse." She sighed off into the humid air. "I know what it's like to have some big change you don't want, you know. Do you remember?" That was a reference to the secret. One dorrad, five years ago, they had wandered into the writhing wood against their parents' wishes and, when Tyrel had been bitten behind the right knee by anklechewers, Miret had kept the secret to avoid tipping them off about the misadventure. The bugs had laid eggs though, and after a week of keeping quiet and Tyrel determinedly suffering in silence, they'd been found out. By then, the infection had spread through most of the leg and it had proved impossible to save. Really, she'd been lucky not to die. "It's different, though." She drew in again. "Having one leg doesn't make you go attacking people you love."
Tyrel shook her head, though. "That's not the point, suunei. I know it's different and you feel like you're bad 'cause of it, but you're still you and there's ways to get what you need without just attacking people. I've been reading more of that book, you know." She pulled it out of her ever-present satchel. "What I'm talking about is that you could die from this, just like I could've until my mom found out. If you keep hiding and pretending it's not real, you'll literally wither away." She hugged her knee to her chest. "But you're my favourite person in the world and I can't just let that happen; you can't." The rims of her eyes were red and she blinked a couple of times. A tear left a track down one of her cheeks and Miret felt sorry, determined, and overwhelmed in rapid succession.
"But how?" she asked, and Tyrel gave her a funny look. "I've been reading up a lot, I told you, and working on my blood magic," she answered cryptically. Miret blinked and tilted her head questioningly, but then her cousin whipped a knife out. The younger girl's eyes widened in alarm, but she was not yet instinctual enough in her magic use to react on time. The blade drew a quick slide across Tyrel's forearm and she grimaced.
Then, there was the blood.
It poured forth from the wound - from her radial and ulnar arteries - it didn't bead or trickle. Something animal took hold of Miret and she dived forward, sucking it up without thinking. "I trust you, suunei," said her cousin through gritted teeth. She winced as Miret bit down, and let out a small squeak of pain. "I trust you to stop and, if you won't, I'll stop you. You can trust me."
The words were hazy, barely heard. There was only the blood: sweet, sweet sustenance that her body craved more than anything. She fed and she fed. She fed on... Tyrel. For a brief, lucid moment, she looked up and into her cousin's pained eyes. How she burned with power and vigor now, though! It chased the guilt away and she felt her true self for... perhaps the first time ever. Her arteries bulged with manas, her senses sharpened. She could feel everything. She could feel the older girl's other hand tapping her. "Miret!" she was calling, "Miret, stop!"
She could listen, but she could also feed. She could drain... anyone like this. They were so weak, she knew then, and so slow compared to her. She could dominate them and have whatever she... Tyrel's grimace reached her. She wanted her cousin - her best friend - with her. Abruptly, Miret's mouth fell away from the wound and Tyrel slumped to the side, catching herself awkwardly with her stump. She blinked and swayed, woozy. "Suunei!?" the smaller girl entreated urgently, but her cousin's eyes were closed and her chest rose and fell evenly. "It's okay," she breathed. "I'm okay. You stopped by yourself."
"Did... did it hurt?" Miret asked hesitantly, avoiding looking at the wound.
"No shit."
The younger girl blushed, but then there was the hum of magic and the elder was busy sealing up the wound. Miret couldn't help but look out of sheer curiosity. "You really did study blood magic."
Tyrel opened one eye, just a crack, and managed a faint, smug smile. The punctures in her flesh filled up and the damaged skin sewed itself shut like a scarf being knitted at impossible speed. It was fresh and pinkish, but it was healed. the older girl rolled her wrist experimentally a few times, then, testing it out, and managed a tired smile. "You did it, Miret." She nodded encouragingly and began to reach for her crutches, but stopped and caught herself on her hands.
Miret watched. "You're not okay," she observed, and Tyrel wobbled a hand. "Kinda. The cut's healed, but it takes a while for the blood to come back. Manas too, though I've got those to spare."
She tried again to get up, but she didn't have the strength. "Shit, suunei, don't drink so much next time, haha. Save a bit for me, huh?" It had been a close-run thing, but Miret had done it. Even with that much built-up hunger, she had stopped of her own accord. Next time, she would stop earlier. There would be a next time, because there needed to be and because Tyrel was offering. She threw her arms around her cousin then. "Thank you, suunei. Thank you." She squeezed tightly and could feel the older girl tense up in pain. "That's the super strength," she grated, and Miret quickly released her. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I love you." Tyrel hugged weakly back. "I love you too."
Then, unbidden, she simply picked her cousin up, because she knew that she could. It was easy. She probably could've lifted and carried twice her weight, to be honest. "Miret, you don't have to -"
"You gave me so much. Lemme give you something back." She set Tyrel down on the bed and brought her crutches over as she tucked herself in. They smiled tiredly at each other. "Thank you again."
The older one nodded, snuggling in under the blankets. "Now," she yawned, "Sleep."
It was Miret's turn to nod, but she added an addendum. "I will, but first, I have to do something."
Tyrel was too exhausted to answer. She was out within a minute or two. Quietly, Miret made her way back to the balcony. Focusing on the rain with her magic, she hit it, pulled it, bent it - whatever - towards her and the spot where she'd been kneeling while she'd drunk her cousin's blood. It was sloppy and sophomoric, but she managed and cleaned up after herself. Magic was hers: a different magic than she'd ever expected or wanted, but magic nonetheless. She looked out at the rainy landscape as the sun began to crest the distant hills, hidden behind a veil of grey clouds. She was Miret'dichora. She was a sanguinaire.
3x Like
1x Thank
1x Thank
