Zankoku first became aware of the new sensations as he began to wake. He was pleasantly warm and the gnawing hunger was at bay for the moment, not to mention the bed was actually comfortable, making him wonder if he'd been moved. He stretched slowly, feeling the protest of long unused muscles, but it was a good thing. His eyes opened, and he blinked, a startled look crossing his face as he realized that he was not alone in the bed. He peered curiously at the strange female; her arm was still over his back and her head was lolled back among the plush down filled pillows in their jet black silk covers. He had to admit as he reached over, it was a striking background for her long snow white hair. He ran his fingertips over her throat, checking for any marks on her skin, frowning slightly. He still wasn't quite sure how they ended up here, but he didn't think that he hurt her that badly. All he found was a few newly healed scars, and those were already fading as well.
She seemed to be deep asleep, a soft rumble coming from her chest, and she didn't seem to be protesting the arrangement, so perhaps it wouldn't be bad. He watched her curiously, wondering what her reaction would be upon waking. He rather hoped that she wouldn't wake and start screaming. A few more minutes passed in silence, the only sound that of their soft breathing. He tensed slightly as she began to rouse, waiting to see what she would do. Her free hand came up to stifle a yawn and her eyes began to open, the crimson irises wide in the darkness.
"Mm... there you are," Yami murmured softly, her hand stroking his back. He blinked, surprised at first, then his eyes half lidded.
"Are you all right?" he asked quietly. She arched a pale eyebrow at that, somewhat bemused by his uncharacteristic concern.
"M'fine. I heal quickly," she said, palm stroking over his spine. "See?" She pulled her arm away from him, using a sharp talon to slice across the palm of her hand. They both watched as it healed almost instantly.
"Good." He nodded, nostrils flaring slightly at the scent of blood.
She noticed that and the corner of her mouth turned up slightly. "Mm. Later. How are YOU feeling?" She tapped his bottom lip lightly with a finger and he regarded her warily.
"You don't... mind this?" he asked slowly,
"No. Should I?" She tilted her head up from the pillow to look at him curiously.
He frowned slightly. "My newfound...appetites...aren't exactly looked upon well." His eyes were unfocused as he spoke, looking at something not in the room with either of them. He shook his head, and focused on her again. "Your name was Yami, wasn't it?"
She shrugged, making the blankets ripple. "They don't bother me." She smiled slightly when he said her name, eyes practically alighting. "Yes, Zankoku, it is." He sighed softly, glad to have remembered that much, resting his head back on the pillow. "Yami Setsuya, actually."
He nodded at that, then reached over, running his fingers through her hair. "Thank you, Yami." She blinked at that, rather shocked. In all the time that she had known him, never once had those words sincerely passed his lips.
She recovered quickly, leaning into his hand. "For what?"
"For allowing me to feed on you," he explained, eyes narrowing slightly. He hated the irrational compulsions that he was now subjected to and the fact that they overwhelmed his control. "It's so hard to control this constant hunger."
"Well, you had to be fed," she said softly. "And I sort of have to do something similar."
He looked over at her, interest evident in his eyes. "You do?"
"I think we can fix that," she said thoughtfully. "You'll just need to feed a bit more often. I have to have foods that are high in iron and protein content, usually rare red meat. My metabolism is so high, that if I don't, I'll consume myself." He nodded slightly. "Yours sounds similar."
"I...don't know," he admitting with evident annoyance, fangs baring slightly. "I have no idea what those sons of bitches did to me."
"Well, you HAVE been in a locker for the past twenty or so years, Zankoku," she said wryly.
"Locker...?" he looked over at her, confused.
"Morgue, love, morgue," she elaborated. "You were presumed dead." He frowned at that and she ran her hair through his hair. "It's a long story." He leaned into her hand, eyes half lidding. "The condensed version is... Some chick who you once fucked up found a mate, and both of them attacked you. They tore you up pretty good and left you for dead. The authorities started moving you around, and Amir and I had been chasing you since then."
He shook his head slightly. "I don't remember any of this. The last clear memory I have... is the battle at Khar'kastan. Then just bits and pieces after that."
"S'not important right now," she said, yawning widely. "What's important is that you're alive. That's all I'm concerned with." He smiled faintly, still watching her. "You'll have to tell me of that, though. Amir is close mouthed about the war."
He chuckled softly. "He doesn't care for messes. And in his opinion, war is just one big mess."
"I noticed," she said, sitting up. "He seems rather.. prim." She leaned over, opening the drawer on the nightstand to pull out a hairbrush which she then began to run through his hair. There was an odd sort of Zen to the motion; up and down, up and down, feeling the silky ebony strands sliding over her hand.
He chuckled softly. "One of the saddest sights I'd ever seen was his face just after he tripped and stumbled into a pile of kartazh droppings."
"Ech," she wrinkled her nose, tone bemused. "Kartazh... are those your mounts?" She pulled the brush through his hair again as he nodded.
"Large lizards," he explained, eyes half lidding as he enjoyed the attention. "We have various types."
"Sounds like the Driders we have," she commented. "Minus those that are transfigured traitors."
"Oh?" he asked curiously.
"Mm-hm," she replied. "Our sorceresses take traitors and turn them into spider-mounts. The Driders go insane through the transfiguration."
He chuckled softly at that. "Remind me to stay on your good side then."
"I'm no enchantress," she said wryly, shaking her head. His eyes followed her long pale tresses as they swayed back and forth behind her.
"No?" he asked softly, giving her a slight teasing smile. "Could have fooled me."
"No," she replied, grinning back. "I'm just a matricidal freak." She couldn't seem to help but to find him... charming... to use a clichΓ©d word.
~ ~ ~ ~
A beeping sound from the cockpit distracted Amir's attention from the diabetic spectacle in the next room. He had been doing a bit of paperwork when he had sensed his brother rousing and he'd thought it best to discreetly monitor the situation. Everything seemed to be well in hand now, though, and he didn't think his brother was going to do her any lasting physical harm.
He rose from his makeshift desk, walking out of the room to head for the cockpit. He slid into the empty pilot's seat then reached over to click on the com, looking to see the source of the alert. It was an incoming message addressed to Yami Setsuya. He blinked slowly at that, considering.
Eyo, Yami