romance is not dead (willow vampire ot3verse)
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Home is a generous word for the space they share. Home implies - Kit thinks of warm sunshine through a kitchen window. Bread baking on the windowsill. Home is for the living. This isn't like that. Lair is such a strong word, laden with melodrama and seediness in a way that doesn't feel quite right. It's the place where Kit sleeps. Where Jade lives. Where Kit curls into Jade cool in her coffin at the break of each dawn, and where Kit wakes every evening. Their eternal resting place.
Kit slips in the front door in the hours before dawn, smelling like cheap liquor and blood and sex. Jade is waiting for her. She's reading in the nook on the landing; ankles crossed as she sits in the tasteful vintage armchair arranged there for just this purpose. In her hands is a small leather-bound volume that looks old, but well-loved, well-cared for. Just like everything else in this space.
"Did you eat?" Jade asks. Her voice is calm and even. She is the still eye to Kit's hurricane, ever-steady.
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