Work Text:
Eleni stands at Nicki’s desk, sorting through the endless sheets of paper littering the surface that make up the latest play. A few sheets, which are tucked beneath the pile, are for a new composition which is only half finished. She can’t help but allow her curiosity to creep in, as she looks over a few pages to see what genius their playwright has conjured up this time, before she takes it all to be filed away along with the rest of the plays.
Her eyes scan over the lines, meticulously written considering how frantically Nicki tends to write. It becomes clear, based on a handful of pages alone, that this play revolves around a newly made marionette doll, who at first is enamoured with her creator but slowly grows to resent him once she realises she's condemned to never lead the life of a normal young woman. The concept sounds somewhat familiar to Eleni and it makes her wonder just how far in her own head Nicki was when she wrote this, whether she even realises she’s loosely based her work around her own reality. However, Eleni can’t deny this is yet another work that will certainly go down well with the audience; it’s the sort of twisted tale they always devour when attending their theatre.
Just as she begins to shuffle them all into a tidy stack, she hears a few gasps and a voice saying “What have you done?” come from down the hall. It doesn’t take Eleni more than a second to figure out what must have caused the shock. Pushing the papers to the back of the desk, she turns to face the door just in time to see Nicki enter the room.
“What did you do this time, Nicola? I thought we told you to be more careful.” Eleni sighs, unsurprised by the nauseating sight in front of her.
The front of Nicki’s shirt is almost entirely drenched in fresh pungent blood, soaking through the fabric and clinging all too closely to her body. Her coat did little to shield her from the spillage and remains mostly unscathed, aside from a few of the buttons which are also stained; neither her stockings or shoes have survived either, for that matter, both spattered in vibrant drops of blood. Nicki had only been allowed to do away with women’s fashion, in favour of frocks coats and breeches, because it was supposedly the more easily manageable option for a fledgling so erratic in her feeding. Evidently though, this has been taken for granted as it has ended up in far more of a mess than the dresses ever had.
Nicki waves a hand at Eleni dismissively and throws her a look which says ‘I’d rather not listen to your lectures right now’. Her expression is only made more grim by the sticky blood which dries from around her mouth and down her chin, a perfectly horrific sight. Strands of hair stick to the blood as it frames her face in wild curls; clearly she neglected to tie her hair back when she awoke earlier.
“If you keep up this reckless behaviour, we will have no choice but to send you out with someone else.” Eleni chides, following Nicki with her gaze as she sheds her coat carelessly on the floor and slumps down heavily in the chair at the desk.
“Why are you in my room?” Nicki asks her, not even moving to give her a cursory glance.
Eleni stands beside her and begins gently peeling the hair from where it sticks to her face. “You have to be more careful, it’s not wise for you to be so thoughtless when hunting.” She ignores the question posed to her, an obvious attempt to distract from the oncoming scolding.
A scowl comes over Nicki’s expression, though she remains still as she lets Eleni fuss over her, merely staring at her through the reflection of the mirror on the wall before her.
“You would have me escorted around by a handler, is that it?”
“You misunderstand me.” Eleni says, doing her best to tame the unruly hair surrounding Nicki’s face.
“Do I?” Nicki replies sardonically. “I thought I understood you perfectly well. You want a member of the coven to follow me around when I leave, everytime I leave I presume, on the basis that I can’t be trusted to go out alone. I don’t know about you but that sounds like some kind of handler to me.”
Locks of mussed brown curls slip through Eleni’s fingers as she gently works out any knots, mindful not to snag any so as not to hurt her. She works through one chunk at a time, laying each one over Nicki’s shoulder once she’s finished before moving onto the next section.
“It’s simply a precaution, we can’t keep allowing this to happen. We want to trust you, believe me, we do but you put us in a difficult position when you continuously return from your hunts looking like you’ve just stepped out from a massacre.” Eleni lowers the last section of hair over Nicki’s shoulder and looks at her through the mirror, placing her hands lightly on her shoulders. “Let us do this one thing, please. It will put our minds to rest knowing everything is in hand, you’ll still be free to leave as you wish, just with a little company, that’s all.”
Nicki regards her carefully through the reflection, maintaining a steady yet discontented gaze. Her body tenses momentarily under Eleni’s touch, her thoughts seeming to rapidly flit around behind her eyes as she takes in everything that’s been said. Then she expels a sharp huff and her body relaxes again; she rolls her eyes and flicks her hand at their reflection.
“If it will keep you happy, I suppose I could entertain this idea, which I might say feels thought up to humiliate me but needs must and all that.”
“We would never have any intention in humiliating you.” Eleni says, bending down to kiss the top of her head. “But thank you, it will keep us all at ease.” She stands up straight and smooths a hand over her now tamed hair.
The unimpressed look on Nicki’s face stays in place, though she sinks a little further into the chair and her head tilts to rest against Eleni’s stomach.
“I’m sure if you improve over time, then we can discuss letting you out on your own again. I wouldn’t want for your independence to be taken from you entirely, I know how unfair that would be on you.”
A bleak smile tugs at Nicki’s lips. “And yet you’ve already taken it, just like that.”
Eleni gives her an empathetic look in return. “I know it seems harsh but we wouldn’t do it unless it was absolutely necessary. We’re all very fond of you, you know that, we only want to do what we can to maintain your wellbeing.”
“I’ve heard that too many times before.” Nicki mutters bitterly, taking her eyes from the mirror as she glances off to the side.
It always causes a slight pang in Eleni’s chest to see her mood so soured, even more so when she can just about make out the wounded glint in her eyes as she recalls past reassurances and promises made, sometimes by people no longer around to keep them. Beneath the mask of scorn and contempt, Eleni can see the truth which runs across her heart, tightening and squeezing with its barbed spikes so that it leaves her bruised and scarred beyond repair.
There are sometimes flashes of the charming, carefree person Nicki once was, when her biggest troubles were when the next taste of wine would hit her tongue, rendering her giddy and free from the weight of the world. Everyone delights in being given the privilege of having that side of Nicki shown to them, but it’s also why it makes them all the more despaired to see her pull herself further down.
Turning to face Nicki, with her back to the mirror as she leans against the desk, Eleni reaches out and touches Nicki’s cheek to get her to look at her. There’s a tiny moment of reluctant hesitation, then Nicki drags her gaze to fix her eyes on Eleni. A sullen expression still casts a shadow over her face but it slips just a little in her eyes, further revealing that heavy sense of loss.
“And you’ll hear it many more times.” Eleni says, very matter of factly yet softly all the same. She leans down and places a delicate, lingering kiss on her lips, the scent of the tacky blood around Nicki’s mouth too irresistible to refrain from tasting. Her tongue darts out and licks at her lips and chin, the blood too cold and dried now to gain any real sense of pleasure in tasting, though getting to take it from Nicki makes it all the sweeter regardless.
When she draws back, she’s met with a more softened look, something that could almost make her forget about the harsh expression she’s more accustomed to seeing.
“I’ll go and fetch some water so I can make you look more presentable. You can’t possibly continue to walk around looking like a waking nightmare.”
This causes a scowl to appear on Nicki’s face, bringing the veil back up over her ever present melancholy as if were never even there. She bats Eleni’s hand away from her cheek, though it’s obvious there’s no real intent behind it, merely for show more than anything.
Eleni gives her a warm smile, unfazed by the sudden shift in emotion, and moves off towards the door to collect some fresh water.
“Don’t run off, I won’t be long.” She says over shoulder, only half joking about her making an escape.
A sarcastic laugh follows her out of the room. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
When she returns with a bowl of water and a clean cloth, Eleni finds Nicki pouring her attentions over the compositions in front of her, furiously scribbling more notes before pushing the sheet aside and continuing on another.
For a moment, Eleni just stands in the doorway and watches her write with a mixture of awe and admiration. It doesn’t matter how many times she witnesses Nicki at work, the almost trance-like state she goes into will never cease to amaze her, the way she’s able to produce such fine pieces, seemingly without even having to think about it. It’s almost as if the music is coming from an outside source and Nicki is merely listening and taking note of what she hears; every so often, she ceases in her manic writing and tilts her head to one side, like she’s waiting and taking it all in, only continuing to scrawl across the page once she’s processed the music.
After watching her for a short while longer, Eleni decides to step fully into the room, purposefully making sure her footsteps are heard so as not to startle Nicki with her sudden appearance. She hates to break her out of her frenzy like this but she’ll ensure that the rest of the night goes undisturbed for her. At first, her presence isn’t acknowledged and Nicki continues to write as though Eleni isn’t even there; coming up slowly and in view of the mirror, Eleni clears her throat to try and get her attention.
“Nicola,” she calls out softly to her, “I’m back now. Why don’t you take a small break for now and you can carry on later.”
Ensuring to come up beside her rather than from behind, she carefully places the bowl and cloth down on the desk, keeping them off the papers so they don’t get even a drop of water on them, knowing Nicki doesn’t like for her things to be tampered with, intentionally or otherwise.
Eleni reaches out and places a gentle hand over Nicki’s, stopping her from writing any more. At that moment, Nicki jerks her head up with gritted teeth in annoyance at being interrupted. Only when she sees it’s Eleni, does she settle and relax her expression.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Eleni says, removing her hand from Nicki’s now she has her attention.
She casts a quick glance at the sheets in front of them, noting how another six pages have been written in the short time she was gone for; the notes are perfectly legible despite the speed at which they’d been written.
“You’ve made some more progress though, that’s good. I suppose you’ll have it finished soon enough.”
Nicki looks back to the composition, a tiny frown coming over her like she hadn’t realised what she had gotten done. “Yes, well,” she sounds a little distracted, “it’s not exactly difficult when it’s all. . .” She gestures vaguely with a hand as if that explains what she’s not saying.
It’s unclear to Eleni what exactly she means but she simply nods in agreement all the same and removes the quill from Nicki’s hand, placing it in the inkwell and pushing it to the back of the desk out of the way. When she glances back at her, Eleni finds her looking over the sheets in front of her, her eyes moving rapidly over the notes, still with a slight frown.
“Leave it for now, there’s no rush to have it completed right this minute.” Eleni’s tone is gentle while also leaving no room for arguments. She gathers up the papers, carefully arranging them into a small pile before setting them by the larger stack, away from the water.
Nicki lets out a short huff but does nothing more to protest. Instead, she sits back in the chair and folds her arms over her chest, staring up at Eleni with an expectant look.
Ignoring her attitude, Eleni brings the bowl forward and picks up the cloth. “Stop sulking, it’s not going anywhere.” She says, sounding vaguely amused even as Nicki scowls at her.
“I’m not sulking.” Nicki mutters and draws her shoulders up.
A smile threatens to make its way onto Eleni’s face, though she remains quiet and dips the cloth into water. Before she begins cleaning the blood, now dry and flaking around Nicki’s mouth, she brushes the hair away from her face, sweeping it back over her shoulders to keep it all out of the way. Then she puts a finger under Nicki’s chin and makes her look up, delicately wiping the blood away from her skin and watching as it comes off with ease.
As the deep red of the dried blood cleans off, the pale skin, ruddy from feeding, is revealed from beneath. The cloth is quickly stained red and soon enough, Eleni withdraws to wet a clean corner of it. She brings it back to Nicki’s mouth, once again taking care in wiping away the mess; the pink of her lips becomes visible, no longer tainted by that violent shade of red. As she dabs carefully, she can feel the weighted gaze studying her closely while she works.
Flicking her eyes up for a moment, Eleni finds, sure enough, Nicki watching her with an expression she can’t quite figure out. Her arms are still crossed and her overall posture suggests mild irritation, but her face doesn’t seem to match her otherwise telling body language; although difficult to decipher on the whole, something about it appears more at ease, soothed even. Nicki regards her with an almost idle expression, weighty but not uncomfortably so.
Giving her a kindly smile, Eleni turns her attention back to her task without a word. She continues to clean away the blood, until soon enough, Nicki’s skin is clear and leaves the cloth stained red. She leans back to inspect her work, tilting Nicki’s head back just enough to get a good view of her throat.
“Stay like that for a moment.” Eleni tells her, stooping down slightly to dab at a thin line of blood which has dripped down Nicki’s neck. Once she’s got it all, she draws back and drops the cloth into the blood tinted water.
When she turns back, she finds Nicki’s posture a little less uptight with a glimmer of something curious in her eyes.
“What is it?” Eleni questions skeptically.
Nicki stares at her carefully, tilting her head to one side. Then a smirk creeps slowly up onto her face. “If you wanted to get a closer look at my arteries, all you had to do was ask.”
“Behave.” Eleni admonishes and swats her lightly on the shoulder, though it does nothing to wipe the humoured look from Nicki’s expression. She turns to face the mirror, standing just behind the chair and places her hands on Nicki’s shoulders. Despite her reprimand, it brings her a small joy to see Nicki in reasonably good spirits for a change.
“But you don’t deny that my blood smells so sweet to your senses. Just say you want a taste, it would only be the truth.” That smirk continues to tug on Nicki’s lips, enjoying nothing more than to playfully rile Eleni up.
“You’re impossible.” Eleni responds, though she struggles not to return a smile. Something makes her heart drop though, when Nicki’s amused expression falters just a little, only for a fraction of a second but enough for Eleni to catch it with her keen gaze before everything is as it was, as though nothing had ever changed.
It makes something pull at her heart as she wonders what could have caused such a reaction to her words, minute as it was. Some tiny part of her wants to question it, to pull off the mask and delve into Nicki’s troubled mind; but she knows nothing good will come from it. It will only serve to do the opposite of her intentions, to push her away rather than bring her closer. Eleni chooses not to acknowledge it, not wanting to sour the mood.
“You should change, get into some clean clothes.” Eleni says instead, hoping the change in subject will keep Nicki content.
“So you want to see me undress, now?” The previously light-hearted tone remains, giving Eleni a sense of relief.
“Oh, shush.” Her tone is fond, regardless of what she says. “I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of doing that yourself. I’ll leave you to it, you don’t need me to stand over you and supervise.”
The humoured look on Nicki’s face holds firm but something twists, suddenly making her appear more menacing, her lips curling up to reveal a flash of fangs and her gaze hardening, far less welcoming than it had been only seconds before.
“Well, I suppose that’s one less aspect of my life I need to worry about being controlled.” She speaks with acid dripping from her voice. “It’s good to know I have a say in at least one thing, though God knows it's only a matter of time until my ability to dress myself is ripped from me too, invalid that I am.”
“Don’t say that,” Eleni scolds, hating to hear such a thing from her, “you are not an invalid.”
“Aren’t I?” Nicki sneers at her through the mirror. “That’s funny because the rest of the coven would beg to differ, I think.”
Eleni shakes her head. “They only want to help, they love you, Nicola, just as much as I do.” Her voice is imploring but it makes Nicki no more forgiving in her outlook on the situation.
Nicki scoffs and shows her teeth in disdain, her body going tense and making her appear defensive. She averts her eyes from the mirror and glares at the stack of papers pushed to the back of the desk, almost as if she’s trying to burn them from existence with her gaze alone.
“They only want to help themselves.” She hisses, her fingers curling in and digging into her arms where they’re still folded across her chest.
Lightly rubbing Nicki’s arm in a way that’s supposed to be calming, Eleni goes to reply but is stopped when Nicki shrugs her off and shifts around where she sits to turn her back more fully to her.
This causes a pang of hurt in Eleni, to be shut out so abruptly, especially when the night had seemingly been going relatively well beforehand, all things considered. But regardless, she understands that there’s a time and a place for reasoning when it comes to Nicki and for now, Eleni knows to leave things alone and not to push her when she’s evidently had enough as it is. So instead, she simply takes a step away from Nicki, picks up the bowl from the desk and turns to head for the door, though she stops again just past the chair and glances down at her.
“I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed.” She says quietly. “Don’t work yourself too hard though and try not to write until dawn this time.”
Her words go ignored, although she knows Nicki has heard her. Eleni is aware that she won’t listen to her and will push herself to work until the sun drags her under, but it’s best to give her the reminder anyway, let her know that she cares enough to acknowledge her bad habits in an attempt to make her think on them a little.
Without another word, Eleni goes to the door, casting one final glance at Nicki’s hunched form before closing it quietly behind her. She heads down the corridor and makes for her own room a few doors down; the bowl is put on the small desk on the far side of the room, deciding to deal with it later once she’s done this more important task first.
She opens a small drawer in the desk and takes out some paper along with a quill and ink bottle. Only the sound of hurried scratching across the paper as she writes resounds throughout the room, wanting to get this out quickly before returning to her duties around the theatre.
Dearest L.,
Things have been moving steadily along as of late, the theatre is doing well with people pouring in to watch each performance and it’s all down to the bright imagination of Our Beloved Violinist. She continues to produce the most dazzling plays for us to indulge in performing, it’s a nearly endless stream of ideas flowing from her mind. Only last night did she complete yet another play and is almost finished with the accompanying composition.
We are all immensely proud of her work, even Our Mistress has been pleased with her lately, and we are all too eager to showcase her genius to Paris. I’m not certain she knows her own talents, however. Night after night, she comes to us with yet another new story or her latest composition which she relays to the orchestra obsessively until they have it entirely mastered. It truly is an inspiration to watch her work, even hearing her hum some new melody to herself as she wanders the halls is a delight. But she never accepts praise for her efforts, merely brushes our compliments aside or snaps when an unfinished piece is acknowledged in a positive manner, telling us nothing is worth hearing or seeing until it has been completed to perfection. I do wonder, was she always this way? Was praise accepted from you and it is merely us who are wrong to speak on her works?
I regret to say that this is unfortunately the extent of the good news for now. As much as I would delight in speaking on Our Darling’s accomplishments for the remainder of this letter, there are other matters I feel you should know of.
It pains me to have to tell you this but her condition only seems to be worsening over time. It’s a gradual progression, nothing too sudden has occurred as of me writing this but I fear, if anything, that only makes it worse. The inevitable is merely being prolonged.
Her feeding habits are becoming increasingly more careless, to the point where we have all discussed providing her with an escort when leaving the theatre to ensure her tidiness. I informed her of this decision earlier tonight and it is worth mentioning that she accepted it sooner than I initially anticipated, though I suspect it was only due to hearing it from my lips. I can tell it doesn’t please her though; shortly before sitting down to write this, she displayed her discomfort and anger at going out under supervision.
Know that I don’t hold her temper at this news against her, it is more than understandable that she would react in such a way. But I want only what’s best for her, even if it means hurting her in the process, we all do. We care for her deeply and I myself feel an almost maternal instinct toward her. Everyone does what they can; Our Mistress looks out for her most of all, although Our Beloved Violinist doesn’t see it that way. I must admit that even I sometimes think Our Mistress’ strategies in dealing with her behaviour tend to be more unorthodox at times, and can often be too much for her to reasonably cope with.
She’s a fragile thing, easily wounded by our approaches to her condition. I can sense the fractures in her mind and in her heart and it serves only as a reminder of her crushing state. Don’t mistake it for weakness, though, she is the furthest thing from weak as she proves to us all each night with her persistence to push forward. Despite the challenges, she is treasured by us and we couldn’t be more delighted at having her with us.
It is my hope that you feel even a little pride towards your fledgling, she is doing something truly remarkable both for us and with us and she is most admirable.
Please write back soon, it is always a joy to hear from you, regardless of the circumstances.
All my love,
E.