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The sun has far past set by the time Sucrose makes her way into the woods. She’d rather gather supplies at this time of night, anyway, to avoid people with their wandering eyes and questions. The dark isn’t so bad once she gets used to it, eyes adjusting to the dappled moonlight that peers down through the tree branches.
Foraging at night does have its perks, but the people in Sucrose’s life, especially her parents, never neglect to remind her of the dangers: bandits, wild animals, monsters… She shakes her head and continues on her way, heading towards a lake where she’s sure she’ll be able to find what she’s looking for: tonight, blue-horned lizards and crystalflies.
When she hears a few branches crack somewhere in the forest nearby, she stops in her tracks, crouching lower. She rests a hand on her potion belt fastened around her waist, but then quickly darts behind a tree as she sees a few men pulling a wagon along the trail. It’s not totally unlikely for her to come across travelers in the night, but she often stays her distance—talking to people is troublesome, and strangers even moreso, even if they don’t have malicious intentions. Which they very well may, her mother’s voice rings in her ears.
In the end, it’s best to be cautious… so, she stays put and watches as the wagon rolls nearer. Curiosity gets the best of her as the men approach; she peeks her head out from around the tree and catches a glimpse of the cargo in the wagon: a woman, unconscious, sags against the wooden sides, her face obscured by what looks to be a muzzle.
She lets out an involuntary gasp at the discovery, drawing the attention of the men, and quickly ducks back behind the tree.
“Who’s there?” one says, holding a lantern out towards the treeline.
Sucrose’s mouth quickly dries up as her mind races with thoughts of what she should do. The men know she’s there and will discover her soon enough, but she can’t just run while they have a hostage as their cargo. She quickly makes up her mind, stepping out from behind the tree with her hands up.
“What are you doing out here?” the other man asks, his hand stilling near his belt.
“Gathering supplies,” Sucrose answers honestly. “What are… what are you doing?” She looks pointedly to the woman in the wagon, whose head lolls back, her wine-red hair disheveled.
“Getting rid of a damn nasty vampire, that’s what we’re doing,” one of them huffs, spitting on the ground near the wagon.
Sucrose swallows thickly. A vampire… That explains the muzzle, but…
“What did she do?” she asks, biting at the inside of her cheek.
The men look at each other and laugh. “What did she do? Did you listen? She’s a vampire.”
“Just because she’s—” Sucrose starts, but quickly cuts herself off as then men look at her sharply.
“What was that?”
“Do you have a problem with what we’re doing, miss?”
Sucrose thinks to shake her head rapidly but instead clenches her teeth, hand again coming to her potion belt. She grabs hold of one of her more volatile potions, and before she’s even really thought it through, she launches the potion in the direction of the two men. It explodes as the bottle shatters against the dirt, knocking the men off of their feet and slightly rocking the wagon.
She runs over to the wagon then, quickly pushing it further away before turning her attention back to the men. They scramble in the dirt, getting back to their feet and shouting obscenities in Sucrose’s direction. Before they can so much as unsheathe their weapons, though, Sucrose has thrown another potion at them, knocking them straight back down.
Though she likes to consider herself prepared for most things she could run into in the night, a full-fledged battle against two armed vampire hunters is pushing it. She doesn’t have many of the more powerful potions left and will have to subdue them with something more… experimental.
Ah, well. She’s been wanting to try this anyway.
Sucrose quickly pours half of a potion into the dirt, then uncorks another and combines them together. She tries to work as quickly as possible, but still the men get to their feet, charging at her with daggers.
She lets out a yelp as one of them slices a dagger into her upper arm, the other grabbing her by the shoulders and securing her in his grasp. In the commotion, the potion bottle falls to the ground but does not shatter.
“Quick, grab that,” the one holding her says, angling his head at the spilling potion.
Sucrose fights against his grip, and before anyone has the chance to grab the potion, she stomps on it, the bottle splintering beneath her foot. The mixture and sudden outside stimulus cause an extra large explosion, knocking all three of them off of the trail and into the woods.
After landing in some bushes, it takes Sucrose a few moments to get her bearings. Nearby, both of the men are keeled over and groaning, having collided into trees at full force.
Huh. Sucrose thinks. Combination Experiment 4302, success.
It doesn’t take her much time to tie the men against a tree, their heads knocking together as they mutter curses beneath their breath.
“You stupid bitch,” one says, “Do you know what you’re doing?”
Sucrose elects not to respond, riding the high of winning the fight. She does think about it, though: does she know what she’s doing? To be honest, not really. Although her focus of study usually pertains to living things, she has studied vampires before, in passing. But she’s never met one, not until tonight.
The vampire woman still lays unconscious in the wagon nearby, so Sucrose isn’t sure she can truly say they’ve met. Once she’s sure that the two men aren’t going anywhere for the night, she approaches the wagon, peering curiously at the woman.
The wagon seems incredibly uncomfortable, so Sucrose slings the vampire’s arm over her shoulders, hoisting her out of the wagon and lying her more gently in the grass beside the trail. The exertion draws Sucrose’s attention to the dagger wound on her arm, which still bleeds steadily.
She could patch it up, or…
Sucrose crouches over the vampire, reaching behind her head to unfasten the muzzle. As the muzzle falls away, Sucrose is met with a face so gorgeous and serene she loses her breath. After clearing her throat, she wipes her fingers against the blood that trails down her arm, then holds her now bloody fingers to the vampire’s mouth.
Like a starving animal, the vampire lurches forward and captures Sucrose’s fingers in her mouth. Her eyes open then, a deep red color with blown out pupils that cause Sucrose’s heart to race. Sucrose identifies an insatiable hunger in her eyes, and for the first time tonight, she thinks she may have made a grave mistake.
She withdraws her hand, watching as the vampire’s eyes flicker to the still-bleeding wound on Sucrose’s arm. Sucrose quickly puts pressure on the wound, not daring to look away from the vampire’s face.
“Are you going to kill me?” she asks, her voice sounding oh-so-small.
The vampire meets her gaze, and she’s hardly blinked before the vampire is gone, the rustling brush nearby the only trace of her. Sucrose gets to her feet immediately, her mouth hanging ajar.
She knows she should leave it, head home for the night, perhaps note down her experiment and wrap her wound before crawling under her covers, warm and safe. She knows this.
Instead, she follows the vampire deeper into the forest, taking notice of every stirring branch or gust of wind. It’s only a few minutes before she sees the woman again, this time leaned against a tree, clutching at her abdomen.
“You,” the vampire hisses. “Go away.”
“You’re— you’re hurt,” Sucrose says, stepping closer.
The vampire flashes her fangs. “Go away.”
“Let me help you,” Sucrose insists.
She stares at Sucrose; the intensity in her eyes has subdued only slightly due to pain. Her gaze follows Sucrose as she gets closer, closer, close enough to take the vampire’s hand and move it away from her abdomen.
“Silver,” Sucrose says, eyeing the rather gruesome wound. Silver shards are embedded into the skin, though if Sucrose could get them out, the vampire would be able to heal herself rather quickly. “Will you let me…?”
The vampire just grunts, turning her head away.
Sucrose promptly gets to work removing the silver shards, the vampire hissing softly as she does so. Like magic, the wounds heal themselves almost as soon as the silver is removed, although the blood staining the surrounding skin and Sucrose’s hands goes nowhere.
Once the shards are removed, Sucrose backs away only slightly. “There,” she says, almost forgetting for a moment the danger of the situation she’s put herself in.
“Thank you,” the vampire murmurs, her head falling back against the tree, eyes fluttering shut.
“I’m… Sucrose, by the way.”
“Rosaria.”
Sucrose clears her throat, heart beating so fast.
“You’d better get out of here, Sucrose,” Rosaria says plainly.
She’s right. Sucrose knows that she’s right. It’s just… As she looks at the vampire in front of her, all she can wish for is to know more. To see more. Feel more.
“You… You need to feed, don’t you?” Sucrose asks, her mouth dry and pulse loud in her ears.
“That’s why you’d better go,” Rosaria responds, peeking one eye open to look at Sucrose before closing it again.
“I’m—um,” Sucrose pauses, letting out a long breath. “I’m offering myself to you.”
Both of Rosaria’s eyes open now. “What?”
“Go ahead, I’m—”
“Do you have a death wish?” Rosaria interrupts.
Sucrose just looks at her. “No,” she says firmly.
Rosaria holds her gaze. “Do you really trust me with your life?”
“You’re not going to kill me,” Sucrose responds, her hands fidgeting together in her lap. “If you were, you already would have.”
Rosaria laughs sharply. “You saved me; I spared you.”
“I can’t leave you here like this,” Sucrose says.
“You can, and will.”
They stare at each other fiercely, but as the hunger in Rosaria’s eyes grows in intensity again, Sucrose knows she won’t be able to hold out much longer. If Sucrose were to leave…
She shakes her head at the thought. She’s not leaving, not when Rosaria is lying against a tree, so weakened she may not even make it to safety before daybreak.
“Those hunters,” Rosaria speaks, “Where are they? There’s no reason I should feed on you when they are—”
“I want to— to know what it’s like,” Sucrose admits, causing Rosaria to arch an eyebrow.
“Curiosity killed the cat,” Rosaria replies, lifting a hand to touch Sucrose’s animal-like ears. However, the hint of a grin pulls at the vampire’s mouth, fangs jutting out against her lips. “You’re an interesting one, Sucrose.”
“Please, you’re weakened and need strength.” Sucrose rolls up her sleeve, offering Rosaria her wrist.
“Mm,” Rosaria hums, batting Sucrose’s wrist out the way and leaning forward, mouth coming to the slope of Sucrose’s neck. Sucrose’s breath catches in her throat, the ghost of Rosaria’s lips tracing over the skin there.
Then: the baring of fangs and a sharp, hot pain. Sucrose gasps, her head lolling further to the side. Truthfully, as much as she’d wanted to help Rosaria, she’d wanted to experience this, to take note of the unique feelings, the sensation of her blood—her life force—being drained to sustain another.
She’d been foolish to think that she would be able to focus in any way conducive to research, and she realizes this swiftly. She sinks further into Rosaria’s arms, noticing nothing but searing hot pain in her neck, the thick smell of iron that permeates the air around them.
Rosaria feeds quietly, quickly, holding Sucrose steady as the smaller woman feels her body weaken. Still, never once does the fear for her life pass again through her. She has little room to entertain much thought as is, with Rosaria’s teeth and tongue heavy against her skin.
As soon as Rosaria pulls away—the loss sudden and cold—Sucrose slumps down against her chest, hearing her own heartbeat drumming in her ears. Rosaria lifts a hand to pet Sucrose’s hair and says, “You did so well.”
Sucrose hums weakly as Rosaria presses a hand to the wound on her neck, easing the bleeding to a stop.
“Are you satisfied?” Rosaria asks, a hint of something teasing in her tone.
Sucrose uses what strength she has left to lift her head and look at Rosaria’s face: the hunger in her eyes has subsided, though the intensity of her gaze remains. Blood dribbles down from her mouth to her chin and neck.
“Uncertain,” Sucrose murmurs, letting her head fall again to Rosaria’s chest. “I believe it will require more trials in the future for me to truly understand—”
She’s cut off by Rosaria’s laughter. “You are something else.”
They sit together in silence for some time then, both women regaining their strength. Rosaria continues to pet Sucrose’s hair as they sit, and Sucrose revels in the touch. When she feels she can handle it, she sits up, lifting a hand to cup Rosaria’s face. Her thumb smears through the line of her own blood decorating Rosaria’s face, not yet completely dried.
Perhaps she’s delirious, still. Perhaps it’s the rush of endorphins. Perhaps a vampiric spell. Regardless, she leans up, following her base instincts and catching Rosaria’s mouth hard against her own, the tang of iron and the cool feeling of Rosaria’s skin pervading her senses. Rosaria kisses her back, hand coming to cradle the back of Sucrose’s head as she matches Sucrose’s fervor.
“Is this—” Rosaria asks softly against Sucrose’s lips, “—also a trial?”
“No,” Sucrose answers honestly, punctuating with another bloody kiss, their mouths slick against each other. “I just—” She stops for a moment, pulling away just slightly. “I’ve read in my research that vampires can exert influence over humans—”
Rosaria snorts. “That’s a myth, dear. I’m afraid this is all you.”
The blood left in Sucrose’s body seems to all rush to her cheeks. “It seems I have a lot left to learn,” she says.
“We’ll save the lessons for later,” Rosaria replies, pressing a fingertip beneath Sucrose’s chin to angle her head back upwards.
Sucrose’s embarrassment quickly rolls over into giddiness at the prospect of seeing Rosaria again, which in turn swiftly rolls over into absolute focus on the feeling of Rosaria’s cold lips against her own, her hands running over the fabric of Sucrose’s shirt and coming to rest on her neck. Rosaria pulls back to eye the wounds, pressing a kiss to the two fang marks and then trailing kisses up, up Sucrose’s neck until their mouths meet again.
Sucrose thinks she could drown in this feeling if she’s not careful. Though it seems that tonight, she’s thrown being careful to the wind. She lets her hands roam over Rosaria’s torso, pressing gently against her lower abdomen, where the silver shards had been.
“Thank you,” Rosaria murmurs, and then, gently into Sucrose’s mouth, “Sucrose, the sun is going to come up. I have to go.”
They part, Sucrose’s eyes flickering over Rosaria’s face. She swallows thickly, then says, “I’ll see you again?”
“I’m dangerous.”
“I’m not afraid.”
“Of course you aren’t,” Rosaria says with a smile. “I’ll see you again.”
Sucrose nods, kissing Rosaria a final time before getting to her feet and leaning against a tree for support. Her knees still feel weak, though whether that’s because of blood loss or… other reasons, she isn’t certain.
“Can you get home?” Rosaria asks, standing and brushing dirt off of her clothes.
“Don’t worry about me,” Sucrose replies, “I’ll be alright. Get to safety, okay?”
Rosaria nods, and just like that, she’s gone. Sucrose looks at the space she had been, then brings a hand to rest on her still-pounding heart.
As the sun begins to tint the sky orange, Sucrose makes her way back through the forest towards home.
Bandits, wild animals, monsters… She had been properly warned of the dangers of the forest at night time and time again. Without a little danger, though, she would never make any discoveries or have any breakthroughs. Perhaps she hadn’t found any blue-horned lizards or crystalflies tonight, but certainly the discoveries she did make eclipse that fact.
And, she thinks, tonight’s discoveries will sit far closer to her heart.