Mayerling brushes one hand through Sharon's hair, an act so wild and forward when they have but conversation between them, yet he allows himself that much as gift and latitude. It eases that knot that threatens his feeding teeth to descend. Yet through it all, his hand avoids the side of her neck and the veins within, so as not to feed temptation. His control remains, yet when speaking of nearly losing that control, Mayerling cannot help but wish to take extra measure for her safety.
"I regret that experience not at all, love," Mayerling says softly, "for it led me to another of my kind. A much younger vampire, experiencing the very same issue, came into the room, shutting the door, and pressing himself against it. I was able to help him, so newly turned, when we had previously been unaware of each other. Robin has returned home, has long since departed Folkmore, yet I remember fondly each vampire I have helped in my time here. I would gladly submit to be tempted, for the sake of helping another."
There is no promise he will resist temptation every time, no hubris that Mayerling need not worry about it. Nay, as he described to Sharon over the relic, it is a constant struggle that must always be fought and never fully won.
Sharon's statement makes his heart soar far beyond the conversation they are having, so high that it overshadows the whole conversation about bloodlust and its eternal damnation to live in his breast. Ever. Ever. Ever. Such strong words. They remind him of what conversation they agreed to partake.
"As greatly as it pains me to burden you so terribly, I would ask the same of you as I did of D," Mayerling says seriously, "Should I bite someone, I need you to kill me. As in Trench, I should return, but whether I return or not, it is the only way to free them from a vampire's curse. I would rather die than live with someone cursed on my account."
It was easier with D, whom he knew less well, who had tried to kill him before, whom he didn't love. They grew closer over time, so much as D let anyone grow closer to him. Yet it cannot compare with how he feels for Sharon.
Mayerling takes multiple deep breaths, smelling the sun off her skin and the anger simmering in her blood. Her hand against his neck, her azure gaze meeting his eyes, the heated space between them... the other conversation vibrates deep in his bones.
"Familiars help Legends and Myths," Mayerling says, "your very presence eases the turmoil within. Though my emotions continue strong, they have an anchor, a lighthouse, a tether. I have been told that the bond amplifies such effects, a part of the greater whole that forms the bond. It sounds, I admit, much like the empathic bond that permits one to feel each other's emotions. The exact effect is not identical from bond to bond, which drives me to believe its nature depends also upon those entering the bond.
"I would not have you form a bond with me solely for my sake. It would weigh too heavily upon me that you would yoke yourself to me. It must—it must or I cannot bear it—also help you."
He gazes down at her, intense, and it feels as though his heart may burst in his chest. "I love thee, Sharon, and I promised you this conversation, yet I know not what will result of it."
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"I regret that experience not at all, love," Mayerling says softly, "for it led me to another of my kind. A much younger vampire, experiencing the very same issue, came into the room, shutting the door, and pressing himself against it. I was able to help him, so newly turned, when we had previously been unaware of each other. Robin has returned home, has long since departed Folkmore, yet I remember fondly each vampire I have helped in my time here. I would gladly submit to be tempted, for the sake of helping another."
There is no promise he will resist temptation every time, no hubris that Mayerling need not worry about it. Nay, as he described to Sharon over the relic, it is a constant struggle that must always be fought and never fully won.
Sharon's statement makes his heart soar far beyond the conversation they are having, so high that it overshadows the whole conversation about bloodlust and its eternal damnation to live in his breast. Ever. Ever. Ever. Such strong words. They remind him of what conversation they agreed to partake.
"As greatly as it pains me to burden you so terribly, I would ask the same of you as I did of D," Mayerling says seriously, "Should I bite someone, I need you to kill me. As in Trench, I should return, but whether I return or not, it is the only way to free them from a vampire's curse. I would rather die than live with someone cursed on my account."
It was easier with D, whom he knew less well, who had tried to kill him before, whom he didn't love. They grew closer over time, so much as D let anyone grow closer to him. Yet it cannot compare with how he feels for Sharon.
Mayerling takes multiple deep breaths, smelling the sun off her skin and the anger simmering in her blood. Her hand against his neck, her azure gaze meeting his eyes, the heated space between them... the other conversation vibrates deep in his bones.
"Familiars help Legends and Myths," Mayerling says, "your very presence eases the turmoil within. Though my emotions continue strong, they have an anchor, a lighthouse, a tether. I have been told that the bond amplifies such effects, a part of the greater whole that forms the bond. It sounds, I admit, much like the empathic bond that permits one to feel each other's emotions. The exact effect is not identical from bond to bond, which drives me to believe its nature depends also upon those entering the bond.
"I would not have you form a bond with me solely for my sake. It would weigh too heavily upon me that you would yoke yourself to me. It must—it must or I cannot bear it—also help you."
He gazes down at her, intense, and it feels as though his heart may burst in his chest. "I love thee, Sharon, and I promised you this conversation, yet I know not what will result of it."