Selene (dealing_death) wrote in parabolical, @ 2008-08-17 13:17:00 |
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Entry tags: | complete, selene, seth nightlord |
Who: Selene (Open)
Where: St. Vibiana's (Home)
When: A few days after Drake bit her and Seth patched her up.
Why: On the road to recovery
Status: Complete
Rating: PG
Selene was ill. The entire experience was new. Not once in her twenty human years had she felt this awful. Nor in the centuries that had passed since her humanity faded. Shot, stabbed, injured in every imaginable way, these were sensations she had grown accustom to. This...this....being sick was pathetic. Utterly and completely.
Human. She felt human.
For the first time in days she felt strong enough to get out of the bed. Yards of tattered burgundy fabric hit the floor as she finally peeled off the bloody dress. The hot steaming water in the shower made the wounds sting, but eased the aches away from every other part of her tired body. How could she feel so tired? These last days had been spent asleep. Basically in hibernation. More and more that idea was beginning to appeal to her. Drake had spoke of being asleep during a certain period in time, the Elders slept centuries away. Immortality was tiresome. Not once since her birth as a daughter of the moon had she rested.
With her head resting against the tiled wall of the shower she watched with half lidded eyes as the remaining blood that clung to her skin was washed down the drain. She was still to weak to be furious. Though there would be a time when Drake would pay for what he had done to her.
Dressed in a black silk kimono Selene walked slowly down the steps to the main foyer. With the addition of the dining table, couches and a few other accents it had become inviting, almost like a real home. In one hand she held a towel which was rubbed against her long, black curls with what little strength she had. The other hand held a book, one nearly as old as the vampiress. Curling up on the plush couch she wrapped herself in a cocoon of soft fleece fabric and began to read. With already heavy lids she knew it would not be long before sleep took her hostage again. Lifting her eyes from the old Hungarian text she glanced at the empty couch across from her. As her memory recalled how he looked sprawled out on the couch, how he smiled and laughed, a soft smile curled the corners of her lips up. Things could be worse, after all she might not have that memory to make her smile when she needed it...but there he was in the dark recesses of her mind a crooked grin upon perfect lips, words rumbling in a deep voice, and suddenly she did not feel quite as bad.