inkonstage (inkonstage) wrote in repose, @ 2018-03-04 23:12:00 |
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Entry tags: | *log, aedan byrne, marta flores |
Log: Marta and Aedan
Who: Marta and Aedan
What: Making Marta Dinner
Where: Aedan's house
When: After this invitation
Warnings/Rating: Might include Marta both eating dinner and being dinner - we shall see.
Also, talk of her current and past situation, so drugs, sex work, sexual and physical abuse, etc. And vampire-y things, of course.
Most people would probably have been worried about walking through town and into the outskirts of it as the sun set. Marta wasn't exactly most people. She still had very little self-preservation against the thought of dying, which was likely one of the reasons she was willing to agree to attending dinner at the house of a vampire. She probably would've still gone, even if she didn't feel safe around Aedan, but she did. She wasn't certain when it had started, but he was on the list of people that she thought she could trust. As much as she trusted anyone, at least - which wasn't many, or very much. But most of the people on the list were those who'd never hurt her (at least not too badly).
And Aedan hadn't. Not any more than the bit of sting that came when his teeth split her skin, and that was less than any other vampire except maybe Daniel. And from the bit that she managed to remember about that night when Daniel and Sam had come to the hotel, there were moments when she'd barely felt like she was even in her body - so that probably didn't totally count. Plus, it was only the once, and she'd been to Aedan's to be his dinner far more than that, and he always took a strange sort of care with her. She still didn't understand why, because it wasn't as if she needed to be convinced to spill blood for him. And it wasn't as if he couldn't easily find someone else. But while she hadn't fed him since rehab, but she was still pretty much a sure thing. And if he was offering to make her dinner, she knew that'd be considered her payment for the night. Not that she didn't appreciate it - he wasn't wrong when he expressed his doubt about her getting homemade meals. At least if you didn't count something made from a coffee pot and a hot plate. And being given dinner was healthier than getting paid in pills. Even if she had the constant desire for it itching under her skin.
It didn't help that the one thing that should've been a decent distraction - work - only made her crave the oblivion even more. Every moment she was at the motel was a moment when her boss could find her. She hated every second of it, not knowing what he was going to decide her job included on any given day. Since that first day, "making up" for the time she'd been away with altered memories, her boss found her more days than not. Sometimes it was just feeling up under the skirt of her uniform dress. Sometimes it was her on her knees. Sometimes it was more. Like the reason her steps were slow across town and up to Aedan's home. Like the reason she'd been careful with her makeup, using every tattoo-covering trick she knew to cover the watercolor bleed of bruises around her wrists and the base of her throat. It'd been a bad one, the night before.
But she put it behind herself, as much as she could, hunching into her coat and climbing the steps to Aedan's front door. The weather might have been starting to warm, but she was still freezing, layering on her clothing (second-hand and a little ugly though it was) and doing her best to keep feeling in her fingers and toes. She was just beginning to lose the battle, so she was glad to raise her hand and knock on the heavy door.