"Balthazar... Balthazar!!" Desmond called as he rushed to her, reaching down and feeling her pulse. It was light, and weak, but she was still technically alive. Hope gleamed a bit in his heart as he saw the one eyed dhampir slowly enter the room, his good eye narrowing slightly at what he saw. Balthazar did not like human blood, Desmond suddenly recalled as he lifted up the woman and carried her to the outside of the house, frowning a little as he noted that the older Dhampir's scowl did not seem to leave his face. He propped the woman up against the wall. "You told me that the blood that flows through our veins can be used to extend the life of the mate that we choose, but that it can also heal the sick, which was why we had to be careful around towns that were plagued.. for they might try to kill us for our blood. We can heal her, Balthazar!" Desmond pleaded.
"Let me take a look." Balthazar said softly, pushing the younger dhampir out of the way. He paused for a moment as he reached towards the woman's neck, then with a sudden movement twisted her head to the side until it snapped roughly. Desmond's jaw dropped as he stumbled backwards, drawing his blades in confusion, his features turning to a dark scowl as he leveled himself, wondering if Balthazar had been driven mad. Balthazar had warned Desmond once that it happened to Dhampirs, or to any creature that lived too long without being grounded to the realities of the world... you could not drown yourself in your own memories of what the world once was without being mad to the reality that was around you. "Do not draw those swords on me again unless you intend to use them." Balthazar warned with a dark growl.
"Have you taken leave of your senses? She was alive, and you just... killed her... like one of them!"
Desmond was on the ground before he realized what had happend, a pain in his chest from where Balthazar had hit him, then suddenly he was jerked into the air like a rag doll, being held up by the collar of his tunic as he blinked down at his mentor. For a moment he was certain that the older dhampir was going to kill him outright the way that he had that woman, but instead he just watched a twisted look of disgust cross the older dhampir's face. Sadly, it was not something that was terribly uncommon for him to see.
"I am nothing like them, welp." Balthazar growled. "You would save that woman's life... and then what would you have done?"
"I...I... I would have taken her to a town where-"
"Where she could make a living as a whore on the streets? Her family is dead, her friends are dead, her village has been razed. Her life has been destroyed, and you would give her what back? The ability to breathe in and breathe out again? And even if she were to try to scrape together the pieces of a normal life, she would hunger, just as you hunger for animals, except it would be for the one of us that revived her. The taste of our blood would linger upon her thoughts, she would want it, and it could take weeks to years for it to wear off, depending on how much you gave her. She would follow us through the desert, through anything to get it. And if it was in her nature she would easily try to kill you to taste it again. From there she would be succeptible to vampirism, knowing the desire for blood, even if it was only one dhampirs... And she would have plenty of years to fall prey to them, or to hunt you down, for it would also extend her life far beyond that of normal people. She would age slower than those around her, separating her from them, and she would look at fifty summers past as if only thirty had for her at best."