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maeve (

bloodlusts) wrote in

valloic,
@ 2024-06-20 11:58:00

Maeve & Nessa

WHAT: A talk a couple days after Nessa demotes Maeve to 'associate'
WHERE: Maeve's cliche vampire manor
WHEN: Some days after Nessa's intro post
WARNINGS: Talks of murder plots, death, and FTB at the end
STATUS: Complete

“I trust you’re doing what has to be done. I don’t like how it’s affected me.” She reached out to take Maeve’s hand and squeezed. “Or you, for that matter.”

Nessa thought about shutting herself away in the guest room again. Her irritation bordered on anger, and the petty urge to act out simmered beneath the surface, ready to boil over. Her small act of revenge, in demoting Maeve from wife to associate on the post she’d put up on that ridiculous Outlander internet network, had been a temporary victory—until her associate told Eli she had simply been logical. Nessa’s temper had flared all over again. However, locking herself away in another room proved impossible, offensively so. She had successfully sequestered herself mostly away from Maeve for two weeks after she’d been turned, and there had been periods of times ranging up to an entire year they’d been apart before that. It shouldn’t be difficult to do the same now. Nessa was stubborn enough to accomplish it if she put her mind to the task. What made the situation different now was that Maeve was everything to her. She couldn’t go back to her old life; the fae realm was lost to her. She enjoyed the boys' company, even the dragon they had set free, but Maeve was her heart and her lifeline in the most literal sense. Because of Maeve, Nessa still lived—in whatever manner vampirism could be considered living. So, she continued sleeping beside the woman she loved each night. But she wasn’t so beyond her pettier nature that she didn’t get her jabs in. She knocked on the door before entering if she knew Maeve was in a particular room, asked permission before leaving the manor, and a bunch of little things, overall acting more like an anxious houseguest than Maeve’s girlfriend. It was likely nothing to Maeve; Nessa knew she was frustratingly unflappable, but she still hoped to grate on her nerves just a bit here and there. Eventually, as she always did, Nessa had to drop her antics. While her base attitude had always been unpleasant, even she felt she was wasting energy being so childish and bratty. She retired to the pool in the manor’s lowest level and remained brooding, only looking up when she heard her lover’s footsteps on the stairs. Ah, the theatrics. Maeve’s studied this behavior for decades. She had been on the receiving end of it for decades, on and off, because her patience and temper were cool blues when it came to Nessa. She loved her temper. Loved her pettiness and jabs and the ticks of her face when she was absolutely incensed. Sometimes her darling needed a good pin to the wall and some tongue to calm her down. But due to the context of everything - and their conversation - she did not do that. Maeve waited. She was an excellent sport, taking everything Nessa threw at her with grace. She had no business getting fired up over it. Maeve was damn well aware that their complications were all due to her inability to simply let her other half die, and she knew she’d be burning bridges the moment she coaxed Nessa into drinking her blood. It was all a very tricky thing to navigate on all ends, from Nessa to Grandmother to fucking Paloma and she tried to convince herself that she had the confidence to handle it all. Maeve was mostly sure she did. But - occasionally - the needling hit a tender spot. “Care for a dip?” “I haven’t decided yet,” Nessa replied. The pool was comfortably heated, and she had chosen to sit at its edge with her feet submerged instead of on one of the numerous comfortable lounges available. But whether she planned to swim or not was up in the air. She had come here because she liked it. Like the manor itself and its many rooms, it was ridiculously large, ornate and grandiose, but she enjoyed the way the moonlight filtered in through the domed windows across the ceilings and the chandeliers cast a warmer, contrasting light. Maybe it simply looked moody and reflected the way she felt right now far too well. She lifted her gaze away from the pool’s surface and looked up at Maeve. Without a trace of her characteristic snark, she said, “I don’t like this, Maeve.” “I know,” said Maeve, and she did not mean that condescendingly despite Nessa making it very obvious that she didn’t like this. She didn’t need to be an empath to feel the disdain come off her in waves, how stifling it must be to be here and not in her realm with her people. She did not regret the events that led them to this unfortunately discontent moment, but she was sorry for all the ugly, morose feelings that surrounded it. Dropping down to the edge of the pool, Maeve joined her with a dip of her legs in the water too. She was fully dressed in pants too, didn’t even bother rolling up the fabric to save it from getting wet, but this was her home and these were her things and she just very much did not give a shit. “How would you prefer I handle things?” Nessa sighed. She’d thought this over amidst her days of brooding and snippy behavior. Were it up to her, she’d ask Maeve to let this grudge with Paloma go—engaging with someone who already murdered to get her attention once was bound to turn sour, and there was no guarantee Maeve would truly be able to kill her consequence-free. Then she’d ask her to simply take the plunge and introduce her to the mononymous Grandmother and hope, perhaps, she could flatter this figurehead vampire into some sort of reprieve. It was a strangely optimistic plan for someone who had always dealt in realism, particularly the realities and inevitabilities of death. There was an entirely different world at play here, along with years of tradition, grudges, expectations, and politics she had hardly begun to comprehend. Wrapping her mind around the same in the fae realm had been a lifelong process, but it was because of that experience that she knew nothing Maeve was dealing with would be solved so quickly or easily. “I trust you’re doing what has to be done. I don’t like how it’s affected me.” She reached out to take Maeve’s hand and squeezed. “Or you, for that matter.” “You shouldn’t worry about me,” Maeve smiled, this a subtle wickedness to the curve of her lips - she was an old, dead creature, utterly capable and experienced and outright deadly. For Nessa she’d roll over like a puppy and show off her belly for pets, her soul hers to take. For others she would take their neck, and slurp the veins out of their bodies as if they were bloody noodles. “But do know that I plan to do whatever it takes for you to be - comfortable and satisfied.” She was afraid to toss out the word happy. There was a part of her worried that Nessa would never be happy like this no matter what Maeve did, no matter the years passing by, and that she’d go and achieve what Maeve so desperately tried to stop: her ultimate, final death. “You are the only person I have ever worried about,” Nessa argued, her tone a bit crisper but not angry, “and I’m certainly not going to stop now, so save it.” She had never known anyone she cared about as much as Maeve. It had infuriated her in their early days, and there were times now that it still infuriated her. Maeve just had that sort of effect on her. But what she said was absolutely true, too. She loved her family, but she didn’t worry about them. She cared about the charges she healed, but she rarely gave them a second thought after her job was done, never mind worried they’d meet a similar fate again. Maeve—her storied, centuries-old, unstoppably capable, vampiric lover—was who she worried about. It didn’t matter that she had witnessed her life for decades and knew that she lived a fairly normal life for a creature of the night. The moment she’d captured her heart, Nessa was utterly done for in every way, no matter how often her buttons were pushed. “It’s silly, but I forgot for a little while that this place isn’t my home. Not really,” she admitted with a sigh. There were specific bits of decor she was responsible for, whole swathes of Maeve’s wardrobe, maintaining some of the upholstery on the old pieces of furniture—but that didn’t make this her home. It was Maeve’s, but it was Grandmother’s, given as a gift to her golden child. It could be taken from them if they crossed Maeve’s sire. That would be the lightest punishment that could be doled out for Maeve turning a faerie. Her lover’s gentle reminder that the elder vampire could show up at any moment—including one in which Nessa had spontaneously invited the boys to visit—had made the point. She had taken it badly and felt so deeply displaced in a world she was struggling to find her footing in that she could only express it through her usual method: dramatic, ridiculous jabs. Maeve wanted it to be her home, was the thing. It had certainly been hers. Had she needed a space as grand as this for herself? No, absolutely not – she would have been perfectly fine in some condo in the city, but this was part of Grandmother’s estate, and one doesn’t just reject a gift from Grandmother. They take it unless they want to be knocked down a few pegs in the hierarchy of favoritism, and Maeve was at the top. She knew that spot was compromised with her actions and her affair. She knew that loving Nessa long-term – forever – would yield consequences. She’d been lackadaisical about it. “It may be taken from me at some point,” she pointed out, looking around at the room and its glass and this clean, clear water – there was a fountain at the edge of the pool, something expensive and lovely. “I don’t necessarily think that’s a terrible thing. My intention wasn’t to make you feel as if you were a stranger here or a guest,” she continued, emphasizing the last part. “I just want to make sure we take the proper precautions for your safety.” “I know that,” Nessa grumbled discontentedly, but it was only fair to admit. She knew she had been behaving badly. Maeve had, in fact, been nothing but logical and loving towards her. Unfortunately, she did tend toward temper tantrums with her notoriously short fuse, and because she hadn’t liked Maeve’s methods or responses, she had lashed out. Perhaps she would be better about such things someday, but at this point, she very much doubted it. Her habits were two hundred years ingrained and would be hellish to adjust as she leaned toward middle-aged in faerie terms. She did succeed in biting her tongue instead of pointing out that her safety wouldn’t be a concern if Maeve had simply let her die. It was a worthless statement and not befitting of the conversation they were having right now. Reaching for Maeve, she swiftly unbuttoned her jacket to reveal the dark top beneath. “Come in the pool with me,” she requested. She snapped one of the thin straps and smiled lasciviously. “Strip, and come in the pool with me,” she corrected herself, then reached to pull the cozy, shoulder-baring sweater she wore off over her head as if setting an example. Well. Alright, then. Nessa always had a habit of keeping her on her toes – which was a nicer way of referring to her beloved’s mood swings, but Maeve was happy to come along for the ride. The clothes were done away swiftly until there was nothing left, just bare skin that she was never too timid to reveal. There may be a nude painting of her floating around in Vallo somewhere. Very authentic, and very old. Maeve was proud of it. “This would be a horrible time for me to pick you up and throw you into the pool, wouldn’t it?” “It would,” Nessa agreed, tossing their collectively shed clothes on the nearest chaise lounge before she wound her arms around Maeve’s neck. “But it would be the perfect time for you to very gallantly carry me into the pool and kiss me. The order of which I’ll leave up to your discretion.” “Generous of you,” mused Maeve, and the order she had decided was a kiss first, something sincere and chaste, an expression of an apology she’d put into words before but felt the need to emphasize one more time. And then she swept Nessa off her feet into her arms like a blushing bride and stepped into the pool. The water was soothingly warm, and when she felt it reach her hip bones, she gave Nessa the sweetest kiss to the tip of that very cute nose of hers and dropped her into the water. It wasn’t throwing, technically. Nessa hadn’t said anything against dropping her. Nessa yelped in surprise—though she supposed she shouldn’t have—and came up gasping for air. It was more like instinct than a necessity; sometimes, she forgot that she didn’t need to breathe anymore. She managed to stand, push her now-soaked hair back out of her face, then shoved at Maeve playfully. “Bully,” she declared, but she was smiling. She had done her fair share of passive-aggressively bullying Maeve throughout their relationship. She couldn’t really blame her for taking advantage of this moment. She reached for Maeve’s hands, tugged her sharply toward the deeper end of the pool, and said, “I’m sorry for being an insolent brat.” She rarely apologized but felt it was called for every so often. She habitually took out her unwanted feelings on Maeve; her lover was a champion for taking it without complaint. But she deserved better, and an apology was the very least of that. Maeve was doing her utmost to keep her head above water - mostly for her hair, she was a bit vain about that - but the ends were already soaking through, and it would ultimately be moot. “I quite like it when you’re an insolent brat,” she smirked, wading through the water to press their bodies close. “I love it when a woman glares at me like she wants to kill me. You become such a tease.” “You love it when a woman glares at you?” Nessa echoed with emphasis. For that comment, she exerted some of that newborn vampire strength to shove Maeve down under the water, dousing her pretty hair that she was so vain about. She wasn’t cruel, though—there was no attempt to hold her down, allowing her to resurface quickly. “Would you like to try that again, love?” Maeve cackled beneath the waters. She didn’t need air, not really, but all that surfaced were bubbles, and when she surged upward, there was sputtering and an absolutely roguish grin. Snatching Nessa up by the back of her thighs, she hoisted her up against her, urging those deliciously long legs to wrap around her waist. “I love it when you glare at me,” she corrected, nibbling at her jaw. “That was how you looked at me when we first met—I approached you, and you looked at me as if I had the complete audacity to be in your orbit. I took it as a challenge, you know.” Nessa was easily urged, her legs comfortably encircling Maeve’s back above her hips. Her arms draped over her lover’s neck as well, and her eyes closed as she enjoyed the soft scrape of teeth against her jaw. Her senses were still so heightened from the turn that even the softest sensations felt incredible. “You take everything as a challenge, my love, and you won’t be stopped until you’ve won. And you have now. Thoroughly.” Her fingers slid into Maeve’s hair, pulling wet strands from her face. “I admired your audacity, even when I thought of you as the scum of the realm,” she murmured, dark eyes meeting blue. “And you’ve been a wonderfully infuriating associate for the past century.” She dipped her head to kiss Maeve’s lips before she continued, her voice softening. “It would have been a shame to have only the one, I suppose.” Maeve had a lot of audacity. She was too damn old to have an ounce of shame and certainly was not timid. Poking the beautiful fae beast that was Nessa had started out as a game, but the attachment developed quickly — which had been a risky venture, she’d admit, considering how deeply Paloma burned her. Not the time to think about that wench, though. She was still on the top of her kill list, and her domestic partner was wrapped around her in the nude. A much better person to focus on. “I can work with the term associate – makes it seem like we have a salacious office affair,” she offered cheekily, hands roaming to cop a feel because her ass was right there, and Maeve would be an idiot to ignore the temptation of soft, squeezable flesh. Nessa’s fingers tightened in Maeve’s hair at her touch. She dragged her lover in close to kiss her again, letting those baby vampire fangs nick at soft, full lips and draw a drop of blood. There was no mistaking what direction this night would go in and how it would end, but she was enjoying the lead-up. All the bitter feelings, for now, had vanished. “I preferred wife,” she murmured when she drew back, sliding one hand down the curve of Maeve’s cheek. “I was surprised,” Maeve admitted, though not in a tone that implied disappointment. Their romantic dance had lasted about a year, but not without its interruptions – and she had remained loyal to Nessa throughout all of them. She hadn’t strayed. She’d been committed and was not afraid to commit further, ever the loyal warhound. “Would you have used that word, then, if you were unchanged?” There was no wrong answer, and Maeve suspected that the answer would be no. Nessa’s turn had forced upon them a lot of changes, and one of them was exile. She would argue it was freedom, but that was not a bone to pick with her. She liked their current mood. “Perhaps,” was Nessa’s answer. It was deeply noncommittal, but they both knew the true answer. Their relationship had been a secret until she’d been turned. It may not have been the best-kept secret, in fairness, particularly not in this realm, but the intention was there. Faeries weren’t meant to cozy up to vampires; they were bloodsuckers, dirt beneath the fae’s collective feet. She’d nearly been outed once and only been saved by Cayden’s quick thinking. Everything had changed since then. She was still fae, by birthright and by nature, but she was more than that now. She was some strange hybrid that had never been seen before, and she had been exiled from her realm because of it. Maeve was all she had, and Nessa loved her—why not push another step forward? “Would you want to marry me?” she questioned. That groping had turned to soft caresses beneath the water, blunt nails tickling the underside of Nessa’s thighs. “You say that as if you’ve forgotten how desperate I was to keep you in the realm of the living by any capacity,” Maeve chuckled and leaned in to lick the water droplets from her collarbone. There was no chlorine here; the pool was treated by salt, and the taste did nothing to her tongue. “I like the promise that marriage offers. I don’t care for—weddings. But we should shelf that conversation until we’re a little more settled, don’t you think?” What Maeve didn’t voice was that she wanted to make sure that Nessa didn’t storm off in dramatics in a way that would be an omen to another break. The issue wasn’t commitment. It was the stability of their situation, and they were only barely beginning to get their footing. Nessa accepted that with a nod of her head, letting her cheek rest against Maeve’s. This wasn’t a matter she was pressed to push forward. She would love to marry Maeve one day, but they had eternity ahead of them now. There was no rush, and despite the small sting, she did concede Maeve’s point. She had adjusted remarkably well when she’d accepted her situation, but settled she was not. “We’ll revisit it another time,” she agreed. “I’d like to wait until we’ve settled this business with Grandmother and Paloma, too.” There was a slightly distasteful wrinkle of her nose as she drew out the name of Maeve’s sire—if it qualified as such. She’d never quite get used to the woman simply being known by such a familial term. It was just a bit creepy. “Happy to do so,” Maeve grinned, noting the way she had said Grandmother – she knew what her nose was doing, that face that must be twisting into this almost-pout. “Until then, please do yourself the honor of calling yourself my wife when you introduce me to people.” She leaned her head back to look at her face more closely. “Consider it practice.” Nessa hummed, wrapping a lock of Maeve’s hair around two fingers before she kissed her again, just a tender locking of lips. “I plan to,” she replied, gazing unwaveringly into those beautiful eyes. Then, her tone shifting to something more teasing, she added, “Don’t make me demote you again, hm?” Maeve enjoyed the kiss, she truly did, but she also had to knock her head back and laugh at Nessa’s request. “My demotions have been entirely unintentional,” she argued, and moved their bodies to the edge of the pool so she could have some surface to push Nessa against. “But I’ll do my best to earn this–” That’s when her hands wandered, right between open thighs. “Esteemed title,” she finished, fangs popped out of hiding, before she kissed her deeply.

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