Time stretches on less intolerably after that. Zohreh demonstrates no real inclination toward conversation, and Gideon finds herself unaccountably shy. The vampire is, from time to time, subjected to Gideon's sense of humour, or idle chat that mainly centres around swords. For once though - quite remarkably - Gideon feels disinclined to make too much of a nuisance of herself, and Zohreh's silence feels more akin to tolerant than stony or cold.
By the time they arrive at the little town, Gideon has had plenty of time to recall her promise; she'd said she would behave, that she'd be stoic and unyielding as one would expect a bodyguard to be if Lenore would take her along on this expedition. It's a promise that has been somewhat dented, but spaces opens up for her to amend that, now. So she keeps her mouth shut during the bustle of their arrival, remains a silent presence unless directly addressed throughout the course of the meal. All Lenore's talk is so far above her head that she can barely perceive it, but her strong and silent act gives her time to begin formulating opinions of the company she now keeps.
For the most part, both humans and vampires seem accepting of each other. More than that, they appear to be on almost friendly terms. There's some level of nervousness amongst some of the villagers, but no one is feeling for their lives. No one is being offered up as either banquet or appeasing sacrifice. The scenes that play out before her are starkly at odds with anything she'd ever been taught, and sure she'd known her life in Drearburh has been fucked up and wrong on a variety of levels, but this is her first real view of what life is like outside of the Kingdom's crumbling walls. She'd been swiftly ushered away on the rare occasion outsiders had ever entered into her orbit, both forbidden and physically prevented from initiating interaction. The full reasoning for which she'd never entirely been able to comprehend. As such, the humans here seem almost as alien to her as the vampires themselves, their interactions a universe away from what she'd been taught to expect.
By the time they're ushered up to the headwoman's room, Gideon's head aches from the influx of new information. Exhaustion weighs heavy on her - mental and physical both - and it takes her a moment longer than it should to assess the situation; Lenore's maid has stripped the vampire down to her panties before Gideon's mind has caught up, and by this point she's had an eyeful of her owner's milk-white skin, the gorgeous curve of her breasts. Heat suffuses her abruptly, breath catching sharp in her throat. She turns away as the nightdress makes its appearance and forces herself to think of the hoary, plague-scarred retainers who had looked upon her with such unbridled hatred back in Drearburh. It’s the only thing she can think of to dampen her hot-blooded thoughts.
"I...I shouldn't...I mean, shouldn't I be outside? Like, on duty or something. Guarding the door?"
no subject
By the time they arrive at the little town, Gideon has had plenty of time to recall her promise; she'd said she would behave, that she'd be stoic and unyielding as one would expect a bodyguard to be if Lenore would take her along on this expedition. It's a promise that has been somewhat dented, but spaces opens up for her to amend that, now. So she keeps her mouth shut during the bustle of their arrival, remains a silent presence unless directly addressed throughout the course of the meal. All Lenore's talk is so far above her head that she can barely perceive it, but her strong and silent act gives her time to begin formulating opinions of the company she now keeps.
For the most part, both humans and vampires seem accepting of each other. More than that, they appear to be on almost friendly terms. There's some level of nervousness amongst some of the villagers, but no one is feeling for their lives. No one is being offered up as either banquet or appeasing sacrifice. The scenes that play out before her are starkly at odds with anything she'd ever been taught, and sure she'd known her life in Drearburh has been fucked up and wrong on a variety of levels, but this is her first real view of what life is like outside of the Kingdom's crumbling walls. She'd been swiftly ushered away on the rare occasion outsiders had ever entered into her orbit, both forbidden and physically prevented from initiating interaction. The full reasoning for which she'd never entirely been able to comprehend. As such, the humans here seem almost as alien to her as the vampires themselves, their interactions a universe away from what she'd been taught to expect.
By the time they're ushered up to the headwoman's room, Gideon's head aches from the influx of new information. Exhaustion weighs heavy on her - mental and physical both - and it takes her a moment longer than it should to assess the situation; Lenore's maid has stripped the vampire down to her panties before Gideon's mind has caught up, and by this point she's had an eyeful of her owner's milk-white skin, the gorgeous curve of her breasts. Heat suffuses her abruptly, breath catching sharp in her throat. She turns away as the nightdress makes its appearance and forces herself to think of the hoary, plague-scarred retainers who had looked upon her with such unbridled hatred back in Drearburh. It’s the only thing she can think of to dampen her hot-blooded thoughts.
"I...I shouldn't...I mean, shouldn't I be outside? Like, on duty or something. Guarding the door?"