marlowemuses | If you were Dracula, I'd be letting you take that bite

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If you were Dracula, I'd be letting you take that bite

Lenore's immediately curious about their 'guest' in the dungeons from what Striga had to say: a swordswoman of exceptional skill, the most satisfying fight Striga had enjoyed in years and she only regretted that the woman was so tired out already before Striga got to her, if she'd been fresher in the fight and had vampiric advantages, she would have been a 'true opponent'.

The soldiers who had survived the battle spoke of it like something out of legend, to the point that Lenore almost had to roll her eyes at the way the story was already getting embroidered and exaggerated. (She thought it very unlikely that their captive was eight feet tall with eyes of flame.) There was little useful information from any of them--run down castle practically in ruins, aging retainers, decrepit king and queen, none of them even healthy enough to save for feeding purposes. Morana had plenty to say about that, the waste of losing forty-seven good soldiers for the gain of an ugly, crumbling castle in an ugly, barren land and if she'd known it was going to be this much bother they would have just gone around. Carmilla had already expressed her opinion in the original conversation, and the entirety of that opinion was a disgusted scoff.

Thus armed with as much information as she was going to get, Lenore dressed herself elegantly and went to the kitchens to collect a basket of freshly baked spice cakes, temptingly aromatic, before she descended to the dungeon.

Only one of the cells was filled at this time--none of the sisters were especially inclined toward taking prisoners unless they were of political value in some way, and their food captives were kept elsewhere under relatively minimal restraint.

"Well," Lenore comments, stopping in front of the dungeon cell and looking over the captive within with interest, chained on her knees. A heavy collar around her throat was chained to a ring in the floor in front of her, while her wrists were pulled out to either side and secured to more heavy iron rings and the cuffs on her ankles were attached to a ball and chain. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone in quite that many chains."

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"If I'm right and we need to replace the mayor," Lenore says, speaking low and swift. "We need to find a replacement, and we need to find one swiftly under his nose. My first plan is to claim that my maid is pregnant and that she needs a healer, in hopes that a doctor or midwife would be educated enough and well-connected enough to either fit my criteria themselves or know someone who would. But that's just desperate hoping, and I need a backup plan."

Her fingers curl on Gideon's shoulders, protective and worried, and her eyes are both pleading and apologetic. "If there's someone who met my criteria enough that the mayor saw them as a threat, then it's very likely they're in his dungeons. So we claim that you accosted us on the road and I want you thrown in the dungeons. My soldiers will escort you, to prevent you from being searched, so that we can smuggle you in with an iron file and a dagger or two, in case things go wrong and you need them. One day. You talk to everyone within shouting distance in that dungeon, and then we come get you out and anyone else in that dungeon who doesn't actually deserve to be there. Will you do this for me?"

Gideon eyes Lenore coolly, her mouth a tight-pressed line. The heat from the kiss still burns on her lips, but--

"I know I kinda come off like I'm dumb as all hell, but I'm not that much of a goon," she says slowly, after a one long, extended moment of silence, "Like, it's not the worst plan I've ever heard, but how am I supposed to know you won't just leave me down there to rot?"

Granted, it seems like rather an elaborate method of torture; allowing her to think she's needed, then just throw her in some other dungeon altogether. But one has to consider the possibility.

"You'll have the file and a dagger. I'll give you a pair of my hairpins if we can't find lockpicks. They don't know how strong and dangerous you are, so they won't take any special precautions against you," Lenore assures her, tone coaxing and eyes pleading.

The door opens as Greta returns, and Lenore takes a step away, turning to see what her maid has brought. Two sheathed daggers and a heavy iron file, which she holds out.

"No lockpicks?" Lenore asks, as she takes the items.

Greta shakes her head. "Too specialized. The blacksmith said he'd have to make them up special."

Nodding, Lenore turns and offers the three items to Gideon while Greta picks up another bundle to take out to the sleigh.

Gideon's expression stays tight as Greta re-enters the room. There are more questions to be answered here, like how can I trust you'll really stop them from searching me? But no matter what ground she tries to cover, it's likely Lenore could tell her a convenient lie as easily as she could tell her the truth. There's no real way to know for certain. Only trust-- something she has in short supply, with so little past experience with trustworthiness to go on.

In the end, she blows air rudely between her lips, rolls her eyes as far back into her head as they will go. Nevertheless, she's takes the items being held out to her. "Fiiiiine. But I feel like I deserve some kind of extra incentive for letting you have me locked up all the time."

Lenore nods easy agreement to the request, happy to heap more favors upon her champion. "Anything. Within the terms of our agreement. And if it's anything that takes more than ten minutes, then it's to be fulfilled after this situation is resolved."

She fetches a pair of hair pins from her jewelry box and brings them over. One silver, with a bird on the end, and the other gold, with a rose on the end, the plainest Lenore owns. "If you don't know how to pick locks, I'll go over the basics while we ride."

Gideon mulls over Lenore's promise as she brings her the hairpins, realises she's quite at a loss as to what she should even ask for. Is loathe to admit that a please and a thank you, and a Gideon you're the absolute best and also very fucking hot is enough to get her to do a dazzling array of things. So for now she just nods her agreement, and after stashing the other tools on her person, reaches to take the hairpins. They seem far to fine a thing to be used for such a rough job, she isn't about to complain.

"Oh Night Mistress, I am a pro at picking locks," she says it with a crooked-pin smile. Fuck knows she's freed herself from many a locked room before, and Lenore and her clan are lucky in that she'd been searched and restrained so thoroughly.

"Good." Lenore smiles warmly at her, pleased and reassured that she's willing to go along with this plan. While they still have an extra moment of privacy, Lenore pressed close again, face against Gideon's chest and a little tremor in her body.

"I'm scared," she murmurs. "If it is a trap. If I'm setting up this plan and putting my best fighter out of my own reach. I hate this. But I've been searching my brains for the past two days and this gamble is the best idea I have."

Looking up again, scared and unhappy, Lenore's hands tighten around Gideon's waist. "Once we get home, I'm not leaving for a week. If something else needs to be dealt with in that time, someone else can fucking deal with it."

If she'd already been prepared to go through with the vampire’s plan despite her reservations, this seals her fate. Lenore feels so achingly delicate as she presses herself against Gideon's chest, and maybe she hasn't yet worked out when to push and when it's best to do as she's told, but it's impossible not to hold her in this moment. Her hand moves to the small of Lenore's back and any further questions bleed right out of her, because who in their right fucking mind could resist a request made like this?

Not Gideon Nav, that's for sure.

"Hey. Hey, it's okay," she says, her voice steady, her heartbeat swift and fierce, "Just...I dunno. Make sure you have your best guards with you? I can handle myself. I'm sure that great big sister of yours told you that."

A pause, just the length of a heartbeat. It seems such a dumb thing to say, gives more of herself away than truly means to, but-- "And you'll stay with me? All of that week, when we’re back?"

Lenore nods, smile soft and tentative, pleased at how much Gideon wants her. "You're my bodyguard. I need you by my side."

Lifting herself up on her toes, she kisses Gideon again, just as fierce but still not letting herself linger. Her expression is regretful as she pulls away, giving Gideon one last hug and then letting go, returning herself to her role as queen.

The party is moving again quickly, back to the pattern they'd set yesterday, and Lenore is riding once again, eyes alert. There's not as far to travel this time, and it's before lunch that they're arriving at what is a very obviously burnt mill.

Lenore keeps Gideon by her side as she speaks to the miller, who is elderly and who trembles as he speaks to them, looking around warily as though he expects to be hit. He's unwilling to speak at first, but Lenore eventually coaxes out of him a story even worse than what she'd expected. The man calling himself the mayor had been a mere criminal before, running loan and 'protection' schemes, but in the power vacuum he ran rampant.

The crops haven't been good, but they haven't been especially bad the past year, either, but the mayor had been increasing their 'taxes' and saying that it was the vampire queens who were demanding more. The miller had struggled to pay and had refused to give up the grain of other farmers that had just been left with him for the milling, so the mayor had punished him by burning his mill and taking his daughter, saying it was a 'warning' to others.

By the end of the story, Lenore has gone absolutely stony with rage. She gives him some of the food they have and a few coins, and promises that they'll get his daughter back.

Then she draws Zohreh, Esfir, Greta and Gideon aside to speak, explaining the plan. They will be killing the mayor and carrying out a coup, but they still need to get their replacement if at all possible. The miller had no suggestions to offer about a replacement other than a priest, which Lenore isn't willing to consider.

"Give Zohreh your sword, Gideon," Lenore says, voice hard and bitter with what they have to do. "I'm sorry, but you'll be walking the rest of the way."

The simple words I need you by my side somehow manage to quietly buoy her up for the remainder of the ride. The fierce kiss she'd been gifted with winds up taking centre stage in many of her idle fantasies, which - unlike the night before - have very little to do with slaughtering the entire royal guard out of petty vengeance. She spends the journey mostly silent - if only because her mind is occupied with other, more wanton things - only making the occasional lewd joke when the opportunity proves too significant not to take.

By the time they reach the mill she's ready to step into the role she'd initially promised; she stands a step behind Lenore throughout the length of her interrogation...although interrogation transpires not to be quite the right word. She listens to the old miller, subtly observes Lenore's expression-- and the tale opens up a space in her which leads to uncomfortable questions. It's less the rampant corruption that shocks her, the rotten black core of the governing body in this town; these are things she knows, bone-deep, from her own experience. It's the genuine concern she sees painted on faces she has been taught are little more than vicious monsters.

Vampires drink people's blood. They eat babies. They descend on unsuspecting villages and murder everyone in sight before engaging in orgies amongst the corpses. Okay sure, she'd always suspected that last one was the product of Drearburh's guards' perverted imaginations. Yet it still makes something go ping! in her head, forces her to wonder how much she might have been wrong about.

By the time Lenore requests she relinquish her sword, Gideon is feeling less incalcitrant than anyone may expect from her. There is - of course - a moment of wary delay. A sidelong glance cast in Zohreh's direction, like she suspects the woman of coveting her sword and planning to squirrel it away from her forever. But she voices no complaints, doesn't even roll her eyes, only hands it over with restrained reluctance.

"I could do with a walk anyway. My butt is killing me after all this riding," she says, because 'of course, my Queen' are words that apparently don't exist in her lexicon. "It can hardly be worse than the way I arrived in Styria."

The circumstances are certainly far gentler than the way she arrived in Styria. There's very brief discussion as to whether Gideon needs a little bit of fresh bruising and bloodying to be convincing, but it's determined that she still looks bruised enough. Time is taken for a quick lunch for everyone, and then they prepare to leave.

Esfir ties Gideon's wrists, but she ties a slip knot, silently but clearly showing Gideon how to hold it convincingly tight and how to loosen it in an instant. The end of the rope is tied to the horse of one of the soldiers, a pair of whom are given authority over Gideon and explained that they're to deliver her to the dungeons and make very sure that she's not searched or accosted at all by the mayor's people on the way there. Gideon's fine black horse is swapped out with another soldier's, so that the horse going spare is one that looks more convincingly like a pack horse.

Lenore climbs into the sleigh for the final leg of their journey, leaving Zohreh to handle everything else. There's not far at all to go, since the mill is just on the edge of town, but it is a miserable mile's walk for Gideon through the deep snows that are difficult for even the horses to traverse. As they arrive to the walled, medium-size town, bells are rung and the gates are opened, welcoming the group within. The men guarding the gates are only lightly armed and armored, with leather and padded cloth rather than the full plate armor worn by Lenore's soldiers. The expressions of the town guards are variously wary, shifty, bored, and hostile, but they exchange only a few brusque words before allowing Lenore's party to continue on.

There are stone walls around the town and a winding path up a hill, but it's still tiny enough that one could throw a stone from the entry gate to the small town square, the church to one side and a stone manor to the other, with other houses and shops clustered tight all around. Lights flick on in a few buildings, and unlit faces peek out of a few more buildings, gawping at the passing soldiers and the fine covered sleigh.

Finally, at the stone manor house, Lenore emerges from the sleigh and they're welcomed by the mayor himself, who looks like he's only barely restraining yawns. Unlike her earlier warmth with the village headwoman and the miller, Lenore is cool and aloof with the town mayor, all regal dignity. She glances over at Gideon only once, expression impassive, before Lenore turns to enter the manor and Gideon is led away to the town's jail.

The walk to the town is a miserable one. Despite her fine, warm clothes the cold still manages to penetrate once she's slogging through deep snow. That it has at least been churned up by the horses is something, but that means that it is - in parts - compacted and slippery, not at all fun to walk through. Yet other than the occasional expletive muttered underneath her breath, she stays relatively silent, trying to act the part of sullen and cowed captive rather than anyone likely to give the approaching township a problem.

It's an experience, entering this new place. Just as the village they'd stopped in overnight had been an experience; a first real look at the outside world, how people other than the gnarled and twisted ones she'd been enslaved by live. There's a certain heaviness about the atmosphere as they're finally granted admittance; shadowy faces peering out at them from stony apertures and doorways, expressions difficult to read in the night's dimly illuminated gloom.

A shiver of emotion runs through her as Lenore surveys her so coolly before turning away, though it's one she isn't sure how to interpret. Concern? For herself, or for the vampire? Maybe she's just fucking cold and it doesn't mean anything at all.

Her incarceration, at least, runs smooth as flowing water. Her vampire guards are guided to the town's jail by two of the city's own, both of whom seem cold and disinterested in either herself or the soldiers. There's barely a fuss made at all as she's led into the jail proper - one large, barred cell scattered with stinking straw, and a cluster of miserable prisoners eyeing her coolly contained within. They don't even ask to search her - only insist that she opens her mouth and shows her teeth before she's ushered inside - a request that draws an arch look from the vampires, shared between themselves. It’s also punctuated by the hissed threat from Gideon that if any fingers get near her face she'll bite them the fuck off. It's a threat that draws only muffled laughter, and apparently satisfied, she's shooed inside the dim and reeking cell without so much as a cuff about the head.

It's not hard to begin striking up conversation. Lenore's guard are led back out again, and the men set to guard the prisoners skulk off to whatever they'd been doing before her arrival. Which looks - from Gideon's partially occluded perspective - like napping, and playing cards. No one is paying her a blind bit of attention.

She finds herself confined with two criminals so petty that what they'd done is barely worthy of the word crime, and two others who seemed to have done nothing more than vocally oppose the mayor. One prisoner tells her to mind her own fucking business and go to sleep, whilst another - the only other occupant of the room - watches Gideon with a calm assessing gaze, and asks to see her bruises. She wants to know, apparently, how badly she's been hurt.

This last is an older woman, dark hair shot through with steely grey, and Gideon relents to her requests to check her over if only because she likes the straight-forward authority in her voice, and the fact she seems more concerned with Gideon's injuries than what she's in for. Her attitude is one that commands no nonsense underlain with something akin to kindness, and so it's hard to know for sure whether Gideon's judgements are accurate; small acts of human warmth threaten to melt her defences entirely. Yet the conversation she strikes up with the woman makes her think she could be onto something. She is not the best person for this job, it's a risky ploy of Lenore's at best, because what little she knows of people is hardness and an ugly rot that extends deeper even than bones. But when this woman tells her she's a respected wise woman and healer, that she'd wound up in jail for quietly undermining the current mayor to people who could be useful-- it's something.

If she has no interest in running the town herself, then perhaps she might know who would.

Lenore's stress increases every step that she takes into the town, more when she sends Gideon away, more again when she enters the mayor's house and feels her skin prickling with dread. It doesn't seem organized enough to be a trap. There are too many open exits, not enough soldiers. If it's a trap, it's a bad one, poorly planned and poorly researched, ignorant of the real abilities of vampires. But what makes her paranoid is that it's a gambit of some kind. It doesn't have to be a good trap in order to successfully end her life or that of some of her people.

There's slimy diplomacy to wade through, the most exhausting kind. He doesn't want to make deals, he isn't trying to win her over. He's just lying to her face, with a shit-eating smile like he thinks she's too stupid to see through it or just is so convinced of his own superiority that he can't see the holes in his own arguments.

They only have a few hours before dawn, so triggering anything now is a risk, but she's all the more worried that if she waits until dawn it will be the opportunity they're waiting for to trigger their own plans. So she signals Greta with a twitch of her finger, and her maid doubles over with a cry of pain, providing the excuse Lenore needs to ask for a healer. Except that the man they bring to the guest rooms is an apothecary who looks panicked at the thought of tending to a pregnant woman, and Lenore feels like she's going to explode with frustration and anxiety. Who delivers the babies in this town? Why wasn't that person brought? The apothecary only starts to squirm under her questions, and when Lenore storms back out to demand the same of the self-made mayor, she gets only lies and evasions.

She knows that she's panicking. She has no further plans. She feels like they can't afford to wait.

Zohreh and her soldiers make quick work of the mayor and his men, and then Esfir hangs back with the majority of the soldiers, holding the mayor's house like it's a fortress, while Zohreh, Lenore, and a handful of guards move swiftly to the jail. One of Lenore's soldiers snatches the keys off the guard, holding both guards at swordpoint while Lenore yanks the jail door open and Zohreh tosses Gideon's sheathed sword to her.

"Gideon?" Lenore demands, demeanor like a cat with its fur all puffed up with panic. "What have you got for me?"

The more time passes between her incarceration and catching sight of Lenore again, the more Gideon's insides clench tight around themselves, stomach tied up in knots. The possibility of betrayal almost doesn't matter anymore; she's well equipped to get herself the hell out of here if she needs to, and to take the other prisoners with her. But it's hard not to think of all the things that might be happening whilst she's locked up down here; deadly traps laid, a hoard of armed soldiers waiting to get the vampires closed in and contained. The night seems still and silent to her but for the quiet words she shares with the wise woman; if there's a commotion above (or a fucking bloodbath), it doesn't reach her all-too human ears.

This mounting tension gives way to a relief so bright that she’s positively incandescent with it when Lenore and her small entourage spill into the jail. Gideon is on her feet in moments, sword caught smooth as dreaming, and whilst the other prisoners blink in blind confusion or push themselves to the furthest corners of the cell, Gideon's hand moves to the wise woman's shoulder.

"This is Bronwyn, she said she's a healer and like, a pillar of the community. She got thrown in here for trying to get people together to stand against the mayor," she says it in one long rush as Bronwyn steps resolutely forward. She meets Lenore's gaze unflinchingly, with a calm authority despite that she's currently looking a two-hundred-year-old vampire in the face. Meanwhile Gideon's eyes spark from Lenore's to Zohreh's and over the small cluster of vampire soldiers that flank them.

"What's happening, where do you need me? This isn't everyone, is it?" with a liquid whisper, she's already unsheathing her sword.

"Good," Lenore states, feeling an immediate wash of relief that her gambit worked and they have someone. She gestures two fingers at Gideon to beckon her to Lenore's side, wanting her bodyguard back where she belongs, then returns her full attention to Bronwyn, letting go of any worry for her own safety now that she can trust Gideon to cover her. "Because now you have more people to stand against the mayor. I am Queen Lenore of the Sisterhood. I had my doubts about that man, and he proved the worst of them. We've taken the mayor's house and most of my soldiers are there holding it. We need to get back there before dawn gets any closer. You're coming with us. Unless you'd like to propose someone else, you're now in charge of this town."

Lenore nods toward the door, expecting Bronwyn to come with her and leaving space for the woman to walk beside her like an equal so that they can talk and she can ask additional questions while they get moving.

At another time, that little gesture - imbued with authority and expectation - might have served to piss her off, but instead Gideon is swift to take her place a step behind Lenore. Her nerves are singing, muscles tight-coiled and aching for a fight, so it kinda sucks that it sounds like she's missed out on all the action. It's not a disappointment she can dwell on though, not whilst relief still fills her like light just knowing that Lenore wasn't caught in some trap. That the others are back at the mayor's house, even if she learns this latter from the vampire's address to Bronwyn.

Bronwyn, meanwhile, takes her place at Lenore's side as though she belongs there, like she's earnt it. Gideon figures - based on what she's already been told - that she has. She shows no sign of fear in the presence of the vampires, nor at Lenore's lofty position as Queen, instead speaking to her in her quiet, steely voice in a way that conveys her own authority, but also her respect. Evidently, she'd anticipated this very outcome; intervention from the Queendom, something better than the corruption and brutishness they were currently labouring under. Her belief in the vampire women positioned above that of the human men.

Gideon stays silent, face filled with sparking menace-- but she's listening. Learning something new.

Lenore relaxes more as she returns to the mayor's manor and the larger group of her soldiers. Things are still tense for another hour, as she relies upon Bronwyn's judgement as to which of the mayor's men deserve mercy and do not. She puts twenty of her soldiers under Bronwyn's command to help ease and enforce the transfer of power while Bronwyn is establishing her office and arranging for the town to run properly once more. Bronwyn balks at having that many vampire soldiers intimidating the small town, but Lenore insists. If nothing else, she'll need all the hands she can get to help rebuild the mill.

It's all politics and bureaucracy until an hour or so past sunrise, when Lenore finally staggers into the room that was prepared for her. She steps into Gideon's arms as soon as they're alone (or at least with only Greta politely busying herself with ignoring them), pressing her face back into Gideon's chest (which, with their height difference, is more or less right into Gideon's breasts) and hugging tight.

It's a difficult thing - when one's nervous system is still flushed hard with pent-up adrenalin - to stand around and listen to stuffy politics that fly over one's head. Gideon thrums with the energy she never got to use up, muscles silently screaming for a fight, but instead she has to satisfy herself with dogging Lenore's footsteps, face hard and promising a vicious fight for anyone who steps out of line.

No one does. Not physically. It's just endless bureaucracy and planning and talking until slowly some of the tight-wound tension begins to bleed out of her, replaced by boredom and a desire for rest. She's half asleep on her feet by the time she tails Lenore to the space that's hastily been prepared for her, one hand still on her sword (now sheathed) despite the unlikeliness of an attack. It’s almost like being jerked awake when Lenore presses against her the moment they're (sort of) alone. With the vampire's face against her tits, the soft shape of her pushed close against her body, Gideon's nerves fire back into life all over again.

It's done without thought, her own arms encircling the woman before her, Gideon's face dipping down to press against her thick and silken hair. It's with a small shock - like a snapped stem - that she realises her relief is genuine. That the vampire she'd threatened to kill only a few short days ago has somehow become someone she wants to keep safe.

"Hey, you did it. It's done. It all worked out good, I think?" she'd be lying if she pretended she'd kept listening to even half the stuff discussed upstairs, but she still thinks she has the gist of it.

Lenore nods, lifting her face with a tired smile and reaching one hand up to curl around the back of Gideon's neck. "Yes. We did it. You did well. Thank you for finding Bronwyn. We could have managed, but it would all have been a lot more difficult without your help. You were the bridge we needed, so that I knew I could work with her without having to delay, and she trusted us faster because you were evidence of there being a plan in place." Sure, it was just sitting in a jail cell for a few hours, but it had also been crucially helpful, and Lenore wants to be sure that Gideon knows that. She's needed. She's valued.

Pulling her down into a kiss, Lenore whimpers a little with need as their mouths meet, pushing herself up on tiptoe to make the connection easier. Her hand slides a little higher into Gideon's hair, curling possessively into the strands, while her other hand tugs at the hem of Gideon's shirt, untucking it, clearly seeking more.

Breaking off even while she's still impatient for more, Lenore licks her lips. She can't let herself get lost in desire just yet.

"Check the room for traps," she instructs, leaning up for one last quick peck before she lets go. "Then wash and undress for bed. There's food if you're hungry." Since she doubts the jail was serving any middle of the night meals, much less anything edible.

The washing supplies are just a cake of plain soap and a couple of ewers of cold water, but at least the heat of the fire is warm.

Warmth blooms thickly at the centre of her. It's kind of embarrassing, really, what a few words of appreciation can do. It's there in her now, the realisation that it's all she ever really needed; some indication that she’s needed, that she matters. That she is - in some small way - wanted. Lenore's words hit all the right buttons - even if all she'd done was sit about and miss out on all the action - but before she can express any kind of gratitude Lenore's hand is in her hair, her lips on her lips.

Gideon makes a muffled sound and goes easy into the pull of Lenore's hard-curled fingers. She's loose-limbed and obliging as she leans down for Lenore to better reach, hot sparks shooting through her at the feel of Lenore's hand at her neck even as she refuses to entirely acknowledge that she doesn't hate the weight of ownership in it. She's quick to kiss her back - firm and needy, with less finesse than she thinks Lenore deserves. Her hands move to the tight curve of the vampire's waist, thoughts turning hot and blurry around the edges as something in her goes yes yes yes, wanting more of this. More than this--

--but then Lenore breaks contact, licking her lips like she doesn't know the sight of it drives the spike of lust into Gideon all the deeper. She makes a low sound caught somewhere between need and frustration, mutters clit tease real quiet beneath her breath. Yet with pleasure still pooling hot in her insides and the taste of Lenore on her tongue, she's too lust-stoned to do anything other than obey.

Her patrol of the room is thorough, though it reveals nothing aside from the fact that they're as safe as they can hope to be. She is hungry, wolfing down food as though it might grow legs and run off if she gives it half a chance. Perhaps the water is cold and the soap plain, but this comes closer to what she knows, and the heat from the fire adds a touch of the luxurious despite everything. It's good, stripping off her clothes and cleansing her skin of the grime from their journey, from those few nasty hours spent in the piss-scented dungeon.

The fire gilds her silhouette in gold, dressed only in her underwear, but it does a fair job of disguising her flushed skin. "Soooooo, where do you want me?"

Lenore's brow quirks a little at the murmured words, briefly tempted to call Gideon out on her sass, but Lenore's still too on-edge, wishing they were home and safe, so she forgives it as a sign of Gideon's own nerves.

Greta helps to undress Lenore again to get ready for bed. This time Lenore strips down to her skin, clad in nothing but red curls as she walks over to the ewers of water and does her own quick wash. She's more cursory about it, having had very few encounters with grime in any way and not wanting to linger with the rough soap and cold water. She only bothers with her hands, armpits, and groin, a swift soap and rinse in each place, then dries off again. Greta slips out and leaves them alone, and Lenore dresses herself once again in the gauzy nightdress and clean silk panties.

"Here," Lenore invites, sliding into bed and then reaching out her arms to summon Gideon closer. "Come and kiss me."

It's hard to know precisely what to do, when you have a banging babe buck-naked in front of you, but she's like, all regal and shit, and also kind of owns you, so the rules of engagement are blurry around the edges. Because of this, Gideon hesitates around the duel choices of eyeing her up and politely averting her gaze; what she wants to do and what she probably should do warring violently inside of her.

It's almost a relief when Lenore slides into bed-- except that she's still barely dressed under there and her pale, slender arms are extended. An invitation - a demand - for Gideon to join her.

This, at least, isn't the kind of order she's inclined to back-chat.

Gideon slides into bed beside her Mistress, breath coming a little quick, heartbeat loud. She does as she's told - well, hell, who wouldn't? - resting on the apex extension of one arm, the other seeking out the curve of Lenore's waist. She kisses her then, aims for slower this time, and less rough. Wanting to do this justice.

It's a relief to finally, finally have Gideon where she can take some time with her, even if it isn't entirely the circumstances she wants (and she intends to take far more time once they are home and can spend a day or two lounging and bathing and fucking). Lenore embraces her gladly, one hand curling around Gideon's side and the other gently cupping the back of her head, drawing her into the kiss and sighing happily once she has it.

Despite the opportunities Lenore has, she actually hasn't taken a lover in a couple of years, and it's been longer than that since she had a lover who wasn't in some way politically advantageous. Gideon is useful, and taming her was a bit of a favor to Striga, but Lenore absolutely could have made this a bit more impersonal. She could have established Gideon's loyalty on a more transactional basis, earned her trust through the very straightforward we take care of you, you take care of us arrangement of any of their soldiers or servants. Lenore chose to bind Gideon to herself, leaving the transactional side of things to their periphery. She expects Gideon to obey the other queens, she intends Gideon to be paid and well-treated. But making Gideon her creature was a matter of choice.

It's true that Lenore has been lonely, and Gideon caught her amusement and attention. She wanted something this ferocious, this impassioned, to be bound fiercely and solely to her.

Kissing with sweet, grateful yearning, Lenore draws Gideon more fully atop her, shifting a little beneath her lover as her desire starts to build, skin tingling as blood rises to the surface, cheeks flushed, fangs lengthened.

She goes willingly where Lenore leads her. She moves to straddle her now, keeps her weight balanced on her forearms as though the vampire beneath her is some delicate, bird-boned thing she's endeavouring not to crush. She does this without breaking the contact of their lips, and what the kiss lacks in experience it makes up for in fiery ardency. Fuck knows she wants this, has thought about it with alarming frequency since the worst of her fury had bled out of her and allowed her to see how god-damned breath-taking Lenore is. And even then, with her beauty placed to one side...she's been kind to her. She could have had her executed, the obvious thing to do with a woman who has slaughtered a whole bunch of one's soldiers, but instead she'd given her clothes and food and a bed and words of appreciation. The promise of a purpose. The latter of which being something she's longed for so desperately, for such a very long time.

She pulls back only to draw breath, eyes a hot glitter in the dimness of the room as she looks down into Lenore's face. Her cheeks are as flushed as the vampire's, her heart a hammer against her ribs, yet still she holds her own weight, keeps just a fractional space between their bodies. This is the closest she's ever been to anyone, the sheer possibility both thrilling and frightening. Gideon swallows, thickly. Tries to steady herself, so that she'll sound like she knows what she's doing.

"Tell me what you like," her voice is a heated whisper, not as confident as she'd intended. Earnest though, with the dim light coruscating from the D-ring of her collar like a punctuation mark.

"Explore me," Lenore commands, or invites, letting her own hands roam lightly over Gideon's chest. One hand skims up from her side and the other trails down over her collarbone, converging on her breasts and cupping them in light hands, thumbs teasing over her nipples like she's plucking the strings of a harp. "I want your hands and mouth all over me. Inside of me. You're welcome to bite or leave marks, though they'll fade quickly. Nothing's off limits."

She already suspects that Gideon is ... inexperienced, to put it gently. How much experience could she possibly have? From what Lenore knows of Gideon's unpleasant former life, she doubts that any experience she might have had was anything enjoyable. So she leaves her instruction open for now, encouraging Gideon to learn by touch, to learn Lenore's body and how she responds.

If you were Dracula, I'd be letting you take that bite

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