[ Her comfort and care is soothing his raw and frayed nerves, and he unconsciously shows it by all but melting into her hold. If he could go back to that day and change the events that occurred then, he would. He had no other aspirations except to become a Temple Knight and fight for Ishgard and her people as long as he could. But fate and fortune had other plans, or so it seemed.
That day, he became what he sees as something cursed, unworthy of walking the same ground as those who are whole and unspoiled. And when he finally was forced to feed off another, when he could put it off no longer, his hatred for himself formed in earnest. Ever since then, he has been unable to look upon himself with anything resembling kindness.
She speaks, and at the tone of her voice, he freezes as a wave of something like compliance washes over him. But more than mere compliance is a desire to please her, to meet any request or order she might have for him. What he wants is unimportant. What he might do for her is of boundless importance. ] What is it? What do you need?
[ He would move mountains for her if she asked him to. When she places her hand against his face, his eyes open slightly and he leans into the touch instinctively. To be touched in such a way is still a rarity to him, something he has not experienced much of since this fate befell him, and so he seems to crave it almost greedily, as if it is something that could be snatched away from him without warning.
Whatever it is that she needs, or whatever it is that she is planning, he does not know, but he waits, holding his breath, to find out what it is. She speaks about his need for blood, and his habit of feeding off rats rather than doing so with her or anyone else. Of course, she is right, but that does little to sway him from his determination to only consume rats and other small animals that might cross his path.
A look of confusion crosses his face when she slides down to land on her knees. But all too soon, he realizes what it is that she is doing, and a jolt of panic shoots through him. No, I will not be tempted by this. I cannot.
His eyes fixate on her bared shoulder and neck, noting how exposed she is because of what she has done. Why? ]
... Why not? [ The words that leave him unbidden are spoken in a darker tone, with a voice that does not shake or hesitate. Slowly, he smiles, revealing his teeth and the pointed fangs that mark him as a vampire. Suddenly, those fangs are bared, and he leans forward slightly as if intending to claim the prey that so willingly presents herself to him.
But at the very last second, Aymeric freezes yet again and a look of sheer horror at what he was about to do crosses his face. Again his shoulders curl inward and he shifts away from her as he lowers his head, ashamed of what he almost did. But beneath the shame, a realization is beginning to form. He did not bite her; he did not drink from her neck, that most vulnerable place. Why? Because he was able to control himself and stop himself from doing what he would have regretted forever.
It does not wholly counter the shame, and neither does he straighten up once more, but somehow, he realizes that he has taken a step towards being himself and not the monster he views himself as. ]
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That day, he became what he sees as something cursed, unworthy of walking the same ground as those who are whole and unspoiled. And when he finally was forced to feed off another, when he could put it off no longer, his hatred for himself formed in earnest. Ever since then, he has been unable to look upon himself with anything resembling kindness.
She speaks, and at the tone of her voice, he freezes as a wave of something like compliance washes over him. But more than mere compliance is a desire to please her, to meet any request or order she might have for him. What he wants is unimportant. What he might do for her is of boundless importance. ] What is it? What do you need?
[ He would move mountains for her if she asked him to. When she places her hand against his face, his eyes open slightly and he leans into the touch instinctively. To be touched in such a way is still a rarity to him, something he has not experienced much of since this fate befell him, and so he seems to crave it almost greedily, as if it is something that could be snatched away from him without warning.
Whatever it is that she needs, or whatever it is that she is planning, he does not know, but he waits, holding his breath, to find out what it is. She speaks about his need for blood, and his habit of feeding off rats rather than doing so with her or anyone else. Of course, she is right, but that does little to sway him from his determination to only consume rats and other small animals that might cross his path.
A look of confusion crosses his face when she slides down to land on her knees. But all too soon, he realizes what it is that she is doing, and a jolt of panic shoots through him. No, I will not be tempted by this. I cannot.
His eyes fixate on her bared shoulder and neck, noting how exposed she is because of what she has done. Why? ]
... Why not? [ The words that leave him unbidden are spoken in a darker tone, with a voice that does not shake or hesitate. Slowly, he smiles, revealing his teeth and the pointed fangs that mark him as a vampire. Suddenly, those fangs are bared, and he leans forward slightly as if intending to claim the prey that so willingly presents herself to him.
But at the very last second, Aymeric freezes yet again and a look of sheer horror at what he was about to do crosses his face. Again his shoulders curl inward and he shifts away from her as he lowers his head, ashamed of what he almost did. But beneath the shame, a realization is beginning to form. He did not bite her; he did not drink from her neck, that most vulnerable place. Why? Because he was able to control himself and stop himself from doing what he would have regretted forever.
It does not wholly counter the shame, and neither does he straighten up once more, but somehow, he realizes that he has taken a step towards being himself and not the monster he views himself as. ]