Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
A/N: I couldn't find much about this in the books, so I improvised a little. I had always wondered what had drawn Fala to Moira, and I'd always pictured as a bit like how Jager met Fala. Also, if you're going to say I'm sick and slash-minded for this, you might want to reread Demon in my View, where it says "Fala had met and fallen in love with Moira."
And my first reviewer gets a cookie, of course.
Chapter 1
(Moira is asleep, and Fala sitting beside her, legs spread out, leaning against the coarse, gritty wall of the narrow cell. The light is so dim that even she, with her vampiric sight, can hardly see her own hands. She lifts one experimentally, and waves it before her eyes.)
Fala (very quietly):Damn.
Moira shifts very slightly in her sleep, and the rough wall catches the skin across her shoulder. She murmurs something incomprehensible, as Fala leans over and licks the blood off the scratch.)
Fala (whispered): You taste good.
(Gently, Fala takes another lick, but no more; there is something beautiful about this other girl, even in the dark, something that has drawn her here. She cannot destroy her chances now.
A lock of hair falls across Moira's face, and Fala brushes it away. Moira opens her eyes, and reaches one hand up blindly, in the dark, unable to see anything – her hand brushes across Fala's chest, and she draws it back quickly, startled and embarrassed. Her eyes are black; her lips are red, red with her own blood where a guard had slapped her when she refused to enter the cell. Fala smiles.
Moira shivers slightly, and Fala huddles against her, forgetting, for a moment, that she can offer none of the warmth of the living.)
Moira: Who are you?
Fala: Do I frighten you?
(Moira touches the sticky blood at her shoulder, then rubs her fingers together, still blind in the darkness. She does not answer the question.)
Moira: My name is Moira.
Fala: Fala.
(Fala is still leaning against the other girl, one arm around her, for feigned warmth. Moira finds one of her hands, and clasps it with her own, forgetting the blood on her fingers.)
Moira: You're freezing.
Fala: I hadn't noticed.
Moira: I don't mind.
(She half shrugs, burrowing deeper against the other. Their fingers are still entwined, and the sun has begun to rise – pale, watery light streams through the tiny window above their heads, revealing how much darker Fala's Egyptian skin is, compared to Moira's. Moira's black hair shimmer's oddly in the sunrise's scarlet glow, knotted and tousled.
Fala blinks a bit at the new light.)
Moira: You don't have to be here.
Fala: I know. But I want to.
(Moira laughs a little, disbelieving.)
Moira: They'll kill you.
Fala: They don't know how.
(Moira looks confused, but does not question this. She tries to pull away from Fala, but the other is holding her with an impossible strong grip.)
Moira (again): Who are you?
Fala: I'm here to save you.
Moira: You can't. They want to kill me. No one can stop them.
(Fala reaches out her mind to Moira, who does not, or cannot flinch away.)
Fala (with her mind): Not if you're already dead.
(Still holding Moira lovingly, she sinks her fangs into the other's dark skin.)