Warning: Descriptive drug use, needles and general depravity connected to a being that feasts on humanity. Cheers.
-1st Month-
The normalcy of this town was beginning to creep up on her, the easy way which it conducted itself, everyone had a role to play and they did it with disheartened flourish. Jobs were completed, stores were open and not one person ever even attempted to vacate the Story Brooke stage. All were trained pets, puppets of the Queen conducting a never ending show.
After the debacle in the master bedroom Emma had been vigilant to catch any sign that Regina had this magic on call. Thankfully, it seemed that the scene in the washroom had just been a onetime ordeal. The magic did not originate from Regina or at least she could not manifest the magic on her own. But while she had no ability to create she could somehow charge herself with reserves Emma didn't even realize her body had. The second time Regina had tried to pull magic from Emma's body it had resulted in the same jarring pain and she had gritted her teeth and withstood it all till she had fallen momentarily paralyzed on the ground. Regina had been so distraught over the damage she had caused that she never mentioned trying to regain her powers to Emma again.
According to Henry's book and Regina's reluctant confirmation it appeared that Mary Margaret was indeed Snow White. The ludicrously of it all, fairy tale characters living in Maine, but then again, she herself was a god forbid blood drinker, who was she to judge. If Henry's speculations were correct then she was the daughter of Royalty, a real freaking princess stemmed from a Disney character. Emma had tested this theory by indulging in Mary Margaret's blood and found the flavour reminiscent of the scent clinging to Henry's but nowhere as potent. She had refrained from drinking from her roommate till recently, it was never good to feed where one's den was located. It drew the wrong kind of attention and meant she would've constantly needed to mesmerize her teeth achingly sweet roommate.
The first real obstacle Emma had faced was finding the correct emotions to display towards finding out one's mother was a fictional character. It was hard to predict and Emma had been caught off guard when Regina had questioned her feelings towards said situation. She had tried her best to gage Regina's welcoming posture and attempted to quietly embrace her human lover which thankfully had worked out. Regina had stroked tentative hands through bright wheat golden curls and placated Emma's non-existent anguish deep into the night. It was odd to have one's prey cuddling her chilled frame for an entire evening.
Being in Regina's arms felt strangely comfortable, even a little restful. To have the slow intake and outtake of breaths even out as the human eventually drifted off to sleep. There was no such thing as rest for her; the blood in her veins froze when it became stagnant within her body, frothing into a simmering pain if she went too long without a fresh additive. Emma spent most of her nights prowling The Rabbit Hole; alcohol always provided easy subjects, their memories already befuddled to begin with.
Whiskey, patron, vodka, gin and assortment of others made her victim's blood carry a intoxication of its own but they were never close to how Regina's tasted after a couple glasses of cider; the blood in the Mayor's body warmed by the high percentage, her veins dilated and her body pliant to Emma's hungry affections. Regina's blood was a delectable aphrodisiac, something heavenly and should be completely forbidden. Never had Emma had such issues with self-control, never had she craved to ruin and devour another in such a way. Her maker had always complimented her superb self-discipline, considering her young age and how little of the blood frenzy manage to take over her sanity. Foolish, frail little woman, didn't Regina know that she was sleeping with a beast? A monster whose diet consisted on the livelihood of others? That her daily life depended on the filthy liquids that pumped through the town's residents' veins; Emma's maker had informed her that humanity of the present day has been poisoned by medicines and chemicals; nothing like the fine, clean blood of the peasants that once filled the lands.
During the first week of her Awakening, she hadn't been quite able to stop drinking. Every single mortal that crossed her path was swiftly dragged into the shadows and consumed. All her kills were comparably tidy and the bodies properly dispose of but the blood hunger was almost equivalent to the dying need for the sweet kiss of heroin. Maybe that was why she could control her frenzy so much better than her brethren; she had been suffering under the siren call of a destructive lover for almost all of her human life. The drug was never the one at fault though, it was always her, she was the weak one, and it had ridden her mind of all sense, a human monster until she could attain a hit.
Needing blood wasn't so different, she had just traded one addiction for another, and this habit gave her both euphoria and the powers of a supernatural. For a long while there was no down side. She could still watch the sun rise and her maker taught her how to sharpen her senses through the most interesting training. She harboured none of the depressive thoughts that were once chained to her by the mortal coil, she had no emotions at all, only the hunger and her maker's will. She didn't even have a taste in a specific type of cattle until the day that she had dragged a doll faced toddler into her clutches, the babe's cheeks as plump as a cherub's. The terrified shrieking was instantly silenced when the girl's mess of curls were used as leverage for Emma to yank its neck open, its blood spilling into her mouth along with a life time of plundered opportunities. The gurgle of lifeblood from a child was cleaner, sweeter, and superior in all ways over an adult's and yet it was also incredibly sickening to gulp down. She had never felt how truly vile her being was until that point in her Rebirth, it was at that moment she decided to stick to those that were half way to their doom. She justified that the young should be given the opportunity. If they were meant to be imbibed than let them sit on the shelf of life and eventually age to her acquired tastes. When her maker had questioned her sudden interest in the deprived human wraths she had explained that it was obviously because adults provided a greater source of blood than an infant and no one ever cared when a street urchin disappeared.
When she had been in the bigger cities, Emma favoured the bitter aftertaste carried by the blood of drug addicts, especially the people that had heroin or cocaine speeding through their veins. It made her reminiscent of the days she had spent in the similar alley ways; where her bare knees sat in the slime and grit of the filthy underbelly of the city and a needle constantly poked through any patch of skin where the veins were not abused to a point of hardening. Whenever she ran out of the drugs and couldn't even find meth to tweek out on she had wanted someone to just end it all, to take her life because she was too much of a chicken to do it herself. She had made herself dizzyingly sick once when she had repeatedly used a needle to draw out blood, tugging the plunger bubbling up and then pushing it out to splatter onto the dirt lined tiles of a McDonald's washroom wall. She just wanted everything to end and it had felt like there was no way out. But even as her fingers trembled through the robotic motions of drawing and squirting blood she had pitifully wanted someone to just find her and rescue her from the encroaching death. The process had made her light headed enough that she blacked out, when she woke up in the rocking ambulance; she crumpled under the unimpressed and judgemental face of a youthful paramedic that hadn't quite learnt to hide his disgust or even extend his sympathies.
Seeing someone only years older being successful increased her revulsion towards her own failure; it made her seek drugs again just to rid herself of the abject depression. She would give up everything to get it, stealing, lying and even resulting to selling her own body. When the high washed over her insides, the lovely relationship she had built with the drug would sooth all worries and self-doubt, only to run out hours later leaving her dried mouth and once again pining. It was a horrible sentience, her ratty clothing adhering to her bone thin body only by the sweat congealed on her skin, but her filthy hygienic conditions couldn't compare to the addiction rippling underneath her skin, making her nauseous and desperate for the next high; the self-loathing choking her every breath as the impassive weather spat a downpour of frigid rain. She would have sold her soul to be clean of it all, to be rid of the killing dependence she had on drugs. It was a vicious cycle that never ended.
Until he appeared and cured her of all ailments; the only payment was for her to serve under a kinder mistress's whim, to be under the sway of her own Vampiric hunger.
Her relationship with Regina was probably the most difficult thing to maintain at the moment. Emma was on the precarious division of when to draw her line in her dramatic performances. Saying too much would make Regina cautious but saying not enough would make it appear like she was unable to express or feel even the simplest emotions. Which was true. The undead had no need for human frailties like love and regret. Emma's family was her maker and her master had gone into early hibernation. He had seen his young's significant restraint and after much consideration went for the centennial sleep. Where the blood curdled in his veins and forced his wispy frame to desiccate and enter a sort of torpor. For a Vampire as old as he there needed to be interments of dead slumber between his thousand years of undeath. Emma had wanted to stay by her maker's side but there were much more capable brood guarding the tomb and her elder siblings were hardly fond of her. Jealous of her impeccable dominion over her own bloodlust and thus garnered favour from their mutual maker.
She has voyaged throughout most of Canada in these years of solitude and rarely if ever even bumped into her kind. The Vampiric breed were solitary nomadic hunters, only traveling in pairs if they were mates, or was being trained by their sire. Any size greater than three would be made up of the weakest most miserable creatures and a pair of mated Vampires was almost impossible to come by.
The bonds that chained the undead only connected them to their maker and in a million in one chance to their mate. If it was natural for their dead hearts to sustain any kind of relationship it would be strongest between a master and childe. That association expanded to their sire's children in the form of begrudging respect, they would never harm each other directly but were less than cordial at the best of times. To have a relationship form between two Vampires originating from different covens meant that the undead involved would require the capacity to go beyond their baser need of fulfilling only their own hedonistic pleasures; though once that connection was forged between a pair, the relationship normally lasted until either creature met the True Death. It was best to never even approach a mated pair; all actions would be considered a threat on their territory or partner, unless a maker wished to see their young, of course. Mated pairs seldom procreated since they already owned all the attention they required and were often very jealous of said affection. Thus another reason why the Vampiric kind rarely formed a mate bond, their race would cease to populate. Perhaps a very experienced Vampire could fight its urge to dominate its partner's affection and since a pair that mated was always equal in power and control, there might be a slim chance they would create progeny. Then again mated pairs were irrational creatures and Emma had no fancy in ever encountering them.
Emma had made certain to never drain Regina even near the cusp of death and was even more careful to forbid the transfer of her own blood. There were two breeds of Vampires, the accidental sub-specie that resulted when the prey had been drained but its head had not been removed in time, it gained unlife from the venom in the Vampire's bite; the poison scorched into their brains and limbs. Those creatures were feral and best laid to their True Death as soon as possible since they were driven by pure ID, whatever they needed they required it in instant gratification without thought for exposure of anything else, actual beasts. Then there was the breeding that resulted in Emma, young that has drunk from her maker's veins and had been intentionally created. Once her body had been emptied of the last drop of blood, her master shared his own essence and then ended her mortal existence. She had kept her wits about her and gained a plethora of nocturnal abilities, inopportunely one of them made her completely obedient to her master but he was a generous being and his will was always her own.
Emma carefully entered Regina's abode, clicking the door shut behind her. The lock had been replaced and she had been made to pay for the damages. Honestly, that woman was ridiculous, petty, infuriating piece of meat that- Emma automatically pulled on an overly enthused smile onto her smooth lips when Regina turned the corner. Responses such as these were being trained into her like a Pavlovian conditioning. All she needed was a certain action on Regina's or Henry's part and she'll have the proper reaction. It was slowly getting easier to act like a proper human being. Repetition was all it took, practice with the town's people helped drill human idiosyncrasies into Emma's repertoire of acting.
"Ms. Swan, I rather you avoid passing this habit of tardiness onto Henry." Regina's lips twitched into a careful yet endearing smile that made Emma consider how wholly unwarranted that a single mortal should be allowed to carry such power and yet present herself with this much charm.
Emma tried her hardest not to roll her eyes at the implication that Regina had once upon a time been a princess in her own right. "Sorry, Deputy Stuff, some kids apparently broke into Mr. Gold's shop, and he had me stay as he took inventory."
Regina's expression tightened for a moment and then relaxed as she approached. "I'll advise staying away from Mr. Gold; he's a long-time adversary of mine and has no interest in anything but causing me harm."
Emma felt something feral twist and growl within her; no one was allowed to touch what belonged to her and certainly not that urchin of a man, when she was done- Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft caress upon her cheek. When did Regina move towards her?
"Promise me you won't lay a hand on him, he's harmless on the best of days." At the confusion that flickered over Emma's face Regina continued. "I've felt the bloodlust and hatred I just witnessed on your face, Emma, I rather you not go on a rampage."
"I wasn't about to just attack him." Emma gave a calculated turn of her head, leaning into the warmth that radiated from Regina's touch.
"You certainly appeared to be considering such an option." Regina smirked, nonetheless a little pleased that Emma would rush to her aid even though it was unnecessary.
"Nope, I'm the law and I'm trying to set a good example." Emma twisted her head about in search of her son, resisting the urge to just take a drag of air to scent the human child out; she maintained a collected demeanor in her next question. "Is Henry out?"
"Yes, he's sleeping over at Nicholas Zimmer's for a camp out."
"Hansel's house?" Emma pressed her lips together into a sneer and raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I support their friendship, he tried to frame Henry."
"Dear, you're the one that intervene and caused their father to take them in." Regina stroked a hand down Emma's spine. "Don't slouch, it's quite unbecoming."
"Our son is going to be 'unbecoming' when he over doses on diabetic amounts of sugar." And god knows what other contaminants Michael was allowing to poison his blood stream. Emma had a theory it was Regina's impeccably healthy diet that made the brunette's blood taste like the finest Drambuie.
"His health will hardly suffer irreparable damage over indulging in just one night of confectioneries," Regina retorted diplomatically, already accustomed to how bizarrely concerned Emma was for both hers and Henry's general wellbeing.
Emma shrugged, done with a discussion which talk alone could not alter the outcome. She placed her hand on her partner's hips and grinned wolfishly. "I missed you."
"I'm sure." Regina responded a tad sardonically, her eyebrow tilting up dubiously as she raised an index finger to tap at her jugular. "Not just hungry?"
God, yes, Emma was always famished, starving for a taste. Her eyes glimmered as her pupils dilated; but she had to make it normal, had to make Regina think that she wanted more than just the world's top shelf juice box. She gulped and forced her canines to retract back through her gums. "That's not all I want… I love you, Regina." Emma wasn't lying about this, she did love the taste of Regina's blood, it was something else entirely, and completely hers, she wouldn't be willing to share if even her brethren came knocking on this little town.
Regina blinked and paused as she looked up at the unusual bedfellow that had fallen into her cot. There it was, the admittance of love from Emma's pale lips. So effortlessly given, so carelessly said. What did the kind of love between them mean? It certainly wasn't the selfless devoted affection that Charming and Snow had, no their relationship was very different from the pure and naïve love that sparked between Emma's parents. The passion or whatever that pulsed between them was possessive and almost animalistic, but Regina was gradually starting to feel that this was the kind of love she deserved since it was the only form she could reciprocate.
Regina could sense how hard Emma struggled to display the correct kind of emotions; it was almost like the blonde had difficulties conveying any sort of feelings. She was constantly surveying Regina's reactions, waiting for the initiative before responding. Even though lately Emma appeared to be warming up to things, there was the terrible fact that Regina hadn't the slightest clue how to indulge in a relationship herself; she had forgotten the rush and elation of having a lover and the affectionate behaviour that it would entail.
Should they display their relationship out to the open, should they hold hands while walking together? When was it the appropriate for Emma to sleep over? The only initiative Emma took towards discussing such issues was to just enact them. If Regina spent a moment too long gaging the proximity between their hands, Emma would intertwine them together and would do so furthermore at every opportunity. It didn't take long for the rest of the town to realize that the Deputy and Mayor were now in a relationship. Emma didn't ever need to sleep so when they were lingering in bed or after a feeding Emma would dawdle by Regina's side until Regina dismissed her or if Regina didn't voice her preference the Vampire would crawl under the covers and into her arms.
There was also Emma's tendency to hover pass all socially acceptable boundaries, integrating herself into Regina's space in the most inopportune times. Such as town meetings where Emma would keep a hand on Regina's thigh and lean abnormally close to her for almost the entire duration of the comity seminar and then remain rooted by Regina's side even when Sidney tried to scurry them into a corner to discuss less than altruistic schemes. The more Sidney endeavoured to approach the more Emma posture would stiffen until Regina knew it was best to intervene least someone's jugular be ripped open by an irrational Vampire.
And let's not even mention last Friday's parent teacher's conference.
Emma had gotten so bored of Mary Margaret's praise of Henry's diligence in school work that she had slinked away from the table she had been leaning against to drape herself onto Regina's back. The school teacher's pale complexion had burnt apple red while her words came out in a squeaking jumble. Mary Margaret's discomfort was the only reason Regina had allowed Emma to continue and nuzzle against her neck. Honestly, if that spoiled brat only knew the things she had been doing to her daughter.
It had been rather odd that Emma had all but dismissed the fact that Regina had cursed all of Fairy Tale Land. The blonde hadn't even been curious on how to break the curse until Regina had explained that she would have to end the Saviour's life. Only then did she seem to pick up on the necessity of concern but it seemed more like an afterthought than genuine worry. But what with Emma being already undead there was no real way to dispel the curse; since the Saviour needed to actually be alive to be considered allegeable for sacrifice. After a long curious pause, Emma had pulled Regina into a tight hug and reassured her that their love had not been affected, and then added jokingly as long as she wouldn't try to take her unlife. Such incidences made certain aspects of their lives awkward with effort and a bit stilted in every dimension but their bedroom.
Regina grinned as she leaned into Emma's body and then whispered delicately against the whorl of the taller woman's ear, her voice intimate and promising. "Take me upstairs."