[There it goes. This is where he could drain her dry, if he lost sight of himself. Atem doesn't think it's a venom or chemical -- if it were, he'd be able to extract it, take advantage of it, use it in other circumstances. But he's had no success, so it's likely a charm, or more complicated to activate than what comes from a snake's fangs. But the effect is consistent, and it's unmistakable; it's the first sign to slow down.
Atem doesn't really want to. She's relaxing now, the thrum of her heartbeat in his chest easing to a slower, soothing pulse, telling them both the insidious, tempting lie of just a little more, it'll be okay.
But that's a lie, and Atem's not too far gone, not too hungry, to realize that.
He has to stop feeding before her heartbeat flutters or gets irregular. The anemia has to be something she can recover from when the next fog rolls in...he can't take so much that she'll die first. But also...her life is valuable, and he's going to make sure she remembers what it's like to fight for it. To want to live badly enough to hold on.
He wants her to live badly enough to fight his feeding drive. So, Celeste had better make it.
It is an effort, to disengage his fangs early. Atem's jaw always locks up...pulling himself out of the euphoria of a heart beating in his chest, emotional and monstrous needs met at once, is always difficult, and the longer it takes to force his jaw to listen to him, the harder it is not to slip back into the haze and take the rest. But he does it: like a joint in one place too long that is finally forced to move, Atem's jaw unclenches, his mouth opens, and his fangs pull free. There's demon-blood in his mouth, on his tongue, and he stretches the tendons in his jaw in a movement like a yawn, pulls in a deep inhale --
--okay. He's okay. Atem is still himself, control wasn't lost, a quick mental inventory of the last few minutes reassures him of that. Next question: is Celeste okay? Or, well, as okay as Atem intended her to be.]
cw blood, vampire feeding's wrapping up
Atem doesn't really want to. She's relaxing now, the thrum of her heartbeat in his chest easing to a slower, soothing pulse, telling them both the insidious, tempting lie of just a little more, it'll be okay.
But that's a lie, and Atem's not too far gone, not too hungry, to realize that.
He has to stop feeding before her heartbeat flutters or gets irregular. The anemia has to be something she can recover from when the next fog rolls in...he can't take so much that she'll die first. But also...her life is valuable, and he's going to make sure she remembers what it's like to fight for it. To want to live badly enough to hold on.
He wants her to live badly enough to fight his feeding drive. So, Celeste had better make it.
It is an effort, to disengage his fangs early. Atem's jaw always locks up...pulling himself out of the euphoria of a heart beating in his chest, emotional and monstrous needs met at once, is always difficult, and the longer it takes to force his jaw to listen to him, the harder it is not to slip back into the haze and take the rest. But he does it: like a joint in one place too long that is finally forced to move, Atem's jaw unclenches, his mouth opens, and his fangs pull free. There's demon-blood in his mouth, on his tongue, and he stretches the tendons in his jaw in a movement like a yawn, pulls in a deep inhale --
--okay. He's okay. Atem is still himself, control wasn't lost, a quick mental inventory of the last few minutes reassures him of that. Next question: is Celeste okay? Or, well, as okay as Atem intended her to be.]