Vasilisa Dragomir’s Can’t-Fail Plan(s) To Seduce One Rosemarie Hathaway
🕑 Added 2014-12-20 12:46:15 +0000 UTC
Wiping the mist of the shower away from the mirror, Lissa examined her reflection. Pale, unbroken skin. She looked over herself, trying to find traces of the old scars, but every expanse only led to more skin. Never a line, never a border, never a hole. She hadn’t cut herself since she and Rose had left the academy, and she felt absurdly proud of herself. Not for her sake, but for Rose’s. As if she’d made Rose proud somehow.
Of course, it’d come at a price. Last night, the hunger had grown too much for her. Even the bags Rose had stolen from the bloodbank in Ericson hadn’t been enough. They’d known what it would come to and…
Lissa wasn’t supposed to know how good it felt, being fed on. It wasn’t something that the Moroi had. But then there was the bond. She’d found out exactly what it was to be drunk down. The intensity of it. The thought whispered even in Rose’s own mind; better than sex.
Not that Lissa would know. Even if she suddenly wanted to. She hadn’t slept very well; Rose had done her best light-proofing the room, but there was still this irritating warmth that seemed the next worst thing to sunlight. And the blood Rose had given her, meant to revitalize her body, had seemed to work mostly on her sweat glands. The hour-long shower had helped—how could it not?—but now she found herself in the same morass she’d been in, lying awake in bed, feeling the sun buzzing at the windows of the small apartment Rose had secured.
With a huff, Lissa began drying herself. It took a lot to give a chill to someone with cold blood, but standing around naked and wet for fifteen minutes would do it. Imagine; her with the sniffles, Rose playing nursemaid, bringing her… Sprite and chicken noodle soup and tucking her in while she watched ancient movies on AMC.
That was the worst part of being a vampire on the run; no primetime programming in the night, and no DVR in a Motel 6.
Sighing, Lissa decided that if she couldn’t stop distracting herself from her Problem, she might as well practice good skincare while her mind ran in circles. Rose had packed only the essentials for their great escape; this included body butter. Her skin might’ve been pale, but it could at least be soft. She rubbed it over herself, letting her brain build the grand clockwork mechanisms it liked so much.
Faced with the Problem, Rose would just say ‘fuck it,’ go wink at a cute boy, punch a cute boy—something involving a cute boy. Or a girl, judging by that time they’d bonded during a dream about Alberta.
But with Lissa, it was like a cut on the inside of her mouth—something that, as a vampire, she was intimately familiar with. It would heal, sure… but only once you stopped tonguing it. So she kept worrying at it, trying to ignore it, then worrying at it again. Her with a cold. Rose playing nursemaid. Rose in a nurse outfit, Rose offering her blood, Rose being fed on…
Christ, I love this. Why couldn’t Rose have thought anything else? This fucking lady. Why did Lissa have to be listening to her thoughts? Take it all, Lissa, everything you need. Why?
I love you.
Her best friend was in love with her. She desperately wanted to have sex with her best friend. It seemed like there should be a simple, elegant solution to that problem. Yeah, like untying the Gordian Knot. And her without any scissors.
“Hey, princess?” Rose called from outside the door. “Are you going to come out of there this full moon or do I have to wait until you’re all adorably conked out in daytime to wash my pits?”
“Care to…” Join me? “Wait just a few minutes?”
“I also doing my peeing in there,” Rose reminded her, but Lissa heard her footsteps back away from the door.
Hurriedly, she added some styling products to her hair, then wrapped herself in a towel. There. One runaway princess, ready to dress in black leather and other outlaw chic. She tried to examine her reflection, one last time, but the mirror had fogged up again. Automatically, Lissa reached to wipe it away, but instead, traced an A in the mist.
Then a B, then a stately C. Plans. She needed plans. If one wouldn’t do, well, she had the whole alphabet. Latin and Greek.
Plan A: Subtle Conversation
After she came out of her half of the apartment—what was the point of being able to compel people if you didn’t get a double?—dressed and ready for the night, Lissa saw Rose sitting at one of her beds, using it as a table to clean the weapons she’d managed to swipe from the Guardians before leaving. It looked like everything the TSA might confiscate in a year at LAX.
“When I said I think I could use some mace,” Lissa started, lying down across from Rose on the bed, on the bit spacious enough to not have anything pointed on it. “I meant the kind you could keep in your purse.”
Rose hefted the mace. “You could keep this in your purse. Maybe not a clutch, but…”
“What would you even use that for?”
“Strigori. Duh. I know you’re supposed to cut off their heads, but I figure, head rolling around on the floor, head smashed in, same difference. And this way I don’t have to aim at their necks. Some people don’t have much in the way of neck. Remember Andy Mitchell?”
“He had sort of a neck…”
Rose picked up a smallish sword and started going over it with an oilcloth.
Lissa rolled onto her back. As pretty as Rose was, staring at the ceiling seemed a bit easier at the moment. Even with sharp things crowding her space so one elbow had to hang off the side of the bed. “You know what I was just thinking? How weird this whole blood-sharing taboo is.”
“Not that weird,” Rose replied, a bit distant. “You know how the feeders are. Who’d want to be like them?”
Lissa bit at a flake of skin on her lip. “Yes, but, it’s totally strange that if you have to do it, like really have to do it, to survive, that’s okay, but if you just like it…”
The oilcloth had stopped moving on the sword.
Lissa tried to look at Rose. Couldn’t. “I mean, humans have to drink water to live, yes? You don’t see them—castigating each other for drinking when they’re not thirsty!”
“No, they castigate each other for having sex when they’re not married, and saying certain words, and raising certain fingers. It’s society. It doesn’t super-make sense.” Rose looked over her arsenal, trying to remember which ones she hadn’t cleaned yet. “We’re all just animals. We eat, we sleep, other stuff. You add on stuff to that, it’s not gonna always make sense, because the only things that were really truly intended to make sense are eating, sleeping, and other stuff.”
Now Lissa could look at Rose. Her friend being utterly ridiculous made it easier. “For someone who’s just an animal, you have an awful lot of haircare products.”
“I’m like one of those dogs that people dress up as Spider-Man.” Rose barked at Lissa. “Anyway, I protect you. That makes sense. Everything else, not so much. Your good little guard dog.”
“You’re not my pet, Rose.”
“With the way you trip over everything, I’m more of a seeing-eye dog.”
“You’re not a dog!” Lissa brought her hand down to slap the mattress for emphasis.
The mace decided to be in the way.
Plan B: Bleeding All Over The Place
The bandage Rose applied was neat and tidy, unlike the corner of the room Lissa had doused in blood.
“Now, what do we do with momma’s tools?” Rose asked sweetly.
“We stay away from them,” Lissa replied.
“Thaaaaaaaat’s right. I mean, technically, this is mostly my blood. You’re wasting my blood.”
“Yes, well, I… will certainly be more careful about minding medieval weaponry in the future. But you’re still not a dog.”
“I never said I was. It’s a metaphor, Lissa.”
“Well, I don’t care for that metaphor, then. And I think I’ll just go to bed and catch up on some reading.”
“Don’t party too hard,” Rose called after her warningly.
In her own room, Lissa fell on her bed and read nothing more than the pillow she shoved in her face.
Plan C: Waiting for Valentine’s Day and sending a very anonymous note.
Sleep cycle be damned, Lissa got up in the middle of the day, her skin damp from an achingly sexual dream about Rose cleaning her sword. God, why did she have to do that in a tanktop? Why did she have to keep up with push-ups and sit-ups while they were on the run? Her arms looked made to be on a Harlequin romance novel’s cover, wrapped around some Viking wench.
She needed another shower. She cupped her ear to the door of Rose’s room, hearing the TV going, and then went to her own shower. Reached for the button on her jeans and felt a twinge of pain go through her injured hand. She reached with her other hand and found herself awkwardly nudging the button around. She’d just had to go and hamburger her writing hand, didn’t she?
“Need some help?”
“Jesus!” Lissa spun around. With that annoying cat-quietness Rose had sometimes, the dhampir had snuck up on her. “Where’d you come from?”
“Just followed the muffled swearing. Once I punched a guy bad and my middle finger bent in this direction I didn’t think it could—well, that it can’t, really. Had to wear a cast, couldn’t even go to the bathroom on my own.”
“What’d you do?”
“Well, that’s what boys are for, right?” Rose slugged Lissa in the arm. “But, since there aren’t any around—I checked under the bed and everything—I’ll handle the costume changes.”
Lissa felt like she was being given a pop quiz she hadn’t studied for while going to school naked. “Well, I, uh, yes, well, yes—“
“You’re welcome,” Rose said, dropping to her knees.
All very neatly, she unbuttoned Lissa’s jeans, undid her belt, unzipped her fly, and only then was able to pull them down Lissa’s legs. Lissa found herself stepping out of them. Rose smiled up at her, right in front of her panties. Then she kissed Lissa’s little belly.
“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” Lissa said.
“I mean, that little talk about blood-sharing, that was you trying to get me into bed, right?”
Lissa repeated herself for emphasis, “Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”
Rose pulled her panties down. “I don’t know how long we’re going to be on the run with no parental supervision, so if we’re going to have crazy cowgirl sex, we should probably start soon. Cram as much in as we can. Honey, your feet?”
Lissa numbly stepped out of her panties. “C-c-cowgirl?”
“Keyword girl.” Rose stood. “Let’s put a pause on that while I make sure you don’t feel overdressed.” And she stripped off her shirt. She hadn’t decided on a bra that morning.
“I…” Lissa finally found herself with something resembling consciousness. “I thought I’d need Plan D, at least…”
Rose rolled her eyes. “Babe, you had me halfway through Plan A.” Taking Lissa’s hand, she pulled her toward the bed, using her other hand to crook her finger at Lissa. “I want you naked.”
Lissa was pulling her shirt off. Her bra she pulled off as well, both hanging from the arm Rose was leading her by. “I am naked.”
“Then I just want you.”
Rose laid down on the bed, pulling Lissa down with her. Her death-grip remained on Lissa’s injured hand. She brought it to her mouth, pulled away the bandage with her teeth, and sucked at the tender wound. Lissa made a little wince.
“It always hurts the first time. Just so you’ll remember it.”
Lissa looked down at Rose as her best friend in the world kicked off her shorts. She wondered if her wooziness had to do with that or blood loss. “I was so sure you’d have pierced nipples. I was like a hundred percent on that…”
Rose’s head swayed to the side, baring her throat. “I have other things you can pierce.”
It had, Lissa decided, been a very good idea to leave school.
