[action/ic non-canon, Jean-Claude and Anita]
[The setting: a small room. White walls; red/burgundy carpet, soft but not thick enough to really sink your toes into. Sofa, white. One door; it leads to an empty closet, with a few wire hangers clustered on the rod. One vampire, standing in the middle of the room, bemused.]
"Wondered when you'd show."
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"I hope I have not kept you waiting, ma cherie."
Where was this place? What had brought him here while he slept? What danger had Anita found now? He left the questions unspoken, knowing she would feel them in his mind.
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The questions settled in her mind as if she'd thought them herself. Closing her eyes a moment, she sighed. This simple intimacy is something she'd missed so much. It'd be easier to let him pull the information he wanted from her head, so she let him in a little deeper to find out about the city.
"... it's good to see you."
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Instead he merely grew still as the information sank in.
One last detail, though, and his facade broke in a sudden fang-flashing laugh. "Ma petite, a strip club? I have been a very bad influence on you!"
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"Hey, that wasn't just my idea and it's pretty much the only way I've been keeping the ardeur fed, thank you very much."
Her posture tensed a bit as she rebutted him. In retaliation, she let him see some of her deeper memories; the truly buried ones dealing with some of the horrors of the city. It was petty, yes, but that was Anita at times.
The image closest to the surface was of her, drugged, injected with silver nitrate, and stuck in a razor wire trap; the thin fillaments coated with a fine silver coat. They'd burned and scorched as she tore through them, leaving a fine smattering of new scars to overlay her old ones.
"This place is like the garden of Eden. Full of beauty and around a corner, the biggest damn snake you've ever seen."
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His movements careful, graceful, he stepped to her side and raised a hand to her cheek, her warmth beating against his skin.
"What happened to the ones who did that to you?" Anger slipped out into his voice, making the low purr into a shadow full of knives.
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"They left the city not long after. I healed, as usual, and went on with life. Nothing new."
Her own questions prodded at him; what's the last thing you remember? Who did you last see? How is everyone?
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Not trusting himself to answer silently as she asked, he spoke again, moving closer to her. "Chimera died two weeks ago. I saw you only last night; Jason, though, was the last person I saw."
He shook his head. "Everyone is well. And you, ma cherie? I think much has happened here that I have not yet heard. How long has it been?"
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It was out of her mouth before she could stop it. Nothing new there. With a shake of her head, she dismissed it, hoping and praying he'd let that blurt slide.
"I've been here off and on for over two years. Time runs odd around here. You can go back and be home for a year, then be pulled back here and it's just been a week or so."
Her eyes slowly slide over him, tracing the edges of his clothes.
"You look wonderful, as usual."
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"Thank you, ma petite, but I have just... how do you put it? Rolled out of bed?" He smiled at her, moving close enough that he felt her warmth along his skin, and buried his face in her hair. His hunger sang in his veins, both the bloodlust of having not yet fed and the equally unfed ardeur.
He shielded both from her, mindful of the new sensitivity of their marks, but did not move away.
It had, apparently, been a while.
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With a soft sigh, she shifted a little, running an idle hand along his arm before she leaned into him as if soaking up his presence. From a distance, the bond had still been there, but it'd been so light compared to the gravity of it resting like iron in her mind. She found herself reaching for where she felt him there, almost unsure.
"I've missed you. More than I really want to admit."
Just how much is obvious, really.
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