One in Three... (tags Kamala)

[Josephine]

Josephine couldn't say why the nightclub drew her. The glitz of the upscale furnishings, the posh intimate styling from the careful grouping of booths, plush settee styled seating, and the dim lighting done in an antiqued style. Despite the commercial mass grade cutlery, furnishings, and light fixtures they managed something of a unique atmosphere. It wasn't the drinks. They poured light here and she preferred a different sort of vintage. The clientele were what one would expect for a night club; millennials seeking the upscale experience on a poor man's budget, business professionals holding small intimate meetings with their peers, and the single and ready to mingle crowds trying to attract the eligible and successful.

Perhaps it was the singer. Every Thursday, Friday, and Sunday she sang from six thirty to eight pm. It wasn't her voice; which was lovely and earthy. A sort of husky voice that didn't lend to the higher pitches typically favored for traditionally feminine songs but worked perfectly with the old fashioned jazz or blues songs. Nor was it her appearance; beautiful with rich dark hair, trim figure, and clothing that spoke of money. The kind that came from being fitted and tailored with real wool and silk blends; none of the poly or rayon that was found in cheaper clothing. The kind of fashion Josephine was becoming accustomed to if only at her spouse's demands.

It was the singer's eyes. The sort of pained distance that Josephine had once carried. A pain she knew intimately of trying to fit in a place you didn't belong. Of the constant aching loneliness that came from despairing sorrow. Pain she had managed to dig her way out of through the years coming here. Listening to the singer and after talking with her. Years spent just chatting and becoming friends while their husbands discussed business. Quiet chatter as the women's worlds came into focus in those brief moments between Kamala the singer and Kamala the arm ornament. It was in the way her husband gripped her and moved her. As if Kamala were a possession rather than an individual. An unwilling obedience rather than the joyful supplication that Josephine chose to give Kael Cartigan.

Three years they had been matching this routine. Just after sunset, an hour before Kamala's show, Josephine would come and visit with the woman while she went through her glamour process. Sometimes, Josephine learned how to perfect the thick smokey eye liner. Other days it was learning how to obscure a split lip or bruised eye. Those days it was harder to pretend her part. To remain just Mrs. Cartigan, an affluent housewife, rather than a predator that could show the dainty singer's husband just how wrong it was to touch women unkindly. A reminder of the reality women faced outside of her race and within it. A reminder that she was lucky and not counted in the 1 in 3 statistic of women who suffered through domestic violence each year world wide. Lucky to be given basic human decency and respect. Perhaps, in many ways, she was considering the world in which Kael had grown up and shaped himself within. More centuries than not beating one's wife was acceptable and even more recently spanking her as a punishment was widely accepted.

An evening where Josephine was counting her blessings in attempts to banish the pain of the weeks leading into the New Year. The quiet walk to the woman's penthouse. Her low heeled pumps some stylish brand that Kael's personal shoppers had chosen for her. The outfit understated and yet feminine from the ankle length skirt that paused just above the tops of her feet and flowed with each step. The asymmetrical sweater that matched the skirt a soft wool made in some country she couldn't pronounce and probably seamed with threads spun from unicorn mane- as explained the price tag that Kael tried to avoid her spotting. Pretty clothing didn't make a perfect life but it was armor. Expensive clothing meant money and money meant respect in this world as it had in ages past.

Clothing that bespoke her belonging in the upper class lobby and saw her sweeping past the bellman to take the elevator up to the penthouses where Kamala and her husband made their residence. Clothing that wouldn't get her past the locked door nor the silence that greeted her polite knock. Clothing didn't help her hear the soft snuffling and burbling noises that denoted something worse than a black eye or broken lip. That was the vampire; the beast that lived under the pretty clothing and delicate flesh. Strength that snapped the lock with the ease of a breath. Speed and grace that came from being a species designed to hunt the race it was sprung from.

Quick strides that had her through the house. The normally organized and perfectly domicile was in shambles. Broken glass, toppled furniture, and blood. All stained the floor as the vampire moved through the flat; searching for her friend. Listening for those weak kittenish mewling sounds she knew too well. Rasping and bubbling breaths that told of a punctured lung rapidly deflating. A fluid motion that had her kneeling against the broken remains of shattered pottery. One hand moved to push the puffy and battered face of her typically glamorous friend back. Opening her airways in best attempt to make breathing easier. Death; she could smell it as easily as she heard the rattle in the lungs. The faint wheezing, the mottling of flesh while lips and nail beds lost their coloring. Something internal had been broken; battered beyond her friend's ability to survive.

"Kam.." Josephine hated what she was about to do. Hated what she would steal from her friend in this moment. There wasn't much time. Not enough to call Kael to help. Nor enough to depend upon human means. Josephine could smell death coming. The sickly sweet stench of it as it approached with each stuttering beat of the singer's heart. Just knowledge of what must be done even as she dreaded giving the offer or forcing the change.

[Kamala]

The monster we should fear are not under our bed, in our closet or lurking in a dark alley. No the monsters we should fear are the ones sleeping in our bed. We call the lover, husband, girlfriend.... Kamala wished she could say that it was a surprise when the monster came out but all along there were signs that she ignored or said were her fault. Her freedom as a single woman had been cut short at the introduction of Srini Raj Singh. A practical prince that was anything but charming by the time they were married. Kamala had not wanted to submit to her culture's expectations but even as well off as her family was, the Singh family were pretty much Indian royalty and a marriage was arranged. Backing out would bring devastation to her family so even though it was clear to her very quickly after the marriage was announced it would be disastrous, she did as she was expected. The adorable moments of thinking his possessiveness was because he cared so much turned to realizing that he meant what he said. Kamala was his just like the fancy sport cars and the fine jewelry and the various properties he owned. She was his.

Raj, as he preferred to be called, let her keep her little hobby of singing at the club. It was perhaps the single kindness he offered her ever. He had found her that way and it afforded him a way to track her when she was allowed out of the house alone. A way to keep her on display for all to see the prize he had bought and everyone knew not to look to long, talk too much or bother Kamala much outside of what was necessary. Some of it she supposed was because people were afraid of Raj, the rest she knew was from people not being blind but turning a blind eye to what was going on so the less they interacted with her, the less likely they could her next bruise or broken bone. For her own ownership in the matter, she certainly did not reach out to get help. If Raj didn't kill her, he'd certainly hurt someone she loved. After all, she was fairly certain the last time she said no to anything, he poisoned her songbirds. Now she did not say no, she simply submitted. The only person she was allowed to talk to was Josephine without Raj hoovering over her. It was because Raj always figured a kept housewife was no threat to the balance of power in their relationship and Josephine's husband was wealthy and powerful and connections like that were valuable. Still, Kamala never mentioned it and the few times Josephine did say something, there was an excuse. She couldn't afford to lose the one person she had any connection to even if she thought Raj wasn't stupid enough to hurt Josephine.

It was funny how she had had no idea this would be her last night or that he'd finally try to kill her but while the day started out well, by the time she was starting to get ready, he had devolved into the monster she knew over flowers. Some stupid person sent her flowers and Raj had intercepted them. An innocent gift from an admirer who had managed to get her address off of some well meaning new person at the club. Twelve yellow roses that were about to be stained the deepest darkest red with her blood. Kamala had tried to explain that she had no idea who this person was, told him over and over again she wasn't cheating that it was some silly fan and she had no idea how he got her address but it wasn't enough. It was never enough and nothing ever stopped the beatings. Not the pleas, not the fact people were starting to ask questions more often who didn't know better and not the three pregnancies she lost due to how severely he had beat her. Oh no, all of those just made it worse.

It felt like slow motion as Raj hurdled the flowers and insults at her. The familiar crack of glass and most certainly the scent of blood as it had hit her in the face, slicing her. Kamala still pleaded but when his hand went around her neck, there wasn't enough air to breath. "You are mine, you are fucking mine, how many times do I have to tell you, you fucking whore?" He screamed it endlessly and when he threw her down on the floor she just assumed it was another claiming. More rough sex, more using her body for what he wanted and never offering anything for her. Raj did mark her. Despite her bleeding and crying, he took what he wanted one last time from his wife as she lay there like she always did when he decided they should have sex. Once, maybe twice he had been nice to her but that had ended quick. All the facade went away so quickly once they had been joined in marriage. Kamala could only think that maybe on their honeymoon he had kept up the charade. Now it was a blur because he was hitting her in the face.

He was so angry and he kept screaming at her for trying to leave but she wasn't, she knew she could never leave. The only way out of this marriage was at his death or hers. When he was finished with her he picked her up and threw her against the wall, the blows moving from her face to the core of her body. Over and over and over the fist hit her in the stomach, side and chest. When he legs buckled he started kicking her and that's when she felt the agonizing pierce. A rib broken and the more he kicked and stomped, the further that rib went into her lung. She struggled to breath and for a moment he stopped. Raj had realized her had gone too far and now he had to cover up what he had done. Madly he tossed stuff making it look like someone broke in. A robbery gone too far could be blamed.

Kamala coughed and winced and inside she could feel something beyond her lung was so very very damaged. He had lost her mind and now she was certain she was losing her life. "You fucking bitch, look what you made me do" he screamed as he ran around. People might suspect but they'd never really think Raj could do this. After all, she never saw a real doctor, only his personal physician who had always fixed her up. No records of the abuse and all those bruises easily explained away but Kamala's admitted clumsy nature. Raj looked at his watch and he knew he had to go, he had to flee what he had done. He looked at his wife crumpled on the floor. "You should have listened to me, none of this would have happened." No apology, no good bye, he just left her there on the floor as if he'd see how things turned out later.

Breathing was getting harder and the pain, well Kamala could not feel it really anymore which wasn't good. Her company was the ticking of an old antique clock. Tick, tick, tick, it was like listening to her life slip away and while she lay there she thought of all the time she should have said something but now it was too late. A knock, but she couldn't speak, a voice but she couldn't respond. Josephine was going to leave and she'd never get to say goodbye to her friend and her friend would never know what really happened to her. If she could have shed a tear in that moment, she would have but Kamala couldn't cry, her body was too weak for even that.

Suddenly, Josephine was at her side. Maybe Raj in his haste had left the door unlocked? Kamala couldn't say because there she was. She tried to say something but couldn't, she just looked at Josephine pleading with her to call someone to help. Maybe if she could get to a hospital quick but Kamala wasn't stupid enough to even think that would work. You know when you are dying. Her lips parted but she couldn't even get out her name but she wished she could tell her friend sorry for having her find her in this state.

[Josephine]

Hollywood liked to portray battered women in one of two ways; either tragically beautiful, or ghoulishly deformed. The truth was closer to somewhere in the middle. Her dark skin hid a great deal of the bruise mottling beneath the surface even as one eye had started to swell in lymphatic response to the trauma. Blood had streaked down her cheek and a few cuts on her face dappled her further in a strange gory spackle.

There was nothing beautiful or dehumanizing of Kamala. Nothing to take the observer a step back and turn her from a living suffering being into simply ‘battered woman’. Kamala would not survive to hear the ‘Why didn’t you leave?’ nor would she remain to listen to the whispers of the tragedy that was her marriage falling apart at her wild accusations. This was the moment; the last and few breaths that turned into those pondering of why she stayed so long. Where victim blaming and shaming became part and parcel of the social media game.

Instead Josephine ran her hand over her friend’s cheek. Death sounded so much more intimate when you were actively involved with the hastening. Pulse’s words remained in her ears; burned into her memory European vampires, like you, had to die to change… Death and rebirth. Shedding the frail bindings of mortality and instead forging the basic tenets of immortality. The dichotomy of the situation a macabre sort of irony. Josephine had to kill her friend in order to save her. Carefully she adjusted the prone and wheezing form of her friend. Shifted her to rest over her knees with Kamala's head nestled upon her lap.

"Shh... This will hurt, but then it will stop. I am sorry" There wasn't more time. Nothing that could stall the inevitable. Josephine had witnessed deaths. Hundreds of them in her time as an immortal. Some at her hands and some at the hands of others. Her kills, vampire hunters, were painful and lingering deaths. Vendetta deaths based on her need for vengeance rather than tender salvation. She had seen others that were simply fed upon until their organs could no longer function and their hearts simply stuttered out; like a guttering candle flame. All came with that sense of looming inevitability. The same scent, the same lengthening pause between heartbeats and breaths.

Carefully she lifted Kamala's left hand. The marriage band slipped off; discarded as a forethought even as her fangs sought the fragile and thin flesh of the woman's wrist. The blood was bitter. Tainted with fear and the sluggishness of impending demise. A choking sort of fluid that the vampiress gagged down only due to the necessity of the moment. A hastening of death as she focused clearly on those slow beats. Counted as each pause grew further apart until the moment of no return was upon them. A few scant mouthfuls as Josephine measured the shutting down of Kamala's body.

A movement of her head had the abused wrist released. Fangs slashed her own open. Lengthwise; along the veins to bleed better. Rich blood. Nourished from Josephine's own food source. The continued care of her mate and the taint of his own brand of vampirism to flow through. Blood that was not wasted as the wound was pressed to Kamala's lips. Lengthwise would hold the bleed longer. Keep the precious vitae flowing until it could start to work. The woman was gone enough that Josephine's other hand moved from stroking hair to gently stroking the column of that battered throat. Anger stormed in her eyes as the purple blotches so livid now in the bloodless shell of her friend.

"Swallow for me Kammie.. there's a good girl.. Just a bit more then you are coming with me.." She kept her tone steady even as her inner thoughts broke into confused chaos. Was she doing this right? How much blood did she need to give to ensure the whatever made her passed over to Kamala? She could drag them home, to Pulse, but would Kamala survive the trip even if she used a scroll? Thoughts and doubts collided even as she continued to feed those precious ounces of fluid into her friend. Josephine continued until her friend's heart beat stopped. Until her wound closed and the blood dried tacky against her skin. She waited, silently despairing until the heart started. A thundering boom in that moment. The first pulsation of change.

~ Kael... I have need of you. Succor to me ~ Her tone was frightened, worried, and yet eerily calm. The steadiness that came of shock as she gave her husband the clues to understand the urgency. Not bring the car, or at your leisure, she had called for him to take the transportation that would bring him directly to her side. The bond between them forged even as she felt the bond with Kamala settle slowly and weakly into place. A flickering bond that Josephine would fight to hold until it could become stronger.

[Kamala]

It became hard to keep track of anything or make much sense of what was going on. She wanted to beg Josephine to call for help but she could not and it was too late anyway. Kamala felt the pain of being moved and heard Josephine talk about something hurting but then it stopping. Maybe her friend knowing it was too late was going to offer her the kindness of finishing what Raj started but that was hard to believe. Josephine was a sweet little housewife just like her and killing seemed something incongruent with the woman she knew. She watched confused as Josephine lifted her wrist. The expensive wedding ring set was pushed off her finger, Josephine was offering her a little freedom as she died and Kamala couldn't feel sad as it tumbled across the floor. Raj would probably care for it as well as he had cared for her.

Josephine bit her wrist and it stung like bees. If she could have screamed, she would have but instead all she could hear was the pounding in her head growing weaker and weaker and things growing more and more blurry. Weakly her fingers flexed to touch Josephine's cheek. It was all terribly confusing but the softness of her cheek was probably the sweetest thing to feel before she felt the world slip away. A kindness to die with and maybe that peace made it easier to accept her fate.

There was nothing for the longest time. Maybe this is the purgatory the Catholics spoke of or perhaps for her reincarnation would be hers but then the blackness was bathed in scarlet and the world tasted like some sort of awful metal, like she had licked rupees or some pennies. It was almost choking the taste but instinctively she swallowed to avoid choking. The more the metal tasting liquid slipped down her throat, the more that awful pounding returned to her head. Kamala felt like it was drowning out everything else in the world, mostly because her body in addition to throbbing felt like it was on fire. In addition to the pounding and firey sensation, she could almost feel Josephine again but in a weird kind of way as if she was nestled in her a little. Maybe it was just part of being dead, taking with you the last kindness you ever experienced.

Kamala could have bought that but she could swear she could see Josephine's face sharpening in her vision. As Josephine came into focus, so did their surroundings. They were still in her penthouse flat but that didn't make sense. "Josie" she managed to squeak out.

[Pulse]

~"Kael... I have need of you."~

A brow raised as the touch of telepathy echoed in his mind from his wife. His pen was raised over the page of vellum before he simply placed it into the ink well. "Gangreal?" He called out, "See to this for me please, I am needed elsewhere." The fright and worry in that tone told him that time was simply of the essence. Fingers tugged open the drawer as he gathered a handful of scrolls in his hand. Stuffing the others into the inner pocket of his coat he broke the wax seal of the rough parchment before it unrolled.

Reading over the scroll a moment he felt the magic within the parchment unravel as he spoke out loud and with a clap he simply was gone from his office. A brief moment, the single blink of his eyes and he found himself standing there behind his wife as he let his eyes flow down her body, "Josephine?" He uttered, reaching out to touch her, ensure there was nothing ill or damaged from her. " I am assuming there is a reason you demanded the succour? What is happening here?"

As his attention lifted from her to all the various things around him, the understanding drew in his mind as he took a step back and along the walls and the floor. The other person was left alone for that moment as his mind spun a million miles a second, taking in all the various little spider web cracks and the particular lumps along the walls and the glass. "Ah. I see." He uttered simply letting the dryness of his tone speak volumes in his opinion of the circumstances.

Eyes turned back to Josephine as he stepped around her to reach forward. Fingers touched to her jaw as he drew her attention from the woman on the floor before her to his own, "Do I need to ask or do you simply need me to help you ensure this works, Josephine?" He uttered as his eyes fell upon Kamala. Fingers tugged at his sleeves as he drew his suit coat off his body to drape around Josephine. Fingers reached to release the cuff links before his hands rolled the white sleeves up to his elbow. There was no need to explain as his hand brushed ever so lightly along her brow, giving just the briefest of nudges within his own capabilities to help speed her towards the soon to be nourishment she would require.

"Close your eyes, Kamala. Follow her voice, follow mine. We will ensure that tomorrow you wake and everything will be so much better. Different, yet better." He whispered softly, a brief note of kindness in his voice that had previously held nothing but the dryness of dissociation." His mind briefly touched against Josephine's, "This will be hard on you, now you have to teach her everything. Show her everything, and in the end you will need to ensure that her well being mentally is sound."

[Josephine]

She felt him arrive. It had everything and nothing to do with the shared bond. Instead, it pulled on that innate instinct of sensing danger looming; the vestiges of humanity that protested the looming presence behind her. No matter that the bond screamed safety and comfort. A way for her to identify the older vampire from the other monsters that lurked in the night or ruled in the boardroom. Josephine didn't turn from Kamala. Her hands still stroked along the woman's cheek and throat; listening and feeling for the progress of the change. Afraid she had erred; that she turned her friend and did it incorrectly and Kamala would wake as nothing more than a mindless thrall.

" She was dying... The EMTs would not have arrived in time to save her. I could smell death coming." Josephine whispered. Her voice soft and breaking in response to his question. Obedient for the vast differences in their age. Trusting him to guide her as an elder rather than spouse in this moment. Rapt her attention didn't shift from Kamala as she felt the bond tighten and strengthen. Holding through the change Josephine prayed was not as horrifically painful as her own had been.

The touch to her jaw brought her face up. A small trail of blood that stained the corner of her mouth.Blood red from the recent feeding taken reluctantly. Honey gold eyes filled with doubts and fears looked over her mate's calm expression. Took in the steadiness of gaze and a little shuddering breath escaped her. "Help me..I started the process as I remember. European vampire; she will loose more from my turning her.."

The heavy weight of his suit coat registered as he cloaked her in his scent. Gentle and pervasive; it soothed her enough for her to focus on the now. On Pulse's words as he coaxed Kamala through the first parts of the change. As she heard the faint croaking whisper. Her own hand gentle as she brushed along the woman's battered cheek. Fingers tender as she smoothed over the already fading blackened eye. "Shh.. rest Kamala.. We will take you from here. He will never have the power to hurt you again" Her promise to the fallen woman.

One more look at Kael's expression. She could hear the power in his voice; the layered hints of compulsion that the bond made her impervious to. The notes of bidding the woman rest through the worst of the process of changing. Carefully Josephine shifted to slide Kamala's head from her lap. The house needed to look as if there were a robbery. Humans didn't need to know there were more monsters than those of their own creation in the world. Quietly she pocketed Kamala's wedding set. The woman could decide later what she wished to do with it.

~ I know... You will help me? I barely understand this myself. ~ A soft confession between their minds. Tender and vulnerable. She needed her mate to show her most parts of being a vampire even as he discovered her limits dictated by her species. A hard swallow as she looked around the room before she packed up a few more expensive looking items into Kamala's purse. The woman's passport and car keys deliberately pulled out and strewn on the floor. Little touches made to look the part of a kidnapping and robbery rather than a murder scene.

"Can you get her out of here unseen Kael? We need to hide our involvement in this..." Kamala's bag thrown together with a few bits of costly jewelry, perfumes, and nightgown. The rest could be purchased for her later. Cartigan wealth was greater than the Singh's after all. Then again when an ingenious man has over a thousand years to invest and grow his income it was hard not to become stupidly wealthy. Josephine placed the purse against Kamala. Her own clothing smoothed over as she lifted her wrist to lave away the hints of her dried blood. Things to do before she stumbled out to call down the authorities and report Kamala's abduction. Her friend would not wake as she had; to see her own funeral being announced on the local news.

[Kamala]

Things came and things went and it was hard to know what was going on outside the intense pain. Kamala felt like fire was running through her veins and someone was viciously sewing her back together without an ounce of anesthesia. Unable to scream and back to that helpless state, Kamala wanted to run straight back into the black. It called her but every time she attempted to retreat, she heard Kael's voice. Dying brought all kinds of delusions to one's mind as the world slipped away. Why would he be there? Did Josie call him? She should have called the paramedics, not her husband unless Kael had suddenly become a doctor or miracle worker. Maybe just like her, the little housewife was scared at what she came upon. More than that, maybe Kael would decide this was not their business and take Josie from this horrid scene.

His voice was like velvet rope as it spilled down hers. For every silken threaded word Josie has poured down, Kael's was velvet. As if their two voices were tethers to this world, they wrapped around her body from head to toe and held her firmly and it grew harder and harder to accept the darkness and run away from the agonizing pain. Soothing words and promise of things being better but how could anything be better than life simply being over? No more Raj, no more beatings, just everlasting peace.

There was no fighting the hold of those tethers as they bound her tighter and tighter. Like being dredged from the bottom of the lake, she continued to rise and the darkness was growing farther away.

[Pulse]

~Of course I will help you, Dearest..~

He sent off on that so very familiar thread in the mind. His attention turned back down to Kamala as he offered a little shake of his head. Fingers soothed her hair a moment before he stood up, watching as the various things were toppled or shifted. Little things there in an attempt to turn what had happened into something closer to a breakin gone terribly wrong. Fingers brushed along his chin as his attention turned to where Kamala rested within Josephine's lap. "We are going to burn it all down, Josephine. Or at least attempt it. That will be the best way to remove any lingering evidence we where here.." he stated simply as he leaned down offering a brush of a kiss to Josephine before his arms swept up under Kamala and drew her up in his embrace.

A frown marred his features as he turned towards Josephine, "Stand." he waited, watching as she drew herself up before offered the woman in her ending towards the wife. Watched as she carefully drew her in closer, and held her in those slender arms with a strength that was far illusive to what was the truth. Hands drug a single lighter from his pocket. Every now and then having flame a hand was a useful one and moved into the kitchen. The lighter was sat on the counter top as he found the gas line, jerking it up out of the stove and letting it start to seep into the room. A wrinkle of his nose was offered before he sought his wife out once more, "Do you have everything she can't replace?" he stated simply taking a glance to the woman in his wifes arms before turning to the gathered goods in hand. "Good, we will scroll out of here, I know it doesn't always cooperate with you, but we have little to no choice here. We need to get you and her both home, and safe so we can finish this."

He turned drawing the lighter in hand before he flicked open the lid and struck the steel to flint. The flame was brought into life, bloomed there in it's wavering simplicity as he sat it back on the counter. A scroll was snatched from his pocket as he turned back. Letting his arms drop around the two women, the scroll was unraveled as the magic seeped into the Vellum powered and then coiled around them. It was a moment, maybe two later that the three landed within his study. His arms slipping up and under Josephine's as he took Kamala in hand, moving closer to place her gently down on the daybed in his study. "Come, Josephine. We need to ensure that she takes that last step. Draw her back, offer her the taste of blood once more."

[Josephine]

Kamala weighed nothing in her arms. The woman's limp and battered form draped and arranged carefully to account for height in the same way one would hold an expensive dress while transporting it cradled in display. The wealth of silken hair a draping rivulet to simply avoid stepping upon. Josephine stood still waiting on her mate even as her breath drew slowly as if bolstering for the next step or the movement of magic to come.

"I suppose it will look more like a kidnapping that way.." The words escaped her even as the sulfuric scent of natural gas struck her senses. A little sneeze escaped her breaking what would have been a dramatic moment. Another series of sneezes continued even as she moved into Pulse; the little sneezes causing little jerks against him; bobbling Kamala as she tried to suppress them while the scroll was read.

"Yes..I" A pause for a little sneeze then sniffle. Her eyes scrunched closed as her nose wrinkled. An effort to stop the pathetic little wheezing from the mixture of sulfur and methane. " Have..everything" She managed to get it out even as the lighter was struck and cast away. The vision of the once elegant penthouse faded in a glorious ball of blue and orange flame as the scroll whisked them away. While others might have described the trip in more detail for Josephine it was a jolt; the sensation of a peaking roller coaster before the stomach in your throat dropping sensation took over. A combination of spinning and plummeting that turned her stomach into a battlefield even as they appeared in his study.

The smooth transfer of Kamala from wife to husband came in time for Josephine's knees to crumple and land her against the carpet as she fought down her retching and heaving. Little dry heaves escaped her even as she crawled closer to where Kael had placed the waning childe. The tethers there and bond clicking firmer into place until it became almost tangible in her mind. The feeding needed; to continue to supply the catalyst for healing and transformation. Kael's words became a formality as the nausea tore through her before she managed to prop herself up to a half stoop. Sweat beaded along her brow in the clearly wrung out expression of the truly motion sick.

Another bite to her wrist and wince from the brief moment of pain. The blood once more fell before the flesh was pressed to those reddening lips. Precious fluid she would replenish later. Her mind focused on that bond; coaxing it along as they continued to move towards the finals of the turning. Her body had so little left to knit together, to repair, and transform as whatever matter it was turned living cells into frozen immortality.

~ Open those beautiful eyes for us Kamala mine... Wake mi Reina... ~ A gentle call beckoning the woman to rise from the death state to awareness. The moment of testing to see if she would wake whole or a shadow of herself. Nothing more than a thrall bound by blood and will to the shell of her flesh. The final testing of will that she would rise whole and sane despite the burning of the thirst. Waiting for those eyes to open and the passive feed to turn into the clenching of fangs against her flesh.

[Kamala]

Such a sense of being bound and pulled that flooded her body but followed by an aching hunger. One she had never experienced before. It burned through her body like a raging fire and she wondered if this was what it was like to be starving. Starving for something you cannot define which makes the hunger worse. Tied up with need that is inexplicable. The burning was no longer of a healing body or being pulled back from death's welcoming doorstep but of a need that she couldn't define until the first drop hit her lips.

~ Open those beautiful eyes for us Kamala mine... Wake mi Reina... ~ was Josie's voice calling her and the singing of that sweet liquid that turned her into a little feral monster. A touch of the liquid to her tongue and Josie's command had her eyes opening slowly and she went from looking like she was a sleeping little doll to some evil little Hindu goddess as she latched onto Josie's petite wrist. Kamala didn't even care if she was hurting her because in that moment all she could feel was the divine ache of hunger and Josephine was giving her what her hunger called for.

The taste was unpleasant yet satisfying in every way. Her lips no longer a garnet shade from the lipstick she had been wearing but from the blood that stained her lips as she fed less than politely off of Josie. Murmurs and suckling noises left her as she ate and ate. She didn't even realize how inappropriate her behavior was or more than that she didn't care and she wasn't sure why. Even as she heard Josie's voice and felt her touch her head, she was so focused on feeding she barely spared but a few glances up at her friend of years. She did manage to squeak out something to the effect of, "What is wrong with me?" before going back to pulling at the wrist that offered her the water to quench the raging fire within.