Pam Swynford De Beaufort (
lazy_but_loyal) wrote2014-08-11 05:26 pm
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upstairs: for jemma
[Continued from here.]
Pam slips the key into the lock and pushes the door open, flicking a nearby light switch. Immediately the expansive room is illuminated warmly by a black chandelier in the center of the ceiling.
The decor has an old-fashioned, Victorian feel to it, but with modern sensibilities. And also lots of pink and black.
The walls are a very deep shade of pink; the thick carpet is black. Two chairs set at a round table with a black marble top have gilded arms and backs, with satiny pink cushions. Black velvet drapes are pulled closed and tight against the windows. The bed, at the far end of the room, is king-sized with an ornate padded headboard, the carvings matching the chairs. The sheets are black silk, and the pillows and duvet, of course are pink.
A black armoire stands in one corner by the bed, a matching dresser on the bed's opposite side. Both are empty, only because Pam hasn't had a chance to fill them yet.
Pam shuts the door and makes sure it locks behind Jemma.
"Go on and make yourself comfortable."
Pam slips the key into the lock and pushes the door open, flicking a nearby light switch. Immediately the expansive room is illuminated warmly by a black chandelier in the center of the ceiling.
The decor has an old-fashioned, Victorian feel to it, but with modern sensibilities. And also lots of pink and black.
The walls are a very deep shade of pink; the thick carpet is black. Two chairs set at a round table with a black marble top have gilded arms and backs, with satiny pink cushions. Black velvet drapes are pulled closed and tight against the windows. The bed, at the far end of the room, is king-sized with an ornate padded headboard, the carvings matching the chairs. The sheets are black silk, and the pillows and duvet, of course are pink.
A black armoire stands in one corner by the bed, a matching dresser on the bed's opposite side. Both are empty, only because Pam hasn't had a chance to fill them yet.
Pam shuts the door and makes sure it locks behind Jemma.
"Go on and make yourself comfortable."
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"Please. You wouldn't have set foot in here if I thought you were a groupie. Or capable of-- teen love poetry."
The words almost make her gag.
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Don't get her wrong.
It was very good.
And then she tried to drink the Scotsman under the table.
It didn't go well. She still vows revenge.
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"And how many did you have until you fell on your face?" she asks wryly.
She doesn't figure her to have much of a constitution.
Pam won't give her a helping hand up, just to observe how physically capable she is at this point, still (always) listening to her heartbeat. But even from where Pam is sitting, she'll still be quick enough catch Jemma before (if) she falls on her face. Which she hopes she won't. It's a nice face. And besides, Pam will know for next time not to feed on her so deeply.
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Standing proves uneventful, other than a couple moments of feeling the world spin unreasonably.
"I should clean up, and..." She trails off, baffled, when she puts her hand to her neck and finds blood, but not wounds. Err?
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"Oh. You missed that part, didn't you? It's all right, I healed the bite wounds. You have such pretty skin. I couldn't let you go around with any scabs or scars."
Questions in 3, 2, 1...
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"What? It..." She interrupts herself to hurry to the bathroom to get a better look. Dizziness? Dizziness is boring, go away, she's ignoring that for now, there's science to be had.
"That is amazing, I mean, obviously it's healing by second intention but there's absolutely no evidence of abnormal collagen formation, there isn't even any underlying erythema, is it a enzyme or...?" And she's back, leaning against the door frame as the only concession to the fact she really ought not be dashing around at the moment.
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Finally, Pam looks back up at her as she stands...well, leans in the doorway.
"Vampire blood has healing properties. I've heard it described as being life itself. Which, I suppose, is true in a way, or I wouldn't be here. Just a drop or two from my thumb healed your skin. Simple as that."
Somehow, she knows there will be more questions.
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...
And then she stops, and blinks.
"No wonder you hate scientists." She's just realized that surely some clever someone has realized this fact about vampires, and... well. She remembers that comment about not wanting to be a science experiment.
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Jemma finally falls silent. And Pam tilts her head at her.
"I just don't hate scientists, sugar. I hate nearly everyone until I decide that I don't. I simply don't trust scientists as well."
She smiles, rather like a cat with lots of secrets.
A cat that can kill you if those secrets get out.
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"Can't blame you." She makes to shrug and step back into the bathroom, but the world does that spinning thing again, sending her her stumbling into the other side of the doorframe.
"Cleaning up, then sitting down. Right."
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Fortunately for Jemma, she tastes nice, so Pam likes her.
"Are you sure you're okay?" she asks, though it's also for Pam's own benefit. "You don't have to keep our little thing a secret, but if you go downstairs bumping into things like a ball in a pinball machine, people might ask and get the wrong idea."
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"From what I know, the rats do take out. I have a room here."
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Eric might do something similar. Sometimes Pam has to think in 'what would Eric do?' terms when it comes to dealing with humans and their needs. It often comes off as being nice.
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"Good thing I don't have caviar tastes - that's a dangerous offer."
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"As long as you don't throw a party for all your friends on my tab and tell me that you were really, really hungry, we're good."
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She supposes the previous option would have been more graceful.
Jemma is grateful for the sweater's warmth, shrugging it on and fiddling with her collar to get it to lie flat.
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"I ought to take you shopping some day."
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Her dry, flat tone doesn't make it sound as if it'd be much fun, but that's just how she is.
"Like I said, you have an adorable figure. I've already got some pieces in mind that would look really hot on you."
She arranges Jemma's hair over her shoulders with a scrutinizing look.
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She takes Jemma's chin in her fingertips and tilts her face up, turning it this way and that, assessing what shade of foundation might look best on her, before letting her go.
"Anyway. How're you feeling now?"
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