As if to make up for lost time, Dante keeps me in that soft embrace, drowning me in sweet kisses. I trace his shape with my hands - his shoulders, his jaw, the nape of his neck, his collarbones - and comb through his hair, pulling him closer to me. I didn't know his lips could feel so soft, or so gentle. We explore each other for a while longer, until we finally pull apart and I rest my head against his chest with a sigh.
"Dante."
"Hmmm?"
"Why aren't you like this more often?"
He strokes my head. "I don't know. I…"
I just sit and wait for his response, stroking his chest.
"It's not a common dynamic for me, in my relationships. But since you are human, and delicate…"
I interrupt him. "I'm not delicate, Dante. Just human. It's just that…"
"Just what?" He pulls up my chin to look him in the face, and I sit up a little straighter.
"You obviously enjoy power dynamics in your relationships."
"Yes," he smiles. "I've gotten quite good at weeding out the ones who won't join me in that."
"You only get in relationships with submissive women?" I ask.
He nods. "Of course. It's far better that way. Though it took me a while to quickly find the difference between a truly submissive woman, and one who's simply been schooled that way." I nod along. "You," he continues, drawing his finger down my lips, "are neither. It is strange."
I shrug. "It's isolation, I suppose. But…" I tilt my head to the side. "How long has it been since you had a relationship not built on those dynamics from the outset?"
Dante raises his eyebrows, and looks to the ceiling as he tries to recall. "...I don't know. A very long time. Why?"
"You just..sound like a lot of people I know. That always made me sad."
Dante scoffs. "Human's experiences won't compare-"
"Not humans, Dante, vampires." He's obviously surprised, but I continue. "I'm sure you know, but thralls hear a lot from the people we serve. Sometimes, they just need someone to open up to; sometimes, a thrall is the only one they can open up to without fear; and sometimes, it's just easier to open up to a stranger. And I always wanted to listen."
"What are you trying to say?" he asks, narrowing his eyes.
"Everyone needs affection. You know this. But we don't necessarily know when we're missing it, until we receive it."
"Some people crave affection," he replies. "Like Adrian. It's pathetic."
"I crave affection, too," I point out. "It's a need we have, whether we want to or not. It's just...not as exciting as a game."
He cracks a mocking grin. "Are you trying to lecture me, little bird?"
I shake my head. "Not at all. I'm explaining how I see the world. So that when I tell you that you look immeasurably sad to me sometimes, you understand."
"I've seen more lifetimes than you can imagine." Of course there is sadness, I finish for him inside my head.
"I know." I lean my head against his chest. "But there are even more lifetimes inside you. We create our lives just as much as we experience them."
"So I'm creating my own sadness?" He sounds irritated now.
"I don't think we have so much conscious power over what our minds do with our experiences, no," I muse. "And if it's not sadness to you, then you can decide whether or not you care about my opinion. I just-" I sit up again to look him in the face. "I just don't want you to mistake it as pity, when I get sad for you."
His brows are knitted slightly together as he stares at me. "Hmmm…" He strokes my face. "Have you been worrying about this?"
"I've been seeing...unexpected reactions from you lately," I explain. "And I do want to get closer with you and understand you better." I take his face in my hands. "But I despise being misunderstood."
"You don't like walls," he says with a small smile. "Yes, I know. But you can't control that with everyone you meet."
"I'm not that naive, Dante," I respond with a smile of my own. "But that doesn't mean I won't try, with people that are willing."
"Well, then," he replies. "I suppose it's a good thing you're not afraid of pain, then."
After that, we rehearse a few of our other scenes before my hunger gets the best of me and we return to the main room to eat. Naturally, Lucien's already prepared a hot meal for me. When I sit down beside him, though, he pulls me into his lap, wrapping his arms around me.
"Must you do that, Lucien?" I ask, freeing my arms so I can eat.
"I told you," he says with a squeeze, "that I would teach your body to understand, didn't I?"
Hearing this, Virgil sits up stiffly in his seat, and Adrian drapes dramatically over the table. "Adelaide," he whimpers, "I feel so left out."
"I'm...sorry, Adrian…" I do have a lot to say to him, but...it's going to have to wait.
"It's fine," he sighs grumpily. "You'll make it up to me, right?" he adds with a teasing grin.
I just make a face and dig into the food before me.
When I finally finish eating and putting everything away, I come back into the room with a mission. "I have a request for all of you." They all raise their eyebrows, and I wave my hand. "It's not that big," I add. "I just...really need my clothes. Thanks to all of your shenanigans, they've been scattered throughout the damn house, and I just really want to do laundry and get some control back. Will you guys help me gather them, please?"
"You're the one leaving your clothes behind," teases Lucien, but I shoot right back.
"You're the one who's always draining me in the damn bath." I jab a finger at him. "Plus, the rest of you have been having me wear your clothes anyway, so-"
"Should I get the underwear from the bathroom?" Lucien cuts me off, and I feel my face grow hot.
"I- I didn't leave my underwear in the bath," I begin, but he shakes his head.
"No, the toilet bathroom. That's where you've been changing your underwear, right?"
"H--How do you know- Why would you even go in there?!" I ask, flustered.
He just shrugs. "I found it before you came here. I knew a female thrall was coming because of the underwear in the cabinet."
Oh. Great. "No," I sigh, "I'll get that myself. I don't trust any of you." Virgil's glowing pink, so I turn to him. "You don't have anything that you've sized for me, so you don't have to, don't worry."
"Oh, uh, thanks," he mumbles sheepishly, looking askance. "But I'll bring the yukata anyway. It...looked good on you."
"Anyway," I continue, "Is that alright? I'll wash everything myself, of course. I just want to have it together for tomorrow."
"Fine, fine," Dante replies, and with that, they all scatter.
Except for Lucien, of course, who follows me to the bathroom. "Must you, Lucien?" I grab the basket of underwear and push past him. "Don't you have anything you want to grab from your room?"
"You're so squeamish," he smiles. "Dirty laundry is hardly something to be embarrassed about. We have our own as well, you know."
"I know, but," I sigh, trying to find the right way to word it. "I just thought I had one tiny bubble in this place none of you would go. And not being able to even do my laundry easily just...somehow, makes me realize more than anything how subject I am to your whims."
He chuckles. "Laundry as an indicator of freedom, huh? You know, it could be much worse."
"I know," I reply quietly. "Trust me, I know."
We toss everything into hampers in the washroom. Finally, I have something to do - something that's only for me - even if it's just washing some clothes. It's weird to look forward to laundry.
Thankfully, Lucien's room isn't nearly as hazy and dark as the last time I was here. "Is your room usually like it was that night?" I ask. "Dark, and full of incense smoke?"
"Dark, yes," he replies. "Smoky, no. I save incense for special occasions." He pulls me into his lap as he lays among the cushions. "Are you sleepy?"
"Sleepy? No. But, by special occasions…" I muse. "You mentioned treating scents specially because of their strong associations with memory. Is it something to do with that?"
"Yes, in a way." Lucien sighs. "The truth is, I have certain scents associated with certain emotions."
"You mean…" I think I understand. I think I understand what he does, and my heart sinks for him.
"That's right." Once again, he seems to know exactly what I'm thinking. "I indulge in a certain scent when I'm in grief, a different one when I'm angry, and so on. It helps me preserve those emotions." His voice is nonchalant, but I want to see his face. I turn around, sitting on his lap, and brush his hair away from his face.
"Does...does it really get that difficult?" I ask quietly. "To...feel things?" His gold eyes have never looked so deep as he stares back at me.
"Yes, and no," he replies. "Painful experiences will still hurt. Certain things will still enrage me. It just has a tendency to become rote." His gaze is distant, and...lonely? I'm not sure what it is. "It gets harder to...savor the details when it feels the same every time. But if you deepen the emotion…"
"Then you can feel it more powerfully," I say, nodding. "Still, that's…"
"Sad?" he asks with one eyebrow raised.
"No...heavy. And empty, at the same time. Cold."
"That's usually how people describe sadness," he replies. But I can see something hiding behind his eyes.
I shake my head, and lean in closer, trying to catch what I see. "No, sadness can be that, but it's not only that. That seems...beyond sadness. It just...is."
Lucien's eyes seem to dim a little. "You've read Doroaux."
I tilt my head. "Is that...a philosopher, or something?"
His eyebrows lift in shock. "You don't know?" I shake my head, and he smiles gently at me. "I suppose I underestimated you again." He reaches for my head, and pulls me closer, putting his forehead to mine. "I haven't met anyone as empathetic as you in a long time," he says quietly. Up close, I feel like I can almost see what's been hiding in his eyes, but it's hard for me to place. It's something I can't understand, I suppose. But I want to try.
"You're looking at me like you're looking for something," he says with a small smile.
"I am," I reply, and his face turns serious again. "I'm trying to catch something I keep seeing in your eyes."
He suddenly pulls me into a kiss, and my eyes flutter closed. I can feel it here, too, in the way he holds me, in the way his soft lips trace over mine. I feel like I'm being held in the moment by him, suspended out of time, even if only for a short while. He squeezes me tighter, and I think I understand. I've never felt so ephemeral, like I'm about to float away.
Lucien finally pulls away, and holds my face in his hands. "Did you find it?" he asks quietly.
I nod slowly back. Seeing my expression, he breaks into another gentle smile. It's still strange seeing that expression on him, and yet, it fits so well...My cheeks feel warm, and I realize there's tears spilling out of my eyes.
"Dammit, I'm crying again," I mumble, and try to wipe at my eyes, but he catches my wrist and leans in to kiss my cheeks instead.
"Don't. It feels good, to be cried for," he murmurs, and the dam inside me breaks. I cling to him and let out shuddering sobs. This time, I don't hide in his chest. I hold his face in my hands, watching his expression fluctuate. I want him to feel with me. I can see it in his eyes, I can, but it can't break the surface tension. Even through all the emotions that run across his expression, nothing quite breaks the surface, and all I can do is cry and cry and cry, feeling useless. Eventually, I run out of tears, and he wipes them from my cheeks, kissing all over my swollen face.
"Lucien…why did you hide this?" I ask.
"Hide? I haven't hidden anything," he says. "It's just another side of me." He kisses my forehead again. "You're all unfolded, with all your sides exposed. But most people aren't like that."
"Okay," I sniffle. "Well, thank you for letting me into one of your folds, then."
He chuckles. "I'm happy to let you explore them."
"Really? You're not worried that I'll hurt you?"
"You will hurt me, someday," he replies, and I pull away, shaking my head. "Not necessarily on purpose, or with something under your control," he adds. "But everyone hurts each other, eventually. It's not about avoiding pain," he says, stroking my back.
"It's about treasuring the good things," I finish.
He nods. "Yes. And eventually, you treasure the pain, too." He sits up. "Are you ready to go to bed, then?"
I nod quietly in return. Lucien stands, sheds his clothing, and slips into the bed. I follow him in. He pulls me towards him like usual, but pauses when he touches my back. "Adelaide, are you…" He runs his hand down my side and along my hip. There's nothing to impede him.
I feel my cheeks turn red. "W-well, you wanted to connect. And it's not like it's the first time."
"I appreciate it," he smiles, and pulls me flush against him. Slowly, I relax into him and we fall asleep together.