The moment Dixie collapsed, Blaise took her again in his arms and sprinted out of the forest, back into the city. As he ran, his chest felt tighter than before and his legs were moving fasterthan he'd pushed them in a long while. He questioned why he was doing this. Blaise was a man that took what he wanted and said 'to hell' with the rest. So why was he helping her. He had no idea, but he knew in his heart of hearts this was something he needed to do.
He looked at her sleeping face, content and at peace in his arms. He smiled to himself and shook his head. Poor girl.
'Right. Got to focus. First stop, clothes.' He thought to himself. As he ran past a garden, a washing line was conveniently full of washing. He barely looked as he plucked the items from the line and balanced them on top of the girl he carried in his arms.
Blaise sped into a deserted alleyway and laid Dixie out, quickly dressing her in the items he stole. No underwear, jeans and a long, wool sweater. It was a bit big on her, almost adorably so. He caught himself. 'Just focus on the task.' He berrated himself.
When Dixie was decent, he dressed himself, as his clothes, too, were torn to tatters.
His new apparel were tight bukskin trousers and a hoodie. The hoodie was a little short and only came down to the bottom of his ribcage, but it was enough.
He picked her up and started for the hospital, still mulling over what to tell them.
When they arrived, they were greeted by a bustling waiting room and a reception area. When people saw what he was carrying, there were many shocked faces and a smattering of squeals of surprise. One woman even did the sign of the cross. But Blaise payed no mind, he simply moved past the queue before the desk.
"She needs to be seen. Now."
The receptionist's mouth hung open in shock, but she nodded enigmatically and immediately called for porters for her.
A few men in the queue murmered about the lack of order and how he should've waited in the queue. Again, Blaise's attention wasn't on them, but regardless he shoulder-checked them on his way past.
Like a loyal dog, Blaise followed the porters and explained what had happened. Not the truth, obviously, but rather a twisted version of it. He explained it off a a wild animal attack, explaining the bite marks. And he'd covered her with some spare clothes they brought when they went camping in the woods together.
Unfortunately, when the group got to the ward, Blaise was turned away and told to wait till she'd been treated in a waiting room or go home. His face fell, but nodded once.
The sullen vampire sat by the window. He wasn't used to feeling this useless. He was a vampire. He had powers above anyone else. He was superhuman. But staring out at the city made him realise how little it mattered. Although he could choose whether someone dies with his superior powers, he couldn't choose whether people live. His healing powers of his blood could only work on minor injuries. What he'd done to her. What he'd done to her... It was unforgivable.
For the first time in a long time, he felt remorse. He didn't evem know her. She was just a girl. Why did he care this much?
Blaise rubbed a hand over his flushed face. And his nose caught something. His eyes widened. He gulped. Hungrily.
Blaise was a vampire. A hungry vampire. In a hospital. Full of bleeding patients. And blood bags. A hungry vampire in a hospital full of bleeding patients and blood bags is NOT a good idea.
Blaise sat up straighter. His fangs slid down into allignment with his teeth. His hands balled into fists and gripped the arm rests, his knuckles turning white. His breathing was quicker. His head shook, trying to shake his hunger. It was one thing blowing up on some thugs in a dark alley at night. It was an entirely different thing blowing up in a hospital with thousands of sick people and good samaritans helping them.
For a while longer, Blaise struggled against the hunger, but in his heart, he knew it was a losing battle. He considered going out through the front door, but he couldn't make it that far.
The waiting room was empty. He turned around. He stood on the chair, raised his fist and slammed his way through the glass. Quick as a flash, he jumped through the new hole. A blur in the shadows.