Wound of the Heart

[thelisan]

 22 Petalmoon, 2E 222
 

You can learn something about prospective clients simply by the way they knock. A brief bout of loud banging indicates likely arrogance or self-importance. Rapid, arrhythmic pounding is a sure sign of panic. A series of mild taps often heralds either the highborn or someone that's heard some of the less savory rumors about me.

Today's guest knocks in a way almost akin to stammering. A few light taps, barely perceptible, interspersed with properly audible impacts. Nervous, possibly scared, though of me or of another is hard to determine. Likely highborn, youngest child; no one who would have inherited power. I set my kettle down and go to the door, sliding the aperture open to see the visitor. Fair skin, golden hair, pointed ears, and catlike eyes, blue like the sky reflected off a lake. Garbed in red and black finery, including a dress ill-suited to these woods... definitely highborn. And her fangs are readily visible. All these factors together indicate that she's not only a vampire, but one that may be on the path to becoming a bloodfiend.

But she needs help and I'll not turn her away.

"Kind witch, I was hoping I might impose a favor upon you," she says softly. "I'm... I know I'm a- I know what I am, but please hear me out."

I close the aperture and open the door. "I'm no hunter, you're safe here. Come, I just boiled water for tea." My cottage is a humble thing, with shelves lined with assorted baubles, blades, and herbs, all of it practical. I gesture to a chair at the table in the dining area and ask, "How do you take your tea?"

"Oh, you don't- you don't have to on my account," she stammers, fidgeting somewhat as she does. Spirits, now what are people saying about me?

"It's no effort, I made more than I need." I press on, maneuvering around Melina to open the pantry. "Water'll get cold by the time we're done with our first cups. Honey, citrus?" A hot drink would do wonders for her nerves - even the steam alone could help.

"If- if you're sure, a dollop of honey and... do you have blood oranges? I know it's an old joke about... about us, but I like the taste." Good, she seems to be relaxing already. I glance over my shoulder and see she's taken a seat. Melina is also seated now, watching the girl intently. Initially I expect fear, but she actually seems rather comfortable with our guest. Instead, she shows more of an investigative curiosity, like she sees this as a chance to learn. She may make a good apprentice after all.

"I do, their oil has uses in my craft and I must confess a weakness for citrus," I reply, cutting open an orange for her. I then pour the water over the tea in each of our cups and add honey to all three and a wedge of blood orange to hers, and bring the tea and the rest of the orange to the table. Taking a seat opposite her, I offer my softest smile, which may not be as comforting as I'd like, and ask, "Now, what's the nature of your need?"

"I... it's..." She sighs, her eyes sink to her teacup. "Love." It's more of a breath than an utterance, as though she didn't have the will to muster her voice for it.

"I'm sorry, I don't do love potions, they're-"

"Please hear me out, it's not what you think," she interrupts. She gasps a little when she realizes it, but I gesture for her to continue. "Perhaps I should give you the full story." I nod assent and begin peeling the rest of the orange as she speaks. "I am- I was the youngest child of the Palemoons." I know the name immediately, and from the look on Melina's face she does too. The ruling family of the city that is their namesake. There haven't been any disinherited heirs in some time, but I faintly recall a third child long ago... "When my brothers and I went to town one day, I met a... a beautiful woman. Positively radiant. I introduced myself and I felt sparks immediately. It... I thought it was love at first sight." I see tears welling in her eyes as she speaks, so I reach across the table to offer her my hand. "We spend the next two years together. Candlelit dinners, flowers, extravagant gifts... it's the happiest I'd ever been. I- I got a ring. My mother helped me pick it out, and- and on the second anniversary of the day we met..." She's clearly struggling but I don't really know what to do. I squeeze her hand a little, to remind her I'm there, and she chokes out, "I proposed and she turned me. She told me- she said she never loved me, that this was just- that it was revenge for someth- for something my great-grandmother had done!"

I knew of course that vampires could hold a grudge, but to do such cruelty to such a gentle soul is unpardonable. I leave my seat to hurry to her side, and she leans into my shoulder with tears running down her face. "I lost... everything. I lost my family, I lost my love, I... it's been twenty years, and I still- I still-" She loses all coherence, unable to say anything through her heaving sobs. She leans into me more and I ease us to the floor so I don't fall, simply leaning against the table and holding her while she lets it all out. It takes a while; by my best estimate, half an hour passes before she's regained control. "I'm... I'm so sorry, your clothes-"

"Can be washed, it's quite alright," I say, shrugging it off as I help her to her feet. "That tea's probably cold by now, so let me boil up a fresh kettle - you need something to drink after all that. So, what is it you need then? I can do amnesia draught, but I don't like to."

"No, I need to remember what she did," she says sadly. "But... do you have anything that could soothe a broken heart?"

"I do. There are a few approaches, but for a case like this, I think a layered attack is best - a banishment ritual to sever the memory's hold on you; a talisman, probably cherry quartz if I can find it in here; and some herb bundles for a ritual you can do yourself. But while that will help with the healing... you've been isolating yourself since you turned, haven't you?" She nods silently. "That has to stop. I know it will hurt, but you cannot stay hidden away if you want to truly heal. Social wounds need social treatment."

"It's just so hard to trust anymore," she says, struggling again to meet my eyes.

"You trusted me, though," I remind her.

"I do, but you're... you're different," she says through a bashful, faintly cat-like smile. It's really quite charming actually and-

Oh dear. Not again.