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Mar 28, 2012 22:44:01 GMT -5
Post by Magda on Mar 28, 2012 22:44:01 GMT -5
With Lea engrossed in her new My Little Pony coloring book, Magda was free to step into the kitchen and begin her weekly ritual of juicing steaks from the butcher’s and collecting the blood for herself.
Occasionally, Magda found herself considering things along the lines of “you didn’t have to do this before”, or “this is far too much work just to stay fed.” In response, she reminded herself that being hunted to ground like an animal wasn’t a picnic either, and she’d hardly chosen to end up the way she did.
Still, standing in the kitchen, pressing meat in a draining apparatus until it was a flimsy sheet suitable only for making jerky, made Magda feel a little like she was treating herself for some exotic disease- and in a way, wasn’t that exactly what she was doing? A disease inflicted on her by a horny old man who took everything she’d had from her and used his own depravity toward Magda to excuse the way he treated his daughter.
The weekly feedings on Severus had had to subside. They’d tried it for a while, but it became clear that even with his blood-replenishing potions, it was terribly tiring for him now that walking pained him.
It was terribly tiring being good, too.
You learned to smile, and come off a little ridiculous, and pass out cheerful pamphlets and generally try to run from what you were now. Magda knew she was one of the lucky ones; she’d found a husband of a very long-lived subset of humanity with enough skeletons in his own closet to avoid judging her too harshly. Occasionally, in bed, Magda reached over to lightly brush the serpent on his arm with her fingertips, or he would do the same with the scarred-over gash on her throat that went uncovered by night (she had learned how to live on a human schedule, found adjustments), and every time the message was the same:
I forgive you. We’ll be all right.
Sometimes, he acknowledged that he would eventually become far older than Magda appeared, and Magda said “I know.”
The doorbell rang, causing Lea to make a startled squeak in response. Magda muttered under her breath, rinsed the blood from her hands, and hurried to fetch her cloak while swiping the water from them on her skirt.
With her face safely shaded, Magda opened the front door and blinked at the prim-looking green-eyed brunette on her doorstep.
The woman glanced up and met Magda’s eyes, then visibly startled.
Magda frowned as the woman stammered.
“Can I help you?” Magda asked, a little firmly.
Occasionally, Magda found herself considering things along the lines of “you didn’t have to do this before”, or “this is far too much work just to stay fed.” In response, she reminded herself that being hunted to ground like an animal wasn’t a picnic either, and she’d hardly chosen to end up the way she did.
Still, standing in the kitchen, pressing meat in a draining apparatus until it was a flimsy sheet suitable only for making jerky, made Magda feel a little like she was treating herself for some exotic disease- and in a way, wasn’t that exactly what she was doing? A disease inflicted on her by a horny old man who took everything she’d had from her and used his own depravity toward Magda to excuse the way he treated his daughter.
The weekly feedings on Severus had had to subside. They’d tried it for a while, but it became clear that even with his blood-replenishing potions, it was terribly tiring for him now that walking pained him.
It was terribly tiring being good, too.
You learned to smile, and come off a little ridiculous, and pass out cheerful pamphlets and generally try to run from what you were now. Magda knew she was one of the lucky ones; she’d found a husband of a very long-lived subset of humanity with enough skeletons in his own closet to avoid judging her too harshly. Occasionally, in bed, Magda reached over to lightly brush the serpent on his arm with her fingertips, or he would do the same with the scarred-over gash on her throat that went uncovered by night (she had learned how to live on a human schedule, found adjustments), and every time the message was the same:
I forgive you. We’ll be all right.
Sometimes, he acknowledged that he would eventually become far older than Magda appeared, and Magda said “I know.”
The doorbell rang, causing Lea to make a startled squeak in response. Magda muttered under her breath, rinsed the blood from her hands, and hurried to fetch her cloak while swiping the water from them on her skirt.
With her face safely shaded, Magda opened the front door and blinked at the prim-looking green-eyed brunette on her doorstep.
The woman glanced up and met Magda’s eyes, then visibly startled.
Magda frowned as the woman stammered.
“Can I help you?” Magda asked, a little firmly.