(no subject)

[theguidinghand]

CHARACTERS: "Todd"/Guide, James T. Kirk, and all volunteers
LOCATION: Medical Bay
WARNINGS: Extensive description of the Wraith feeding process, and internalized self-loathing. Possible profanity.
SUMMARY: You can never win, you can only break even. With a Wraith, you can't break even - even if you are one.


He's growing used to the fire in his bones, and the thought disgusts him more than he would dare to admit. This repetition of siphoning off a bit of life and then slowly starving again is not the way of a Queen's man. It is short-sighted - but the kine are a short-lived species, as it should only be that they cannot imagine so far into the future. Yet he has agreed to this deal, and their short-sightedness is his own. It will not be long before he starves again, and then more humans will have to sacrifice themselves to him. So this vicious cycle will begin anew.

He kneads the dark vein that winds itself abound his wrist so that it does not swell with enzyme, but he closes his fist as he does so. He can grow used to the fire in his bones, but never shall he look upon a hungry hand without shame.

Guide waits in the medical bay, squinting at the too-bright lights. When he has the strength to do so, he stands; when he hasn't, he rests, sitting as regally as one can in torn leathers.

Comments

[entrapments]

Her gaze flickers once, from the lock she keeps on his features. Hayley has given him ample opportunity to lie to her, and every time he hasn't, doesn't she isn't sure if she's pleased, or disappointed. Maybe he is a monster. He certainly looks like one. He carries himself with a disconnect that Hayley herself certainly covets, can seldom immerse herself in. But the collar of her clothes comes down, and her hands lift to hold it in his stead. To keep her skin clear for what's to come.

Maybe she looks naive. And maybe he doesn't talk about humans the way others on board would have him do. But she can see the hint of disgust that creases his expression. It is subtle, but present. And beautiful. You don't want to do this to me, she doesn't say. You don't want to. But you have to. He doesn't look at her, and Hayley catalogs every last detail in the freedom she's afforded. "You're something else." The words are a breath, and all she has left to say.

She thinks about being shade, and water. She thinks about being relief- and when she lays back against the table, she doesn't close her eyes. Only looks at his face and watches and watches and watches.

[theguidinghand]

They have reached the point where words are unnecessary. As the antiseptic dries on her skin, he slowly turns his wrist about, stimulating the flow of enzyme to his palm. His feeding slit has long since pulled itself back and exposed the dark membrane underneath, prepared to drink deeply at the nearest opportunity. When he feels his barbs trickle with enzyme, he carefully places his hand over her heart. He digs his claws and barbs into her skin, securing his hold on her. His venom seeps into her veins, where it will begin to strengthen her heart and break down other tissues.

And then, like the man who has found water at the desert's edge, he begins to drink.