Mon Coeur » Places

         

【"My sweet wolves eye me hungrily."】
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【Kitchen --> WC】
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【#E31230】
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Upon entering the kitchen, Sabine was met with a teary-eyed little figure about to run right into him. He shifted the dishes into one hand, reaching out to catch Maddie with the other."Hello, little mouse," he said, setting the plates down on the counter. "Do you need any help?" he asked Aedan over her head, but was met with a terse declination. So he turned his attention back to Maddie, brushing the tears from her eyes. "What's the matter, darling?" he asked, concerned. She did not answer, just turned her face away, shining droplets still welling from under her lashes. She pulled away from him with a faint explanation that she was fine, she just needed to be by herself for a moment.

As Maddie fled, Sabine stood for a moment, his hands still out a little, as if he'd momentarily forgotten what he was doing. But then he turned his attention back to Adrian, but the other was already rolling down his sleeves and excusing himself. And then he was gone as well. Sabine stood still for a few more long moments, as if he'd shorted out, and then turned around, tracing the much used path out of the kitchen. When he pushed through into the dining room again, he was greeted almost immediately by Nattia. As she came closer, he lifted her up around the waist so he could kiss her forehead. "Hello, there, Starfire, " he said, suddenly animated again. "Thank you for coming down for breakfast," he murmured, his voice soft and low in her ear as he continued to hold her by the waist.

After a beat and another kiss on the forehead, though, he set her down on her feet, bending instead to retain the soft voice. "If you're hungry, my dear, wait for me in the morning room, I'll be there soon," He whispered in an almost conspiratorial tone. He had made her come down even though she didn't want to, after all. He should pay her back for that. But first, the nausea was rising already, his stomach pressing mercilessly against his ribs. Time to purge what didn't belong in his system.

He left the dining room hastily, expression very focused. He had been terribly careful about guarding this secret. He didn't want any of the pets to think him ungrateful. Or inhuman. He'd made this mistake himself, and it was his weight to bear. He liked them making food and sharing it with him. He didn't want that to end, no matter how unpleasant it ultimately made him feel.

Very firmly he closed the door to the bath behind him, locking it, and then closed the door to the WC as well. Then he leaned against the door for a moment, groaning softly, a hand gripping his abdomen, where his insides were starting to squirm, trying to get the foreign material out, heaving upwards. His stomach was where he had later learned humans had one of their lungs. (They had two, who knew.) That didn't stop the myriad of unconnected guts in his abdomen from getting in his digestive business as his stomach sat heavily on what was below. His heart squeezed as his chest tried to rearrange itself, avoiding his too-full stomach, and he let out a little gasp. Oh, that smarted.

He always dressed so nice for family meals, always forgot that this would come after, and his trembling fingers would hasten to pull off his jacket, his tie, his collar, dropping them on the stone floor as his knees met the ground in the most instinctively human act he routinely performed. Sabine vomited. Several times, in fact. There was no stomach acid to ease his quiet purge. Just the kind of pain only his own body could inflict on itself--the twisting of his gut, the burning of his eyes, the pang of his heart and throat and lungs. At length he rose, trembling still, and let out a deep breath. He pulled the chain on the cistern, washing breakfast away, and leaned on the sink with pale palms, steadying himself. When he looked at his face in the mirror, nothing seemed out of place, aside from the disarray of his hair and the paleness of his face. He touched the now crusted flecks of blood he'd missed from Lonan's kick. He'd need to feed him too, at some point. No reason to hunt him down, though, he'd show up in his own sweet time. Everyone would.

Sabine washed the twice-tasted sweetness of honey and powdered sugar out of his mouth--no sourness, thanks to his lack of bile--and then washed his face. Combed his fingers through his hair. Re-ordered his outfit, straightened his clothes, pressed his fingers against his cheeks to bring the blood back to the surface, blinked several times, wiping the dewdrop tears that had sprung up out of his eyelashes. Sighed. All better now.

He exited the pair of rooms and strolled down the hall towards the place he'd promised to meet Nattia. The day had only just begun, after all. It was time to live again.