The huntress continued to idly claw at the vampire as she felt the shiver of letting her own mind open up. It reminded her of those cold, chilly nights where a full moon bloomed, thunder in the distance, wind howling against windows—a sight most hunters understood as danger. It was reminiscent of how she felt when other vampires were nearby and the first time they had met; it was hard to believe that was merely hours before. The same sensation caused her own mark to flare up in protection, but one could not protect against that which was willingly invited in, and therefore found no purchase in keeping Ren out. This was decidedly different, though—feeling fingers brush across her memories and her secrets, not with intent to harm or dominate but like laying into a soft palm, being caressed and treated with gentleness.

Everything Ren did only enforced what the bond whispered in her ear as ancient promises fulfilled themselves like a plant being watered after centuries, choking on dust. It followed the vampiress in and where she brought chill, it warmed—like the unknowable handing the wizened woman a torch as she studied the inner workings of the huntress. Such was the feeling that Lyselle could have sworn she had felt this before, and yet held no memory of ever letting anyone simply waltz in. When others tried, they were only met with castle gates and cold stone guarding a magically sealed door—the same one she opened, gladly, for her companion.

That’s when Lyselle saw… felt… imagined a string tugging lightly at the only person she wanted, feeling her come to a sudden stop. Holding her breath, she waited to see what Ren was doing, only to watch her leave. A flash of panic crossed the great depth of her perception, but then—as if waiting for the right moment, poised and ready—that archaic bond reached out and soothed her worries. It was only a fraction of a fraction of a moment, but just long enough for the young woman to hear Ren’s voice, forcing her eyes open to see [i]her[/i] vampire slowly peeling away.

She only had to see Renaissance’s expression to know she had not pulled away willingly and that something was amiss. The huntress shifted lightly on the couch, slowly pulling herself up as her eyes watched the beginnings of that familiar magic she had been raised to hate. [i]“Something’s wrong, Lys. I can receive messaging from my fledglings, some of them, if they’re in danger. Like some kind of motherly instinct…”[/i] The gears groaned to life behind her brown eyes, recalling that this was one of the many, many things she knew—and soon enough she would need to call upon that knowledge.

[i]“And whatever this is, whatever’s putting this fledgling in danger, is a bigger threat than she can handle herself—I just need to find out what that is.”[/i]

Despite everything that had gone wrong in her life, this was something she was intimate with, and easily whirled to put her things into order; she left nothing to chance. Whatever gods actually existed in this world, she silently prayed to—she couldn’t, she wouldn’t let Ren go alone. She was everything now. What would her life be anymore without this stranger—or was it even fair to call her a stranger anymore? There was no telling how this truly felt for Ren, at least not now, but even in the waking world the bond gave her one obvious gift: it whispered how things felt to a vampire, to feel that tug of danger, and to know she had done well to trust the ancient. For the worry that echoed in the distance of their connection was much easier to decipher and understand. Renaissance wasn’t like other vampires.

As soon as the vision was over, Lyselle was standing before the taller woman with a facial expression only seen in memories—it was even more determined than when the pair met earlier that night. No doubts crossed the huntress’ mind. And unlike her more submissive nature, she spoke with confidence,

[color=#9BA7C3][b]“I'm coming with you.”[/b][/color]