Work Text:
Feldspar knew it would hurt, and yet nothing could have prepared them for how much it hurt. An ache in every cell of their body, a sharp pain in their teeth, a pull towards something unreachable. They made do with centipedes for a little while, but bugs don’t offer much in the way of satiation. They have blood, but it’s not Hearthian blood. It’s especially awful because the pull has nowhere to go, either. There’s no one nearby who can offer a donation, no one Feldspar can be drawn to, no one Feldspar can even ask. Maybe that’s what makes it worse.
Moving is hard, harder than it was even they’d just freshly crashed weeks (months? years?) ago. Their injuries hurt, but Feldspar is durable by nature. They can heal so long as they have blood, and back then they were still living off the benefits of their last meal (Rutile, who’d told them not to go wasting it by crashing into a planet. But hey, a planet parasite is different from a planet, right?). That wasn’t with them anymore, and it made them wish they’d heeded the advice a little more.
The quiet had been nice at first. Being free from their title left them feeling better than they should have given the circumstances. Feldspar now wishes they’d been more proactive with an S.O.S. back when they had the energy for it, back before they were starving and the moments they spent aware left them feeling their own body deteriorate.
Vampires don’t die from starvation, it turns out. Instead they lose themselves, driven to madness by the painful longing for blood. There isn’t a manual for this kind of thing, unfortunately. There are only three vampires that Feldspar knows of: themself, Gossan, and some long dead Hearthian elder that Gneiss knew when they were still a hatchling. Feldspar doesn’t know how long they have to be coherent before they black out again (do they pass out? or are they left as a desperate creature of instinct?), so they have to take advantage of the moment. Despite how much it hurts to lift their arms, how much it hurts to breathe, they still pull out their harmonica and play “Travelers.” Hopefully someone will be listening this time.
(A small part of them hopes no one is, because Feldspar doesn’t know what they’ll do when the meet another Hearthian. They couldn’t bear it if they hurt anyone.)
When they can’t play anymore, they wait. There’s nothing but the silence of the Bramble, the density of the fog, and the burning ache in their body.
And it’s like hell.
When Gossan finds them, it’s a miracle instinct doesn’t take over. Feldspar can feel the pull trying to drag them closer to the blood that runs through Gossan’s veins. The desire to feed is just under the surface, carefully held back by… what? Maybe it’s just their connection, that despite everything they went through at least Feldspar and Gossan were stuck with vampirism together. Or maybe it’s the physical barrier of Feldspar’s helmet, which they refuse to take off even when they join Gossan in their ship. Perhaps it’s more accurate to say “especially when they join Gossan in their ship.”
Feldspar finds themself curled up against Gossan’s leg. They don’t have the willpower to pull further away from the most important person in their life. They’re seeking comfort, but just as equally they’re heeding the call for blood. Gossan doesn’t even try to push them away to some place safer in the ship. Instead they offer words, things that would be comforts if Feldspar had the mind to understand any of them. They’re nothing but instinct and pain now.
And it’s like hell.
By this point, Feldspar’s had enough of being alone. Unfortunately, their condition allows them little choice. It’s not safe for anyone but Gossan to visit them, and Gossan physically can’t be with them all the time (as much as the two of them wish for that). Feldspar’s being sustained by an emergency blood supply at the moment, one that had been started years ago for a situation just like this one. It’s unfortunate that one feeding isn’t enough to counteract the literal years (they now know it’s years) of starvation they endured. A normal meal doesn’t mean as much to a bloodstarved vampire. It doesn’t last as long, nor give as many benefits. Feldspar is still a threat to the people they love.
So they’re alone, except for Gossan. They love Gossan, but Gossan’s presence doesn’t quell how much they miss everyone else. It doesn’t make their longing to see their friends any less painful. The solace they cling to is that this isn’t permanent; that eventually they can go outside and see everyone again. But until then, they’re alone.
And it’s like hell.