Pensively, Mireia listened to Heathcliff’s knowledge of the vampire clan. And then, she remembered: “He did mention the last name—Davenport. I should have guessed—I… was too shaken in the moment,” she explained with a voice that became and smaller and weaker as she kept talking. “I guess part of me didn’t want to think he was, because that would’ve made the whole situation even worse.”
Like it was becoming in that same instant. She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly to calm down her nerves and avoid that creeping anxiety she knew all too well. There was no point dwelling on what could have happened that night, it was in the past now. And she was tired of living in the past. Heathcliff’s comforting touch was welcome, her shoulders almost instantly eased at the familiarity. Leaning on him had become second nature, but sometimes she wondered if it was bordering on emotional dependency. There was a fine line between she didn’t want to cross, one that turned Heathcliff into a crutch she needed every time she took a new step.
That wouldn’t be fair to either of them.
“I know, thank you,” she said softly, her expression brightening as a small smile curved her lips. “Surprisingly enough, I haven’t gotten into any trouble for… most of the this century, now that I think about it.” One of her giggles escaped her, but it came to an abrupt halt when he expressed his opinion on humanity, a mentality Mireia knew all too well, but didn’t fully share. “I still believe they’re more capable of kindness than other creatures.”
She didn’t want to start a debate, but a part of her was certain of it, from what she had witnessed in her lifetime. Maybe she was being biased. Lately, all Mireia could do was question everything she used to believe in, consciously or not, and it was starting to take a toll.
Her eyes mindlessly followed Heathcliff’s every motion as he continued their small tea ceremony. It was therapeutic, in a way, watching someone familiar doing something so mundane. She wondered if other people felt the same when they watched her work in her atelier, like Jasper, Nabi and even Baekyong. She recognized the cup Heathcliff chose, and the aroma of every single herb he picked up, like a balm for her broken soul.
Connection. That was exactly what she was missing. His words washed over her like a jar of cold water, contrasting the previous coziness. The word itself made her tense. It wasn’t the first time that words like ‘ungrateful’ and ‘needy’ popped into her head, shaming herself for wanting something that was already available for her, just not in the flavor she wished. She was surrounded by chosen family and friends who openly loved her, so why did she keep looking for a sort of love that belonged in the past, with her dead spouse and child?
The light in her eyes dimmed, and she became smaller, quieter. She didn’t say anything as her feet took her toward the sewing kit she brought. She fumbled over the different pockets and pouches, neatly displaying her tools for later alterations that some of Heathcliff’s robes needed. All to keep her mind from wandering grim thoughts.
What could he say about any potential dealings with vampires, the Davenports included? It was a double-edged sword, one he would not advise anyone to walk on. Mireia should know best what the nature of vampires could do, the devastating tragedy they could cause. If even that could not stop her from befriending some, then… Heathcliff had no hope to do so himself. “Be steady, Mireia. What’s happened has happened and cannot be changed. All you can do is aim to be smarter and more aware in the future.” He advised further as she breathed out to calm herself down. Done with filling up their teacups with his special, calming blend he moved to pour the boiling water in. “I’d like to say that I’d prefer you keep it that way, trouble free, but who am I to demand anything?” He watched the steam rise as the scalding water filled the cups then he put the kettle away for later use some other time. A scoff escaped him as he did so. “Individuals are capable of kidness. Assigning kindness as a general capability of a single species is just foolish naivete. Don’t fall into that trap. What will you do when you stumble upon exceptions, of which there are surely many?” Heathcliff on the other hand loved a good debate and was already gearing up for one. He could debate anyone into oblivion just for fun’s sake. But then he’d noticed her growing completely quiet and stepping away to fumble with her sewing kit instead of continuing the conversation. Immediately he assumed it was something he’d said and he was absolutely certain that he’d be at least partially if not entirely right. It was his bane, this mouth of his. Always speaking cruelties, harsh, cold facts even when they don’t need to be heard. Holding Mireia’s cup in his hand he struggled over the next course of action. As it was already known, he was not good at comforting people, even if Mireia did sometimes find some of his acts of service comforting. Heathcliff himself was unaware of that. In situations like these he found himself completely useless. He took a few steps closer to her, finding himself standing by her side again, a quiet, unsure presence that wanted to do something for her but due to his own lacking personality could not figure out what. “… honey?” That deep baritone diminished almost to a whisper as he offered to pour some into her tea. Sweetening a drink he’d made for her was the best he could do, apparently.
