Samantha Cassidy

The faerie girl could certainly feel his reluctance as she brought him towards the bed, his frame clearly wanting to be near the window and the - if what his thoughts had told him was correct - corpse of the vampiric woman. Given the fear that radiated off of him and made his skin that much more warm to the touch, Samantha could hardly blame him. And yet his body was battered and bloody, and he would do so much better if he could rest. Perhaps within the sheets of her bed he would relax and she could coax an explanation of what she had just seen from him. She saw the way his eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly as she kicked Dorian's sword underneath her bed. Now was not the time to explain that - not that she was sure she wanted to - so she merely shook her head. "Dorian wants me to keep it by my bed," She said, offering him no other means of explanation for the odd object. No, instead she merely focused on coaxing him into those soft sheets and into her arms.

And even when she persuaded him beneath that fluffy white comforter, she could feel the tension that radiated through his form as he refused to curl into her in the way he so often did. She could hardly fault him, the combination of his emotions and the images that played in her head as she touched his skin putting herself on edge, and she had no idea who the brunette vampire was. But that hardly stopped her from voicing the name that had played within her mind to him. She had meant nothing but to help him as she'd voiced it. She'd wanted to get him talking, to share with her what was causing this stress so that she might be able to reassure him and take some of that undeniable pain away from him. As soon as the words left her lips, she regretted them. How quickly did they pull him from the resting position he'd been in.

She, too, found herself within that sitting position, blinking up at the man that demanded to know where she had gotten that information. And yet, she didn't know how to explain entirely that it had come from a touch. She could feel him pulling away from her. His emotions flared with enough anxiety to send her own stomach lurching, and she scrambled to move back closer to him. She sat behind him, her fingertips reaching out to trace the trail of his spine, her soft fingertips ever so gentle and watchful of the silver burns that were already beginning to heal upon his back. The small touch was enough for her to be rewarded glimpses of the man's mind. She could see the fear that the woman had reached Samantha herself, that they wished to cause her harm.

She'd just parted her lips to answer him when he spoke, identifying the woman as his... mistress? A frown pulled at Samantha's lips as she leaned in, pressing her lips to his skin as she considered his words and the present tense at which they had been offered. But she saw the corpse of the woman so still and unmoving upon her own roof. Was she not dead? Was that not what he was doing here? Still, she owed him an explanation lest he fret himself even further into a panic. "Babe, she doesn't know about me," The girl whispered, her nose nuzzling into his skin. She just wanted to be near him right now. She wanted to offer him the same comfort that he so often gave her. "When I touch you," She said finally, her fingertips still moving down the length of his spine. "I can... see... pictures. Memories? Your thoughts? I'm not sure. But I see her. Hear her name. Just... glimpses. Nothing solid." She let out a soft breath, hoping her words would relax him ever so slightly. "Lay back down, babe. Lay with me and talk to me about it? Let me help you feel safe." She scooted herself back, moving back into the pillows as if to entice him back to join her. "I can... tell your night involved her. What happened?"