That went better than expected. Eponine's usual targets are drunk, slow and inebriated. The fae blood - well, Montparnasse controls that. Controlled it.
She stands back, admiring her handiwork, just for a minute, before approaching Imogen once more.
Eponine sits, a slight weight, really, on top of Imogen's sprawled legs, and winds her long, skeletal fingers through Imogen's blonde locks. Looking into Imogen's eyes, Eponine can see her own reflection, pale skin, dark eyes, black hair. She looks like hell. Doesn't matter, though. She's got what she wants.
"They're still there, Monsieur Fallon and his gang. I have just a half a minute. I couldn't afford more. Just thirty seconds to drink from you. They will know when my teeth pierce your skin -" she wrenches Imogen's head to the side, and Eponine's fingers find the artery in her neck. "Here. Here is where I will bite."
She looks at her bloody fingers, before sucking them carefully. Her eyes close in bliss, and gradually, her frame stops trembling, and it seems almost as if she breathes a sigh of satisfaction.
"It doesn't count. It is on my fingers. I have not pierced your neck yet. It doesn't count." She grins gleefully. "Gosh, such a feed. Madame! You cannot know how I have longed for such a thing."
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She stands back, admiring her handiwork, just for a minute, before approaching Imogen once more.
Eponine sits, a slight weight, really, on top of Imogen's sprawled legs, and winds her long, skeletal fingers through Imogen's blonde locks. Looking into Imogen's eyes, Eponine can see her own reflection, pale skin, dark eyes, black hair. She looks like hell. Doesn't matter, though. She's got what she wants.
"They're still there, Monsieur Fallon and his gang. I have just a half a minute. I couldn't afford more. Just thirty seconds to drink from you. They will know when my teeth pierce your skin -"
she wrenches Imogen's head to the side, and Eponine's fingers find the artery in her neck. "Here. Here is where I will bite."
She looks at her bloody fingers, before sucking them carefully. Her eyes close in bliss, and gradually, her frame stops trembling, and it seems almost as if she breathes a sigh of satisfaction.
"It doesn't count. It is on my fingers. I have not pierced your neck yet. It doesn't count." She grins gleefully. "Gosh, such a feed. Madame! You cannot know how I have longed for such a thing."