<font color="darkred" face="verdana" size="1">not this again. honestly, the two of you.</font> -- Apartment

Hell. Tarot slid a hand down her shirt, allowing the gem to fall to the granite counter top. From the way that Zeth was eying her, he'd probably swallow the damn thing to get a taste of her blood. If he did, she was going to want another crystal. Some things just couldn't be salvaged. Her fingers quickly found the wound. She withdrew her hand, fingers coated in blood. Ugh. Tarot licked them clean. She was more attached to the fingers than she was the crystal. Her knees continued to shake beneath her and she fell into the chair Alicia offered with a relieved sigh.

She remained there only long enough to re-find her bearings and catch her breath. The gemstone's purifying burn began to seep through the flesh and down into her muscle, into the core of her heart. Damn. Ow. Yikes. That hurt. Ohhhh yes. That's what she got for consorting with non-fairies.

Tarot got her her feet slowly, hiding her panic and the sudden stabbing pain. Sorry Mrs. Zeth. she thought, with a guilty twinge. This was going to make her seem like a terrible person, but it couldn't be helped.

She dropped her already opened coat to the floor where it fell in a heap of black-green wool. Her shirt followed almost immediately, leaving her standing in their kitchen with her chest bared- excepting her bra. In the hollow of her breasts was gouged a deep hole, still bleeding.

That was worse than she had thought. She took the cloth from Alicia's outstretched hand, pressing it to the wound. Her fairy metabolism would keep her alive, living. But it wouldn't keep her out of pain. She could fix it, of course. But with the stupid pendant-

Hell. It was worth it.

Sorry, sorry. She muttered, fumbling a ring from her finger. I know, I know. Faux-Paus, standing like this in a stranger's kitchen. But it's your damn family who's at the root of it, so- sorry. She pressed the band to the wound, the layer of cloth separating the skin from the metal.

The band of braided gold quickly turned a deep, angry red- sending a spear of warmth down into her injured skin. Aah. Much better. She pulled the cloth away, breathing a sigh of relief. Just a faint pink blemish.

I'm sorry to say this but... don't procreate. Ever again.I don't care if your wife is sane this time; DON'T TAKE THE CHANCE.

She gestured to Alicia before sinking back down into the chair. I'd recommend finding Mommy dearest. If this is hers, she'll know how to fix it. Even if it's the baby's, she might be able to... override it. Possibly.

At least her stay here wouldn't be uneventful.

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tarot.deuce