TW: Blood, self-harm/cutting
Even as she enjoyed the kisses she gave him, she realized there was the possibility he would call this off and refuse. It made sense to deny her request, to tell her to master the basics before she played with the forces of life and death. Apparently, neither of them put much stock in sense. The longer he considered, the more nervous she grew. This was a horrible idea, and she was committed to it. She felt a spark of giddiness, the looming sense of standing on a ledge making her dizzy. ”Alright, we’re doing this.” She urged herself on as he led her forward and helped her settle on the floor. He was watching her with a different sort of intensity, Themis couldn’t shake the feeling she was being evaluated. She hoped to prove worthy of his willingness.
When he pulled out a knife, her heart started hammering in her chest. She flinched when the blade cut deep into Samuel’s skin, the red stream flowing quickly into his hand. It made her queasy to see him do something so violent to his own body. He moved without hesitation or feeling, and Themis clicked her teeth tightly closed. She was very anxious that she would not appear so stoic when it came her turn. Swallowing against the rising sense of unease, she watched his movements carefully. There would be no room for error in her work. The wrong move, and she’d need a healer and a cover story. She pulled the comb securing her hair free, handing him the object without hesitation. She watched carefully, tightening her hands in her skirt and resisting the urge to touch him. She hadn’t anticipated reacting to him injured; the sight of Samuel bleeding before her seemed wrong, distressing.
She couldn’t keep watching him paint and bleed; it was too jarring an image to hold in her mind as she contemplated her own willingness to progress. Extending her hand for the knife, she turned her eyes back to Samuel, hoping he allowed her to continue before she could talk herself out of this. “My turn.” She said with finality, she could do this. She was proud when her hands were steady between them.
When he pulled out a knife, her heart started hammering in her chest. She flinched when the blade cut deep into Samuel’s skin, the red stream flowing quickly into his hand. It made her queasy to see him do something so violent to his own body. He moved without hesitation or feeling, and Themis clicked her teeth tightly closed. She was very anxious that she would not appear so stoic when it came her turn. Swallowing against the rising sense of unease, she watched his movements carefully. There would be no room for error in her work. The wrong move, and she’d need a healer and a cover story. She pulled the comb securing her hair free, handing him the object without hesitation. She watched carefully, tightening her hands in her skirt and resisting the urge to touch him. She hadn’t anticipated reacting to him injured; the sight of Samuel bleeding before her seemed wrong, distressing.
She couldn’t keep watching him paint and bleed; it was too jarring an image to hold in her mind as she contemplated her own willingness to progress. Extending her hand for the knife, she turned her eyes back to Samuel, hoping he allowed her to continue before she could talk herself out of this. “My turn.” She said with finality, she could do this. She was proud when her hands were steady between them.
![[Image: Bka0H0x.jpeg]](https://i.imgur.com/Bka0H0x.jpeg)