Welcome to Gaia! ::

Everything was making out and nothing hurt... Err, yes it did but in a wonderful way that-- Yelping is bad.
The whole world came to a screaming, screeching halt as Mort hastily pulled away from the witch with a strange yell and a dull smack of his head against the wall. It was such a strange thing to have happen that Belladonna didn't immediately understand. She sat there wide eyed, a kiss given to the air and stared at Mort. Her heart still pounded in her chest, but he looked so startled and-- Red.
A strange smear of liquid red had been painted across his mouth with a few extra drops hanging on the stitches that had unwound themselves.
Quick white hands found her slightly swollen lips and though the real pain finally registered, Belladonna only lightly touched the skin. When she pulled her fingers back and saw the little red drops placed delicately on their tips, for a moment she remembered those long months where she had pricked her fingers near daily. To remind herself that she was alive, the witch would take a sewing needle and systematically stab her fingertips just to feel the pain and see the blood and know that she was still living. It had been a bad time and for whatever reason, seeing the little spots on her fingers suddenly brought all that rushing back.

With a cry, Belladonna covered her mouth and pushed herself from the bed, but mostly from Mort. It was a rather stupid move as she crashed in the most ungraceful manner to the floor in a heap of petticoats, twisted limbs and sharp shouts of pain. A mid air twist had landed the witch on the side of her lower half but also half on her front.
"I'm ok..." She mumbled to the floor, one had still over her mouth. She had meant it in every way, both for the bleeding and the sudden fall to the floor, but now that she was here... Sprawled on the ground, well... Belladonna almost stood up and ran. But that would have been even worse, so she stayed, her forehead pressed against the cool floor.

Why did everything have to go so wrong? Things had been going so well, but she had to screw it up with her stupid bleeding. After such an emotional day, Belladonna was now firmly one step away from crying. Hecate, why was everything always tainted?

On the floor, with her body pressing down into its unrelenting chill, every hurt and ache and sore spot was magnified, including the one in her heart. Not only had she foolishly began a passionate kiss that had been fairly well received after an entire afternoon of coaxing so that the final result seemed like a horrid push, but now Belladonna had mucked it all up by bleeding. More unfortunate than that was the idea that she had to honestly blame Mort because those stitches and teeth had been sharper than she had anticipated.
But most unsettling than all that, even the whole crashing onto the floor part, was the fact that Belladonna had honestly enjoyed the pain.
Unsure if was just a hold over from her previous experiences with the sewing needles or something she'd just never discovered about herself, the witch was certainly... Confused over it.

"No... Um, I'm ok. Its already stopped... It was just a small..." There were no words to describe the small wound from which the blood had spilled. It was really a tiny cut and a ridiculously small amount of blood. But it was still that red substance that unnerved, even in small doses. "First aid won't be necessary... Thank you, though." Belladonna managed with a small, tossed in laugh that broke at the end. It was stupid to try to laugh all this off. Not only had Mort not wanted to kiss her (as she was totally certain of now, as one's mind easily twists things) but he also wanted nothing to do with her. That was why he was still on the bed and she was on the floor.
So the witch did the only thing she knew how to do in such a situation.

She pulled herself up into a sitting position, placed her back against the bed of the bed and pressed her face down into her knees. And cried.
She cried very well. It wasn't loud or dramatic, just a few small tears that streaked down her face and kept her from being able to say anything else.
You're as worthless as Delphinium always says you are.

Unknowing of all the braaainssss thoughts, Belladonna only sat curled up on herself. Though her head was down against her knees, her eyes were wide open and stared into the darkness of her skirt, the shade her hair created around the sides of her face and attempted to peer into herself. Why had all this gone so, so terribly wrong? Hadn't she paid enough tears for all the other failures? Why did she get to go so far with this boil, only to have it unfairly snatched away? And by just a little blood too!
But the look on his face, that shock and horror and the way he had thrown himself away from her (thrown himself first. Her fall was only a reaction to his), it was too much. The witch simply couldn't bear it with a straight face or a forced smile. The only other option was to sit on the floor and wait for him to come to her, or to wait for him to ask her to leave. There was always the option of just leaving all on her own, but she'd rather wait it out... See if he bothered to come to her first.
A loud squeak of bed springs was her answer.
But so was the distance.

Not even daring to touch her, Mort at least closed some of the distance between them. At the mention of her name, well nickname really, almost no one said her full name, the witch turned her head a little toward him. Just enough that her red hair parted over one pink eye as she peered at him, her whole face contorted into something sad and hurt and confused. A small trail of clear wetness partially glittered in the light, caught up in left over sparkles on her face.
"I know, its ok... I'm not mad."
Just sad, hurt, a little betrayed, horrifically disappointed and fearful of the future. And in a bit of pain... And not the fun, previous kind. The slammed against a floor, 'my elbow really smarts' kind of pain.

"The blood isn't a big deal. Reapers bleed. We're so close to stupid Humans, after all."
Oh. Oh that's what this really boiled down to, wasn't it? Sure there were all the hurts feelings over his drastic actions at seeing her blood and his now sudden distance, but at the core of the whole thing was the idea that they were two totally different beings. Undead could go one for hours, never bleed and take massive amounts of damage. One well placed blow on a Reaper could have them dissipating back to the pumpkin patch. In every meaning of the word, Belladonna was weak to Mort's strength. He could bite and be bitten and take more. She was hardly knicked and bled out for all the world to see. It was embarrassing, to say the least.
And it made her doubt. It made her doubt herself and doubt them. Their relationship had been built on a mutual ability to pull the other from despair and pain, but of the strictly emotional kind. What would Mort do the moment Belladonna fell in battle? Keep going, of course. But who would want to trust their back to an ally so easily felled?

As her one eye followed him, it was witness to the quick look away Mort gave. Suddenly ashamed to even look at him, Belladonna returned her gaze to the darkness she had created around herself. It was a safe haven in there, where only words and the lack of touch could hurt her. Thoughts and worries could hurt too, but it was easier to pretend that only Mort could hurt her and not her frantic mind. It was a bit cruel that way, but at the moment it was the only defense mechanism the witch knew.
Of course, if she gave someone the power to hurt her, that also gave them the innate ability to heal her. The small, stuttered 'and', shook her enough that she chanced a look back at him.

The words he spoke were uncertain, but gained strength as they continued. Stuttered, but still good. It was easy to forget that Mort had indeed once been human, long ago in a lifetime away. (The witch suppressed the thought that he didn't remember that life, for that would have been rude to bring up.) Yet his words still struck a chord within her and finally, after his hand touched her shoulder in a light, almost uncertain manner, she lifted her head. The mass of curls that had obscured her vision fell back a little and she shook them fully back before she looked up at him, still a little scared.
"You really think so?" She asked, softly and definitely very vulnerable. It was strange to let her opinion of herself hinge on another person, even for just a moment.
Most importantly, he was right. She wasn't human. She was Halloween. She used FEAR and could probably scare the pants off any stupid ol' human, anyways. And she was way prettier than those Jacking Hunters. Maybe she was physically weak, but when it really came down to it, she knew how to pack a punch. (At least her cards did...) And while all that was a rather weak concern compared to her true worry, it was something she had to consider. What Belladonna wanted most was to keep Mort safe. Never present for actual torment, she saw its after affects and knew the only way to staunch the flow of pain was to keep it from happening. Granted, that was easier said than done, but the witch wasn't at all afraid to chase after a lofty goal. Not if it meant keeping this wonderfully kind boil safe from harm.

Unsure how to finally let him know she was alright, or at least slowly getting better, Belladonna wiggled closer so that they finally touched and curled her own hand into a fist. With a light pat, she pushed her knuckles against his in a weak fist-bump.
"Sounds good."
Rather unwilling to let herself remain in the dumps after such a wonderful day, Belladonna instead leaned close and spoke in a conspiratorial manner.
"Please don't think I'm... Yanno, crazy... But um, besides the fact that I had to go and bleed like an idiot... That bite was kind of, um, nice." Momentarily impressed with her own bravado, she gave him the teeniest, tiniest smile though her face flushed a bright pink. Perhaps it would have been better to wait on such a revelation, to see how he reacted to the distance finally closing between them, to see if he was alright with that or to see if she had pushed too hard and found his limit. But waiting had gotten tedious. Belladonna had waited too long and had gotten the lines crossed. The reason Mort hadn't passionately kissed her earlier was because of how delicate she actually was. A too rough touch could honestly hurt her.
Good thing the witch had elected to learn a healing spell...

Since it was the second time he'd said it, Belladonna was a bit more inclined to believe him. So she nodded appreciatively, and took the words to heart. If he meant them enough to say them twice, then she'd believe them. And it did seem as though the things he did and said he believed, or else the witch figured she wouldn't still be here with him. It was a nice thought, something pleasant that further distracted her from the slowly dulling pain.
When he finally wrapped an arm around her, she leaned her head against the crook of his neck and tucked her feet underneath her. Glad he was kind enough not to laugh at her or mock her, Belladonna still wasn't sure about his reaction. It was... Subpar to say the least. But it wasn't something she was going to fuss about. They'd have plenty of time to discuss it later.

Instead, Mort posed a rather challenging question. He asked her if she'd rather stay, or go.
Belladonna didn't immediately reply. As was appropriate in this kind of situation, she took her time and analyzed her choices.
If she left, she could nurse her wounds and fix herself up. Prepare for the rest of this relationship with a clear head and a peaceful mind. Though she couldn't be sure, she was at least fairly certain that Mort wouldn't resent her if she decided to go back to her room. After all, he was the one who needed a nap. (But by this point, the witch had been drained emotionally and could certainly take one.) He was the one who needed to reset and get himself back onto a schedule.
But at the same time... His arm was a strange comfort on her shoulder, the crook of his neck an appetizing place to rest. It was an incredible temptation.
What really and truly pushed Belladonna's choice was the fact that he had given her the choice. Before, it had been he who wanted to rest alone and unbothered. But now... Now there was a choice.
It didn't matter that Belladonna almost considered that he was just being polite. The time for politeness was long since past. If he had wanted her to leave, he wouldn't have said a thing as the witch had been prepared to go just a few moments before.
This seemed to be something entirely different.

"I'd like to stay... If that's alright." Was her eventual, soft reply. Tentatively, the witch looked up at him, a little scared of rejection and very much hoping her lip had stopped bleeding and didn't look all that bad.

That strange well of emotion the witch had found in heart suddenly overflowed once more and Belladonna felt much better as relief flooded her. It had been as simple as that, she just needed a bit of a reminder that he did still like her. If his words weren't sign of that enough, the smile he gave her certainly did the trick nicely. Yet, there was still the matter of how this particular arrangement was going to go. While Belladonna's mind was running wild with the possibility of a nice, night long snuggle, another part of her cried out for a sense of decency.
"Could I borrow a shirt, perhaps? I'll just sleep in the bloomers I have on. I usually do." Here Belladonna pulled up the side of her skirt and batted away the petticoat to reveal a pair of black bloomers underneath that cut off about mid-thigh. She gave him a cheeky smile and hoped her blush wasn't showing through. (Eek! She'd get to sleep in one of his shirts! How delightful!!) "And I can tie my hair back with this ribbon. So no worries about anything else!" Granted, the witch was going to have a nice little pile of clothing somewhere in his room, but that was no matter. Petticoats bounced back and her dress wouldn't get all that wrinkled merely from one night of laying on the floor.

But just as Belladonna was pulling the black ribbon from her hair and about to comb through her curls before she braided them, she paused in mid-pull.
"Wait... Where are you going to sleep?"
If Belladonna and Lanna were to take the bed... That left Mort on the floor. And that just wouldn't do! This was his room! It was unfair to kick him out of his own bed after such a long day. And besides, that bed was plenty big for the two of them! Wasn't it?
"I don't mean to imply anything untoward... But I would feel dreadful about kicking you out of your own bed..." The witch added as she tugged the ribbon the rest of the way off her head.
The little wince also caught her off guard. Oh! He'd hit his head rather hard against the wall earlier, hadn't he? Guess they could both do with a pain pill or two. Belladonna's wrist, knees and side still smarted from her fall, as well.
"You don't happen to have some pain medicine, do you? Or else I'll have to try another healing spell..." But maybe this time the witch could manage it! It couldn't be that hard, right?

Patiently Belladonna waited until Mort had fully stood and was rummaging around for a shirt before she stood up and shimmied out of her petticoat. It ruffled as she shook it out and tossed it upside down in a nearby corner. She didn't have time for much else as Mort tossed her a shirt. Easily she plucked it out of the air and held it up for inspection. The logo made her giggle softly, but when her boilfriend wasn't looking she snuck in a quick sniff. It smelled like him, softly and mixed with the smell of laundry detergent, but still him. Regardless of what happened for the rest of the night, so long as she could be in that shirt she'd be fine.
The witch clutched the shirt to her chest as she watched Mort look for pills, yet unwilling to go change into it. The point to the windowless seat yielded the zombie a flat look accompanied with a sarcastic raise of Belladonna's eyebrows.
"Its not like I'll catch a cold from your chill." Belladonna told him. Quickly she set down the shirt and crossed the room to stand in front of him. Her hands wrapped around the front of his shirt and she looked up at him, a soft smile on her lips. "If I promise not to take advantage of you, will you sleep in the bed with me?"
And Lanna. Assuming she does that to you, too.

At the arrival of pills, Belladonna let out a relieved sigh and a whispered 'Thank Hecate!'. She greedily took the bottle and popped open the top, not even bothering to notice that there were lots of the little magical pills left. It didn't really matter, she just thought it was a fairly new bottle. Or maybe zombies didn't use pills like others did. It wasn't that Belladonna really liked them, she preferred plants and natural remedies, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Namely, pain meds.
With a quick guzzle of water and a fast swallow, Belladonna had the pill down. She reached up on her toes to press a soft kiss to Mort's cheek before she scuttled to the bathroom. She pushed the door mostly closed and began the arduous process of getting out of her dress.
The buttons and zipper took a bit of time, but the most time consuming of all was the under corset. All those laced ties had to be undone and pulled out before she could finally pull it from her head. The witch let out a dramatic sigh before she pulled the shirt over and onto her torso. It stretched most unbecomingly across her bust, but she only shrugged her shoulders and gathered up her clothing.
"This shirt is comfy!" She chirruped as she clutched her dress and corset to her chest, unwilling to bounce now that she was... Untethered, so to speak.

Not entirely prepared to deal with his comment, Belladonna continued on her way of getting prepared for sleep. While she changed she considered his options, but didn't really like any of them.
Why was he being so gentlemanly?
Oh... Because... He was, yanno, a gentleman.
That's part of the reason you like him so much, you dolt.
Slightly miffed at herself for being so conflicted over what she wanted, Belladonna only paused in the doorway of the bathroom. Clothes still clutched in her hands, she frowned up at the ceiling. Maybe this had been a bad idea?

"I don't want you to have to sleep like a pet..." Belladonna finally replied as she now frowned at the floor. She frowned at everything but him. That would be unfair. It wasn't him she was unhappy with, it was the situation. This all just wasn't very fair.
"But I don't want to make you uncomfortable..."
Quick steps brought her to the corner with her petticoat and unceremoniously she dumped her dress, apron and corset onto the poofy pile. All that was left was the black bloomers and t-shirt. Look Ma! No bra! Not that she really wore those. They were too hard to find and corsets did the job just as well, if not better!
As thought, Belladonna combed through her hair with her fingers until she had attained a satisfying level of detangled. Deft hands braided the mass until it rested on her shoulder, a thick mass of red tied with the black ribbon.

"Thanks for letting me borrow it..." Belladonna added with a small smile. This was just too complicated! Why were they both being so... So... Hesitant!? Silly? Retrained?! They could share a bed without anything happening! They were adults!
(OK. No, they were teenagers and therefore much worse, but the witch didn't consider that.)
"Do you have a lot of funny zombie shirts?"
Now she was stalling... Greeaaatttt. A little self-conscious, Belladonna pulled down at the edge of the shirt, which probably wasn't such a good idea in the end. She quickly let it go and crossed on arm casually under her chest. Also, not the best idea. Aaauuuggghhhh~