Freya looked down at Myra’s hand resting on hers, her crimson eyes softening at the unexpected gesture of comfort and the earnestness in Myra’s voice. A flicker of something akin to hope, fragile and hesitant, sparked within her ancient gaze.

  “Help me?” Freya echoed softly, the words carrying a weight of both longing and disbelief. It had been centuries since anyone had offered her such a thing, a genuine desire to ease the burdens of her immortal existence rather than seeking something in return. The simplicity of Myra’s offer, devoid of ulterior motives, was both startling and profoundly touching.

  A slow smile, one that held a hint of vulnerability and a touch of cautious optimism, spread across Freya’s lips. “My dear Myra,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, “that is… a very generous offer. One I confess I had not anticipated.” The prospect of allowing those long-suppressed desires to resurface, and to explore them with someone as open and empathetic as Myra, was both terrifying and… undeniably tempting.

  “We’re both finding our way with this, aren’t we, Freya?” Myra said, her grip on Freya’s hand gently tightening. “You’re rediscovering something you thought was lost, and I’m… discovering it for the first time. So, in a way,” she continued, her eyes meeting Freya’s with a newfound understanding, “by helping you explore these feelings, I’m also helping myself. We’re in this together.” The realization brought a sense of shared purpose, a feeling that their connection was a two-way path of discovery and support, transcending their vastly different lives.

  A soft, knowing smile touched Freya’s lips, her crimson eyes meeting Myra’s with a warmth that hadn’t been present before. “You are wise beyond your years, Myra,” she murmured, her voice carrying a newfound tenderness. “Perhaps… perhaps you are right. Perhaps this journey of rediscovery does not have to be walked alone.” The thought seemed to bring her a sense of unexpected peace, the weight of her long-suppressed emotions feeling slightly lighter with the prospect of sharing them.

  “Then, Freya,” Myra said, a hopeful smile gracing her lips, “I will visit you again after the vilge festival. I’ll tell you all about it, and… and then we can talk more.” With a final, lingering look at the ancient vampire, Myra turned and made her way towards the door, a sense of anticipation and a flutter of nervous excitement accompanying her departure from the antique shop.

  As the heavy wooden door closed behind Myra, Freya was left alone once more in the dimly lit sanctuary of her shop. The echoes of Myra’s words, the warmth of her touch, lingered in the air, stirring a maelstrom of conflicting emotions within her. Is this wise? her inner voice whispered, the doubts and fears of centuries resurfacing with a vengeance. Is it truly alright to unlock these long-dormant feelings?

  A sigh, heavy with the weight of ages, escaped her lips. “I am... terrified,” Freya murmured to the silent relics surrounding her, her crimson eyes clouded with apprehension. “I am afraid that some of these feelings… they might be too strong. Too hard for me to handle after so long. Will it be alright? Will I be able to bear the resurfacing of desires I so deliberately buried?” The vulnerability in her voice was stark, a rare glimpse into the inner turmoil of an immortal soul facing the potential resurgence of deeply buried emotions.

  Within the quiet depths of Freya’s mind, a more truthful voice began to surface, a hesitant acknowledgment of the changes stirring within her. It is already happening, this inner voice conceded. These feelings… they are starting to leak out, despite my efforts to contain them.

  She recalled the warmth of Myra’s hand on her cheek, the unexpected tenderness of her clumsy kiss. It was true; the allure wasn't solely tied to the primal need for blood. Myra’s touch held a different kind of warmth, a genuine connection that resonated in a way that mere sustenance never could. For centuries, she had viewed mortals primarily as a means to an end, a source of lifeblood. But Myra… Myra was different. There was an undeniable spark between them, a connection that transcended the simple dynamic of predator and prey.

  A fresh wave of apprehension washed over her, eclipsing the tentative hope. But what if I cause her harm? the inner voice whispered, the fear a cold knot in her chest. Her nature was what it was, and the power she held, even unintentionally, could be dangerous for a mortal. The resurfacing of her desires, coupled with Myra’s innocent willingness, presented a perilous path. The potential for heartache, for pain inflicted on the very being who had stirred these dormant feelings, was a terrifying prospect. The delicate bance they were treading felt increasingly fragile.

  As Myra walked back towards the familiar sights and sounds of her vilge, the image of Freya’s sad eyes lingered in her mind. Despite the pyful banter and the unexpected intimacy they had shared, that undercurrent of mencholy had been unmistakable. For someone who had lived for so long, who had witnessed the turning of centuries, there seemed to be a profound weight of sorrow within her.

  Myra pondered the loneliness of such an existence, the endless parade of mortal lives flickering and fading around an immortal being. Perhaps that was the source of Freya’s self-imposed emotional hibernation, a way to protect herself from the inevitable losses that came with such longevity. But now, having glimpsed a flicker of something more within Freya, a stirring of those long-suppressed feelings, Myra felt a strong desire to somehow bring her happiness, even a small measure of it.

  What could have inflicted such deep wounds, such profound pain, as to necessitate the complete burial of one's desires? Myra wondered. Was it a lost love? A terrible betrayal? The sheer accumution of grief over countless years? The mysteries surrounding Freya’s long life seemed vast and shadowed, hinting at tragedies and experiences beyond Myra’s comprehension. The thought fueled a growing protectiveness within her, a wish to shield Freya from further pain and perhaps even help her rediscover the capacity for joy.