Hiram never came through the opening. He didn't waste time walking to his lair when he could teleport there. The familiar sound of gurgling would meet Rosamere's ears just seconds before the hulking, grotesque form rose up out of the vat of red. He always let the blood stay on him, finding comfort in being drenched in the substance. It was, after all, the link to his magic abilities. It was his power. Blood was his everything.

He knew Rosamere was here before having to look. In fact, he'd known before teleporting. His awareness of bodies of blood, of the entities it formed, was becoming more and more heightened. His eyes were often bloodshot from the exertion of the magic, but it paid off.

He moved into the cavern, ignoring the creature. It was true, he hadn't been coming around as often. Hi interest in her had waned. Soon, he'd be done with her. If she thought that meant being set free then she had an unpleasant surprise in store.

Hiram moved to a corner where a chest sat and drew from it a book, a quill, and ink. He set the things down in front of the creature, because that was how he thought of her, and then moved to light a candle and bring it closer.

"Your time here is almost finished." He said, something dark in his tone. "Write every spell you know in this book. I want every curse, every incantation, every summoning, and every potion. Do you understand me?" Clearly he'd been talking to someone. He hadn't spoken o confidently about witch magic to her before. Without waiting for a response from her, because she was feral and he didn't try to talk much, he moved back to the chest. She would hear the clinking of glass.

Hiram didn’t have time for her. Perhaps a more diligent captor would have invested in the gem that was a witch slave, but Hiram wasn’t as impressed with witch magic as the rest of Terra Nova was.

The question from the woman was the first he’d heard that didn’t make him want to pop her head off with the back of his hand. What would she get? A good question, if you asked him.

“Perhaps I’ll let you live.” He said absently, noncommittally. But that was a privilege she’d have to earn.

Hiram sat down next to his vials, crossed his legs, and closed his eyes.

“Then you’ll have to show me.” He continued in the same tone. Potions weren’t as important to him as the rest, but better to suck this witch dry before he was finished with her.

Rosa would begin to feel a little niggling at her nose. If she reached up she’d find it bleeding. The capillaries of the nostrils were ever so easy to burst, that’s why it was Hiram’s go to.

The blood from her nose would stream, slowly but steadily, crossing the space between them to begin filling his vials. Slowly but steadily.

Hiram grunted. He was focusing, monitoring her body, ensuring she would have enough blood to keep writing. He’d stop taking when she needed him to. They’d both be productive now.

Hiram was focused on what he was doing, but not so much that he couldn’t respond.

“The plants aren’t that different.” He said it simply, an unwavering, as he continued what he was about.

Hiram had let his eyes flutter shut, but at her question they snapped open, irritation flaring.

“No.” Did she forget how he had found her? He could teleport. If he wanted to find a plant only grown in Nevermere, he would teleport to Nevermere.

“Stop talking and keep writing.”