meadowlarklogs | you learned to breathe underwater

WHO: caroline forbes & you!
WHERE: the safehouse
WHEN: october 10
WHAT: an impromptu birthday celebration.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: excessive cheeriness.

[ by mid-day, a new message appears on the network from a new user, @caroline.forbes: ]

It's my birthday, apparently, so I made cake. Please don't make me eat all of it!

[ it's a fairly short message, but it's at least accompanied by a few photos of a cake, surprisingly delicious looking for being made of everything but chocolate.

those in the safehouse will have likely heard caroline baking up a storm all morning, and may be aware that the photos show her fourth attempt at this extremely finicky futuristic cake. by the time she posts her photos, all the evidence has been scrubbed clean from the countertops (and dishes and floor and tabletops and trash cans) of the safehouse kitchen. ]

—

ooc note: feel free to have your character reply on the network, come by in person, or a combination thereof. this post is a combo pack because i didn't feel like making a network and log post on the same day. #lazy

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( so it's hunger, but it doesn't resemble human feeding patterns. good to know--because jason sure as hell couldn't keep up with feeding her daily. it'd take too much blood out of him, and while he doesn't mind bleeding a bit every once in a while--losing enough to exhaust him isn't an option. )

I can probably manage half a pint every few days without issue. ( it'll be a struggle, but he's struggled plenty of times before. ) If you need any more than that, I've got--allies here who I can ask for a hand from. Ones who won't fuck either of us over. But you've gotta let me know if that hunger gets too bad between meal times.

( so he can call someone before it's a little too late. dick would help, he's certain. he could probably get cain to, after he talks some sense into him. damian, even--but that's. risky. he wouldn't risk damian. even if he does trust caroline not to be a dick and kill people. )

But we'll figure it out.

It doesn't have to be from a person.

[ if that helps. she's tried hard to find anything on the network about zoos or animal shelters or anywhere that might have a collection of four-legged creatures she could get her hands (and fangs) on, but she's had no luck thus far. ]

I mean, I know there's not bunnies or anything running around in the woods, but it doesn't have to be from, like, an actual person standing there holding out their arm. Blood bags are okay, too.

[ sometimes, they're easier. ]

Back home, there was a blood bank. Do they have those here?

People clone shit here. Blood, kidneys--whatever. There probably are some bloodbanks--but security here's tight as hell, too. I'm working on it.

( getting access to cloning tech, finding nooks and crannies to get through the security in the city, something. )

It'll take time, but it's something I'm looking into.

( no promises. but it'd be fucking amazing. jason--has some connections, knows who to talk to, who to go to when it comes to more. . illicit activities around new amsterdam. and he has no problem getting his fingers dirty as long as it keeps everyone else's hands out of it. )

If I can help...

[ she doesn't know if she can. she's always compelled her way through whatever human obstacles she was faced with. told guards to look the other way, told nurses to forget her attacks, told rude girls flirting with her love interests to leave parties. but she's fast, too, and strong — she could sneak into a room and out of it before anyone was the wiser, if she had to. ]

I want to help you.

[ the you is specific. she's not ride or die for much else in this city, but he's helped her more than anyone else thus far, and she's grateful for it. ]

I'll keep it in mind.

( but he's not going to ask her for anything. not here. not with where they're at, when she's still vulnerable and settling in. she's not one of the street-hardened assholes jason usually directs into places he has use for--he's nothing like bruce, doesn't use people but leads them to places they'll be able to thrive in and also provide him with some info. but not caroline. maybe later, but definitely not just yet.

now, he raises a hand up, moves to press it against the top of her head. doesn't ruffle hair any, just. pats it gently. )

Happy birthday.

[ it's a weird gesture, sure, but — well. it puts his wrist so close to her face, her eyes can't help but track its movement, face tipping up to follow the movement like a wild animal following its prey.

which is. you know, what jason technically is. she's technically a predator. but she tries, really tries, to keep her impulses in check. she tries, and so after a beat, caroline swallows, smiles, redirects her eyes from his wrist to his face. ]

Thank you. [ a beat, smile finally reaching her eyes. ] Can we do this again sometime?

'course. Said I'd get you a training regime worked out. ( now he ruffles her hair a little, despite the predatory gaze. jason definitely didn't miss that. but the hand drops from her head shortly after, offers it out, wrist up. )

If you're hungry, eat. I've got blood to spare. ( for now. he hasn't gotten into any fights, hasn't lost any since the last time she took a bite out of his arm. ) I trust you not to go ham on it.

[ don't have to offer her twice. slim fingers wrap around his wrist, her feet pulling her forward to close the gap; she only manages to murmur out a quiet thank you as acknowledgement before teeth sink into the meat of his forearm, firm and sure.

this time, the empathy bond flares up a little more cleanly: gratitude, that ever-present hunger blooming up only to be quieted by the blood that steadily flows from vein to teeth to tongue, a lingering warmth of admiration coloring the edges. it doesn't linger too long, though — not starving, caroline's careful not to take more than a pint, no more than a blood bag at a donor drive, just enough to tide her over.

when she pulls back, her tongue flattens across the wound, cleaning off the last errant droplets that bubble up. the spiderwebbing beneath her eyes sticks around a beat or two while she swallows it down. ]

( forearms, because it's easier to tug that away if need be than if he lets her get her teeth into his neck. jason's apprehensive, angry but it's never at caroline; it's a background thought, never-ending because he's always angry at something. angry at the fuckers who trapped them here, trapped her here without a food source that wasn't her fellow displaced. but there's the underlying pleasure from the bite, too. it's fucked up, spikes the apprehension, but jason doesn't move away. twitches fingers every few moments to make sure they're not falling off, but.

he trusts her enough. she pulls back, licks the last of it off and jason waits until she's entirely done to move his arm back to his side (knees bent for balance, the slight wooziness that comes with bloodloss is a little difficult to hide) and rubs the gloved palm of his opposite hand down against bitemarks. )

Gimmie a minute, and I'll give you a ride back to the safehouse.

you learned to breathe underwater —

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