you learned to breathe underwater —

[gasping]

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

Comments

[gasping]

[ 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. ]

[reneger]

( 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.