[ she's not sure what she expects from his reaction. she realizes, after a moment, that marcos is the first person she's told. he's not the first person to learn about it — that honor went to jason — but he's the first person she's chosen to tell. the dreams, as revealing as they'd been for some, weren't her choice. she'd been dreaming.
this isn't a dream, though. this is real, his hand against her face is real, the thump of his heartbeat beneath his wrist is real; she can feel him touch her, she can see him standing there, and if she breathes in, she can smell him, the faint sharpness of burnt ozone underneath everything else. this — he — is real.
his acceptance, though, takes a little more time to ... well, accept. it's so simply given, so quiet and firm, that caroline nearly misses it at first. ]
You do?
[ he might note the softening of her features, the way the webbing under her eyes seems to fade as the blood in her sclera drains away; there's a flush of humanity to the transition back, and though her fangs don't quite retract, it's not so frightening a look without the full bloodshot eyes to cap it off. ]
no subject
this isn't a dream, though. this is real, his hand against her face is real, the thump of his heartbeat beneath his wrist is real; she can feel him touch her, she can see him standing there, and if she breathes in, she can smell him, the faint sharpness of burnt ozone underneath everything else. this — he — is real.
his acceptance, though, takes a little more time to ... well, accept. it's so simply given, so quiet and firm, that caroline nearly misses it at first. ]
You do?
[ he might note the softening of her features, the way the webbing under her eyes seems to fade as the blood in her sclera drains away; there's a flush of humanity to the transition back, and though her fangs don't quite retract, it's not so frightening a look without the full bloodshot eyes to cap it off. ]