It was her chest that felt cold. No, cold wasn't the right word. Hollow maybe. The truth was that she had suddenly felt an instant pang of fear when he mentioned what he was. Her thoughts had derailed instantly to the night she'd spent with Philip. Like a woman who had been taken advantage of, she tended to see her assailant in every man that came across her path. For Raina, it was every vampire. She couldn't see past the glistening fangs and thirst for blood. It frightened her, and like most people, what she was afraid of seemed to turn into something she would hate.
What hurt was that inside, a storm was swirling. It whipped around her insides and made her feel slightly off balance. Before the discovery of what he was, she had really enjoyed talking to him. He wasn't like most people around here who couldn't be bothered to take part of a conversation. Not just simple greetings shared in passing. She felt like she'd had something more real in those few moments with him since he'd fallen in the water, then she'd had with anyone else around her. Especially because he hadn't made a big deal about her opinions differing from his.
It seemed that to him, it was alright to have an opposite viewpoint. He had shared his feelings, and she had shared hers.
But there was still that nagging voice in the back of her head that screamed, "He's a blood sucker!" And it made her blood run ice cold through her body as she took the few steps towards the pile where her clothes were. As her now dried toes stepped up to the dark blue jean skirt, she turned to look over her shoulder. For the first time in as long as she could remember, when the moonlight caught the pink strands of hair hanging over her shoulders, she didn't look at them. She didn't stare at it, smile and drag her fingers through it. More often than not, she would get wrapped up staring at it, or her reflection. But now her eyes were all for Desmond with his back to her.
He'd been a perfect gentleman the entire evening and the only reason for her trepidation was the memory that lingered in her head like the spirit of a man too afraid to move on. Instead it haunted her, much like it did most nights. As she slept, she could still see his face. The thing that hurt the most was that she didn't have the opportunity to face that fear. He'd attacked her and she'd ran the second those college kids distracted the blood thirsty being. What was worse was that she didn't even know if any of those boys who ended up saving her life were even alive. Had Philip gotten to them?
Had Desmond ever drank from a human? "What kind of special.. occurrence?" She asked as she folding the ground length duster over her arm and then placed it against a rock so she could pull on the skirt. She kept looking over at him and noticed that he hadn't even tried for a peek. And she'd been not only alone, but nude around him for all of their conversation and he'd never once tried to take advantage of her. Her thoughts and desires to trust him were conflicting with her fear of what had happened that one night so long ago.
Following the skirt were her boots, which she stepped into easily. Though she preferred to be with her tail, or even her bare feet, she wasn't a stranger to wearing shoes. Once they were on, she tugging the skirt along her thighs, fitting it into place. She stopped when she pulled her skirt up from the ground and dusted off the dirt so she could slide her arms in without getting it all of her. Once she buttoned up the white lace top, she hung the vest over her arms but didn't bother to button it, instead letting it hang open.