Re: Woods: Claire/Daniel
Daniel could find beauty in what he did not have. It was just more difficult for him, because he liked to feel sorry for himself. But his love affair with music prepared him to admire things that he could create himself. Daniel was destined to be an observer of life from afar, and he had reconciled himself to the fact. At least he had the wit to admire, and that was more he could say for much of the world, ignorant as it often was of what beauty could be like. Claire's piety reminded Daniel of his youth, and he appreciated her the way he would a Faberge egg or a rare soprano.
"Someone was in my home," he insisted, as if she didn't understand what he was saying, or how dire the situation was. Perhaps she didn't. Perhaps vampire hunters only knew objectively that vampires hunted in circular patterns and always returned to the place they designated home. Or perhaps Daniel was just that damaged. Maybe both.
And yet even damaged, Daniel knew he was in no real condition to get back home. His direction through the woods was mindless, and he had no idea which way was home.
Daniel reappeared in the relative shadow of the cloak, still squinting, and she took the thing she offered him without knowing what it was. Once he had it in his hands, he scowled and disappeared under the folds of the fabric again. "I am not wearing those," he said, in injured tones. "I'm mad, not stupid."
He let out a slow, somewhat wet breath, but there was no denying the additional cover was a relief. He was starting to feel a prickle of heat through the coolness. "I will be well enough in a night, perhaps two." Daniel sounded more antique when he was like this. "The cover is good. I am not dying. Wait." Now that the panic was a dull push at him rather than an electrifying rattle, he touched the damage high on his temple near the bloody eye and winced. "Damn."