Eleanor Mae Swan finds it safe to say she's a survivor. She's been through a lot, especially in the short life she's lived, and now she patiently awaits her sisters awakening.
Only, life isn't about to be as simple as she expected, and with the Vo...
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"You were there barely two days Damon!" I hiss as best as I can in a whisper.
After passing Renesmee off to Rosalie — who decided to take her up to sit with Bella and Edward for a while — I dragged Damon outside, deep into the woods, way closer to the treaty line than I'd like, but to be fairly honest I'd rather the mutts hear our convocation than the Cullen's. We're surrounded by trees, this clearing is one Alice showed me last week.
Damon leans back against a tree, his leg bent into a 'V' shape against it, his arms folded across his chest. His leather jacket scrunches up in the elbows, and the zip of the pocket is hidden by his arm. He seems calm, and collected; far too calm and collected for the conversation we're about to have.
"I'm aware of that, surprisingly."
"Now is not the time for sarcasm Damon!" I growl, clenching and unclenching my fist in an effort to release my frustrations.
He grins lopsidedly at me, shrugging his shoulders, "What am I supposed to say?"
"What are you supposed to say? You can start by explaining how the fuck two dead people had sex and managed to impregnate Caroline!"
He grins, "Well, when two people love each other very much—"
"Damon!" I growl, stepping forward threateningly, seriously contemplating hurting the man in front of me.
"What!" Damon protests, "You asked how sex works!"
"You know full well what I asked!"
He rolls his eyes, throwing his arms out as if to say 'what can I say?' and shrugs his shoulders lazily.
"Stefan and Caroline did the dirty, somehow, Caroline is pregnant." Damon says, a flush of cold breeze ruffling up his hair a little.
Caroline's pregnant. I wasn't imagining the entire convocation. Caroline is pregnant, with Stefan's baby. How is this even possible? Although, I suppose, look at Bella.
But she was human when she conceived, Caroline is technically dead.
I look for something in Damon's eyes to tell me he's joking, that he's messing with me. Whatever it is that tells me that, it isn't there. He's being one hundred percent truthful about this. No messing around. No games.
"How...?" I stutter, before regaining myself and gulping, "Maybe I should've called her before, when she left me a message."
"You think?"
Damon shuts up (and flinches, not that he'll ever admit it) at my glare.
