[ emma doesn't fight him as he gently pulls her upright, as his arms curl around her, but she tenses as he holds her close. slowly, breath by breath, that tension eases, until finally, she melts into his arms. her breathing hasn't fully steadied, the shaking hasn't died down, but she's soothed by the voice in her ear and the occasional word she's picking out with her growing coherency. ]
—Vasquez.
[ it's the first thing she manages, the first sign that she's finally grounded in reality. she knows that everything left behind in the dark is just a memory, and she's here, now, safe — with those ghosts firmly rooted in her dreams. ]
I...
[ but she has no explanations to cover up the rising embarrassment that accompanies knowing he must have heard her, even seen her in throes of such a brutal nightmare. her face is still wet with tears, and she hasn't managed to stop trembling, but she's more aware, enough so to feel almost mortified by her own blatant, violent responses.
no subject
—Vasquez.
[ it's the first thing she manages, the first sign that she's finally grounded in reality. she knows that everything left behind in the dark is just a memory, and she's here, now, safe — with those ghosts firmly rooted in her dreams. ]
I...
[ but she has no explanations to cover up the rising embarrassment that accompanies knowing he must have heard her, even seen her in throes of such a brutal nightmare. her face is still wet with tears, and she hasn't managed to stop trembling, but she's more aware, enough so to feel almost mortified by her own blatant, violent responses.
a weakness. vulnerability. ]