Work Text:
The thing is, Madeleine knows she should have been frightened.
She should have been frightened by the image of Claudia leaning over a body, drinking from its throat, and she should have been frightened by the sharp gleam that was revealed when she pulled away from her meal, meeting her eyes. She should have been frightened by the blood dripping down Claudia’s chin, gleaming in the soft light and creating a pool of damp redness on the collar of her shirt. She should’ve been frightened by the calmness, the sureness radiating from her frame.
The thing is, Madeleine knows she should have been frightened.
The problem is that she had not been.
The display was something that a person ought to be frightened of, something that could and should be considered a disturbing display of unnaturalness and violence, but Madeleine can not force the feeling of fear to rise. Even now, after having had time to sit with the knowledge of the secret behind who Claudia is, of who she was made to become, Madeleine can not will herself to be anything other than awed.
Claudia has since thoroughly cleansed the blood from herself with a practiced ease that should be frightening, but still, Madeleine does not feel scared by her. As Claudia washed herself off, Madeleine was given time to reflect without the thrum of adrenaline echoing through her bloodstream. Claudia sits beside her, worry clear and creating a dip between her eyebrows, and Madelenie feels more reverential than anything else.
All Madeleine feels now is awe.
She is shocked, yes, and she has been caught off guard and surprised, but she is not frightened. She was frightened by the dead bodies so alive one moment and then so not the next, but she was not frightened by Claudia— who only killed them to protect her— and her breathtaking fangs. Madeleine thinks she would never, could never, be frightened by Claudia. Even if Claudia were to grow to despise her, Madeleine thinks she could still not be frightened.
It feels natural to sit beside Claudia now, close enough that she could reach out and they would be touching. She could do it, she could reach out, brushing her fingertips against Claudia’s, and the reassurance would be there, but all her fear evaporated the moment she laid eyes on Claudia— Claudia who saved Madeleine and Claudia who now makes more sense than she ever has before. Madeleine grasps the explanation in her hands, the explanation for the missing meaning behind all the things Claudia says, and she grasps it tightly.