halfbloodhill_logs | and the wolves all cry

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and the wolves all cry

Who: Derek and you
What: It's the full moon and that means slipping away into the woods.
Where: The North Woods
When: November 17
Why: ~~Snow wasn't paying attention and is now backlogging the full moon~~ Because Derek can't resist the pull of the moon, and you're a camp of nosy people.

The last time Derek was here for a full moon, there had been another werewolf (also named Derek, which was strange on its own) and it'd left tensions high because it wasn't a wolf he'd known, despite living with them. This wasn't his home territory, not by any means, but it was still somewhere that he was made to call "home" for a time, leaving him on edge and itching to get out of his skin even more. If he could've spent the entire week in the woods, he would've, but he's still pretty sure that's frowned upon.

This week, he's a little more at ease, and it's easier to keep his wits about him. He's anchored, and far less irritable than he'd been during his first stay. But the moment that night falls, he's slipping wordlessly out of Cabin 13 and making his way straight for the woods, rather than waiting to see if there's any sign of Scott or anyone else.

He knows his fellow legionnaire. He'll show up before he even reaches the tree line. But his senses are on overdrive, and it's not hard to really detect anyone else approaching or within the vicinity. Whether he avoids them or not completely depends on who it is, but he really would like to get into the trees before he has to start resisting a shift.

( As always with me, bracket and prose both welcome and I will reply accordingly~ )

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Lydia is stumbling through the woods only half-awake; Grandma's been at it again. She hasn't been entirely cruel this time; an orange camp tee and some satin boxers give her some minimal protection from the elements, though her bare feet must suffer.

She pays no need to the crunch of leaves under her toes, and the sharp caress of branches and twigs leave marks on her arms and bare legs but no matter. She is searching for something, something she can only barely comprehend, the growing dread of sleep-fog left behind by her grandmother's parting keeping her dazed and not quite fully awakened.

At this point, Derek's just accepted that people are going to be out despite whatever warnings the heads of camp have given them about being out after hours. There are monsters, harpies, and assorted other beasts running around, and if they're going to get in over their heads then it's their own faults.

Not that he'll let them, he's just less than thrilled that he can't get a quiet full moon while he's in this camp.

His ears flick up as he hears footsteps, sounding not quite... right. Big head swiveling in their direction, he sniffs at the air before he slowly makes his approach towards it, ears pricked high on his head as he moves silently through the trees.

She is standing by a tree, one hand braced against it for balance. Her bare feet and legs along with her arms have a few scratches and bruises, but she takes no notice of them, nor the leaves and twigs in her hair. She looks like a wild thing, save for the air of distracted sorrow on her face, tear stains marking grubby cheeks.

She doesn't see the wolf as much as sense the wolf, her head turning in its direction. Her gaze is...not crazed, not manic, but there's something unearthly there as she sees whatever she sees, and a whimper emerges from the back of her throat.

A hand reaches out in the beast's direction, but in a way that suggests she doesn't understand why she is doing so.

There's a flicker of familiarity as Derek's eyes land on Lydia, as he remembers her from one of her Iris messages since she first arrived at the camp. But it's replaced by confusion as he watches her, trying to figure out what she's doing. It doesn't really look like she knows, either, something like a fugue state, awareness gone from her and replaced by something else. Something old.

Slowly drawing closer as she extends her hand out towards him, he takes in her current level of dishevelment. She's something of a mess, and shouldn't be out in the woods the way she is. For as much as he would prefer having a quiet full moon, he's not about to simply leave her there by herself.

So he bows his head down to meet her hand, ears flicking backwards as he does. Though he stands nearly as tall as her, he makes himself seem a little smaller, in case clarity returns to her.

The touch of his fur seems to cause her knees to give out from under her, and she curls into a ball that dwarfs her in comparison to the wolf's mass.

"She won't leave me alone." Lydia whispers. "You should run away."

The confusion only continues, but Derek doesn't move away as her knees buckle. But he's seen far worse than the sense he's getting off of her, and he simply moves closer to her.

Dropping to his haunches in front of her, a little hesitantly, he bows forward to carefully rest his chin between her shoulders.

"She's killed people." Lydia murmurs. She seems unafraid of the wolf. Like the fact that he's present is exactly what's supposed to happen. "Every time, it's like a weight on my chest. No matter how many times I tell her no, Melinoe keeps trying to get me to join her." She leans against the wolf, her cheek against his fur as she says again, "You should run. That's what you're meant to do, isn't it?"

Listening to her talk doesn't dissuade the combination of inherent concern-- he distances himself from people, but that doesn't mean that he's heartless-- and the continuing confusion, but he does catch the name. Melinoe. Derek remembers what Norman had said, and what he'd gleaned about Halloween when she had decided to unleash the ghosts of loved ones on the camp.

But he still stays where he is, letting out a low rumble in the pit of his chest in answer. There's nothing threatening, but instead consolation. No, he's not running.

"I can't sleep." she explains. She's just picked up talking to Derek in this form as if this is perfectly normal. "She shows me things. And a lot of the time I can't remember what she showed me, which is worse. Why are we always more afraid of what we don't see instead of what's in front of us?" She reaches up, gently touches his muzzle. She seems confused and concerned - why isn't he running? While at the same time she's grateful for having a companion while she fights to re-orient herself.

Her eyes gain focus as she looks at him. "I know you." she says, though there's an air of uncertainty.

He keeps still as she touches him, blinking electric eyes down her and flicking his ears back up. The fact that she's talking to him is probably a good thing, despite appearances. Derek thinks otherwise she'd be lost to herself longer than if she was just standing around or curled in on herself alone, because talking means the mind is working towards clarity. Even if he's not the most vocal speaking partner, he at least tries to answer.

Something like confusion passes across his face in response to that, though, and he lets out a faint wuff, something more like a noisy exhale than anything resembling an actual bark. They've never met before now, not that he's aware of, not in human nor wolf form.

She seems to sense his confusion. "I see things." she explains with a shrug. Like maybe she gets a sense of familiarity through vague glimmers of what's to come. "It gets confusing sometimes. I -- " there's a pause as she blinks, and suddenly realizes she is crouched in the middle of the forest having a heart to heart with a wolf.

For a wolf, at least he's expressive enough to convey his reactions. It's to the point that he offers her a look that is as close as he can get in this form to raising an eyebrow, an ear cocking sideways in the process. But it's not so much skeptical as it is he's trying to understand it, though it doesn't stay long. The moment she seems to come back to herself, Derek's ears flick straight up again and he watches her, gauging what her reaction to him will be.

There's a blink as she stares at him, her mouth dropping open a little. Leaning back to take in the sheer size of him, she presses her lips together thoughtfully and then declares, "If you were going to eat me, you'd have done it by now."

Simply looking at her, he blinks once, slowly, before letting out a low chuff of obvious agreement. He's not one of Lycaon's wolves, the idea of being a maneater is actually fairly nauseating.

She glances up. "Moon's full." She looks back at him again, only this time her hand is extended in offering. Surely he has her scent already, though. Still, it's wrist up. "I'm sorry." she says, a bit awkwardly. "You should be owning the forest right now." She starts to rise up onto her feet. "I should make my way back." She still sounds a little distracted, a little wigged out from winding up in the woods.

Looking up with her, then back to her, he's a little hesitant to the idea of reacting to that. Revealing himself is not on the top of his list, so Derek simply drops his eyes to her hand as she offers it. Rather than doing anything a true threat would, he bumps his nose into her wrist before he shifts up to all fours again.

Without prompting, he turns his body towards her, as if offering her something to help pull herself back up to her feet. She's alone out here, as far as he can tell. Maybe Lupa calls this place home right now, but that doesn't stop all sorts of true beasts from roaming around. He's not going to let her leave alone.

She smiles faintly, alright with getting up on her own, but she drops her hand so that her fingers slide into his fur. He's massive enough. It takes her a moment to orient and then she starts to walk. Her progress is slow - being barefoot is harder when you're conscious of your body and all the little pains.

"I don't know if you're four-legged and highly sentient, or otherwise two-legged when you're not on four." she murmurs as she finally picks her direction. The cabins are THAT way. No doubt about it.

Still as she stands, and then as she starts to walk, Derek has to consider whether he should follow closely or from a more observational distance. He decides, in the end, to walk alongside her with his head lowered comfortably, a personal bodyguard and there just in case she stumbles any. Stories of the big bad wolf, hiding out in any forest in the world, are a gross stereotyping.

One ear twitches towards her as she murmurs, but he doesn't answer her or react otherwise. Lupa's pack is out here, he could just pretend to be one of hers and leave it at that.

She seems to find comfort in the wolf staying near, the tips of her fingers brushing across his dark fur as they move. The wolf does not react to her prompting as to his nature, so either he doesn't understand or doesn't want to reveal, and so she lets the matter drop.

They're about halfway there when the sound is likely more audible to Derek than to Lydia; a curious amalgam of a serpentine hiss and a feline snarl.

The touch is easy and companionable, and he allows it as they walk along. It helps him keep a better sense of where she is, how she's walking, as his ears twitch at every sound around them. There's life in these woods, most of which that stays out of the way when there's wolf activity in them, but he knows that dangerous animals live here. Monsters could slip out at any time.

Which is why Derek starts to slow, at the bizarre sound. A low rumble builds in the pit of his chest, a soft warning issued to whatever might have produced the sound.

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and the wolves all cry

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