Allison Argent (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theresalwayshope) wrote2014-09-25 09:51 am
theresalwayshope) wrote2014-09-25 09:51 am
014} i'm almost human, please don't run away / cause wherever you are, i'll be a scream away
[When the video feed clicks on, it shows an image of the dirt with a triskelion scratched into it. A familiar female voice narrates as a stick comes into the shot, pointing to each leg of the trifold spiral.]
Alpha. Beta. Omega. This symbolizes the cycle of the werewolf: at any time, any wolf can rise to one or fall to another.
[The feed shifts quickly, and soon a familiar set of features fills the feed sufficiently to hide the background in an effort to obscure her location. Allison Argent is pretty much the same in appearance, no matter where she's known...but those not from the Mirror Barge may not recognize the bright, earnest light in her features, and may notice the absence of that sliver of ice in her expression, despite the fact that her eyes are narrowed in the feed with steely resolve.]
We all got the same message from the Admiral. He wants these...infiltrators dead. Rack up your kills, and you get a prize.
[She leans in a little more, lip curling in a little sneer.]
He's turned life and death into a game...and the only way to truly win a game like this is not to play.
Anyone that feels the same is welcome to join me. If you want to live, if you don't want to participate in this slaughter? Leave this symbol somewhere. Scratch it in the ground, carve it in a tree, paint it on a rock. Whoever you are, wherever you come from...treat this as a symbol of safe harbor. If you leave this mark, you're promising that you won't kill anyone, and you won't attack anyone unless you have to defend yourself against a threat. I will find you, I will take you somewhere safe...and I swear, I will protect you with my last breath.
[This is the part where Allison feels a small tremor of fear. These infiltrators...she doesn't know who they are, and she doesn't know if they're friend or foe...but if they're innocent, she has to help them. What other choice does she have?
Taking a deep breath, she continues.]
If you don't recognize me, it's okay. Wherever you are, if you leave me this mark I will find you.
[She pauses, her expression shifting...not the hard, arrogant calm some know in Allison Argent, but a curl of her lip and a subtle baring of her teeth that's more feral than anything.]
And if you're out there, killing innocent people for fun and profit? Don't worry.
[Her eyes narrow a little further...then flare to life with a brilliant golden light, her voice deepening and distorting with the first touch of a lupine growl.]
I'll find you, too.
(OOC: This post is good for the entire flood event! Feel free to mark which day you're playing if you want Allison to come and rescue your muse...or if you want to hunt the poor little she-wolf down. :P)
Alpha. Beta. Omega. This symbolizes the cycle of the werewolf: at any time, any wolf can rise to one or fall to another.
[The feed shifts quickly, and soon a familiar set of features fills the feed sufficiently to hide the background in an effort to obscure her location. Allison Argent is pretty much the same in appearance, no matter where she's known...but those not from the Mirror Barge may not recognize the bright, earnest light in her features, and may notice the absence of that sliver of ice in her expression, despite the fact that her eyes are narrowed in the feed with steely resolve.]
We all got the same message from the Admiral. He wants these...infiltrators dead. Rack up your kills, and you get a prize.
[She leans in a little more, lip curling in a little sneer.]
He's turned life and death into a game...and the only way to truly win a game like this is not to play.
Anyone that feels the same is welcome to join me. If you want to live, if you don't want to participate in this slaughter? Leave this symbol somewhere. Scratch it in the ground, carve it in a tree, paint it on a rock. Whoever you are, wherever you come from...treat this as a symbol of safe harbor. If you leave this mark, you're promising that you won't kill anyone, and you won't attack anyone unless you have to defend yourself against a threat. I will find you, I will take you somewhere safe...and I swear, I will protect you with my last breath.
[This is the part where Allison feels a small tremor of fear. These infiltrators...she doesn't know who they are, and she doesn't know if they're friend or foe...but if they're innocent, she has to help them. What other choice does she have?
Taking a deep breath, she continues.]
If you don't recognize me, it's okay. Wherever you are, if you leave me this mark I will find you.
[She pauses, her expression shifting...not the hard, arrogant calm some know in Allison Argent, but a curl of her lip and a subtle baring of her teeth that's more feral than anything.]
And if you're out there, killing innocent people for fun and profit? Don't worry.
[Her eyes narrow a little further...then flare to life with a brilliant golden light, her voice deepening and distorting with the first touch of a lupine growl.]
I'll find you, too.
(OOC: This post is good for the entire flood event! Feel free to mark which day you're playing if you want Allison to come and rescue your muse...or if you want to hunt the poor little she-wolf down. :P)
[Private video]
It's enough to hold onto.
With a shaky breath and tears in her eyes, she manages a small smile and a nod.]
Okay...I believe you. Head north, I'll track you...I know your scent.
Howl if you need help.
[Private video]
He thinks he'll always trust Allison.]
You too.
[It's weird to think of - that she can call to him like that. A part of him thinks maybe it would be better, if they all had claws and fangs - but it passes. He doesn't really want any of them to deal with this.
His smile lingers, and then he kills the camera to head north, to wait for her.]
[Spam]
She shifts before she starts tracking him.
It's like armor now, letting the wolf rise in her face and hands (and, thanks to some instruction from Deucalion, even her feet when Julia isn't around to be bothered by the reminder of Kali). Being an inmate stripped her of most of her strength, some of her agility, and nearly all of her ability to heal. Intimidation is her only defense, her fangs and claws the only weapons she's got left to protect herself.
Her heart wants to trust him...but the wolf has been beaten too often, and demands some form of protection.
Within twenty minutes, she's found the triskelion. She tests the air for his scent...
She allows herself one minute to cry, joyful tears spilling from golden eyes, because he smells like Lydia...like pack.
It's another fifteen before she catches up to him...as he's moving, there's a rustle in the brush before she steps out into the path behind him. She's fully shifted, brow thick and jaw dusted with fine but longer hair leading right up to the pointed ears that hold the rest of her hair away from her face.
As she watches him, her features are the first to shift, returning to their human form again. A moment later, the fangs disappear as she steps carefully closer, and finally the claws vanish, leaving her eyes glowing gold as she stares at him with open interest and unabashed awe.]
You...you're really not McCall. You're... [She trails off, nostrils flaring, desperate for the scent of pack again.
She can smell Lydia in there. She can smell his concern his fear...his love.
The tears spring anew in her eyes as she covers her mouth with one hand. It hurts, it actually hurts to feel this much joy, this much hope...it's more than even a werewolf can contain.
It's enough to make her forget, at least for a moment, that she was ever afraid of anything.]
[Spam]
When the rustle comes, he turns sharply, falling into a half crouch, ready for - anything, anyone, he has no idea who might try to get the drop on him - but when he recognizes Allison (recognizes, because it smells like her, but different, it looks like her, but different) he straightens almost immediately.
Her reaction makes him swallow hard, and he nods slowly, taking a tentative step forward.]
I'm Scott.
[He wonders if they all did that automatically: start referring to each other by their last names, to make it easier to forget or ignore what might have been. So he gives her is first name, because that's all he's ever wanted to be.]
Allison-- [He starts to reach for her, he wants to pull her into a hug, but he pauses, and waits to see if it's all right.]
[Spam]
She's just so tired of being alone.
She goes into his arms easily, animal instinct pushing her into the safety of pack. Wrapping him in a fierce hug, she turns her head to nuzzle his cheek, marking him with her scent, branding him as hers, and like every time she's done it since this started, she can feel the strength in her growing. Every new packmate...
This is different, though. This is the first wolf she's taken into the fold.
This is power.
When she draws back, she lifts her chin for just a moment...a seemingly haughty gesture, but for her, for her wolf, it's a show of trust: baring her throat to a friend, a packmate.
It's a gesture she hasn't felt safe making in weeks...not even with Jerry and his constant, edgy fear...
...and as she tips her head, that ghost of crimson flares briefly to life in her eyes as she smiles at him.]
[Spam]
He sees it because there will never be a time when he isn't a little captivated by Allison Argent. He can't tell, for a moment, which he imagined: the gold, or the red? Which is real?
Maybe they both are. Maybe it doesn't ahve to be in times of peril or exertion or desperation: or maybe that's exactly what this is. But Scott lets go, stops holding her tight and brushes his hands over her face, thumbs brushing against her cheeks.]
Allison, [he can't hide the bit of awe in his voice,] are you an alpha?
[Spam]
For one split second, he's the boy she fell in love with again. Awestruck and amazed, not by her legacy, but by the thing that's become a source of fear, desperation, and even shame on the Barge...a burden, even.
The look in his eyes, though...she finds herself smiling just a little as she ducks her head shyly.]
Not...not yet. Not if the wardens get their way.
But...I could be.
[Spam]
[He stares at her, ignoring the shyness, and smiles again, surprised and in awe and - wondering if this will prove to Allison, later, that she really is amazing, wonderful, perfect - or if it will do the opposite.
He pulls her close again, hugging her tightly.]
You will be. [He swallows hard.] If I'm not a true alpha, then - I'm glad you are.
[He still struggles with the pronoun changes. He probably always will.]
[Spam]
Then she realizes what he's saying...and everything in her goes just as still, the breath leaving her lungs as she draws back to look into his face, her jaw hanging open in shock.
If I'm not a true alpha...]
Scott...a-are you...do you mean...
[She knows it's real. She feels it happening, every day glimpses of that power...
...but this is the proof she needs to hold onto hope. This is the proof she told Tig was real, never realizing that it was something she could touch, something she could smile at and hold and call pack.
Another world, another life...another Scott.
A true Alpha.]
[Spam]
He nods.]
Yeah. I mean, I didn't know, it just...
[He shrugs.]
You're a good person, Allison. Don't let them take it from you.
[Spam]
Not beautiful. Not gifted. Not talented. McCall, he said that to her a lot, things that sounded like this, but...never told her outright.
You're a good person, Allison.
From this boy's mouth, on this boy's scent...Scott McCall, a true Alpha...it strikes a chord she's never let herself examine too closely for fear of what she will find. She wonders, sometimes, if her past as a hunter took that from her, makes her unworthy...what her mother tried to make her, what her father saved her from.
Don't let them take it from you.
She licks her lips nervously, eyes glassy with tears for a moment as she stares at her hands, folded in front of her.]
McCall was the one that bit me. [The admission is soft, without rancor.] He thought he could make me...his mate, I think. I walked away from him that night and I never looked back. I never...spoke to him again unless it was over a body he was responsible for.
[She takes a deep breath, looking up at him again as the tears spill freely down her cheeks.]
Lydia...my friend, Lydia...[The words are still pleasurable to say, the feeling that comes with them one she can't deny herself.]...she says that when you're gone...the infiltrators...that the people I know may share your memories. So...I'm sorry, but there's something I need to do, quickly, something that McCall would probably kill me for.
[She hesitates for a long, tense moment...then catches his face between her hands and kisses him: long, slow, and sweet to the touch, but bitter with the salt of her tears.
When she finally pulls back, she hugs him again, whispering in his ear.]
I forgive you, McCall.
[It's the only thing she can do with this much hope and wild, desperate joy. Crazy things, terrible and pointless things like believe in miracles and answered prayers and wishes that come true.
That maybe if the Scott she knows remembers this...the truth of it, the feel of it...maybe something will take root in him.
Maybe one day, she can have everything this other Allison has: a best friend, a pack on the Barge...a boy to love.
Maybe one day, however distant...Scott can still be saved.]
[Spam]
So he stays still, hands cupping hers gently, and he wishes he could keep her, every version of her, from ever crying again. He can taste her tears between their lips, and when she hugs him, he buries his face in her shoulder, holds tightly and doesn't let go.
She can forgive the other him, but Scott isn't sure he can forgive himself. Or - the other him. He's not sure where the line is, how much blame he places on either side. He has to swallow hard before he can speak, and even then, he doesn't know what to say.
He can still imagine a life with her, in a dim corner of his thoughts. A wedding - Stiles as his best man, looking happier than he's been in so long - Lydia as her bridesmaid, smug that it finally happened - moving into a new house - never having to worry about the electricity being shut off - barbecues in the back yard--
He has to put them away. She was the first girl he ever really loved. She was his anchor. But fate isn't real, and life goes on, even when you think it can't.
Pulling back, Scott cups her cheek, and kisses the crown of her head.]
I hope he remembers.