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)
[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.