theresalwayshope | 015} now look up, well the skies are black {and they're getting darker all the time}

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015} now look up, well the skies are black {and they're getting darker all the time}

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[When the scream rings out, Allison drops like a lead weight.

It's a sound she knows well, the banshee's howl. It's painful, it's terrible, and it's terrifying because she's helpless. She would fear a dupe, if she hadn't smelled Lydia personally, if she hadn't known her for the short time they ran together...

As it is, she can't think of anything. The scream won't allow for it.

She regains awareness in the middle of the earthquake and the dark, confused and terrified and totally without direction.

Something breaks. The dark is endless.

Then...it's over.

Blinking against the sudden light, Allison flinches at the assault of new sights and sounds. She's in a room she doesn't know...a living room space, warm and neat yet lived in.

Her nostrils flare, sorting through the scents: human (Allison), rabbit, hay. There's gun oil, lead and gunpowder (bullets), the distant smells of cosmetics and breath mints and old traces of her father's aftershave. Turning in a slow circle, she spots pictures on one wall, photos of her...and on the coffee table, she takes note of a folding combat knife sitting next to some magazines.

Reaching out, she picks it up...flicks it open, then shut again.

All clues point to this space...belonging to her somehow, but there are weapons in it.

Tucking the knife into the back of her jeans, she fumbles in her pockets, looking for her comm. Finding it, her hands shake as she flicks it on, her face filling the feed a moment later. The fear is open on her features...and those that know Allison Argent well, as well as those who met her in the arena, may note enough differences in her demeanor to determine that something's very wrong.]

Everyone in the pack, please check in...I think there's something wrong.

[Allison kills the feed, then puts her comm back in her pocket, venturing cautiously out of her cabin. The doors in the corridor are familiar, but somehow wrong...

The number on the door matches. The infirmary is just down the hall. There is no question in her mind, this is her cabin. If not for the strange doors and the absence of her old room at home behind her door, she'd have sworn this was her Barge.

But, as she goes cautiously investigating the different levels of the ship (excluding warden areas at first, because she obviously doesn't have access), she slowly comes to realize that she's not where she belongs.

This ship is not the Barge she knows.]

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[When she spots the distant, glowing figure on Level 4, her eyes are already glowing and fangs bared when she spots him, a low growl rising from between her lips. It rolls quietly as her nostrils flare, head tilting...smelling, listening...

She lets him draw closer, and when she's sure of what she's smelling...truth and agitation, but far less of the reek of death and disease...she swallows, fangs receding as the light in her eyes dies, leaving her looking for all the world like a frightened child despite the wary hope shining in her eyes.]

M-Mister Powers?...

[She blinks, confusion and animal fear derailing her thought processes. She shakes her head briskly, not unlike a dog clearing an itch, then shakes it more slowly...no, she doesn't know what's happening.

The wolf is howling in her head, raging...her heart rate is skyrocketing.

Shutting her eyes, she straightens with a deep breath, lips moving quietly over the mantra she trusts to keep her in control.]

Three things cannot long be hidden...the sun, the moon, the truth...three things can not long be hidden, the sun, the moon, the truth...three things cannot long be hidden...the sun...the moon...the truth...

[Oh boy. This is not looking good. But he relaxes somewhat as she listens to him, as that growl and the flash in her eyes start to recede. At least there won't be a misunderstanding, at least she isn't going for his throat. There's a knot of anxiety in him though that isn't going away.

When she closes her eyes he hesitates but then keeps moving closer. Unhurried steady steps. He's still wearing the clothes and weapons he had on him in the arena, the gear he slept in, was rained on and rolled in the mud in, no doubt smelling distinctly of the outdoors and grass and dirt besides his own unique characteristic smell of...toxic ozone. He's more human and not as powered as her Blight, but he's still radioactive in his physiology. There is no changing that.

He's close enough to touch but leaves room for her to pull away if he's crowding her. The last thing he needs is her misreading and panicking because he's in her bubble.]

It's all right. I'm here. Take all the time that you need.

[That promise should have been terrifying, that Blight was here. Blight...not Derek Powers.

This was Derek Powers. In person, in front of her.

Opening her eyes as her heart rate began to slow, she fell silent, staring at him with a wide, glassy gaze. For a long time, she says nothing...just stares until she catches herself and blinks.]

God...I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I...it's...Blight really scares me.

[She pauses...then smiles. It's wobbly with tears, but that wide gaze is warmer, sparkling with awe as she shakes her head.]

But...you're really not him. You're...you're real. [She pauses, a watery little laugh escaping her.]

It's...it's wonderful to meet you in person, Mr. Powers.

[His throat tightens at the staring and if he doesn't actually move back, he leans away a little. When she blinks at last he breathes out a little, a few muscles losing their tension.]

I don't blame you. You aren't the only one he terrifies. I know it. [With dour misery he thinks of the memories he's had that have had a mark left on them by his counterpart. The hatred and the mindless rage, the blinded insanity.] He scares me, too.

[The parts where that Blight is nothing like him. And, the parts where he is all too very much the same.

In response to her smile, her tearful laughter, he manages to give a genuine if tired smile of his own. He offers her his hand, stretched out for a shake but with the palm slightly tilted so the gesture doesn't come across as quite so aggressive.]

It is a pleasure to meet you face to face at last as well, Miss Argent.

[She stares at his hand, uncomprehending, for only a split second before she accepts it in both of her own, clasping eagerly...marking him with her scent through touch, comforting herself with that physical contact.

Her smile grows...then fades a little as her nostrils flare, testing his mood through scent. It's enough to sober her a little, give her something more tangible to focus on than the fact that her entire reality has shifted, vanished...left her with no idea which way is up.]

You're very worried about this. [Worried, weary...uncomfortable. It's a little difficult to sort through the radiation that poisons his scent, but the chemosignals are there.] My being here...this breach.

It's not you, so much. It's... [He was starting to shake his head, then stops, frowning more as he thinks. He'll let her keep holding his hand so long as she wants to; he's warmer than a human has any right to be, but it's an electric blanket warm, not smoldering at the touch.]

You're the second person I've heard about so far. There might be others. [With a touch of sarcasm and his usual pessimism, he amends:] There are probably others.

For us colliding with your Barge is like a hurricane sweeping in. Weather the storm, try to stay safe and control the damage, and then catch your breath and start the repairs once it's over. This development isn't what we were preparing for. This changes the game, extends the trouble.

[Allison nods, attentive and at the same time, distracted. Derek's upset, and uncomfortable...and puzzling over his scent, she realizes that he's in pain. Small, but there.

So, with his hand still clasped in hers, she does the only sensible thing: she takes it.

The veins in one hand turn black, creeping up her arm as she concentrates on pulling it in. She pulls and pulls as long as she can stand, stopping and releasing him when it gets to be too much.

Her breath catches as she screws her face up tight, eyes shutting against the wave of discomfort. She rides it out, breathing through the burn she's stolen from him as the black veins on her arm slowly fade away.

When it's passed, she opens her eyes, watching him again, open and expecting him to continue talking. When he doesn't, she remembers her counterpart is human and looks suddenly apologetic.]

I'm sorry...I was just helping. [Because she has the power, so why not?

It's just the right thing to do.]

Wh-what did you just...? [He didn't pull away as she was doing whatever it was; he didn't even realize until too late, it was just subtle enough. He's left staring aghast in shock at the blackened veins standing out against her skin, the look of discomfort on her face.

Once she's finished, looking at him like she's sorry...he slowly lets go of her and carefully flexes his hand. He's so used to it normally, it takes him about two seconds to even realize.]

It doesn't hurt anymore. You healed me? You can heal? [Now it's his turn to look at her in wonder.]

Uh...no, I can't. [The unabashed awe on his face warms her a little as she smiles sheepishly.] It's the pain...werewolves can ease suffering by taking away the pain of others, but it's only temporary. It'll come back eventually.

[She's openly, genuinely apologetic in both tone and expression as she watches his face.] But I can always take it again...taking it doesn't hurt me at all. [Her bright expression dims just a touch when she thinks of Yukimura on her own ship...how she's never far when someone's in pain, and never far from Allison because she can't bear to see another living being suffer...

Taking a deep breath, she refocuses on Derek, her smile returning full force as she dismisses it with a little shrug.]

It's no big deal. I just thought it would help.

I had no idea. [He'd never heard of werewolves doing this, on this ship or otherwise. He looks from her face to his hand again, and then after another beat looks back as he slowly lets it drop.]

Thank you. I'm truly grateful. But you don't have to keep doing that. I'm -- I've gotten very used to the pain. It's so minor comparatively, and I tend to force my way through these things anyway... [He tries to smile again, but can't. Not while they're talking about this. His transformation, his ruined body. Ruined life.]

I've been living with it for a year now, Miss Argent. Allison. I do the best with it I possibly can.

[And if it's never before occurred to her, on her own ship, that their Blight was something else once as well as someone, well. That was all a pretty big giveaway, wasn't it.]

[It does, then, and she wonders if there's hope for him...for Blight. She's smelled it on him: the man is dying, and there's probably no changing that...but maybe the hope isn't in saving his life, but letting him die whole.

Even she knows it's probably futile...but she saves the idea rather than discarding it: helping Blight remember who he is.

Smiling at him gently, she lays a hand on his shoulder and leans up to kiss his glowing cheek. It's warm under her lips, but it's a quick, sweet little peck before she withdraws again.

The gesture is friendly...but as she pulls back, she presses her cheek briefly to his, marking him with her scent.

Warning any other wolves with ill intentions on the ship that Derek Powers is hers.]

Well, I'm here, so I'll help you. For as long as I'm aboard. I promise.

[The kiss, the cheek to cheek gesture: to him it's mildly puzzling, but he can tell there's obviously significance to her. So he simply lets it be.

This time when he tries to smile back at her manages something a little bit better.]

Likewise. I may not be able to do much, I'm not a warden here. But if you ever need a hand. I'll do my best to keep you informed...or merely safe.

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015} now look up, well the skies are black {and they're getting darker all the time}

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