016} i go wild because it doesn't make sense for me to cry out in my own defense...

[theresalwayshope]

[Three days ago, the Admiral had issued his edict: Allison, as a warden, had a permanent inmate. She has his file, she has responsibility for his welfare...

...and it's Tig. She doesn't understand, she's troubled...but once upon a time, she'd have been horrified. In the arena, however, he pledged his loyalty to Allison, and thus far he's held to it. Tig Trager is a member of the pack now, no matter how deeply he disturbs her with the intensity of his...attention.

She reads the file to understand...but it's not the man she knows. She takes a couple of days going over all of it, realizing early on that it's not the file of the man she knows. It's this ship's Tig Trager. She reads the history of a troubled man, but different in ways she's never seen in the man who seems obsessed in the possibility that she might yet graduate through a reversion to feral behavior.

The man in those pages is loyal, has a code of honor...he's depraved, vulgar, and violent, but he's not a civilian. She knows a little about her version of Trager, but not enough to judge.

Still...if he's anything like the people she's known, if some measure of this does live in her Tig Trager...

It drives Allison to start writing a letter for her counterpart, one that swiftly turns into a journal, filling a notebook she found in the office that's part of her cabin. She writes about her impressions, her thoughts on the Barge...her own life, and her version of Tig. She hopes it will help, hopes it will give her insight into the darker aspects of the man.

When she finishes jotting down her thoughts for the morning, Allison decides the time has come...and reaches for her comm.]

[VIDEO;Private to Tig Trager]

You, me...pub, twenty minutes? [It's a command spoken like a question, gentled with the promise of choice.] Being a warden, I have access...just promise me you won't overdo it right away? I do want to talk to you...I have something you should see.

[SPAM]

[After she's connected with Tig, later in the day Allison traverses the ship, checking her territory. It's compulsive, but she visits the people she's close to, friendly with...and those from her own ship who may not want to see her, but she's sworn to look after, to save, all the same. Out of respect for her counterpart, she also stops in to look after Duke, who was so important to her double that she moved herself into his cabin.

Satisfied he's still alive, Allison works a shift in the dining hall as well, helping out Riddick where she's needed before she takes Brownie the dog to the CES for a run, then heads back to her cabin to make sure that Johnny and Duchess are well exercised. Visitors are welcome to find her there, letting bunnies hop around the room and watching as Brownie supervises, either gently herding them away from trouble or occasionally picking them up in her mouth like puppies (with careful supervision from Allison), and keeping them in a carefully contained area in the living room.]

Comments

[lydiascreams]

[Lydia is in her own cabin when she hears the knocking. She knows it's not Stiles because she saw him just a little while ago. She hopes it's not anyone looking for trouble, but she highly doubts they'd be knocking if it was.

When she opens and sees the werewolf version of her best friend, she smiles and relaxes, instantly making room for her to come inside.]

Hey! Come in. [Allison can probably already tell by the lack of another scent, but it definitely means she's along and girl time can totally be had.]

[theresalwayshope]

[Allison accepts the invitation with a small, shy smile, but once she's inside hugs Lydia unabashedly, rubbing a hand up and down her back and pressing her cheek to Lydia's, turning briefly to breathe her in...an animal's greeting more than that of a human.

Lungs filled with Lydia's scent, satisfied that Lydia was safely marked with her own, Allison drew back finally, her smile still almost bashful.]

Hi...I'm not bothering you, am I? If you're supposed to go see Stiles or anything, I won't keep you. I just...wanted to check my people. [She wrinkles her nose sheepishly, not used to feeling so odd for...what she is. It's been a long time for her...not since she was first bitten, but since she'd first found her anchor not long after.

Becoming the predator had been the fastest road to embracing the violence that was her anchor, and the least harmful. The people that were closest to her, the enemies that knew her best...they no longer found the animal behaviors strange, but she could sense these people did.]

It's a wolf thing. I kinda can't help it.

[lydiascreams]

[It is definitely a little strange and something she's still getting used to, how much more-- wolf, Allison seems to be. But when she thinks about what her life must be like in the other Barge, it makes sense. She probably has to rely fully on her instincts to not only be able to survive, but also not to allow them to break her spirit.]

You don't have to apologize for it. As long as it helps you stay safe in that place.

[With a more human approach, she takes Allison's hand and leads her to sit down on her bed.]

I was with Stiles until a little bit ago. I'm sure he could use a break from me. I demand some BFF time.

How are you?

[theresalwayshope]

[Allison perks a little at the mention of Lydia spending time with Stiles, encouraged by that development. Granted, he spends a good deal of time with her on Allison's Barge, too, but listening to this Lydia can only save him.

She's smiling by the time she sits on the bed next to Lydia, nudging off the sandals she's wearing so she can sit cross-legged beside her.]

I'm...a warden. [She says the word with a smile she can't contain, a reverence she doesn't think she'll ever stop feeling because of what it means on this ship. She's got more than just her powers back, she's in a position to help people.

She's a warden...and from her glowing expression, it's pretty clear that, for Allison, that means she's doing just fine.]

[lydiascreams]

[Lydia takes a seat next to her, but turns so she's facing Allison rather than being side-by-side. She is a little confused by the look on her face in reference to being a warden, but briefly. Because she remembers how the other Barge works. And her stomach turns.]

Of course you are, Allison. You're a good person. And you will do even more good when you get back to your Barge.

[She smiles, then hesitates.]

Did you-- talk to Stiles and Scott?

[spam]

[walkingmeltdown]

[Save when he's felt needed to assist with one thing or another or when doing a small skulking patrol of the common areas to ensure the tension isn't on the verge of breaking, Derek's been solidly keeping to his room these past few days. There are too many people he doesn't want to see, too many people he can't trust whether or not they might panic and turn on him in an instant just at the sight of him. Jack still has all of his alcohol - so for the most part when he's alone, it means he's killing time by another stalking to network or trying to catch up on his reading.

Of course right now the library is still a bit of...a mess, so he's mostly been forced to revisit what books he already has on hand. When he hears a knock at the door he hesitates, surprised seeing as he was wasn't expecting anyone. He sets his copy of The First Law down on the nearby end table and then engages his holowatch, just to be on the safe side.

So the man who answers the door will be from Allison's perspective at least visibly human, unless her extended senses permit her to see through hard-light holographic illusions. He has sunglasses on though to conceal glowing green eyes, and he makes no effort to hide how mildly taken aback he is to see her here.]

...Miss Argent? What can I do for you?

[spam]

[theresalwayshope]

[Her senses don't let her see beyond the holographic projection, but when the good-looking older man appears at the door and confuses her briefly, a flare of her nostrils draws Derek's scent into her lungs, with no other intrusions.

It's as definitive as a fingerprint to her sense of smell, and turns a puzzled little pout into a wide-eyed look of surprise.]

Mr. Powers? [Dumbstruck turns swiftly to delight as she smiles, forgetting the territorial nature of her visit for a moment.] Is...you look--that's amazing! Is this how you look...when you're not glowing?

[spam]

[walkingmeltdown]

[He has to smile with a bit of wry, if fond, amusement at her reaction. He'd forgotten she didn't know about this. Funny - it went the other way, with the other Allison. She knew Derek Powers and what he looked like a short while before she got to see Blight.]

This is what I looked like, once upon a time, before I was...changed. [Without turning his head he checks to make sure they're alone in the hallway, then reaches to tug his sunglasses down, revealing glowing green eyes with no white or iris.] It's an illusion. A hologram, something somebody on this ship crafted for me so that I could at least pretend to be normal, when I had to. I figured it's best if I go about looking more like this as of right now, so I don't upset anybody.

[Or paint a glowing target on his back. Which is what he's really concerned about.]

[spam]

[theresalwayshope]

[Her eyes widen a little at seeing those eyes in that face...seemingly normal save for twin points of glowing, radiant green...but there's no judgment or revulsion. It's a little...weird, seeing mismatched halves patched together like that, but she'd be as comfortable with his glowing form in full as she would be with the whole man with human eyes.]

Well, knowing who you are? I don't find the glowing upsetting. It's who you are now, it's what you've become.

[Finally remembering the reason for her visit, she lets the compulsion take her and steps forward to hug him in greeting, pressing her cheek to his with a discreet little nuzzle. He's still very warm, and the wolf likes it, despite the toxic scent.]

And I know I haven't known you long, Mr. Powers, but I happen to think you're very level headed. [Drawing back, she smiled at him sunnily.] And when a werewolf doesn't find you at all upsetting? Trust me, that's saying something.

[spam]

[walkingmeltdown]

[His smile doesn't falter, exactly, but he does become a touch more subdued at her remarks. Yes, it's good that it isn't upsetting to her but...there are still some days when he wants to fight so badly against the idea that this is who and what he must be now. But she doesn't know or understand; she wasn't here for any of that.

It's strange. He should resent her being here enough to want nothing to do with her, rejecting her as an undesired 'replacement' for 'their' Allison Argent. But there's enough in common that he almost feels like he owes it to that Allison to be kind to this one. And besides. Strong and capable as she is, she's still the stranger on unfamiliar territory here. She needs allies.

Maybe this is why she gets along with him so. There's something of the wolf to his nature: he looks after his own, fiercely. Territory and people alike.]

Would you care to come inside?

[PRIVATE]

[termofendearment]

Yeah, I saw that.

[There's a light chuckle mixed with something less pleased; no matter what reality he's part of Tig doesn't like the idea of having someone actually in charge of him. Bianca's been a known quantity, at least, and Allison's his Alpha now, but that doesn't mean he likes the idea any better. Particularly if they're not even on the right ship.]

Twenty minutes? Took you long enough.

[PRIVATE]

[theresalwayshope]

Hey, this is just as strange for me as it is for you. I'm...[She frowns lightly and lets out a little sigh.] I don't know what I'm doing, or even if I should be doing it. But as long as we're here, I want to help you if I can.

So...[She smiles again.] Pub, twenty minutes. We'll talk...and then I'll cheerfully drink you under the table, okay?

[PRIVATE]

[termofendearment]

Don't know about that, but I'll bite.

[PRIVATE]

[theresalwayshope]

You'll know in twenty minutes. There may be parts of...what I am that I have trouble sharing, but that one I'm more than happy to show off.

[With a small, playful little smile, Allison kills the feed, then pockets her comm and gathers up the file to head for the pub. When she gets to the upper deck, she waits by the door for Tig so she can let him in.]

[PRIVATE]

[termofendearment]

[He snorts and rolls his eyes, but he'll be there. Saunter over all casual, closer to a prowl.]

[voluntaryapnea]

[He hasn't seen her in days, since they arrived on this ship. He's deliberately kept his distance. He doesn't want to see her. He doesn't want to see much of anyone. He doesn't care about most of the people on this ship, and he doesn't want to care about them.

But he's on his way out of his cabin to get something to drink when he spots her approaching and he narrows his eyes.]

What are you doing?

[theresalwayshope]

[Stiles is, of course, on her unconscious list of people to check, pack she needs to protect...territory she needs to mark. She doesn't even realize she's tracking him until she sees him, and she's still got her head cocked, sniffing the air for his scent.

His defensive posture brings her up short, eyes wide and guileless, a deer (or wolf) caught in headlights as her hands lift in a peaceful gesture.]

Nothing! I'm not...I didn't-- [She cuts herself off with a huff and a puzzled little frown, shaking her head and rubbing a hand over her face.] Sorry. I was kind of on autopilot...I wanted to check on you. Make sure you were okay.

[Back in the moment, she refocuses her attention on Stiles. Everything about her body language and her expression is open and honest, brow puckered lightly with a curious look.]

Are you? Okay, I mean?

[voluntaryapnea]

[He eyes her raised hands with wariness and suspicion even if he can smell that she's telling the truth. He doesn't like the concern. He doesn't want her to worry or care about him. It's harder to hate someone when they're sincere. And his hatred, his disdain is all he has to hold onto anymore. It's all that he has that's just his.

Stiles scowls at her.]

I don't need you to check on me. I'm fine.

[theresalwayshope]

Yes, you do.

[There's nothing malicious or condescending about the statement: it's simple fact. Stiles is a werewolf, and he doesn't really have a pack. He wants one with Scott, but he's in no position to be healthy for Stiles.

He needs to be looked after the same way she does. He needs the comfort of physical contact, the reassurance of an Alpha to protect and care for him, the power and strength that the true bonds of pack bring...bond that can't truly form in a pack where Betas are nothing more than cannon fodder.

It doesn't occur to Allison that she's offering him an Alpha's care and protection...because she's not an Alpha yet. She's a Beta, concerned for a packmate.

She shrugs, moving closer as she lets her hands drop.]

If it makes you feel better, you can check on me, too...even if you just want to see whether or not I'm miserable. But we should check on each other.

[voluntaryapnea]

[His scowl turns into a glare. It literally makes no sense. She has no reason to be nice to him. No reason to care. He doesn't understand it, because he knows she's not pretending. Why is she doing this? He used to be great at figuring things out, but this is beyond his comprehension.

Why the hell would you be nice to someone who's helped make your life miserable for months? Who's killed other versions of you? Who's made it pretty clear they aren't interested in being friends?

What's it going to take for her to give up on him?]

Why? Why should we check on each other? Why are you doing this?

[SPAM]

[semifreakingnormal]

[This used to be his territory.

It should be his territory. He is prickly wherever he goes, ready to growl or snarl at the drop of a hat: he feels threatened here, because he has a warden, because he has no strength, because the girl he used to love can over power him, because because because.

He's an alpha, but he has no power. An alpha with performance issues, he thinks, and growls to himself. At himself. The other him.

He hates this.

And worse, his appearance has steadily become more human. He can't sustain the look for long, and made the decision, somewhere along the way, that it was better to conserve his strength outside of threatening someone. There's still no mistaking him: the other Scott doesn't glower like he does. Doesn't walk like he does, like he's demanding everyone fall to their feet in front of him and beg him to let them live.

When he sees her, he has to battle down the instinct to turn and run in the other direction. He rips apart his fear, battles it down, buries it. He won't let her smell that on him. He won't let her win. He has to find a way to rip out her throat, or make her rip out someone else's. He can't let her be an alpha, let alone a true alpha.

(He can't help but wonder, in the very back of his thoughts, in the small spot in his mind where he thinks of the other him, if maybe he could have been that. He tells himself no, no, and who cares, he doesn't want that bullshit. He almost convinces himself.)]

What are you doing?

[He snarls it, because she isn't turning away, she's not leaving, she's not avoiding him like he's gotten so used to.]

[SPAM]

[theresalwayshope]

[Spotting Scott is painful, but sweet. He looks more human, more like her Scott before the obsession with power became his everything. Looking into his true face again strengthened her hope, fueled her growing faith in that kernel of good she believed was still in him.

She knows she was right to find him, check on him.

Smiling sweetly, she moves closer, hands in the pockets of her jeans. She wants to touch him, wants to kiss him...mark him, let him mark her in turn because she knows she can find her mate in him.]

Just checking in to see how you are. [Her smile grows, her gentle fondness tangible.] You look amazing.

[SPAM]

[semifreakingnormal]

[He growls, teeth growing immediately in his mouth. He hates her smile. He hates how sweet, and innocent, and good she looks when she smiles.

He hates that his eyes immediately search hears for a trace of gold, a trace of red.

She's nothing more than a threat. He has to remember that, or else she'll bury him. He can't doubt that she will, he can't risk it.]

Don't check in on me. I'm not yours to check on.

[SPAM]

[theresalwayshope]

Yes, you are.

[She says it with a giggle, not mocking or malicious but sweet, affectionate...like he's offering to take her out of the world again for a day in the woods, where life is perfect because they have each other.]

But I'm yours to check on, too. Even if it's just to see if I'm miserable or not. [She has no illusions. This will take time...she knows she might have to reach the boy through the monster.

Still, as she speaks, she lifts her chin...a prideful gesture in a human, but for her the deliberate baring of her throat is an animal sign of submission...or a sign of trust.

She's hoping Scott will see it the right way.]

[SPAM]

[semifreakingnormal]

[He understands the instinctual language, better than the other Scott might: he's embraced this side of himself, buried his thoughts so deep inside the monster that he knows that kind of mad ferocity inside and out. So when she bares her throat, his eyes narrow.

One moment he's standing still, staring, barely breathing. The next, he's closing the distance between them. His hands close around her upper arms and he slams her into the wall. His brows stitch together, knitting into something other, less than human. He doesn't growl at her, just stares in silence, fangs prodding at his lips.]

I can make you miserable.