spam; the last journal post

[ukan]

[Getting on board was a moment of chaos. He remembers turning a corner, expecting to find fur and blood in his mouth, expecting maybe to get torn up in return, expecting maybe a bullet from above to take him down, too-

But instead he's somewhere metal, somewhere that smells of strangers and strangeness, and he's bleeding a trail but he runs for safety anyway. If there is any. If there are doors, anywhere, that he can open without changing back, because this has to be the FBI's work and so long as they think he's just a wolf, maybe they won't slit him open and poke around inside.]



[ooc: Lark is a wolf, for now. He'll have to change back sooner or later even if he doesn't want to, so feel free to tag him as human or wolf, just lemme know which.]

Comments

[wolf]

[tucky]

[Since there are already werewolves on board, Tiffany just assumes this is one of them - she isn't familiar enough with their wolf forms to recognize that this is somebody different. When she sees Lark running wounded, she calls out.]

Hey!

If you just change back, we can fix you up in the infirmary.

Re: [wolf]

[ukan]

[ it's an unnerving thing to hear. He feels a whine in his throat, then a growl, then something in between.]

[wolf]

[tucky]

[She frowns, trying to remember who is and isn't a werewolf.]

Uh... okay. You Scott or Allison or Stiles? Or... Kira?

[Is Kira a werewolf? Kira is definitely something, but she can't remember what.]

Re: [wolf]

[ukan]

[ It shouldn't suppose him that there are dogs out there willing to turn on their kind, but it does. Scott, Kira, Allison. Names to remember.

For his part he plays dumb, tries on his most pitiful puppy face. No human mind here, miss, just a scared dog.]

[wolfspam]

[routemistress]

[Elvis and Solace pick up the bloodtrail before Iris sees it: fearing the worst, she gathers them to heel before following. Whatever - whoever is injured or injuring, she won't risk her boys in the crossfire.

The tracks lead into one of the common rooms, and she enters cautiously, staser drawn.]


...Lark? Is that you?

Re: [wolfspam]

[ukan]

[ The sound of his name draws him up and makes his blood run cold. How could they know who he is?

He stares at her, and limos back a step.]

[wolfspam]

[routemistress]

It's Iris, lovey. Don't you remember? You're on the Barge. It's all right. Back up, you two, give the man some space.

[This is addressed to Elvis and Solace - they don't know Lark, and they're plainly concerned about Their Person facing an injured wolf without them. But her tone is soothing, gentle, and she's making it plain to them she knows him, even if they don't. They obey her.

She backs up too, and takes a seat - both to make herself less threatening and to avoid blocking his exit.]

You're bleeding, sweetheart. You should really get that looked at. Will you let me 'elp?

[wolf]

[witness_this]

[It's a hell of an animal to face down in a very narrow hallway, and he looks scared as all get out to Furiosa, and hurt besides.

She's never seen a werewolf before, but a hurt animal, she's familiar with. She casts her eyes down, and crouches, waiting to see if he comes an closer.]

[wolf]

[ukan]

[ it's the arm that does it, strangely enough. No one who had been shooting at them had looked or smelled like this.

He limos closer a step, then two, nose out]

[wolf]

[witness_this]

[She extends the fingertips of her hand.]

You look thirsty, girl. There's water for you to drink.

[Everything with teeth is a woman, to Furiosa.]

[wolf]

[demolitions]

[It says something about the extent to which Boyd has grown accustomed to Barge weirdness that a bleeding wolf slinking down the hallway barely makes him blink.]

Infirmary's that way. [/helpful.]

[wolf]

[ukan]

[Lark is quite good at hiding the intelligence he actually has and appearing to be just a smallish red wolf.

The fact that someone is talking to him as if he can understand anyway is...not a good sign, as far as he's concerned.

He woofs at Boyd once, softly, warily. Just like a shepherd dog might.]

[wolf]

[demolitions]

[He hadn't been too certain of being understood, but they've got a talking cat, so why not?

Apparently though, it's not the case here, so maybe a baser tactic is required.

He just happens to have a candy bar in his pocket he'd swiped from the dining room and he pulls it out, peeling back the paper.]

C'mon, boy. [He'll try leading him there.]

[WOLF YEAH LARK]

[mistconduct]

[Chris, walking his dogs around the corner, is fuming and fussing in his mind over his stupid, stubborn inmate. He smells like Sabretooth, and that's never a good thing.

The Pomeranian he holds under one arm - defying the concept of "walk" - starts to freak out, fussing and whining as the scent of Lark is sniffed. Chris hushes Bowie, even as Lassie sits down and begins to howl]

Oh, what the fuck, dogs?!

SOON HE WILL BE TACKLING CHRIS ALL OVER AGAIN

[ukan]

[Lark is used to animals not liking him. Werewolves are fairly awful neighbors where he's from, what with eating the pets and often the homeowners if they like the property well enough.

So far, though, no animal has reacted to him the way he's grown used to. They aren't afraid of him. They don't want to chase him off, even when their owners are near.

Which means they know werewolves. He's not sure yet what that means, but figures the safest bet right now is to pretend he's just One Of The Dogs, just someone's pet who got loose.

He wags his tail hopefully at Chris.]

YAY TACKLING

[mistconduct]

[At least Lassie is better behaved. Chris huffs and puts Bowie over his shoulder, holding the wriggling dog there with one arm as he looks down at Lark, tilting his head]

Uh. Hey.

Hey! Anyone lose a dog? Or a...coyote?

This better not be more Enclosure shit, I swear to god..

[semifreakingnormal]

[Fluffy smells him first. The Alaskan Malamute's tail perks up, and then he goes off running; Scott follows, and when he spots the - wolf, he knows it is - he moves more carefully on approach.]

Hey, [he says softly. He doesn't crouch, but he leans forward, body language authoritative but open.]

Hey, come here buddy.

[It's been so long, so long, he doesn't recognize the smell right away.]

[ukan]

[Back home, it's hard to tell a wolf from just another human. There are some tells: a look in the eye, a habitual way of holding yourself, a scent of blood and fresh air.

It's a little different, looking at this boy, but clearly he's used to dogs. Maybe, with enough coaxing, he'll keep Lark hidden long enough for him to figure out what the hell is going on.

He limps closer, pausing often to sniff at Scott, or to growl at the other dog (because he is wounded and knows too well how other animals react to wounds and weakness).]

[semifreakingnormal]

[At the first growl, he looks over at Fluffy; Scott doesn't have to say anything, his eyes flash red and everything about him exudes command: the malamute, still a puppy at less than a year, dips his head and turns to trot off. Scott gives him free range when he's out, usually - though after what happened with Cassel, he's not sure about his ability to be at the dog's side if anything does happen.

But the wolf takes priority, because - well, who the hell brought a wolf here, and if no one brought him, then...

Scott holds his hand out for the sniffing, calm and patient.]

It's okay. No one's going to hurt you. [He wants to take a closer look at that limp.]

[human!]

[punched_hitler]

[You know, of all the things Steve's run across on the Barge, he has not yet run across a naked man.

Well, hadn't. Until now. Not that naked men particularly bother him, for reasons that include having taken about a million figure drawing classes and joining the Army, but still, he kind of stops and blinks for a second, then ends up saying,] Do you - you need some clothes, don't you.

[Yeah, master of the obvious, here.]

[ukan]

[Lark had been prepared to find someone his size and just- he doesn't know what. They're probably armed, if this is a prison, which it seems to be from all his snooping.

People haven't been as militant as he would have expected. And no one has offered him clothes.

He looks down at himself as if to confirm, yup, still buck ass naked, and he nods at Steve.]

Please.

[punched_hitler]

[You know, for the most part, nobody really is very militant. Which is usually a good thing. Either way, Steve's pretty nonthreatening, as he smiles a little dryly and cocks his head.] C'mon. My cabin's just one level down. I've got stuff that'll fit you.

[He starts moving, expecting the other to follow him, as he heads for the stairs down.] What's your name? [Obviously, he's new.] I'm Steve Rogers.

[bleak_midwinter]

[It's days after Lark's arrival that Tommy runs into him. He is on the deck, smoking as he looks out at the stars. The alien view is unsettling enough to be comfortable, different enough from his bedroom wall that he might start to believe he could sleep here safely.

To Lark, he will smell of sweet smoke underneath the harsh tang of nicotine- opium, even here, even if he only has a small supply.

He acknowledges the man with a glance, but doesn't straighten up-- if someone isn't a threat, you shouldn't treat them as such. And Tommy is not planning of giving Lark the impression that he is a threat to him.]

[ukan]

[Opium is not a common thing where Lark's from but it's something he's run across, dabbled in even as a hip designer-type drug back in his university days.

Another thing to tuck away about Tommy, then. Good.

He leans against the railing, much more comfortable with the queasy drop below them now that he knows what happens if you jump. Or are thrown.]

[bleak_midwinter]

[He smokes quietly until the cigarette threatens to burn his fingers, and he flicks it out into the sky. It burns for a second longer, and then goes abruptly dark, disintegrates into nothingness.]

You never told me your name.