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Who: Rosa and Stiles
Where: Near the fountain
When: Day 34, just after sunset
What: Questions and answers. Maybe.

Rosa hasn't been here long, but she's already desperate to get back home. She doesn't really think there'll be anything useful in the square, and she doubts Stiles can provide her with any more information; still, a small chance is still a chance, and she doesn't plan on passing up any opportunity to find a way back.

She pulls her shawl tighter around her and checks her handbag as she makes her way towards the fountain, keeping an eye out for Stiles.

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Her heart isn't useful for much anymore; that doesn't stop it from leaping straight into her throat at the first hint of sparkles. That's not what human auras look like, that's what fae auras look like.

Still, he read as human at first. It might just be a mistake. She concentrates again as he starts to talk.

"Ah... um, an approximation is fine," she says, trying to focus both on what Stiles is saying and his aura. If he is a fae, she doesn't want him to know she's on to him.

No, he's definitely human. She relaxes, breathing a sigh of relief; she is still feeling vaguely unsettled, though. Why would she see sparkles? Were they just traces left from his recent abduction?

"Did anything unusual happen earlier that day? Could somebody have slipped you a mickey?"

She sounds a little distracted, and Stiles even gives her half a glance back, eyebrows knitting together curiously. You okay back there?

But he doesn't ask, just traipses over by the pharmacy and spreads his arms out wide to indicate that this was the place he was taken, turning back fully to see Rosa now. "What, like a roofie or something?"

That's a terrifying thought. It wasn't like he was meaning to give anybody an opportunity for something like that - who the hell would? - but he couldn't exactly say for certain that something like that hadn't. "I mean, I could've left my drink in a room for a second or something," he admits, looking a bit perturbed. "Weirder crap's happened here, right? Snatching people outta thin air to get them here in the first place, being a big one of them."

"It's true, they could have taken you the way they took all of us in the first place. Still -- our captors provided us with supplies, which could have been doctored in any number of ways."

Either option is disquieting. That being said, Rosa would much prefer the latter -- while she knows how to handle more mundane forms of kidnapping, she really doesn't have a defense against magic.

She kneels, touching her fingers to the ground. It's a public area and it's almost certainly been too long to find anything, but she'll try anyway.

"You think they're putting stuff in the food?"

It wasn't like the thought hadn't occurred to him before, but hearing it out of someone else's mouth was kinda terrifying. It was their only supply, after all - not like they had a choice - and the idea of that only supply being tainted, well. "Maybe that's why they're not restocking. Running outta the doctored stuff, you know?"

He stands above her, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets as he watches. He really, really doesn't expect anything to come of this, but she's so earnest about it. It's kinda hope-inspiring or something.

"In the food, in the water, in the air..."

Rosa concentrates, opening her mind to the psychic residue left on the street. What she's doing is subtle enough that she doesn't worry about Stiles noticing anything strange. She gets faint impressions of a variety of people, most of whom she doesn't know, passing through the square, but nothing relating to Stiles. It's already been too long to get a reading of his return; there's no hope at all of seeing his removal.

When psychic abilities fail, sometimes good old-fashioned eyesight does the trick. Brushing the dust off her knees, she stands and scans the square.

"If we assume our captors built this place, they could have put in ways to pump chloroform into enclosed spaces, or ways to drop chloral hydrate into water reservoirs. Hell, for all we know this could be the town-sized equivalent of Holmes's murder castle."

Still nothing. "Speaking of chloroform, you didn't smell anything when you were taken, did you?" There is a note of resignation in her voice -- this has been a waste of time.

Edited 2013-01-28 20:03 (UTC)

"Nah, nothing like that. Definitely not chloroform. If I did, I don't remember it at all."

Just like she figures, he doesn't pick up on anything out of the ordinary. After all, to him, it just looks like she's looking. He does hover by, hands on his hips and looking down worriedly as she searches and talks. Maybe a little antsily, like he's excited for her to find anything useful here that anyone can use. It's all in really little likelihood, but he'd like to think he's being some manner of useful.

"Hurk, though," he replies in regards to the murder castle. "I did a report on that once. Back in freshman year, we had to do something on the-" Details aren't important, and she really probably doesn't care. He clears his throat, waves a hand to gesture himself on. "Like quicklime tubs in the basement and stuff. I wonder if that's where they keep their stuff, you know?" He steps back and peers around at the ground. "Underground."

Rosa quirks an eyebrow at Stiles's half-finished sentence but doesn't pry.

"It's possible. If our captors have a base somewhere on the peninsula itself it would be easier for them to maintain their equipment and track our movements." She glances at Stiles. "And, well, abduct people."

She sighs, taking a final look around. "Sorry, but there's nothing here. At least, not anything useful." She feels like she's letting him down -- there's not a lot she could have done, but she still feels bad about it. "Listen, I can nose around, see if there are any caves or tunnels nearby -- has anyone mapped the areas outside of town?"

Those mysterious sparkles are still bothering her -- she'll check one last time. As she finishes speaking she focuses on Stiles's aura for the third time.

Is there any way to check for that? Stiles is ducking down for a moment, prodding some fingers into the dirt as if he can test for underground bunkers with the use of his bare hands. He can't, but it's the thought that counts.

"It's cool, I didn't think there'd be anything left." If anything, he's the one that feels like the downer here - here he was, taken, and he can't even really give anything useful for anyone to use in the town. No memories, no clues, no nothing. "As for maps, I'm not really sure." He stands up, brushing off his jeans. "Someone must've tried making something rudimentary at least, but then again I never asked, so I can't--are you okay?"

He pauses a moment, gestures vaguely to Rosa and, "You're kind of- looking at me, like- really hard right now."

His aura is a shifting, sparkling twin to the Baron's. Rosa would bet her life on him being a fae.

For a second, she freezes. Then, without really consciously thinking about it, she lunges at him, trying to use her weight and momentum to pin him against a wall.

"What are you playing at? What are you?" she snarls.

"Okay, whoa!" Stiles grinds out, with a bit of a nervous laugh that tacks itself onto the end of it. His hands are up like he's about to get arrested, his eyes wide.

Oh, cool. She was crazy. He just traipsed out here in the middle of the night alone with a crazy lady. What was he, oh, that was a fresh and new one.

"In that order? Playing at nothing! Totally and completely human! What, uh - What's goin' on?"

Without noticing, Rosa has bared her teeth in a snarl. She's furious -- she can't believe she was taken advantage of like this, and Stiles's defense only serves to make her madder.

"You're lying, and I know it!" she snaps, shaking him. It's hard, restraining herself from tearing into him with her hands and teeth, but she wants to hear him confirm it. "You're you goddamn fae, you son of a bitch!"

There is a faint popping sound, and an enormous Luna moth is abruptly struggling free of her hair.

Edited 2013-01-31 19:14 (UTC)

Stiles' breath shoots in with a gulp, his eyes widening even more in the wake of all that shaking - Jesus, she's pissed, and all because, what? She thinks he's fae?

"Wh-what kind of - " Stiles swallows again, lets out a nervous laugh. "You think I'm a- like a mythical creat- Oh, good Lord, what the hell is that?" he punctuates as the moth starts to free itself from her hair.

He's gonna die. He's gonna die here and he never even got laid. "I'm not fae! I'm not anything! I'm just a stupid lousy human with stupid lousy nothing! I swear to fucking God, I'm not anything!"

"And I'm supposed to believe you?"

There are more moths now, of various sizes -- one peels itself off of the bare skin on her face, coming free with a pop and a tiny breath of air. Her face is changing, too; she's substantially prettier than she was a moment ago, but there is something deeply inhuman about the cast of her features.

That being said -- while many have disguised themselves, none of the fae she's ever encountered have genuinely denied their true nature. He's a fae, she's sure of it... but she should check one more time before she rips his throat out.

Oh, God, he's going to die, he's going to die - he's watching the moths in abject horror, vaguely impressed and, yes, terribly fucking fascinated, but it's a little hard to concentrate on the nerdier, intrigued sides of him when there's all this in his face, slamming him up into a building.

"I-If I was a fae or, or anything, really-" He searches his mind, everything ticking a million miles a minute. "Why wouldn't I be using my powers, why wouldn't I be fighting back? R-right?" It's all he's got in his arsenal, and he feels pitiful for it. Pitiful might be good in this kind of situation.

He... is human? His aura is normal; there's no trace of anything out of the ordinary.

"I don't..."

A cold knot forms in the pit of Rosa's stomach as she releases Stiles abruptly, taking a step back. She's still furious, but the rage is starting to fade; instead, it's being replaced by horror.

She'd just nearly killed someone, over some stupid mistake. She'd been wrong, and she almost ripped some teenager's throat out. How could she have been so wrong, and so, so stupid?

"I... oh Jesus." Without a word, she turns on her heel and flees.

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