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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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"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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