kore_logs | Take a bow and wave...

Entry tags:

Take a bow and wave...

Who: Lydia Martin, ANYBODY ELSE
What: Lydia has been following purple flower petals all around town. They eventually lead her to the library where she ends up hiding from a certain psychotic werewolf. Feel free to encounter her anywhere.
Where: Outside, in public buildings, maybe even in your house, and then at the library.
When: Days 37 and 38 (just let me know in the subject line)
Warnings: Disturbing imagery, mentally unstable teenagers, possible descriptions of graphic scenes, will update as needed

It doesn't make sense for her to be following. She should be running. See a flower, turn around, go the opposite way... but she keeps going. Her makeup is still flawless, her hair is still perfect, she's still Lydia Martin. Despite the scar he left, she's still herself and she wants him to know.

But something's off. She can't tell what it is, but it's something. All she knows is she has to find him before he finds her or the people she cares about. He won't touch Stiles again. He won't touch Kobra or Daneel.

And so Lydia roams around in a thin dress, a thin cardigan, and bare feet. The cold doesn't seem to be registering. The people around her barely enter her though process at all unless they get closer and start talking to her.

Eventually she finds the library... and she knows he's in there somewhere.

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Daneel has been in the library for some time, searching for information and not finding what he needs, but he's alert and the sound of the door opening and the feel of a familiar mind breaks him away from what he was doing immediately.

"Lydia?"

There's any number of things he finds worrying, from the way she's dressed to her state of mind. He doesn't know where to begin.

Her head snaps up and she scans the area for the source of that familiar voice. Her expression is puzzled, distant, almost hollow. For a second, she can't tell if she's looking at Daneel or Peter Hale and fear grips her tight like cold fingers around her heart.

But it's not Peter Hale. Thank god. It's not him.

"Dan. What are you doing here?"

"I am looking for information on non-human entities."

None of which is particularly useful, at least none that he's found. That, however, temporarily takes a backseat to Lydia. He approaches her, looking at her curiously.

"What is wrong, Lydia?"

Oh. Is that all? Well that's what the library is for after all. She looks down at the floor, watching the purple petals swirl around her bare feet before looking back up at Daneel.

It takes her a second to process his question. "Nothing." Nothing's wrong. Not yet. Something is sure to go wrong the closer she gets, but as far as she can tell right now, she's fine.

She's not fine.

He doesn't believe that, but openly accusing a human of lying is a little hard for him. Lydia, at least, is one of the few people he's still at least fairly certain is human.

He takes a different tactic.

"If I may say so, you're improperly dressed for the weather, Lydia. This is not an appropriate climate to be without shoes."

"You may say so." But now she's pushing past him, following the trail away from the tables and between the shelves. Shoes aren't important. The books aren't important, either.

And then it hits her.

She whips around, and grabs Daneel by the arm. "You'll know where he is. You can find him. You can tell, can't you? Read his mind? Where is he--"

He puts his hand on her arm, his other on her shoulder, and he holds her lightly in place. He judges that this is a good moment for physical reassurance, if any is.

"Be calm," Daneel suggests, his voice gentle. He would rather not resort to tampering with her to soothe her. "Yes, I can find someone that way, if he is relatively nearby. Who is it that you're looking for?"

"Peter Hale." She blurts it out before she has time to realize what she's saying. "He's... the man from my nightmares. The reason I wake up screaming, Dan, he's here."

And Daneel is the first person she's said his name to. Stiles knows, and now he knows. "Can you find him?"

Of course he's protective. How could he be anything else? Lydia has become so central to his existence here, and here is the mystery of her nighmares finally revealed.

"I might be able to, if he's close. I sense no other minds very near right now, but I can look." This is disturbing for several reasons; Daneel has to consider what will happen if he finds Peter. "Is he a threat to you now, Lydia? Should I help you find a safe place?"

"I ... I don't know. I don't know." She never knows what he wants. She'd thought he was done with her after she brought him back. But he'd needed her for the Kanima, too. It's hard to tell just how many of his plans involve her and it's even more difficult to tell if he actually means her any harm.

He's bitten her. He's psychologically tortured her. He's manipulated her. Who knows how far he'll go.

Lydia shrinks at the thought, moving closer to Daneel and gripping at his shirt. She looks terrified. "He won't leave me alone."

"I will not allow anyone to harm you, Lydia."

And that is a promise, as sincere as it's possible for him to be. Daneel maybe has her halfway in a hug already, and it's far too easy for him to pull a little closer. He's not accustomed initiating hugs. It's not his place, and physical contact means far more to humans than it does to him. Now might be an appropriate time to try -- but it's a gentle effort, should it not be welcome.

"If he attempts to harass you, I will make him stop."

"It's too late. It's too late, Dan, he already has. He doesn't stop."

Her arms circle his neck and she presses into him. That psychopath took a bite out of her. It's intimate in the most sickening of ways. If he's here, she wants to kill him. She wants him to go away.

But he never dies. Fire didn't kill him. What will?

"Is he here? Can you find him?"

"If he were here, I would know," Daneel soothes her, or tries to. "There is no one here besides ourselves. You are safe."

If he says it, it might be true; he believes her utterly that there would be someone after her. That she might be mistaken hardly crosses his mind. It would be hard for him to identify someone he's never met based upon their mind alone, but... he might be able to do it.

"He will not harm you any further, Lydia."

Safe. Just them. No one else here...

Her body tenses. She's close to panic. Suddenly, she pushes against him and backs up, wide-eyed and terrified. That's not Daneel. She should have known. It's Peter. It was him all along. Trying to get her alone. Trying to take her away and force her to do things and destroy everything she's worked so hard to become.

"No."

"Lydia?"

Daneel doesn't understand, not her sudden panic, nor why she's suddenly frightened of him. Whatever is wrong, he needs to make it better; he doesn't step towards her, either, because if she's frightened he can't make it worse.

"I promise that I won't allow anyone to hurt you. What has disturbed you?"

Kobra's been kind of... rampaging on and off. He's breaking just about anything he can get his hands on and if he says he remembers everything, he's lying. Party is gone and he can't handle all the fucking anger. His hands are torn up and there's blood on his clothes.

When he sees Lydia, something in him snaps back into place, though.

"Lyds!" He jogs after her, forgetting the blood on his clothes and how messed up his hands look. "Lyds, wait up!"

Edited 2013-02-06 19:38 (UTC)

She stops at the sound of Kobra's voice. He's one of the people she's trying to protect, after all. The blood registers first. She looks horrified, grabbing his hands in her ice-cold ones and carefully examining the knuckles.

"What happened? Kobra, what happened to you!? Did he bite you? You have to tell me if he bit you--" Oh god. Not again. The first time it had been a regular wolf. Less dangerous. Now there's an alpha on the loose and she is not losing Kobra like she lost Jackson.

He shakes his head. "No one bit me."

His own hands are trembling, but not so much that he doesn't notice how cold hers are. "Shit, Lyds, where're your fuckin' shoes?" He pulls off his dirty leather jacket and wraps it around her shoulders, not for the first time.

"C'mere." He moves to wrap his arms around her and pull her close.

Shoes aren't important. Temperature isn't important. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she's factoring in how long it will take to develop hypothermia in these conditions without the proper apparel, but she's too distracted by the flowers to care! At least... she was. Now she's too busy clinging to Kobra.

"What happened to you?" Because he didn't really answer her. He didn't get bit, but he's still hurt and bloody. Is it his blood? From his hands? He needs his jacket, why is she wearing it, he needs to be okay--

"We should go inside. Let's go inside." Warmer and less out in the open. He might be watching them!

"Okay." He leans forward to kiss her forehead.

He keeps an arm around her as he starts to move them towards her house. He's half-tempted to carry her, but she'll totally yell at him, so he doesn't.

"My brother is dead." He says it without any preamble. He's not really sure what happened to him, but that happened first and it's the only answer he has.

She would totally yell at him. But right now, she just wants to take care of him and keep him safe.

Her arms circle his waist loosely, but her hold on him tightens considerably after the sudden news of his brother. She doesn't know what to say. She looks up at him, lips parted but no words are coming out. Finally, things start to click into place. Peter Hale is forgotten for the time being. Kobra needs her.

"... When? Kobra, I'm so sorry. Are you-- of course you're not okay."

"Yesterday. Jet found him. He didn't let me see." He keeps ushering her inside, though. Yeah, he's upset, but she's walking around all cold and barefoot and dazed. He needs to take care of her. His shit can wait. He's not losing anyone else. He's not.

"C'mon. You feel like ice. We'll get you a hot bath, okay?" Girls like baths, right? They're all relaxing and shit. It's easier to focus on taking care of her than focusing on Party or whatever he's been breaking.

Talk of hot baths only make her see the hair in the drain and the blood-coloured water and the hand reaching out to-- "No! No thank you... I'm fine. We'll just... we'll just go to my room and I'll clean and wrap your hands."

When they reach the house, she opens the door and heads straight for the bathroom to get the first aid kit. She hesitates at the mirror, stares at it, waiting for something, but nothing appears. She grabs the kit and hurries out of there, into her bedroom instead.

"Come here. Give me your hands." Never mind that she's shivering and constantly looking over her shoulder. She has to focus. It's... incredibly difficult.

Kobra trails after her like a loyal dog all the way to her bedroom, watching her with worry.

"'S not that bad. Stop tryin' to take care of me so I can take care of you." He sits on the edge of her bed and holds out his hands, anyway. Maybe if she bandages them, she'll let him focus on her after, because she's clearly not okay. He's not that smart, but he gets that much. He gets that sometimes people just need someone to hold them or whatever and he'd be happy to hold her.

"It's supposed to be mutual, Kobra, that's how this works." Whatever this is. He may be a loyal dog, but it's not like she's keeping him on a leash. She loves him, he knows, and that's enough. They'll take care of each other and she doesn't really care what he does outside of that.

... Much.

She cleans his hands with antiseptic, probably wincing more than he is as she does it. The knuckles look swollen when she wipes the blood away. Gently, she wraps both hands in bandages before finally sitting down beside him. "You're probably still in shock. How long were you out there beating up inanimate objects? ... They were inanimate, weren't they?"

He watches her work, a rare moment of quiet for him. He knows it's mutual, but he's more worried about her right now. That's just the way he's wired. When she's finished, he wiggles his fingers.

He looks down at his clothes. "Honestly, I have no idea, but I don't think all of this blood came from my hands." He should probably wash his clothes. Plausible deniability and all. He knows that Lyds won't sell him out. He knows he can trust her.

Lydia frowns. She'd never sell him out, no, but the fact that he possibly blacked out is more than a little worrying. She lightly traces the outline of a bruise on his neck before wrapping her arms around his waist.

"Maybe you should just stay here for a while." Where she can keep an eye on him. Where Peter can't get to him and where she can try to lessen the pain of losing someone close to him. "You swear no one bit you?"

"Well, I don't got any bite marks, right?" He moves closer, reaching an arm for her to do the same. "You tryin' to get me to move in with you again?"

It's tempting. Honestly, it's so fucking tempting. He doesn't want anything more than to lie here with her and let the world just stop for a while, but Jet and Ghoul need him. He's just across the street, though. He can move back and forth, right? He can watch them all. He doesn't have to choose.

"No. I just got rid of you. Why would I want you back here where you'd probably hook up with disgusting old men in my bed? No. You can just stay for now... and go back home." To your family. She doesn't want to keep them separated. He can visit her any time he wants, but she knows he belongs with them. Pushing him away like that is the only way she knows how to express this.

But the pushing isn't so effective when she's this close to him and leaning up to press a kiss against his neck, just under his jaw.

"Kobra, you need to be more careful. As endearing as your reckless behaviour is, one day it's going to get you--" Right, Lydia. Nice. Great train of thought when his brother just died. "I'm sorry. I ... haven't been-- my head's been fuzzy lately."

He laughs a little, shaking his head and tightening his arms around her. "I'd much rather fuck you in your bed." It's true, too. Yeah, he gets around, but he always comes back, right?

He likes sleeping with her more than anyone else here. She's smart and sexy and a total dynamo in the sack and even when they're not fucking, he just likes being around her.

"I get it, though. You only want me around for jar-opening and fucking and cuddling." He smiles and kisses her temple. "Lucky for you, I am excellent at two of those things. Dan's going to need to take the jars, though."

He tips backwarks onto the bed, pulling her to come with him.

He does. And that's probably why it doesn't bother her as much as it should. She's more worried about his safety in these situations than the fact that he's screwing other people.

And she hates that he can make her laugh when she's worried.

It's not until he pulls her back with him that she realizes how cold she really is. Lydia curls into his side, resting her head against his chest and draping an arm across his stomach. He actually is really good at cuddling. And she needs this. She needs it just as much as he does. She missed him.

"You know the scar on my side? I know you remember it. Why haven't you ever asked where I got it?"

He turns his head, nose brushing her forehead. "We all got our scars, Lyds. We all got a past. I figured if you wanted to talk about it, you'd bring it up, but the past doesn't matter. Mine doesn't, anyway, so why should yours?"

He runs his hand up and down her arm, trying to warm her skin. She's so tiny and she's so cold and she looks so fragile now in a way she really never does to him, even when she's sleeping. She's so strong. At least, he thinks so.

He's not used to her being so vulnerable. If she needs him, though, he's here. He'll keep her safe until she feels strong again and then she can keep him safe. That's how they work, right? He wants it to be how they work, anyway.

Kobra can be pretty damn smart sometimes. He doesn't give himself nearly enough credit. To be fair, Lydia hadn't put much stock in him when they first met, but she sees it now. She sighs contentedly and closes her eyes for the first time in about 22 hours.

He's right. She doesn't want to talk about it and it doesn't matter. Not right now. He'd only get worked up and angry and she just wants to stay here like this. If she needs to tell him, she will. If it becomes a problem, he'll be the first to know.

"Stay tonight." At least for tonight. She'll wash the blood off his clothes and keep an eye on him. Just tonight. "Please?"

He hums. "Yeah. Yeah, 'course I'll stay." He'll stay as long as she wants him to. He wants to stay, too. She makes him feel safer. She anchors him to reality and he could really fucking use that right now.

"Let's get under the blankets." She's still so cold and there's only so much warmth he can offer without the help of bedding.

He sits up to tug his blood-stained shirt off and tosses it on the floor. "I'll tell you a story about the coolest little girl who is totally going to grow up to be a firecracker like you."

Stories? She actually looks a little excited at the prospect of stories. Something to take her mind off all this. And she really is cold... practically frozen to the bone! What was she thinking?

She rolls gracefully off the bed and quickly grabs a sweater from the closet to tug over her dress before slipping under the covers. She doesn't settle in until he's beside her where he belongs. "Does this story have a happy ending?"

"I dunno yet, but it's a good story." He wraps his arms around her and pulls the covers up over their shoulders.

"So she's this tiny little crash queen, right? She was lost for a while, but then her family found her. She got to go on all these crazy adventures, too. Like the kind most kids dream of." Nightmares, too, but they tried to protect her from those. "But these other dicks wanted her, too. They were bad people."

Walks didn't clear his head, not really, but they were sure as hell better than just lingering around the house, waiting for someone to walk in on him crying.

It had been a long day, straight from the get-go with the pretty unspeakable trick of the eyes, dinner. Actual food, actual breakfast for dinner that his mother had made and he'd caught a whiff of it all in the air and in the kitchen, the dinner that had blinked itself out of existence the moment he'd dared to sit at the table. It was just little things, little things, little remembrances that stacked up and got into all five senses. Breakfasts and the smell of her clothes all up in his sinuses. He couldn't escape that one.

This was tough. This place was tough and the panic attack this morning had been just as much, left him gasping for air and missing his inhaler. Hence the walk. He didn't expect to see much of anyone along the way, with how cold it was, with everyone going nuts. He really didn't expect to see Lydia, and the sight of her was another shock to the senses. Whole other reason.

Wasn't she freezing? How was she out here in this?

"Lydia." He only calls her name after he wipes his eyes, brusque and quick, zips his coat up to his neck as if he might shake some of this cold. "Lydia, what're you- doing?"

Lydia continues to wander along, gaze never settling on one thing, eyes wide and terrified like a deer being hunted. He could be anywhere. It has to stop. She can't take this anymore! He ruined her life--

She whips around at the sound of Stiles calling out to her and stares at him like she's trying to figure out who he is. "... Are you real?"

"Whoa-"

She turns fast and it catches him off guard, all of her poised and ready like she wants to pounce, like she's being attacked. Just because he knows consciously what she's probably going through doesn't mean she can't catch him off guard. Stiles raises both hands, placating, fingers spread.

"I'm real. I'm the realest real. What's going on? Why are you-" Not wearing shoes?

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Take a bow and wave...

Day 38?

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38

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37

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