poly_chromatic | (no subject)

[He turns to look at him, because suddenly he realizes that Peter actually pays attention to the things he feels]

How do you think it's going to end?

Bloody. It always ends bloody.

[And for a moment, his blue eyes look older than a seventeen year old has any right to. He reaches up, dragging fingers through his hair with a muted curse on his lips. He doesn't like this.]

[He nods]

Yeah. I thought so.

Can you feel it?

[A curious question, because he doesn't know how it works for other werewolves. If the sensitivity was born in the family line, too.]

Sort of. People, I have better luck getting a read off people. But even then. My mother was the best at it.

But even I can feel this, Peter.

[Even he can smell the blood]

Yeah, Destiny could feel all of this way better than I can. I'm usually good with at least reading places, people, unless I just miss it entirely.

[Because that had happened before.]

I don't want anyone else to get hurt.

[He knows he will, he's accepted that.]

Are you going to protect them?

[That will appeal to Scott's sense of justice.]

I can't protect anyone.

[Peter had a rather under-developed sense of justice even before everything went to shit.]

I just get people hurt.

[He nods. Boy, does he understand that feeling.]

How does it work? Like, when someone turns. When they get bitten.

[It's half innocent question, half about the memories that rip through him every time he looks in the mirror.]

An alpha bites someone, a human. And then they wait, to see if it takes. It works best on teenagers, teenagers go through the change better.

[He remembers biting his pack, back when he had a pack, before they died or left him]

It takes about a day. If not, the person dies.

You ever heard of someone.. turning wrong?

[He bites his lip, turns his head. He'd heard of a vargulf, but not where they turned like that. There was this itch of guilt that it was somehow his fault.]

Where all they exist for is to kill. They're not hunters, they're just...

[His lips thin and he rakes a hand through his hair.]

[Because that doesn't open up Derek's own personal can of worms]

They're just killers.

[He takes a moment]

I've heard of it.

[....and you know.

Done it.]

Do you know... what causes it?

[His lips are thin, those blue eyes cast down as as he looks over at the older werewolf.

Peter is going to continue pretending he's asking about hypotheticals.

As if he hasn't done it too.]

Is it that they're wrong, or that..

[Was it his fault?]

There's something wrong with the person. They don't have the right personality, but they don't die from it, either.

[Jackson was his own fault.]

[There's comfort in that. It makes the mirrors seem a little less glaring, even if every time he sees the white fur and blue eyes in the mirrors it kills him a little.]

My uncle died before he really explained everything.

[Maybe that makes it sound less personal. He knows Stiles said he needs to tell Derek things, but at the same time, the past hurts.]

I don't know everything, but I know enough to help you, Peter.

[Finally, someone who actually asks him for help, instead of sending him to jail for the murder of his sister.]

I know. I mean, I'm shit at trusting people. But being in a pack is different.

[Which is a backhanded way of saying that yes, he kind of actually trusts Derek. They're both born to this, and that makes it almost like some distant form of family. Derek's not the person he goes to when he's fretting over things with Roman, but for everything else? He can't think of anyone else he would have asked about this.]

Being pack is like family.

[He understands this wolf better than any of the wolves from home, and it makes him worry, a bit.]

Yeah, exactly.

[That actually gets a hint of a smile out of Peter. Which is nice, to be honest, because his life has pretty much been shit since October started. One thing after another.]

It's been weird, being here alone.

Do you like who you're staying with?

Yeah. Well, fuck, I don't know. It's... complicated.

[He takes a breath, shakes his head.]

When I ended up here I was trying to run away from him.

[He looks back at his cabin]

You can stay in Isaac's room.

Really? You wouldn't mind?

[He might not stay there all the time, but it'd both be nice to feel less chained down to one place. And when things went to shit, it'd be nice to have someplace to go that wasn't the middle of the forest or Jules' living room floor.]

Why would I mind?

[He shrugs]

Anytime you like. It's not like Isaac is using it.