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Date & Time: 9/18, just before sunset -> morning
Location: the gardens
Characters: Peter Rumancek, Isaac Lahey, Scott McCall
Summary: it's the full moon and the boys are getting their wolf on, some of them more literally than others.
Warnings: gory transformation sequence, Peter's unique brand of autocannibalism, probably language.

Peter has no idea whether Scott and Isaac are coming, and the closer it gets to sunset the less he actually cares. It's basically impossible to see the sun in Exsilium; it just goes from being lightish and raining to dark and raining, but Peter still knows exactly when it is that the invisible sun is going to dip beneath the horizon. He'd told Isaac he was going to the gardens for his own protection and he meant it; he's found himself a place as far from all the entrances to the building as he can be. If the other wolves show up, they don't need to be able to see him to find him, and he'd rather nobody else see him at all.

Fifteen minutes before sunset, he begins undressing. Rings and necklace go into the pocket of his jeans, which get carefully rolled to keep their contents safe. Everything else gets folded and put in a bag that he wedges into the crook of a tree.

Six minutes before sunset, he's itching in his skin, restless and covered in a fine sheen of sweat. He takes a deep breath, runs his hands through his hair, closes his eyes. He's listening now, either for the other wolves or the quiet whisper of his secret name. Five minutes.

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Isaac is running a little late. He'd expected Scott to meet him there, so the fact that he arrives first is confusing, to say the least. But he doesn't pay it too much mind- there's nothing inherently wrong that he can sense, even with the sun setting, and he has other things on his mind.

To tell the truth, Isaac has only been a werewolf for about six months. In that span of time- well, a lot has happened, not the least of which was learning to control it. All the same, six months, six full moons- plus the two from the last time they're here- well, it never quite gets easier. Sure, he's better at it, but complete human control is hard, and it puts him in a place that he doesn't like to be.

So he fights it. Throughout the day he can feel it, and it makes him irritable, snappish- but he fights the shift, fights the need for an anchor until the very last second, when he can feel his nailbeds itching and his vision going red. That hasn't quite happened yet- the sun hasn't set entirely by the time he finds Peter in the gardens, and when Isaac emerges through the entrance, it's not with his usual casual posture. His expression is tighter than normal, and when he flicks his fingers in a wave, there's nothing particularly joyous about it.

But he pushes it aside, for now.

"Scott isn't here yet?"

"Not yet." Peter's voice comes out steady, quiet, calm. Isaac's ragged grip on his control is practically a palpable thing on Peter's own taut nerves. Peter's stomach is fluttering, his bones feel brittle. He takes a deep breath. Four minutes. He takes a few steps toward Isaac, slow, like it's not Peter who's about to rip out of his own skin. He's still sweating, and breathing a bit fast, but he's found his calm.

"Are you handling you? Because in four minutes this is going to get real."

"What? Yeah."

He nods, still a tight ball of frenetic energy, but- controlled. Carefully.

"We don't- have to change. I'm just keeping it in check. You're going to, though?"

Peter looks at Isaac for a few seconds, like he's trying to judge whether that's good enough. In the end he can't tell.

"Yeah, I'm going to. Not really an optional thing." It's like he can feel the sun falling lower and lower. He rolls his shoulders, shakes his legs out. "Like I said, it's...real. Just stand back and let it happen. And don't touch me while I'm eating. I'll come to you."

Three minutes.

It's different now. That's not surprising, because being an Alpha means everything's amped up; the full moon shouldn't be any different. It's not made any easier by the fact that most of things that kept Scott grounded aren't here: Stiles, his mom, the rest of the pack. There's Isaac and Allison, but that's shifted too. He's not sure where they stand on certain things, and while it's not enough to undermine his thoughts all the time, it's enough to make using them as a landline difficult.

But there are other things to focus on. The pack he's got, the people here who need him to stay under control. Unlike Isaac, there's nothing about him that's irritable or on-edge - if anything, he's withdrawn, guarded. Calm isn't quite the right word. The steady demeanor's too forced to be anything close to serene, but there's no trace of agitation or hostility.

"There's no one else here. We're good."

It seems like a more useful greeting than a simple 'hey'. It also might make it seem like he's late because he was checking the perimeter instead of what he was actually doing - which was, of course, making sure he genuinely had his shit together before showing up.

"Good." Peter's eyes flick to Scott. "You cut that fine." He's naked and covered in a sheen of sweat, standing like he's not entirely aware of either of these things, or just doesn't give a damn. Peter takes a few steps back from Isaac so that he's standing several yards from both of them, runs his hands through his hair. One minute.

"Short version of the talk: stay there, don't touch me till I come to you."

He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes. Invisible behind walls and clouds and rain, the sun sets. Peter's body jerks, and he makes a noise like he just got gutpunched. There's a sound like breaking bones and tearing fabric, and something moves in his back in a way that nothing human could move. He screams and falls to his knees, clutching his face, blood seeping from between his fingers.

Then his eyes fall to the ground.

He stops screaming, looks up at them with different ones, gold instead of blue.

"Oh- oh my god- "

Isaac barely restrains himself from saying something offensive, like ew, but seriously- ? Ew. Nausea roils in his gut at the sudden scent of gore, and Isaac takes a stumbling step back toward Scott, his eyes wide as he watches the transformation.

That's... that's not normal, is it? Isaac hopes it's not normal. Is it supposed to- oh god. Part of him wants to help, in case something really is going wrong, but he remembers Peter's words- don't touch me until I come to you.

And that's just fine. Isaac is perfectly okay with edging far... far away from him.

It has not even begun to get gross.

Truth be told, Isaac could probably say whatever he wants; it's hard to tell whether Peter's even aware that the other two boys are there anymore. It's hard to blame him for that, because claws are working through the skin over his knuckles and the flesh of his arms and legs is tearing, his bones are shifting and breaking and unbreaking, and the wolf inside wants out. He drives his hands into the ground, arches his shoulders, trying to tear his way out of what is now a very ill-fitting man-coat.

Peter gags, retches, bears his teeth in a snarl as they begin to fall out, fangs pushing through. And then after that, a muzzle, forcing its way out through what used to be Peter's lips.

Might be a good time to look away.

"Oh my—"

He says it at about the same time Isaac does, but he puts a cap on it quickly, forcing himself to go quiet. Either out of respect to Peter or an effort to look more in control - possibly both. That doesn't mean there's any hiding the shock on his face and the way Scott jumps back slightly and grabs Isaac by the arm when Peter's eyes change (except they don't change; they're right there, on the ground, and this is-)

The urge to rush forward and do something to help hits quickly, but Scott holds his ground. Let him come to them. That was the only rule. And by the time a snout starts fighting its way free of Peter's mouth, there's the numbing realization that there's absolutely nothing they could do to stop this even if they tried.

Scott doesn't look away. Not for a surprisingly long time, anyway, but after a few seconds that feel more like hours he finally turns away entirely, expression pained; in sympathy, of course, but also probably because he's feeling sick to his stomach.

The worst part is his head. The second worst part is probably the way he tears at himself the whole time, first with human fingernails and then, when those are gone, with snapping teeth, to free the wolf from his skin. Finally, though, it's enough that the wolf can shake free of the last of the man's body, Peter's skin slipping from his back like a blanket as he shakes himself off in a shower of gore.

They think it's done, probably. There's the wolf, bigger than a normal wolf and with fangs long enough to just show beneath his lips, the same brown as Peter's hair, new coat glossy in the remaining light.

Then, watching them warily, Peter bends his head and begins to eat his discarded flesh.

"Oh, gross."

He can't help it. Isaac winces when Peter starts eating his own skin, and turns away, his stomach roiling with nausea. Throwing up now would probably be the worst, but god if he doesn't want to.

And the worst of it is, even turned away like this, he can still smell the gore, can still hear the squelching chew of it, and it makes his skin crawl. For once, at least, he's not thinking of combating the moon- his entire mind is trying to rationalize what the hell just happened, but it's not exactly processing as fast as he wants.

It doesn't take too long, at least, and once he's done the scent of blood and raw flesh in the air is vastly diminished. Somehow it doesn't hang on the wolf at all, despite the fact that he was just born from that mess. He fought free of it and now he doesn't smell human at all.

By the time that the boys have their gorge under control, Peter is standing in front of them, close enough now that they could reach out and touch him, if they wanted. He's still watching them with those bright yellow eyes, and somehow even as a wolf his expression manages to land somewhere in between the instinct to bolt and a raised eyebrow of really, guys? weak stomachs.

The calm and reserved leader act very nearly lasts, but when Peter takes to eating his own skin Scott can't help actually retching - just the once, though. Surely that counts for something.

When he regains his bearings, it's still difficult to ignore the hot, acrid scent of blood, the sweat of the shift; but as soon as his eyes find Peter, his stomach starts to settle. It could be because of some deep, spiritual werewolf connection, but mostly it's just because-

"Woah."

You don't train as a vet assistant unless you've got an appreciation for animals, and there's no denying the fact that the creature standing in front of them is cool (or gorgeous, in slightly less teenaged terms). It's certainly a far stretch better than the hideous half-point they become, though Scott's still not entirely sure that transformation's worth the results.

Woah indeed. Peter makes a noise distinctly reminiscent of an amused snort. He's bigger as a wolf, bigger than a wolf would normally be. His teeth are also bigger than a normal wolf's would be, canines showing beneath his lips. He's still watching them with a touch of wariness; the wolf has little interest in people. But the wolf is also Peter, so he comes closer, sniffs at their shoes, their pant legs, at their hands if they're in reach. He's learning about them, all the little things that exist in scent beyond his human nose.

He's just polite enough not to sniff any higher, although the impulse is definitely there. It's harder to care about human social rules when he's a wolf.

Isaac is still when Peter approaches them, staying close by Scott's side, companionship in the face of- he doesn't know. Weird gory transformation shit. But Peter, as always, is calm. There's something different about him, something that Isaac had read since he first met him, but it's even more obvious now, in this form.

Slowly, Isaac goes down to one knee so he's eye level with the creature, tentatively reaching out and brushing his hand over one of Peter's ears. Careful, like he's going to be bitten, but he lets his fingers linger, just touching the coarse fur like he can feel the power in him.

"This... this isn't like us at all."

He can smell anger, can smell bloodlust and a visceral urge to rip and tear. Isaac is so used to it now that he immediately disregards it when he's in the same room as another wolf- it's as constant as a fan in the background, until he doesn't really register it at all.

Isaac registers its lack now, and it makes him- he's unnerved, and he looks up to Scott, wordless, eyes furrowed, completely out of his depths with no idea how to communicate his unease.

Peter's ear twitches beneath Isaac's fingers, in the automatic way a dog's do, not actually trying to dislodge his fingers. After a few heartbeats, he swings his head enough so that Isaac's fingers are resting on the crown of his skull, instead, takes half a step forward so they slide down toward his ruff. His overcoat is coarse but smooth, but beneath it is softer, fluffier fur, almost downy. It's not quite a winter coat yet, but it's getting there, and if he wanted to most of his hand could disappear into Peter's fur.

He huffs a sigh, not quite impatient but also not quite comprehending the depths of Isaac's unease. It's all laid out for him there in scent, clear as day, but the reasons for it are rather more complex than his wolf mind really wants to focus on. After all, they're the strange ones to him. He's exactly as he should be, especially at the moment.

Now that the shock of the transformation's settled, the other differences are becoming clearer. Scott's aware of that same stark contrast that Isaac is, and somehow seeing it like this - even more intense, more different - creates a strange surge of... not jealousy, exactly. It's more like disappointment, a detached sense of loss at the fact that they got something so much worse.

He watches while Isaac reaches out to pet Peter, and it takes a few seconds for him to register that lost look he turns towards him a moment later. Once he does, he kneels down next to Isaac, reaching out to more confidently run a hand over Peter's neck. He still smells like blood, but this - whatever it is - is distracting enough for Scott not to fixate on it.

"Did Derek ever tell you about his sister?"

It's a completely random comment. He realizes that a second later, but he's still distracted by Peter when he elaborates.

"I think she could do— this. Turn into a wolf."

The blood scent is fading pretty quickly from the wolf--if it clung too much his trail would be too obvious, after all--and once Scott reaches out to touch him too, Peter sits. He's never had much desire to be petted, never let Roman touch him, but Roman also understood this in a way he thinks these two don't. It's hard, he thinks, for them to reconcile the difference between the thing he is and the thing they are, the difference between a beast that isn't quite monstrous and the monstrous thing in them that isn't quite a beast. He has a word, a scent, for what they seem like to him, they have none for him. Definitions are so important to the human mind.

His eyes flick between them, yellow and calm, listening primarily to the rasp of uneven breath and the tone of their voices instead of their words. It's not that he doesn't understand them, they just seem less important, tell him less than sound and scent.

Isaac lowers his hand after a moment when Scott speaks, not sure how to feel about this sudden revelation. Even now, he can feel it thrumming in his veins, even now there's an impulse to lash out with his claws and tear into Peter. He quells that impulse, like he quells most of them, and pulls back just a little.

"...really? Cora wasn't- oh." Isaac bites his lip, moving back to stand. His breathing is a little harder than it would be otherwise, he's still using quite a bit of energy to fight the moon.

"It kind of sucks. That we can't, I mean. Maybe his sister was like Peter? Did you know her before she died?"

Edited 2013-10-02 08:19 (UTC)

He can smell the anger returning, simmering beneath the surface of Isaac, reined in but still very present, and it fills him with unease. Vargulf, part of his mind supplies, but not quite. It's not just anger, and they're holding it back. All the same, disquieting.

Peter hears his name, but it's pretty obvious this conversation isn't about him. The more human parts of his mind are only barely curious, the wolf doesn't care at all. He huffs out a breath, backs up a step and then bounds off into the gardens. He'll be back in a bit, but for now there are things to sniff and trees to mark and emotional conversations to avoid.

Scott's distracted by Peter's exit, though it's more out of curiosity than any real surprise. He wasn't really expecting the wolf to hang out and chat, not when it's got the opportunity to run.

He's still quiet a moment afterward, trying to gauge the dynamic; it's not friendly, necessarily, but there's no aggression in it. It reminds him of Derek before he left with Cora, or at least the parts of it that were new; that lack of a thirst for power, an alliance that was comfortable, if not simple.

It's an awareness of the tension beneath Isaac's careful guard that draws his focus back, and Scott pushes to his feet again.

"No." Scott's only memory of Laura is of her corpse, the start of everything spiraling out of control. He's not sure if this discussion is particularly helpful right now, but at least it's a distraction.

"Derek said the shape you take reflects the person you are." If he's getting at something, he doesn't elaborate. But if the wolves back home were anything like this - calm, serene, animal and pure - Scott can't really imagine anyone they know pulling it off.

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brings starbucks sorry!!

i hope you brought a bowl for peter

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my dreams come true also sorry about the icon

i live to serve your grotesque nightmares

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lmfao peter OLLIES OUT