semifreakingnormal | ( 025 ) Ω ( VIDEO + SPAM )

[Private to Beacon Hills Pack]

[When Scott turns on the feed in the Enclosure, he looks calm. Like, studiously calm, concentrating on being calm. When he sees the recording light come on, he glances over his shoulder and up, then shifts the camera in the same direction, until it focuses on the moon. A very full moon.]

After Amsterdam, we need practice. The good news is it just...feels different, in here. Like it's not as strong. I'm gonna tell the whole ship that they might wanna stay away tonight, but Isaac, Jackson - I know you're awake [but don't ask him how] - we should totally take advantage of this.

Plus - [He turns, facing the camera out as she does. He's in a forest.] There's plenty of room to run, and no people to get lost.

I'll meet you guys at the door. Everyone else - um, up to you. After last time, I don't want it to get....complicated. [He doesn't want Jackson to accidentally attack someone, he means. He pauses then adds,] If anyone's not up to it tonight, it's okay.

[They've all been through a lot, lately, and though part of him thinks that doing this together would be good for them all, he's hesitant to try and force them into it. He's still a little abashed from Kira's song and her message to him, because he's been struggling so much with why they follow him. But they do, and all he wants is what's best for them.]

[Public]

So, um. The Enclosure's got a full moon tonight. And the thing is, at least with werewolves where I'm from, we need to practice to control it. So we're gonna be in there tonight, because I don't know when I'll find a full moon next and I really, really don't want it to be in a port again. I just want to give everyone a heads up. Since, uh, you might want to postpone any Enclosure adventures until tomorrow. We'll be out in the morning, promise.

[Spam at the Enclosure]

[Scott is still antsy, but it's strange hovering in the door of the Enclosure. He's keeping it propped open, just in case it changes on him. He has no idea if that's how it actually works - he has no idea it can be programmed, yet - but he's not taking the risk of losing the setting. It reminds him of the Preserve out there, except he can't smell people anywhere. And if Jackson's going to have a place to practice control, then there can't possibly be a better option.

Definitely better than a busy city.

He knows it's going to be a struggle, and Scott tells himself that the restlessness he's feeling, the anxiety, is only because he can feel the full moon. He scratches at his jaw, knowing that soon enough half a beard will be sprouting there. He just hopes everyone listens to his warning and avoids the Enclosure for the night; his eyes keep darting around the deck, anxious for the others to show.]

[SPAM + VIDEO FOR THE MOTHER LOAD FLOOD]

[Some time around noon, after escaping the Enclosure and wondering why he doesn't want to throw mud at Jackson's face and realizing that his mom will probably come get him soon, Scott takes to wandering the Barge. His eyes get a little less wide as he each new level seems much like the last, but now and then he sees something - or someone - that makes his eyes bug out. There is definitely trouble to be had when he finds the art room; when he leaves it, there are definitely paint stains on his shirt and a little bit of green on the side of his nose. The mess he left behind is even worse.

When he reaches the deck, he literally stops and gapes, one hand holding tightly to the door knob. When he remembers his communicator, he picks it up and opens a channel to everyone, pointing excitedly behind him.]

THERE'S SPACE OUT THERE! And I'm breathing in it!

(ooc: Scott is 10 for the flood and has vague memories, enough to be more likely to get into mischief than to flip out for his mom. Tags will come from

mostlynormal!)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

What was he like? [Asking this instead of saying, so have I, or I know it doesn't make sense.]

[He wonders if he can be slick enough to dance around the fact that he was related to Allison. He doesn't know, but he'll try.]

He's a hunter. He's spent his whole life killing us. I watched him cut a werewolf in half, he's....he was uncompromising. And he twisted things, used people that I care about, hurt people that I care about. He used his own family to get what he wanted.

He had cancer. And he thought the only way to get better was to be one of us. He tried to use me, to make Derek bite him. I wasn't an alpha, yet; I couldn't turn him.

[She measures this. He says uncompromising where she sees logic. He ought to know the atrocities she's committed - or the things he'd label atrocities, anyway.]

[This man sounds evil, though, at least in some things. People, humans, are supposed to be better than that.]

Did you kill him?

[She hopes so. She hopes that he is not so innocent that he's never killed anything.]

No.

[His brow wrinkles, just briefly, almost confused: why is that always everyone's first thought? Why does it always have to be blood and death?

He feels a twinge somewhere inside, and looks down for a moment. He would have killed Jennifer, if she hadn't stopped. If Deucalion hadn't stepped in. And Mal...

He makes himself meet her gaze again.]

I found another way. I had a plan. [The first - maybe the only plan to really work.]

He's not dying anymore. But he's not healthy, either.

I don't get it. It would've been self-defense. You've been through war, how can you be so weak?

[That takes him aback, and for a moment, he just stares. When he does speak, though, it's solid. It's...mostly certain.]

I'm not weak.

[He just had to sort out if he was sure of that, first.]

It's not weak to let people live. He'll never hurt anyone again. [Human or supernatural.]

I don't agree. I think it's weak and foolish to let your enemies live to hurt you again. An enemy like that, he can find a way.

You'll learn. [She just . . . wishes he didn't have to.]

He's coughing up this black - stuff. It's still coming out of his nose. He's in a wheelchair more often than not.

The cancer's gone. But the doctors have no idea how to fix him.

I won't kill my enemies if I don't have to. I wouldn't be who or what I am if I did.

[He could manipulate people. Use money to buy people to do the dirty work for him. It doesn't matter about mobility, it matters about motive and means. But she can't make Scott see that. She knows she can't.]

[She sighs, sounding tired. Almost regretful.]

I don't understand.

[How she's dead and he's not. How he's happy and she isn't. She doesn't understand anything.]

What don't you understand?

[It's a little tentative, because he's afraid of what she doesn't get. He's been lucky, he knows that. He's been so lucky, and being here has made him see that.

But he has to keep being lucky. Because he won't become a monster to fight them.]

[Another sigh. She doesn't want to keep talking.]

I don't understand what kind of world you live in. That someone like you can survive.

We don't all survive.

[He looks down as he says it, stares at his hands because he doesn't even have to try hard to still see Allison's blood on them. It's always there, right behind his eyelids, and imprint of dark, almost-black smudges. He wets his lips, makes himself look up at her again.]

I know I'm not the smartest guy in...any room, Clementine. But I'm not stupid. And I trust the people-- [His throat closes for a second, and he has to swallow to clear it.] I trust people who make me better.

[He's afraid that one day, them trusting him in return will get them all killed. He pulls at his fingers like he's trying to crack them, but it's more a subconscious effort at wiping away blood he feels responsible for.]

Maybe I'm just lucky.

[He doesn't notice the bitterness in his voice. He doesn't feel lucky.]

[She hears the bitterness, but doesn't understand it. Maybe he is just lucky. Maybe he's met the right people. Maybe he's made the perfect choices. But one thing she knows: a normal world shouldn't sustain something - no, someone like him.]

[Maybe he doesn't live in a normal world. Or maybe - maybe hers is the one that's wrong.]

[She refuses to believe it. Snorts, and cuts the feed. She isn't interested in talking anymore; in entertaining this theory, or offshoots of it. She would rather know what she is than imagine a world like Scott McCall's.]

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