#[ // char : THERE'S SOMETHING SO RARE IN YOUR VEINS ( marco ) ] | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

brokentoashes · 7 years ago

Text

there you’ll be

TAGGING __ // SHILO & MARCO LOCATION __// SOMEWHERE IN THE WOODS TIME _ FRAME ___// RECENTLY SUMMARY__// CHATZY LOG

Marco

Perhaps he should not have wandered away from the small group -- it was dark and creeping into late morning hours. He believed it was Jackson keeping watch while Blake and Scott slept ; but, Jackson could not scent him as he slowly rose to his feet, scrambling out of his makeshift sleeping bag of clothing as a familiar scent caught his attention -- a scent that suddenly had him wide awake and hitting him like a ton of bricks to the chest. He wondered -- if he had a pack, this might have been what the pull of it felt like -- familia, his instinct told him. And that was what had him following the sweet scent of his childhood into the woods, drawing his gun on instinct and holding it at shoulder level ; chest heaving and his heart jack rabbiting a panicked cadence in his chest.

Maybe he had finally, completely lost it. Catching her scent in the middle of no where. They weren't near Texas, nor were they near New Mexico, or the Mexican border. She had no reason to be out this way. Then again, neither did he.

He could hear his own breath heaving in his ears like he was in a tunnel, and he wondered if it -- and his racing pulse in his skull -- was as loud to anything around him as it was to his own senses.

The closer he got, the more her sweet scent meshed with the sickly and metallic scent of blood. A noise caught in his lungs, and that scent alone gave him much more haste to his step. It was moments later that a female form against the ground -- the scent of blood overwhelming and making his stomach drop to his toes -- caught his gaze; eyes igniting red for a brief moment until he blinked it away. Gun lowered on impulse, caution thrown to the wind. "Shilo ... -?" he started, taking a few steps closer to the injured woman, dropping to his knees without hesitation and holstering his gun. "¿Princesa? Bebé, mírame. Es Marco, ¿puedes oírme?"

Shilo

It had been too long since she had reached a stage of numbness - of bliss that seemed to comfort her into what she knew was going to be death. Perhaps that was alright, there was nothing left in the world for Shilo - Marco was likely gone, and mamá had been gone luckily long enough to not see the world become such a cesspool of death and disease. Even those that had brought her shelter, that she had dared to call friends had finally turned on her.

She was alone, bitterly and painfully so, as she coughed up the liquid life that should have been inside of her body.

The voice sounded as though it was through a veil, contorting the words and voice until she could no longer recognize them for anything but her native language, but the face - that she recognized. "M-Marco?" She coughed around the words, blood accompanying the gargled sound of his voice as she tried to focus her blurred vision upon him. Perhaps dying would not be so bad, if she were to be allowed such a vision of Marco - because although he seemed scared, he was walking. Or at least, it had seemed so to her.

"Hermano, te amo." She coughed with a smile, grateful to be able to even say the words to the vision of her brother in what she was sure was her last moments. She had not searched for him, and that had been her greatest regret - the knowledge that maybe he could have survived somehow, but she knew it was likely impossible with the state he was in. It had hurt like nothing else to give up on him, to go with the group that was now the cause of the wounds covering her shaking body, but she had spent many long nights convincing herself that it was what he would have wanted.

Marco

Long gone was the stoic solider that he was usually able to slip into so easily like a second skin -- no, he was terrified. A deep set fear in his heart that made his chest ache at its seams like his rib cage might very well split open. His hands were shaking, and his eyes reflected his fear -- a rarity to see in his dark gaze as his hand came out to cradle Shilo's cheek ; sucking in a breath before wincing as he watched spiderweb, inky veins crawl their way up his arm. "Te amo - cristo - Shilo, mírame. ¿Quédate conmigo, por favor?" He was begging, another thing that was foreign to the hardened male as he smoothed his thumb over her cheek bone, ignoring the blood that smeared across his skin.

He had found her --, but ... God, what kind of state was this? What had happened to her? "Shilo --" he breathed, accent thick with the emotion that was clogging his throat and making it different to breathe, " ... Shilo, please .. -- You can not ... - " He trailed off again, free hand moving to grab hers and intertwine their fingers; giving it a small squeeze to try and reassure her that this was real ; that he was here. He couldn't lose her, not -- No. It would break him apart that the only thing that had kept him going since leaving home would be gone. The echo of his depression would consume him completely all over again, and he couldn't take that. Not now.

" -- Hermana pequeña, ¿confías en mí?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. There are tear tracks against his cheek, and he isn't even aware of when they got there. He wasn't sure when he started crying, wasn't sure when his fingertips started to tremble against her cheek, or when his breath became so unsteady. He was losing her, and he could feel it. His eyes ignited a bright crimson in response to the emotional stimuli, the whole of it too much as he shook his head, "I .. I can help you, Shilo. If you let me. I can't lose you, not now."

Shilo

There was something about the muddled fear on his face that seemed to bring Shilo back to herself, the pain in her body easing somewhat as she blinked sluggishly at him - she had lost too much blood. She knew too well that she would not live through this, and with the fog clearing from her brain she began to recognize that as bad. With Marco's face hovering above her, his words begging her to not go, she tried to breathe in around the painful swell of blood.

With their fingers locked together, Shilo seemed to realize again the gravity of her situation - one that had not meant much to her moments before because she had nothing and yet now, here Marco was. Giving her cause to want to live - making her mourn the fact that she would soon die. "I-I can't.." She was cut off by yet another bloody cough, trying to tell him that she could not stay, that her wounds were too great. That she was sorry.

A glistening on his cheek caught her attention, and she reached up, trembling fingers stained red touching the tears that she was bringing forth. She tried to wipe them, though the blood on her hands merely made it worse - brought more of a mess to his face. Though she barely heard his words, coming at her through a fog that seemed to be building itself back up again with each second, she managed a nod, "Sí, haz lo que debes." She managed to get out, her native tongue slipping through the pain much easier than English had.

Marco

He had spent so long looking for her -- he wasn't even sure how long the virus had been active for. He had lost count of days. Months. Was it years? All of them melded into one another despite his best efforts. Was he still 32? Had he come and gone by a birthday without realizing it? Did it even matter anymore? At the present, in this fleeting moment in time, all that mattered was his baby sister was here -- and she was dying. She had given him so much, and he could never find a way to thank her. But -- keeping her from death's door step? Maybe that was a place to start. If --- If the bite took. It had to.

There was a choked noise in his throat when she spoke, insisting that she couldn't. Composure had gone out the window at this point as her hand touched his face, moving one hand to cradle it and press a kiss against the palm there ; curling his digits around it and ignoring the blood against it -- and now against his cheek as well. "Va a doler. Lo siento, va a doler. Pero el dolor no durará demasiado, y estoy aquí," he whispered against her palm, matching their language with a low breath.

He sucks in a breath so painful that it burns his throat -- and in the process, he could feel his claws grow -- his fangs drop. Eyes ignite behind his closed lids as he presses his lips to her wrist, pausing and hesitating before -- without warning, as to try and make this easier -- sinking fangs into the skin there.

Shilo

Shilo watched with laboured breaths as he pressed a kiss against her palm, attempting to squeeze his fingers as he wrapped them around hers - the result was not so much a squeeze as a limp twitch of her fingers, she hadn't long left. Though, perhaps what Marco had in mind would work. "Está bien, Marco."

She didn't have much time to think after that, to process what he was doing as his face transformed into wolf-like features before her wrist was burning as a result of the bite. She cried out, finding some breath in her breaking lungs to push out the pained sound as the burn spread. It was not a kind of pain that she had felt before, certainly not a pain like the one that had numbed her nerves for minutes before. It was a quick burn, one that woke her up rather than put her to sleep.

Marco

His heart cried out with her when she reacted, but he didn't want to flinch and jostle her and hurt her more. After a few seconds, he was slowly withdrawing his fangs and placing a hand over the wound to try and keep the bleeding to a minimum. She had already lost so much blood as it was -- "I'm sorry," he breathed, his voice guilt ridden and causing his accent to grow thick and hoarse. She was already in so much pain, but -- it was a necessary evil if it helped save her. The hand that was not pressed over the bite wound held the hand of that same arm ; once more lacing their fingers together and beginning to again leech whatever pain he could. The only betrayal of her pain effecting him being a slight crease in his brow.

He wanted to know who did this -- this was not the work of walkers. But he knew if he knew, he would want to hunt them down. And right now, in this moment, he needed to focus on just her. He wondered how quickly it would take, if it took at all -- if it would accelerate itself due to her state. His own had taken however long he had been unconscious ; but he was not in such a critical state as she was. It had to have been a few hours -- and while he could not fully shift yet -- he could still walk by that point.

"Shilo ..." he breathed, finally pulling his eyes back up to her as features receded back to their human state. " ... just, keep talking to me. In English -- I need you to stay focused, okay? I need you to stay awake for me, Princesa."

Shilo

The pain of his hand over her wound was nothing compared to how the rest of her body felt, the bite spreading pain to what felt like each nerve in her body. She grimaced, gritting her teeth against a noise of agony that left it. And while she could express the pain she was in, it was not the thing that she found herself wishing to speak of - if she were to ignore it perhaps it would go away, though a twinge of pain against her wounds brought a cry through her gritted teeth. No, when she formed the words it was not of her pain, "Marco- you're alive - but how?" She gasped, trying to see through the edges of black that surrounded her vision.

She hadn't looked for him, hadn't even attempted the dangerous trek to New Mexico, determined that he would be dead by the time she got there. It was not something she had wished to see, and the thought had dissuaded her from the journey, the thought of seeing his rotting corpse - or worse, finding him as a walker - made her too sad to bear. She had tried to go it alone, but even that proved too difficult until she found the monsters that had done this to her. The beasts clothed in sheep's wool that had lulled her into a sense of friendship.

Marco

He did not blame her for not coming to look for him. For not making the dangerous journey from Texas to New Mexico. He wished he had had a way to contact her when everything started ; to let her know he was alive. To let her know that something had ... changed, and he could come find her instead; that it was likely safer that way. But, with phone lines being the first thing to go down, he had had no way to talk to her; to even give her any kind of goodbye. Because, as far as she had known, he had been wheelchair bound and alone. The combination of above would've likely been his death quickly.So ; no, he did not blame her. He never would.

The hand intertwined with hers finally leaves it, brushing her dark hair out of her face -- letting his gaze smooth over her features; heart breaking in his chest for the state that whoever did this left her in. At the question, he sighs. "I'm .. -" he voice broke around the corners, instead diverting his gaze to where his other bloodied hand now covered the wound against her wrist. "I was ... attacked," he finally starts with a breath, keeping his words slow so that she could more easily pick them up. "By ... a ... thing. A .. bestia." He had no issues calling the feral wolf as such. He did not ... quite view himself as a monster, merely ... different -- as Blake's allies were. But, someone like who attacked him, without regard for humanity. That was a monster. And whomever did this to his little sister? A beast.

He made eye contact with her, pushing the red hue into his eyes for a moment, "It bit me. And ... it -- it changed me. Healed me."

Shilo

Shilo's body shook as the bite began to heal her wounds - catching her from the brink of death, mending her just enough to keep her alive despite the damage that had been done. It was merely the largest gash, the one in her stomach, that began to tie itself up - the pain unbearable as her eyes shut and a cry escaped her. It was a hot kind of pain, rather than the kind that left her numb - not the cold kind that she had been experiencing before, when she had been dying. Now, she most certainly was not dying.

Despite that fact, it was difficult to focus on him as he smoothed her hair from her face, eyes glazed with pain. The way he explained his attack was careful, in a way, and though it suggested that he thought she didn't know of the beings that lurked in the night and had been some sort of factor in the cause of this virus, she had known for some time. Likely just as long as he had, though her introduction had been much less painful - despite its fatal end.

"A werewolf -" She cut off, teeth gritting against the pain that seemed to rise and fall. "You are a werewolf? Am I -?"

Marco

His eyes settled on her -- and just her. Her breathing. Her heartbeat. Even the focus of her eyes. There was still an intense amount of worry -- not quite certain if it was going to take. And even so ; not quite certain on how she would feel if it did. But he couldn't lose her, he couldn't just watch her die. Not after looking for her for so long. Not after just finding her.

There was an inkling of surprise in the former soldier's eyes when she spoke. And he swallows before he's nodding. "Yes," he confirms slowly, a small downward turn to his lips. And he's letting out a slow breath before answering the rest. "Not yet-" he breaths, "-- I ..- if it takes. I just ---" his tone sounded almost apologetic. "-- I had to do something, Shilo. You --" his voice broke around tears that clogged his throat. "You're all that I've got. Do .. do you understand?"

Shilo

Shilo did understand, she truly did - and while this was not what she would have chosen for herself, she would not hold it against her brother for doing anything in his power to save him. She nodded, despite the pain that screamed at her to not move her body. "Of course I understand - you -" She sucked in a breath, pain glazing her eyes further, "You are all I have left," Shilo couldn't imagine losing her brother after everything else she had lost.

It wasn't long after that a laugh sounded behind them, one filled with a cruel lilt that Shilo had grown accustomed to - though not for its cruelty. She flinched, the recent memories of claws breaking wounds in her skin that would kill her bringing themselves to focus. "Still alive, are you?" He laughed again, "And you've found another friend - how resourceful you are." Now Shilo's body shook not from pain but from fear.

Marco:

He pressed his forehead against the knuckles of Shilo's hand as he let out a long breath, "It's going to be okay," he breathed, as if trying to convince himself as well as her. "I promise. I'm gonna take care of you, just like you took care of me, okay?" He wanted to say more, but a voice was demanding to be noticed.

Eyes rose as he found the newcomer -- a scent hitting him strongly; strong enough to force a snarl out of his chest and cause his eyes to bled alpha red. Suddenly it made sense. Her injuries. Why she was not as surprised as she should be. "Bestia-" he growled, giving her hand a tight squeeze before he was realsing it and standing, drawing his gun and cocking it as he rest of his features followed his eyes in transformation -- stepping in between where Shilo laid and the other. "You made a mistake coming back for her. And you made a mistake hurting her."

Shilo

Shilo believed his words with all of her heart, and somehow she had known that this day would come - that one day she would need him just as badly as he had needed her when he'd returned, broken and unable to navigate the new world thrust upon him alone. She knew that it would be okay, as long as she had him at her side.

The man laughed as Shilo watched on, recklessly unhinged and not at all afraid of the red glow in Marco's eyes. He was cunning, but not necessarily smart. "Oh, I've always wanted to be an alpha." His words were cocky, body already tensing with the shift of his features in preparation for a fight. "No -" He shook his head, baring his fangs, "My only mistake was not finishing her off."

Marco

He chuckles -- and it's a bitter noise in the back of his throat. Any ounce of pain was gone, the upset set upon him by Shilo's state -- and it was replaced by an anger and a terrifying steadiness that only a soldier could know. He did not deem the other's cocky words with a response, lip lifting to bare his own fangs in response to the other. And he did not wait for a movement from the other wolf -- he was already moving.

This man almost killed his sister -- if Marco had not come along to try and change things, she would've died. Alone, and in pain. That was enough to elicit a red hot and consuming rage inside of him ; and yet, he still managed to keep his outward calm -- pressing forward quicker than any human could, one clawed hand moving to the other's throat and the other pressing the cool barrel of the gun against his temple. A knee forced itself into his stomach to shove him back against a large tree, snarling in his face. His form might've been wolf -- but his stance was still eerily human.

Shilo

While Shilo attempted to move, some sort of survival instinct kicking in as her brother moved to confront the man that she had thought was her friend, said man practically spat cocky laughter at her brother. She grit her teeth, but was unable to move much farther than a couple of inches without the pain threatening to take her consciousness - wounds still far from healed.

It was quicker than he was used to that the alpha was upon him, and while it was terrifying to the man, to Shilo it was purely a sadistic kind of pleasure - horrific to see her brother so violently angry, and yet satisfying to watch as the man that had hurt her was rendered useless. She bit back cries of pain as the man gasped against the pain of the knee in his stomach, form tense as he didn't dare move - knowing all too well that a bullet to the brain was not something he could come back from. His eyes turned wild, fearful as he seemed to realize that death was finally catching up to him.

Marco

Marco wanted nothing more than to make the man suffer as he had made Shilo suffer. But. He was more logical than that -- he knew better. For one, Shilo was still in pain and he did not want her to suffer alone. For another, he did not want her to think him a monster. To think that the bite had changed who he was as a person. He didn't want her to fear him. As much as he wanted to tear the man limb from limb like he had the strength and rage to back it up, he did not.

Marco could be a bigger man than this monster.

So he growls -- snarling and baring fangs. But he does not pull the trigger; merely because he has better options. Merely because he does not want to draw unwanted company ; the hand on his throat moves away, only for a split second later to be moving quickly -- the lowering sun catching claws just in time for him to slice the man's throat open; deep enough to kill within seconds. There was a wet gargle from the wolf, choked and strangled, but he was dead before he even hit the ground.

He gave the man one last angry look before he was tucking away his gun and looking back to Shilo -- and it was like a flip switched. Wolf features faded and his expression softened. He was at her side in a heartbeat, gently grasping at her shoulders to gingerly maneuver her to lean her weight against his chest. "Don't try to move too much, you are just starting to heal," he breathed, eyes saddened as they fell to the bite he had inflicted upon her. "-- how much are you hurting?"

Shilo

The way he killed the man screamed of her brother, human and quick - despite the claws used to do so. It was almost as though the wolf had done nothing but fix him, render him capable of walking - of finding her and saving her. Shilo was stunned, a moment, as her attacker crumpled to the ground, dead before he even reached the cold dirt, before Marco was turning back to her with the softened human features that she knew.

The tears that answered his words at her relief brought a small noise from her lips as they mingled with the drying blood on her cheeks. The pain was still red-hot, deep within her and screaming for attention, but it would not last forever. Perhaps the ache in her heart for her loss of a human life would, but the pain that sucked her wounds together as her body shook just slightly against Marco's chest would ebb eventually. "It is nothing -" She sucked in a breath, one that burned her lungs, "Gracias por matarlo." She spoke because the words were too harsh in English, too cutting to speak in anything but her native tongue.

Shilo's eyes fluttered, pain and relief mingling in a cocktail that was near-deadly, goading her to unconsciousness despite the way she fought it. Moments later, they opened again, still shadowed with the pain of the bite and of the betrayal of the man lying in a heap mere feet from them.

Marco

He was cradling his sister to him in a way he had not been able to since before he left for the Army, shifting just enough to take her hand in his. And, despite her words of insisting that her pain was nothing, he once more focused on drawing it out of her, fingers merely twitching slightly at the sting of it as it entered his system ; black spiderwebbing up his arms with an inky black. The words in their first language was making him swallow so hard that it hurt, ducking his head down with a small sniffle -- the deeper waves of emotion cascading over him once more now that the threat was gone. "Por favor, no necesitas darme las gracias por eso," he whispered.

He's letting out a long and shaky breath -- looking her over once more, "I ... am sorry," he whispers, "That this happened. That I -- .." his voice broke. "It is not something I would've willingly chosen for myself, either -- I just ... I've been looking for you for so long, Shilo --- .. I knew ... - I knew you assumed that I did not make it, so I knew I had to find you and I couldn't --- " There was a noise in the back of his throat that resembled a dry sob, squeezing his eyes shut as he trailed off.

Shilo

She knew what he was doing - had seen it as the pack's members had died, spiderwebs of poisonous pain transferred to the living as the life faded from their eyes. She sniffled, grip on his hand tight from the pain, the need to relieve it somehow - to focus herself on an anchor of attention, keeping her mind off the pain that remained despite what he shouldered for her. She did not protest as he spoke, because the words had been said and she had needed to say them. She had not wanted to die with yet another monster loose upon the world, one that could wear a smile and worm his way into the heart's of the living.

She shut her eyes against the tears that rushed forth at his words, surpassing the trickle that had been there previously, painting streaks in the red on her cheeks. "Please, don't -" Shilo's fingers squeezed at his, "Don't feel bad. I- I would not choose the other option. Not when I can have you back." She told him, words shaking with the laboured breaths of both her pain and her tears.

Marco

He smoothed his thumb across the outside of her hand as he slowly continued to draw whatever pain that he could from her. It was ... a strange feeling. He had always felt a connection to his sister -- but this ... was different. He could feel an invisible tether beginning to form. And while, typically, Marco found it easy to ignore the instincts of his wolf, this one was far too great. Albeit, he wasn't sure that this one was one he wanted to ignore. Pack-- his wolf told him. Shilo was his beta -- and he knew that he would do anything to protect her, but, he didn't need the pack draw for that -- it just ... heightened it to levels that made it almost difficult to breathe. He wondered if she felt it, too -- as the wolf slowly knitted her broken body back together.

When she speaks, he feels tears on his own cheeks. Shilo is the only person still alive who has seen him at his lowest, seen him at rock bottom. He did not feel the need to try and mask himself around her ; to try and soldier his feelings. " ... Te amo -- te amo y mas." he whispered, voice barely audible as it cracked around the center. " ... I was almost beginning to ... to fear --- "

Shilo

There were few people that she had been so connected to in her life as she was to Marco - though they were not bound by blood, that mattered little to her. As the bond that was forming between them with each moment began to pull her to him in a way that she had never experienced before it seemed as though her familial ties to him were only being affirmed. She knew, though, that these were not the sweet bonds of family that she had formed through years of pain and tears for him - from the moment she had helped him home that first day, to a home void of their beloved Martina, Shilo had fostered those bonds created through their formative years. Those were the ones that would last a lifetime, and though the call of pack was strong to her, it was bittersweet. For when she looked at him, despite the feeling of submission she now felt, she saw too much more - too many years of tears and laughter. And while she wanted him to be her brother first forever, the alpha in him quelled its importance to a point that she would fight to her dying breath, unsure if she could allow the two to meld together.

"Te amo, hermano. No pienses cosas así. Estaré bien." She found herself slipping to her native language with the tears flooding her cheeks, washing tracks of blood from her face. With a shake of her head that sent waves of pain through her, Shilo sucked in a gasping breath, one that sounded more of a sob than a breath. This was not what she wanted, but it was better than the alternative. Anything was.

Marco

After the deaths of both Antonio and Martina, Marco had few in his life that was precious. Any friendships he had forged in high school before joining the Army had become distant; including Blake. Which had hurt more than he had truly let on when reuniting with Blake -- he was just self indulgent and lonely. He merely wanted nothing more than to no longer be alone in this great big, desolate world to the point that he had turned a blind eye to the pain that losing Blake had caused. But Shilo -- Shilo was always a constant. He watched her grow into a beautiful, smart woman before his eyes when he returned to the State -- and, despite all of that, she still insisted on caring for him for so many years until he longed for independence. God--, maybe if he would've listened to her and never left for New Mexico, he never would've lost her the first time. Eyes skimmed over her, taking in the still fading paleness to her flesh and the red smears of blood among the bright red crimson against her clothing and against his own hands. There was a growing ache in his chest -- different, but similar at the same time. Not just the ache of injured, hurting family, but -- the terrible pain of an injured packmate. An injured beta. His wolf might know it well, being ingrained to recognize it in his instincts. But it was so new and almost overwhelming to Marco in a way that he didn't quite know how to process it.

He moves to cradle her cheek in his hand, and despite the tears flowing freely by this point on his own cheeks, he was whiping the ones from Shilo's with a gentle -- and yet shaky -- touch. He returned his words in kind in the same tongue, "Yo te cuidaré, te lo prometo. Te enseñaré todo lo que necesites saber." He was just nothing more than relieved to find her -- to find her in time. And, he mourned for the loss of her humanity -- for the fact that he was forced to take it for her to live. But -- he was selfish in the way that he did not regret it, because otherwise he would've lost her.

Shilo

While there was so much to fear - such as her first full moon - Shilo couldn't help but feel grateful as he spoke, his touch smearing blood and tears together on her flesh despite his good intentions. A sniffle gave way to another sob, one of relief, though it wracked her body with pain that shook through her at the movement in her healing abdomen. There was too much to fear of this new life that Shilo had long ago decided to take it one day at a time, and now she would have to force herself to remember that as she took the steps into this new life.

This time, though, she could go into the unknown with her brother at her side - her alpha. She would not be alone as she had been when the virus had hit, would not have to cry for the mere pain of letting go of what she wanted. Against all odds, he had found her and they were at least with one another again - she could keep him safe again, or at the very least she could try. It was her only regret, not having tried to find him in the first place.

Marco

He sniffled slightly, closing his eyes against the harsh crimson red burn of his eyes -- the alpha inside of him reacting to the damaged beta in his arms still struggling to heal. He would've fought the instinct, but the instinct was proof that Shilo was healing. That the bite was taking, and that she was going to be okay, even if she wouldn't be human anymore. That was worth it, to him -- selfishly so -- as the price to have her by his side. At least she would be stronger; at least she wouldn't break so easily. He could protect her this time, he could take her by the hand and lead her through this tough life.

"-- how are you healing?" he asks softly, trying to force words out past the emotion that threatened to choke him -- adjusting her against his chest to try and make her as comfortable as possible. "Is it getting better?" They needed to move, preferably to the small group of friends with Blake -- so they were not out in the open. But he was not going to move her until he was sure he wouldn't hurt her anymore. If needed, he could defend them both. He owed that to her.

Shilo

Shilo let out a shuddering breath filled with pain as he shifted her body in his arms, resting her against his chest in a way that was - once the pain lessened again - more comfortable. She nodded, just slightly, at his words. The pain was less, but different - it was not the same kind of numb pain it had been. Instead, it was red-hot and it burned through her. She knew that she was healing though, for the small movements did not send such large shocks of pain through her body. "It is better - but, still painful." She winced, squeezing his hand.

"Are you alone?" She finally realized that he had no one else around, senses returning to her as the healing process brought her further from death, carrying her to the land of the living. He could not possibly be alone - even as a werewolf it was extremely difficult to survive. Or, so she had witnessed.

Marco

He merely nodded when she reassured him that it was getting better. And while he hated the thought of her in such pain, it was at the least reassuring to the fact that the bite was taking and that she was recovering. So, he kept his protective grip on her -- one arm draped around her while the other continued to cling to her hand. As if he was afraid that she would dissipate in his arms and completely dissolve into the nothingness. That he was finally losing it, and that his sister was lost to this world.

"I was," he started slowly, keeping his voice low as his eyes flitted in the direction of the camp, "I found ... an old friend. Blake, do you remember her? I found her. She's with a smaller group that's looking for the rest of them -- their pack. A young alpha, and a human."

Shilo

Seeming to pick up on the anxiety in his hold, Shilo gently squeezed his fingers with her own, strength returning to her with each minute. She was not completely better, but soon enough she would be able to walk with a bearable amount of pain, and then they could get away from this place - from the dead body not ten feet from them.

Shilo remembered Blake - had remembered how happy her brother had been around the girl, and how sweet she had been to him despite the fights she had seen her get into at school. Her lips drew into a small smile, "She's alive?" She had not really thought that anyone from their lives would have lived through this, she was honestly surprised she had lived up to this point. "She's with a pack? Is she-?" She couldn't help the small bit of fear that clenched at her heart at the thought of joining another pack, of having to cooperate with other werewolves, particularly now that she was one.

Marco

He gives a soft, meek smile when Shilo gave his hand a squeeze, letting out a breath before he was closing his eyes and tucking his head on the top of hers. In this new world, and since he had returned from the Army even, Marco had lost a lot of his softness that he had held when he was a teenager -- edges sharpening because they had to. But, his little sister could always bring that side out of him, no matter what happened to the world -- or happened to them.

"Yes, she is a alive," was his first, soft response -- eyes closing; partly to ignore the dead body close to them, even if his wolf could still scent it. "She is with a pack, but I am under the impression she is not part of the pack ; just allied. She is a werefox." He chuckled loosely around the word, surprised with each new piece of supernatural information that he was learning. He sighs before pulling back just enough to look at her ; the alpha inside of him itching with the worry he could feel from his beta ; his sister. "You are my pack -- it is just you, and me. Their pack, Scott's pack, they are good people -- from what Blake tells me -- but they are not pack, okay? You do not need to feel like you have to feel that pull to them. They can be friends, and powerful allies -- " They both knew traveling alone was dangerous by this point, " -- but they are not pack, and they are not family. Please, do not be afraid of having to feel something, or join something, that you don't want. You are my beta, and not Scott's." There was a strange pull of protective instinct tugging at his alpha that he was not at all familiar with, at the mere idea of it all. Even if he was under the impression that the Scott boy would not try and win his sister over.

Shilo

Shilo allowed herself to close her eyes at the touch of his head against her, welcoming the comfort around the pain that was slowly relaxing its hold on her. It had been rare to see the softer side of Marco once he had returned with his injury, something that Shilo had mourned as she had agonized over how she could help relieve his depression - coming up empty handed and ultimately letting him move away without her. She had thought the independence would be good for him, and had cried for days when she had realized that letting him go had likely meant his death for the way the world changed. Though, it turned out Marco was stronger than that.

Shilo wrinkled her nose at the word, confusion crossing her features, "Werefox?" She questioned, "Those are real?" She didn't know as much as she would like to know about the supernatural world, and perhaps that had been dangerous for her in the end. She seemed to discover new information all the time about them. Shilo listened as he spoke, seeming to know how she felt at the information that they would be with another pack. A nod in response sent very small amounts of pain through her body - much less than there would have been mere minutes ago. "Okay," She answered softly, because she didn't feel that she needed any other words.

Marco

At the beginning of all of it -- on day one -- when he realized what was happening to the world, Marco had been afraid. A true fear that ate at and tore away at his bones until he felt ill because of it. Such a deepset fear that he had not truly felt since he had been overseas -- before his discharge. The fears that had sunk him into the darkness after returning home had been something more numb and sliced into his soul. The terror he had felt at the end of the world, instead, had been an intrusion. And, after being attacked and holing himself up, he had never expected to wake up. And yet -- . Perhaps he hadn't given himself enough credit.

He chuckles quietly, even if the light of the action doesn't travel to his eyes and it sounds a bit sad, "-- was news to me, too," he reassured her. He was honestly still learning as he went, and Blake had told him that Scott's misfit pack held much more than just shifters. Likes of the supernatural he had yet to met. He was letting out a breath, shifting to move a few strands of matted, blood-caked hair from her face; trying to ignore the alpha instinct to clean her up. "Es sólo tú y yo, no importa lo que digan. Siempre voy a estar aquí por ti, te lo prometo. Nadie me llevará lejos de ti otra vez. ¿Me crees?"

Shilo

She should have known that Marco would be stronger than that - he'd returned to her from his deployment, despite his injuries. He had worked himself through the new terrain of his life, though emptily and in a way that hurt her to watch, but he had done it. He hadn't given up. He had always been there when she'd needed someone, even though she hadn't wanted to burden him any longer with the trials of her life - they seemed too trivial compared to what he was going through. Still, he'd been there. Somewhere inside of her, she had known that he was stronger than that, and maybe that was how she had managed to stop her tears and find a way to survive, so that one day they could return to one another.

Shilo does not miss the way the light of his laugh does not reach his eyes, and her answering smile was sad, soft in a way that cried for what they had been through. She listened silently to his words, eyes searching his for a moment before she reached up with a small amount of pain, touching her bloody fingers to his hair. Tucking their foreheads together, she smiled, "Hemos sido tú y yo por mucho tiempo, hermano. Te creo.".

Marco

There was an extreme amount of relief with his little sister in his arms. There was a fair amount of guilt, because he had to turn her into something he never even wanted to himself. But; she was alive because of it, and he selfishly would not take it back because of that. He still had her with him because of it.

As she reaches up and brushes against his hair, his smile does soften. Does turn more genuine as his heart aches against his chest. He could almost pretend they were kids again. That Shilo was half his height and innocent. That he didn't know the darkness of the world. That both of their parents were still alive again, and they weren't something more than human. He feels his eyes burn again, but he ignores it, closing his eyes against it as he wraps one hand around her wrist gently. "Te amo princesa," he whispers, hardly audible over the wind in the air.

He needed to move her soon, back to the small camp, but for now he could allow himself to forget the rest of the world was in shambles. Could allow himself to selfishly take solace in the fact that Shilo was with him again; and, because of this, he felt like he could do almost anything.

#[ // chatzy ]#[ // chatzy : marco ]#[ // char : THERE'S SOMETHING SO RARE IN YOUR VEINS ( marco ) ]

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brokentoashes · 7 years ago

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i had all & and then most of you, some & then none of you

TAGGING __ // BLAKE & MARCO LOCATION __// SOMEWHERE IN THE WOODS TIME _ FRAME ___// RECENTLY SUMMARY__// While camping with her small group ( Scott and Jackson ), settled down for the night, Blake senses a scent she hasn’t known since she was a teenager.

Blake

The scent had caught Blake by surprise - drawing the fox away from her small group with a murmur to just wait. Her body vibrated with a kind of tension that was almost physically painful as she exited the bushes and took a few tentative steps into the open. Her gun was held at the ready, because she couldn't believe that this was anything but a trap - she couldn't possibly be following the scent of someone she'd known so long ago.. someone that had kept her half-sane throughout high school. Someone she hadn't seen or spoken to in years - he couldn't possibly have survived. Not with a wheelchair. Marco was resourceful, but was anyone that resourceful? It was all too likely that she was following something else, a scent that just reminded her of him. It had been so long, how was she supposed to remember his scent so clearly, anyways? But then, how had she drawn the connection to him if she hadn't remembered his scent?

Scanning the area, she saw him the same time he saw her, grip on the gun in her hand loosening from the pure shock of him whole and alive - standing. "M-Marco?" The words were quiet, disbelieving.

Marco

The smell of death clogged his senses everywhere that he went -- and it was disorientating. There were times that he would've rather had human senses than to be bombarded by the stink of those long since deceased; the rotting and festering flesh always making his nose curl when it hit him full force. It made his skin crawl, and his stomach turn.

It was growing later by the second, and Marco needed to find shelter. It was dangerous to be traveling alone ; but, with Shilo still out there somewhere, it would not do to stand idle either. He would grow fair too restless. He had spent almost a decade idle, he was not keen to revert back to it. Especially not with death nipping at his heels at every turn.

He dug through his pack, hunting a bottle of water when the scent hit him first ; it was pure -- at least, compared to the scent of death around him. And it gave him pause, like a dream -- or a melody -- from when he was a child that he couldn't quite place. His line between human and wolf was drawn very thick in the dust ; and scents from before were difficult to translate to the wolf as it was not something it knew. But he knew that knew it.

Regardless, when he heard a heartbeat growing closer -- heard footfalls -- he knew he had to be cautious, and would address the scent afer he knew that the possible threat had been dealt with. He was grabbing his gun from his hip and on his feet in an instant -- straddling his pack to protect his supplies as well ; gun raised to shoulder level with unfaltering arms and --

That was a voice he had not heard in a long time ; the memories of the scent of bonfire smoke and cheap beer meshing with the scent of wild ... fox? " ... B- Blake...?" He finally managed after a beat - voice cracking, the shock rendering his voice hoarse as his gun lowered on instinct; barrel now aimed to the dirt.

Blake

With the dark threatening to close in on their small party, their nervous heartbeats in the back of Blake's ears - urging her to hurry - she did not want to waste too much time and still, staring at him she felt frozen. He should not be walking, should not be so whole as the last time she had seen him, though obviously older. While her gun was no longer aimed at him, she had not so completely loosened her grip, holding it down towards the dirt between them.

It took courage, far more than it should have, to take two small steps towards him, to release the tentative hold on her gun before the full reality of his scent found her - wolf. "Are you- you're-?" She couldn't form the question, unable to register the scent with her memories. Unable to fit the wolf in with their last summer at each others sides, with their years of friendships. It was him, but it wasn't... the same. She let her gun fall to her side, held loosely in one hand as her stance straightened and she felt the familiar sting of hope in her eyes.

She sucked in a breath, one that seemed to get caught in her throat for it never really caused her any relief - guilt for losing touch with him, for never trying to get back in touch, threatening what little breath she could take in. It had been so much easier to cut him out, to ignore the possibility of keeping him close only to lose him while he was deployed. Especially after her parents. She looked down, away from him, gathering herself because for all she knew they could damn well be strangers by now. The wolf that mingled with his scent seemed to encourage that notion, and still, she didn't want them to be strangers. He was life before it went to shit for her, and in that moment she wasn't sure how to handle it as her eyes drew back up to his face once more, heart in her throat.

"Are you alone?" Because it was so much easier to ask than to ask why he smelled of wolf. Or how he was walking.

Marco

He almost felt like he had swallowed his heart -- which, before now, he had always thought was a strange expression. But, he could feel it. Pulsing wildly in his throat while Blake's heart hammered in his ears; creating a ringing cadence across his skull as the sound canceled out anything else around them. And in that moment, with his shellshocked focus on nothing but her, he was likely more vulnerable than he had allowed himself to be since he had been bit. His hands might've still been on his gun, but if there was a true threat, his reaction time would severely lack what it should be ; what it usually was. His hands loose, almost as if the slightest push to the male would cause the weapon to slip from his grip.

As she took a step closer, Marco did not falter. He did not back away, but he didn't step forward either -- memorized by this point by her scent. He, or since his change, had never scented a fox before. And yet, his wolf was still telling him -- insisting that that was what it was. What she was. Mixed with the human scents underneath that even his human memories remembered ; like a blanket fresh encasing the scent that he knew so well. Melding with it and making it something new -- had she always been like that? When he knew her before?

They were both older ; they both likely looked to be shadows of who they used to be -- learning one another's gaze against the glow of a fire. But her eyes were the same -- there was no mistaking that. And you're --? His brow furrowed, and he was slowly tucking his gun into its holster before showing her the palms of his hands -- offering himself unarmed as he finally took a step closer to her. Likely, his wolf should've felt hostile. Challenged, at the least. Wolves were pack animals -- foxes were not. Albeit, Marco had never known pack ; even if his wolf longed for such -- for a pack of its own to lead -- it did not know what such felt like. Therefore the wolf was merely curious.

"I am alone," he finally spoke after a moment, after a breath. He hesitated, but Marco had never been one to beat around the bush -- "... you -- What are you? You are not a wolf." It wasn't spoken down, and it wasn't said with any heat. It was merely spoken with true curiosity ; leaving the question open in case his assumptions were incorrect.

Blake

Frozen again, torn between her guilt, curiousity, and her relief to find another part of the life that had been okay alive. The part of her life where she hadn't had to worry, hadn't experienced the violent kind of loss that policing and her parents' deaths had brought into her life. When he tucked away his gun and showed him the palms of her hands, some part of Blake broke - desperately sad that they had been reduced to a world where Marco would have to show himself as no threat to her. Maybe it showed in her face, but Blake was too numb to feel if her expression fell from whatever it had been stuck in before. Still, she clicked the safety on her gun on - not holstering it because she had seen all too many instances of unguarded deaths. Moments of vulnerability that left the attacked with no weapon in hand. She trusted him, but she did not trust their surroundings.

She felt herself almost grow smaller as he stepped towards her, not for the dangerous kind of fear, but for the kind that constantly held Blake's fragile heart in its hands. The kind that threatened to give her something good and take it away, to crush away at what was left of her until she was nothing but a shell of the woman she had hoped to be. Until she became some non-person, too beaten to care whether she lived. She had been too close to that before she had found James, too close to it for too long, alone and desperately searching for her brother. She wasn't sure if she could lose anyone again. Especially not after being given them back - she lived in constant fear of losing James. It was soul-crushing.

She felt like she was drowning every second of their separation.

Marco, confirming he was alone, threw her just the smallest of life-rafts, allowing her to keep her composure if for only a moment longer. "Fox." She answered, softly. "A werefox, I was born one. And you're a wolf... is that.. how you're walking?" She asked, tentatively, not wanting to offend him in a way very unlike herself. Perhaps she'd grown some since their days in high school, where she'd been all sharp words and quick hits.

Marco

He watched her carefully. He was not the cautious one ; the wolf was. He had control ; strictly so, by this point. But it would not erase the unease of the wolf in the back of his head, nudging at him that the situation could be dangerous. Because, yes. The wolf was curious about the new scent ; but curious in the way that a wild animal was intrigued by a fire. It may not know what it is, but -- it still knows well enough that it is hot, and loud. And therefore not something to be bothered with. Even if Marco pushed back at the alpha inside of him ; reminding him of memories -- some concrete, some lucid and unsure -- that he held of Blake in his chest. Reminding his wolf that she was safe. Especially while she clicked on the safety for her gun.

After the loss of Martina, Shilo was all that he had had. It had been difficult for him to make friends in the ... state that he had been in; hard to socialize. Difficult, more so, for him to let anyone in. And, it had grown harder when he had moved to New Mexico without his sister by his side. Himself and Blake had fallen apart -- despite Marco insisting that he would keep in touch with her, even through the Army. Contact had grown fleeting before falling away completely.

Werefox. It confirmed his assumptions, so he was nodding. There was nothing in his expression that betrayed it becoming any kind of issue for him ; and his eyes actually seemed to instead soften. He longed to hug her, embrace her and reassure himself that she was real. That a part of his old life -- from before the military -- was still in tact and tangible. But, he contained himself.

Her words did not offend him, but his expression did deep into a frown -- nodding with affirmation when she vocalized what he was, "Alpha," he amended softly, his voice still without any kind of edge. He was looking down at himself, lips thinning before bringing his gaze back up to her ; the falling of the night and urgency of it not lost upon him. " -- yes, it is."

Blake

Blake felt his eyes on her, but she could not bring hers to look at him again, shutting them for the briefest of moments as she tried to quell whatever was taking over her - but instead she only seemed to feel the heat of a campfire on younger, tanned skin as she smelled cheap beer on his breath. Her eyes slid open and she shook away the memories that she wasn't sure ever actually happened, glancing quickly around them for the signs of any threat - just to be safe - before finally, she drew her gaze to him.

And this time she let herself look at him, watching as he nodded at her words - grateful that she was so numb when she noticed his eyes soften the way they used to. Otherwise she would have hugged him, and she just wasn't sure that it was okay any longer, it had been so many years since they'd been speaking - especially face to face. She was terrified of overstepping, or worse.. touching him and having him be fake. Just another pipe-dream that a witch has conjured up for her, sending her into a fake realm of happiness that she wouldn't mind dying in.

Her brow drew in at the implications of his correction, "An alpha.. alone?" She asked, and though she was not questioning him so much as just voicing her confusion - she had never seen an alpha without a pack, but she didn't have long to linger on the thought before those in her small group were calling her name - soft enough to not be heard by normal ears - their urgent tones thawing her nerves and sending her into action.

With not much distance left between them, it was easy for Blake to reach out to touch Marco's hand - fingers curling around his as she tugged him out of the open area and back into the bushes, behind a tree, heart painting a panicked picture as she peered out for the source of the groups concern. It would be just like them to not listen, but then she couldn't fault them for at least making sure she was safe. "They can hear them out there," She drew her eyes to the side, pointing a finger towards the small group, clustered behind trees and bushes before she focused back on the two figures crossing on the far opposite side of the clearing - though, shambling was a more accurate description.

Marco

His throat felt dry -- in ways that it hadn't since he was young and foolish. Since adrenaline, the high of being rebellious, and alcohol had hazed his judgement ; and on nights when Marco wasn't truly monitoring his thoughts, he would fall asleep to the memories of heat chapped lips against his own. Of soft skin and blonde hair almost hued red by orange firelight. But -- by this point in his life, in his early thirties with that part of their life long behind them, he could not even begin to know if those memories were fabricated or not.

He was not unaccustomed to someone being thrown off by an alpha being a lone wolf, and it merely drew a sigh out of his throat. " -- I've had no other choice than to be alone. The alpha who bit me -- " A pause, and then he corrected himself, "Attacked me came out of no where and I just acted. It was feral, and I believe either its pack was dead -- or abandoned it." It had been a difficult transition to endure -- especially in the hell that they lived in daily. Having to cope with his body rearranging his own DNA, relearning how his bones in his lower half worked, and coming to terms with the ... whole supernatural side to life he was never aware of.

Marco did not notice, until she was taking his hand, that they had gotten so close -- a startled noise choked off in his throat before they were masked behind a tree. He could hear her rabbiting heart in his ears -- pulsing in his head and making his own heart hammer in response; could feel her panic as if it was palpable. He almost wanted to kick himself, for not sensing the walkers before -- one hand slowly drawing out his gun and clicking off his own safety. He too peered around the corner, and his eyes -- as if proof of his words to Blake earlier -- ignited a brilliant red, scanning the area ; first landing on who he assumed to be Blake's allies, and then trailing to the smell of rot and death. "From experience, I do not think that they will pass quietly. Should we do something, or do you think your friends will?" he asked, his voice dropped down almost to an inaudible level, now that he knew her ears were keen enough to pick it up.

Blake

Had she had the time to respond, Blake would have expressed the way her heart hurt to know that he had gone through something so difficult alone - in a stoic way, naturally. She would not wish that kind of thing upon anyone, but the fact that he came out the other side of it okay - or at least that she could tell by him not being feral - said a great deal about his character. Though, there was no time before they were tucked behind a tree and the answering beat of his heart merely served to make her more nervous, as she finally released his fingers from a nervous grip and clicked the safety off on her gun.

Despite the near awkwardness of how close she was to Marco, she did not move other than to tilt to the side as he did, not wanting to compromise their cover for at least long enough to formulate a plan of attack. She kicked herself silently for not noticing the walkers sooner, for not catching them when she scanned the area only moments before - but she was compromised, as they would have called it on the job. Emotionally compromised by the alpha she hid with and the solidity of his body - very not imagined. His red irises distracted her for a moment, a look of awe briefly making its way across her features before she was refocusing and listening to his words. Her gaze moved to the others in the bushes, before she was shaking her head at them - a firm stay put expressed through it. "Jackson's human," She breathed back to Marco, focusing on him for a moment before looking back to the figures. "And we should take care of them without guns, its too close to night. I can shift - foxes are small and they have a hard time catching me like that. If you have a knife then you could get the jump on them while they're chasing me, we can take care of them easily like that. We've done it a few times now." She'd been nervous the first time she'd tried it, with little experience with the others combat knowledge, but Marco had been in the military - she would quickly trust her life to him. She didn't even have to think about it.

Marco:

He was well aware of just how close Blake was to him -- but, since the virus started, it was very easy for him to slip back into the comfortable skin of a solider when his heart pounded in his ears and his hands threatened to shake. His eyes closed for one beat -- two -- and his heart calmed. His entire demeanor shifted to something more relaxed and level headed. She was speaking and he was looking to her -- his eyes a dark and human hue once more as he listened to her talk.

He wasn't sure which one was Jackson -- as neither of the shadows seemed to be cowering or afraid. The scents were much too far off to tell which was the wolf and which was not. He looks back to her before a frown tucks at his lips - disturbing his calm slightly. "Isn't that dangerous?" he asks, unfamiliar concern lacing his tone. But she was right. It was far too late at night for guns to be a good idea out in the open unless it was a last resort.

"My knife is in my bag," he admits softly, tucking his gun away before the fire in his eyes burned crimson once more -- this time his gaze meeting hers. "But I have claws."

Blake

As Marco's heart calmed and his dark eyes focused on her, Blake found it easier to breathe and speak without a shake in her voice, sounding confident - more like her capable self - once she had finished explaining her plan to him. This was what she had needed - someone who understood the motions of combat, who understood how to push the fear aside. Her hands no longer shook as she followed his gaze over to the two shadowed figures, picking out a surly but focused Jackson.

She was not about to let him die again, particularly not when she could do something about it. He had done too much for Mac - and he probably wouldn't come back this time. It wasn't a chance she was willing to take, and so when Marco asked with concern that stirred something inside of her if her plan was dangerous, she glanced back to him. "Everything is dangerous now," She breathed in response, eyes on him with a furrow to her brow that was much softer than it may have normally been. "But I trust you."

The words on her lips were silenced by the red glow in his eyes, and it had a hesitant smile on her lips as she took a step back. "Just get them before they get me," She told him softly, setting her gun down silently after turning its safety back on, eyes glowing with her shift. A moment later the blonde woman was crawling out from under the bundle of her fallen clothing, a modest-sized fox. She backtracked, giving Marco the space he might need to shift - she had never seen a werewolf shift before and she didn't particularly know what to expect.

Marco:

He couldn't argue with her when she lamented that everything was dangerous -- that was nothing more than a bitter fact of life; but it doesn't mean that he was happy with his old friend, who he had just found all over again, setting herself as a distracton.. But he didn't have time to argue with her ; even as his steeped heart gave a small constriction when she assured that she trusted him. After all this time? he bit back. And instead, he reached out a hand to fleetingly take her wrist and give it a gentle squeeze that read be careful.

Albeit - despite the situation, he watched in nothing less than aware when she shifted and, soon, there was a fox in the pile of clothing where she had been moments before. But; he did not have time to gawk like he wanted to, closing his eyes with a long breath that filled his lungs as his body grew still. The heart beat before the storm, still red eyes opening before he was shifting the next heartbeat; just as quickly. A snarl starting in the back of his throat in response to the change; fangs dropping and claws unshething.

"-- I'll follow your lead," he breathed, eyes on the fox that, if he had not seen her shift before his eyes, he would've felt silly speaking to.

Blake

His small squeeze of her wrist had Blake's stomach in knots, a kind of nerves that made her realize that she could lose him again - before she really got to know him again. She sucked back the knot and did what she had to do, telling herself that they would make it through and that she would have all the time in the world to get to know everything she had missed. Because she wanted to know it all - even though she knew that some of it was going to hurt to hear.

She would have winced if she could have at his snarl, the pain that his shift seemed to bring making her sad for the briefest of moments before she was moving, pausing to collect and focus her thoughts. She couldn't go into this thinking of him, and so when she glanced at him one last time, she was able to think with a clear head before she darted off. She was fast, had always been quite a fast fox - certainly faster than her brother - and it made it that much easier to get herself underfoot of the walkers. She could outrun them, so long as she was smart and didn't corner herself.

Their gait was awkward, stuttered, and it allowed Blake to weave herself between their legs - just a pair of them. Two was easy. They could do two no problem. Once she heard their screeches of recognition, she turned their backs to the direction that Marco would be coming from, weaving her way through the grass, turning off to the side sharply in the hopes that she could imbalance them - maybe get them caught up in each other as they rushed to catch the food presented to them.

Marco

She was faster than him -- as he moved slowly as to not create much noise; she was the distraction, after all, and he was the weapon. But, he could easily keep track of her heart beat, of her soft footfalls. Of the pitter patter, hummingbird of her heart as the fox darted between branches before she was surely catching the attention of the two undead. Just two--, it was likely going to be easy, but it didn't make her worry any less for her well being. He hid himself mostly behind a tree as he waited; his breathing coming in slow and deliberate controlled rise and falls of his chest -- a easy mix between his soldier complex, and the wolf within. They both knew how to fight, and they tailored to each other.

Finally, though, their backs were to him and they were fully focused on the small fox running around their disorientated feet -- and that is when he acted. Without much of a sound, he was lunging at the one closest to where he stood -- grabbing it and jerking it back by its throat, claws embedded into the rotting flesh, until he had enough leverage to dig his claws into the back of its skull -- dragging downwards against the denigrated bone until the body fell limp as death; like it should be.

The movement had alerted the attention of the second one -- caught in a stupor for a moment with a confusion as to which source to chase after. The smaller, "seemingly" weaker animal on the ground -- or the larger body heat closer to it. Thankfully, the thing didn't have logic, and went for the beast closest to it that had every intention of attacking. It gave a decisive groan before stumbling in Marco's direction, and the alpha gave a audible snarl -- baring his fangs to the walker before plunging his claws into the bottom of its chin. The corpse gave a few, nasty gragles before it was collapsing in a heap to the ground.

Blake

Blake continued to weave in front of the beasts, through their legs and just out of reach of their imbalanced, rotted bodies. She could hear Marco's heartbeat, not far off, settling her nerves somewhat despite the reek of death clinging to her fur. When she heard the dragging of claws into bone, Blake hesitated just long enough to feel the slowed grazing of dead flesh against the top coat of her fur. It was confused by the noise around it, and so it didn't get a good enough grip on her to stop her, allowing her to scamper away from the walker with only a small yip of surprise.

From a safe distance, the fox turned and trained her eyes on Marco and the second walker, watching with vague disgust as its now-dead corpse fell to the ground. Quickly, she scampered away from the scene and listened for the sounds of clumsy feet pushing through fallen leaves - when she heard nothing, she returned to the alpha. Her tail wagged as she did - something that she both hated herself for and just couldn't help with the relief now replacing her adrenaline.

The other times they had done this, it had been much clumsier - less coordinated. Blake hadn't been able to place as much trust in the others in her group as she was able to place in Marco, and that combined with his training seemed to have made what would have taken her and the others fifteen minutes to complete take a mere five. Or so it felt like. She was grateful, and exhausted.

Marco

Marco looked down to his flaws with a disgusted look, wrinkling his nose at both the stench and the look of the brownish black blood against his claws -- that seeped up into his nail beds. Lip curled back, baring fangs. It was clear that -- even with his military training -- this was not his first time utilizing his claws in his way. He lets out a breath, allowing eyes to trail down to the small fox against the forest floor. And his expression softened when he watched her tail twitch ; looking up at him almost expectantly. And he reminded himself that it was Blake instead of the small fox's head. So, he smiled -- the wolf features disappearing far more quickly and easily than he had called upon them.

He chuckles, looking back at his hands where now rounded, human nails were still caked with blood that make his senses complain -- "We did good?" he speaks, almost sounding more like a question than anything. He sighs -- the breath shaky and pushed out his lungs with a quiver; his own body suddenly just as exhausted as twilight ate at his bones.

"Do you want me to go and grab your clothes for you?" he asks then, looking back down at her -- "Or do you want to follow me back over there? I have to grab my bag anyway."

Blake

Blake's tail begrudgingly wagged in response to his words, though it was still an enthusiastic agreement. She yipped at him, wanting to tell him just how good, though she couldn't exactly communicate - and it was out of the question for her to shift back without her clothes. She noticed the way his breath left him, and she knew that he was likely just as tired as she was - if not more. Who knew how long he had been alone for, maybe as long as she had before finding Mac, maybe longer.

As much as Blake wanted to sit, she preferred to get dressed with the cover of the bushes, and so she answered him by trotting slowly over to him. Passing him, she waited only long enough for him to start following her before she was moving at a good pace towards their things. When she reached his bag, she sat beside it until he caught up before ducking into the bushes and shifting back behind the tree. She made quick work of putting her clothes back on, despite having to wrestle with the mess of clothing - it was cold and she didn't want to waste much time getting colder than she needed to be.

"I think being an alpha suits you," Blake told him softly, her words quiet because she wasn't sure if there were more walkers nearby or not. "Or you've grown into it well," She sighed, buttoning her shirt. It still made her sad to think about it - but at the same time, it seemed good. He was still here because of it. That was a big enough silver lining.

Marco

He followed her without compliant back to where they had left heir belongings -- finding her settled near his bag; and, once he was caught up, he nodded to her before she was turning away long enough to scamper back into the bushes ; the scent rising high of the reversal of a shift. New pieces of his senses were still constantly surprising him ; to the point where he almost wasn't surprised. He was kneeling down by his bag to give her the time she needed to shift back and put her clothes back on -- rooting through his bag and double checking all of his supplies; checking the magazine on his gun. And, after a second thought, grabbing his knife and tucking it into his belt instead. He wondered if there was a lake nearby, so he could clean the black blood from his nails without wasting any of his bottled water.

That thought trailed off when he heard her voice again, looking up to see her reentering his line of sight as she buttoned up her shirt. He chuckled, shaking his head when she told him it suited him. The chuckle was almost bitter -- and he himself wasn't sure if there was any valid humor behind it. He truly had mixed feelings about what he was -- he had given it quite a bit of thought. Perhaps, if the circumstances of his bite had been better -- perhaps if it was before all of this mess .... -- What ifs was a luxury Marco tried to not indulge too much in. It gave him the use of his legs back, but it still left a bitter taste int he back of his throat. "No me interesaba la muerte," he let creep under his breath. As a teenager, he commonly would slip into his native tongue when English became too ... trying for him. His emotions were much more laced to his native language -- and it made it easier to say what he was truly feeling. Albeit, he wasn't sure if it helped or not that not many could understand him.

He sighs, looking up as he clicks a new magazine into his gun - "It is .. very good to see you, Blake. It really is."

Blake

She smiled softly at him when he chuckled in response - she could sympathize with him though she could not fully understand. Being what she was had been the only thing she was good at growing up, it had helped her become an amazing police officer. She was nothing but grateful, especially now that she had grown out of the constant anger of her teens and early twenties. She approached him slowly, setting her bag down on the ground and holstering her gun - checking it first to ensure that the safety was still on. With his mumble, Blake nodded a little to herself, sadness creeping in despite her anxieties against it. She had learned Spanish when she was at the police academy, a recommendation because of where she had wanted to be stationed - despite her not having been stationed there. It had hurt too much to be in the town she had grown up in, the town that only had one good thing left for her there. It was too much, every time she looked at the front steps of her childhood home only to know that her parents' killer would go unpunished by a justice system that was not prepared for supernatural beings.

Blake watched him load a new magazine into his gun with a weight in her chest, one that ached to reach out to him. But time kept her from doing so, kept her cold fingers tucking into her jeans despite the way that it did not help warm them. She looked down, "I'm sorry, Marco -" The words slipped out before she could stop them, too tired to fight the need to speak her mind despite the hard way the sorry balled in her throat. It was not a word that she spoke often, or lightly, "I should have tried to get in touch with you, I just - I was scared. It felt easier to let you go than to lose you too." And with the words hanging in the air between them, Blake tried to swallow the nerves that the words had left bundled in her throat, looking anywhere but at him because how could this possibly be the way she greeted him after so long. When James had told her what had happened to him, she had almost called him. Had been mere seconds from dialing his phone number, and yet she hadn't - still too damn scared.

Marco

He gave her a curious look when she merely nodded to his words -- watching her for a brief moment before he was realizing that she seemed to understand what he had said, despite the language it had been spoken in. But -- it been years -- , he knew that aspects about both of them had changed; likely drastically. The world could be cruel, even before all of this ; and it seemed to have been quite harsh on both of them. Albeit, he could understand the hurt of returning to your childhood home. When he had returned to the States and gone back to Texas with Shilo -- it made his heart ache each and every day that he was in the house that Martina had died in -- died in without Marco being able to give her a proper goodbye. It hurt, every single day of his life. But, he could not turn back time -- and he tried not to let his mind linger on the ache. Especially now, when his priority since all of this began was finding his sister. When he knew that Shilo was likely smart enough to likely believe him dead -- in the state he had been in before the alpha attacked him, there was no way he could've made it this far alone.

He still shouldn't be alone, but he had had no other options. Until now, maybe.

He gives pause when she speaks, swallowing thickly as he hesitates with his locked gun in his hand -- merely watching the matte silver against the moonlight and the dark contrast on his hands with the now drying blood against the cuticles of his fingernails. The corner of his lips twitched. He had admittedly been hurt when all contact with Blake ceased to nothing -- he knew about her parents' death, even if he did not know details. But if she had asked ... -- he would've come back home. And then -- perhaps, he would not have gotten injured. No ; he did not blame her for his injury -- he couldn't blame anyone but the unknown man with the gun. He just -- he would've liked to have been allowed to be there for her. Blake was one of the first real friends he had made when he came to the States, when he started in American schooling -- and he had managed to hold onto her until they graduated. Then they -- fell apart. And it hurt, to suddenly call upon no one and be alone. There was a fair amount of hurt and bitterness, but .. there was nothing that could be done about it now.

He assumed that somehow she had heard about his injury ; about his fall from grace -- since she had been so shocked that he was walking. And, that too had hurt -- that the only support he had had when relearning himself was his sister, with their mamá gone from their lives. And, this reluctance was visible against his features before he was slowly tucking his gun back into its holster -- swallowing hard. Silence, when he did not know what to say, was not uncommon. Trying to piece together one language or another and finding the right meaning. Eventually, he settled on a defeated, " -- it's the past, Blake."

Blake

She knew that their lack of contact had been her fault - it was easy to say that the road went both ways, but she did not blame him for anything. It had been her, and she had known that from the first moment she had picked up the phone wanting to tell him about something only to drop it. To tell herself that it was easier that way - that he could get through his deployment and find someone that would be good for him. Someone that would be able to open up to him. When her parents had died she'd wanted nothing but to call him, to ask him to come home - to help her - but she had been too scared. Too scared to admit what that meant, and too scared to break down around him and not be able to put herself back together.

Maybe he could have fought harder against her stubbornness - he knew she was stubborn, after all - but she would never blame him for it. It was never his fault and she couldn't blame him anymore than she could have convinced herself that it wasn't the right decision to let him go. Maybe it hadn't been - maybe if he'd come home he wouldn't have gotten hurt, but that had always been a thought on the assumption that he would have gone to her.

She had wanted to go to him when he'd been hurt, but her stubbornness was too much of a wall. Even now, it was her stubbornness that kept her shamed tears at bay as she stood before him, bringing her gaze to his timidly as he spoke. Not trusting herself to speak, Blake nodded, despite being unable to agree with him, watery eyes skittering away from his figure. A shaking breath escaped her as she bent down, rummaging in her bag for a second before she pulled out a package of wet wipes, holding them out to him, "For your nails," She cursed the way her voice shook as she spoke, gaze cast at her hand instead of him.

Marco

He wasn't even sure if he agreed with his own words -- a slight snuffle in the back of his throat as he was tugging a jacket out of his pack so that he could better layer up as the night sunk the torn apart earth into a colder state; pulling it up and over his shoulders and still avoiding her gaze, fighting to keep his mind from flickering back to the hurts of the past. It seemed, the summer after graduation was the last time that both of them were truly happy -- before the real world jerked the rug of reality from beneath their feet and left them reeling. Albeit, he would've liked to have helped her through it -- but, he was not going to push her. Especially in the wake of her parent's death. And by the time he had finally returned to Texas -- the combination of the death of Martina and his injury left a harsh and dark toil on his soul that scarred him from the inside out. Tumbling himself into a thorny depression that had been more difficult than anything else he had overcome to try and tread water with. But -- Blake did not have to know about his struggles past the surface value of his injury; and the cage of a metal wheelchair that he was able to leave back in New Mexico.

His gaze moved upwards, finally, when she offered him wet wipes for his hands -- letting out a breath as his hands fell away from his jacket to take them, "Thank you," he breathed, taking a few out of it. He shifted a little, moving so that he was sitting against the forest floor ( senses giving him the all clear for now, the only scent being her two allies a few yards out ). He began to work slowly at his nails, frowning deeply at the stench of it -- getting up and under his nails of each one. "This is why I prefer a gun ; less clean up, and less smell."

Blake

Blake knew that this was not a conversation that was over if they were going to make their way back to one another, but she wasn't so sure that it was one they could have yet. It wasn't the time, and certainly not the place, that could foster that kind of repair to their relationship. She knew that one day it might force its way from her because she couldn't stand the thought of being just the past to Marco, but that was only if he didn't move on - didn't decide that he could not stay in a place with someone who had abandoned him once. She couldn't begin to explain how much she had come to regret not calling him when her parents had died, and she wasn't sure she ever could.

When he sat, Blake took a second to listen closely before she too was sitting on the ground in front of her bag, pulling her jacket from it and tugging it around herself. As she tugged it on, she wiped at her eyes discretely before she zipped it up and tucked her hands into the pockets, finding some warmth there. She listened to his breathing and heart beat until he spoke, finally, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I have looked up and down for a silencer, but it seems most people agree with you."

Marco

He tried to think better on his species -- on what he was. It was not that he had anything against werewolves, or any other supernaturals for that matter. It was still slightly new to him, looking back on the rest of his life, but he could not harbor it in himself to bring dislike on the supernatural community ; especially since he was one of them. No, his bitterness about what he was ran much deeper than that. He felt ungrateful, almost, to whatever otherwordly forces might be at hand -- as, him being what he was was the only reason that he was still alive. He likely would've died on day one had he not been bitten. Albeit, it was a fact that he know merely accepted, cast once more upon the rungs of things that he could not change.

He was wiping at the palm of one hand before moving to the second -- giving a light and barely audible grunt of discomfort as he shifted where he sat; stretching his back before lulling back to a relaxed state -- as if it seemed to be aching. Albeit, the betrayal was fleeting and gone as quickly as it appeared. "I do not like getting close enough to them to use claws. It can be dangerous, especially alone." But, by the way he had been able to hone his fighting, it was clear that he had done so before. Likely more than once.

Blake

Blake listened for any intruders that may prove dangerous as they sat, though she finally allowed herself to just watch him. She was silent as she watched, taking in the ways his appearance had changed since their late teens when she had last seen him - realizing that it had been fifteen years since she'd last seen him. Since they'd been carefree teenagers, drinking cheap beer. Her brow furrowed as she watched him shift, seeming like he was in pain, though she said not a word about it. She had heard of wolves maintaining hints of their human ailments even in their supernatural state, and though she did not know if it was true, it made sense seeing his discomfort.

Her fingers worried at the fabric of her jacket, inside the pocket, "Yes, it can be." She nodded, sinking back into the quieter part of herself, the part that didn't have to fill the silences or overly elaborate. She had spent months alone, searching for James, and it had likely driven her a little insane. More often than not, she had run from the walkers. "With two it's not so bad though, so long as you're not too out-numbered."

Marco

His back did still occasionally give him issues -- typically its a burning and searing dull throb of an ache at the central point of where he knew the scar was. Like his body was reminding himself of the phantom pain of the battlefield, and reminding him of the crippling injury that he had managed to cheat after nearly a decade of it holding him hostage. Occasionally, it was worse. Sometimes in the dead of night, he would wake thinking that the bullet was once again embedded into his spine with the heart stopping pain that would spark its way through every bone in his body -- pushing like a wave through his system with the hauntingly familiar tingle of numbness from his waist down ; but, it never lasted long. It was a few heart beats of agony, even if it felt like more, until it was gone. And even so, that itself did not happen often -- and, he had tried to find the trigger for, but he had not been successful. The throbbing ache was much more common, albeit much easier to cope with.

And yet -- all of the above was still better than dealing with a life chained to a chair. All of the above, he could tolerate.

He had changed since his teenager years -- his face had clearly aged and grown sharper, his muscles filled out against his skin. His eyes somehow darker -- a thousand yard stare occasionally gracing them as he let his focus drift away and come back in. He adjusts the way he's sitting to ease the throb, moving one leg to stretch out beside him and covering up his subtle shift in posture by tugging his bag into his lap. "I had not had the ... pleasure of fighting with anyone but myself until now. It is much easier than having to try and watch my own back."

Blake

When he moves again, Blake is tugged away from the thought of asking him if he wanted to stay with their group back to the pain he seemed to be in. She noticed, despite him seeming to try to cover it up - mostly because she was so often covering up her emotions around this new group that Mac seemed determined to call pack. "Well I'll be happy to watch your back as long as you want," She murmured, worrying still at the fabric of her jacket. A beat passed before she was speaking again, "Does your back hurt?" She asked softly, eyes focused on him with a gentle concern traced into her brow.

She didn't like seeing him in pain, and she never had, even though their pain as teenagers had been... lesser. No less valid, but just not the same as it was now.

Marco

He lets out a soft noise that's almost of contentment when she offers to watch his back for as long as he wanted. He wanted that, he truly did. He missed the friendship that he and Blake had had as teenagers, even if he was not dense enough to believe that they could ever go back to the carefree kids that they used to be. They were not children, and had been been for a long time. Life had beaten it out of him. At this point in his life, he could scarcely remember the swell of rebellion he had felt in his younger days. Albeit, he had gotten to a point where that was difficult ; traveling alone up until this point and running himself thin. Even still, he wasn't sure he could face walking away from Blake -- and being alone again. He wasn't sure which scared him more. Scared him -- That was new. He doesn't remember feeling true terror since being overseas.

She was speaking, asking him about his back, and his gaze rose. He gives a small smile that's empty, "Sore," he admitted quietly. "It's not that bad, it likely doesn't help that I've been on my feet for fifteen hours by this point. Can't cheat everything, I suppose." He gestured with a hand to his lower back, "It is still there .. -- the bullet wound. But the soreness, the ache, it is nothing. Don't worry."

Blake

The noise that escaped him warmed her heart, her expression softening that much more as she took that as a good sign. One that might allow her to make amends for how she had left their friendship. The thought of him leaving, of her never being able to make up for the way she'd just let him go, how she'd not been there for him, hurt. He hadn't even been alive in her mind not three hours earlier, and now here he was - alive as ever, tormenting her with memories that had been stuffed away haphazardly to keep herself sane. She didn't know if she could lose him again, despite the guilt she felt with him around.

Her expression, though still soft, showed concern as he spoke. Her eyes followed his hand, though she could not see his back or the scar that was evidently supposed to be there, and she found herself lacking in words. Of course she would worry, despite his insistence not to. Biding her time, she stood, shrugging her pack on before she walked over and held her hand out to him. "You know, saying not to worry will usually make someone worry more." She told him softly, wiggling her fingers just the slightest in her offer to get him on his feet, "I know you probably don't want to be on your feet, but we have a camp not far from here and it's getting darker by the second. We can talk while we walk, and then you can sleep." She told him gently, because while she could sit and talk to him for hours, she did not want to die in the process.

Marco

Perhaps he was being selfish to himself ; allowing himself to remain in her presence. Whatever they truly had been -- or could've been -- in high school was long past. They were both adults who had taken different paths, and somehow ended back up at a crossroads together all over again. If Marco was a man of any kind of faith, he would've called it fate, but he did not believe in such. Martina had been a woman of high faith in the Catholic belief. But, she understood that sometimes her beliefs were not her children's. And while he could tell that she was disappointed when Marco eventually began to negate going to services, she eventually stopped pushing him. Martina wanted nothing more for him and Shilo if not their happiness. Marco had been truly blessed by her, and the chasm left behind from her death would likely never heal. Especially after the Army, he could not find it in himself to believe in a higher power -- after the terrors that he was forced to see.

He laughs softly at her comment, tipping his head to the side with a small smirk that was almost an echo of his adolescent days. Almost, even if there was something lacking that one could not quite put a finger on. "¿No confías en mí?" he asked with a teasing tone -- now that he was under the assumption that she at least understood Spanish. He did not want her to worry for him -- it was just an ache. It was nothing compared to the decade in his chair, without any use or feeling in them. He could walk, and he could fight. That was all he could've hoped for.

Albeit, he was taking the offer of her hand -- grunting slightly as he took one stumbling step forward to level himself, frowning as one hand tugged his bag onto his shoulder, his other rubbing into the soreness of his lower back and letting his hand fall away. "Lead the way, then."

Blake

It was easy to see the Marco she remembered when he looked at her like that, a soft challenge in his eyes that had always driven her mad, his accompanying teasing tone drawing an exasperated smile from her that was reminiscent of the way they had interacted when they were younger. "You shouldn't even have to ask me that," She responded simply, of course she trusted him. Even now, grown and hardened in a way that she had never hoped to see him be, she could see in him what she'd trusted so much when they were younger. He had a good heart, and she didn't think that much could change that in him, not when he could still smirk at her like that despite the way she had likely hurt him.

Worrying was her way of caring, just as protecting was. She knew that for him it was likely nothing, but to be a werewolf and be hurting was something else. She helped him to his feet, free hand moving to his shoulder to steady him as he took a stumbled on instinct. She took a step back when he seemed balanced, letting her hand fall from his chest as she turned, "For the record, I do. Trust you." She spoke as she started walking, voice quiet enough that it would not attract unwelcome visitors. "That's the second and last time you'll hear me say that today, too."

Marco

It was nice -- even if it was fleeting -- to feel a bit of familiarity in his bones in their interaction, his smile softening for a quick beat before he was hauling himself to his feet with a little bit of effort. There was, admittedly, an ache in his chest still harbored from Blake abandoning him -- but lingering on this pain was not going to do him any good except for cause more pain ; he had more than enough pain and darkness to last him a lifetime.

He could tell that she was worried, and he longed to try and find a way to ease that worry ; but, if she was anything like he remembered, she wouldn't have any of it. So, he bit his tongue and swallowed any of his arguments. There was a meek expression hidden somewhere behind his lashes before he was regaining his barrings and balance, the former soldier taking a breath as he let the ache roll down his spine until it was categorized into a space that he could ignore ; following her at this point. One hand tucked into his jacket pocket, the other loose at his side in case he needed to draw his gun for any reason.

He met her pace easily, casting his eyes down on her with an unreadable expression. "It's been ... over a decade since you have seen me." It was not an argument, but merely a question of confusion. "And you are still so sure that you -- ...?" His words trailed off, his meaning lost in translation, but his point gotten across well enough.

Blake

While Blake could see the younger Marco that she had known so well, she also saw a soldier in him, in the way he let his shoulders roll as he breathed - she could only guess that he was tucking away his pain much like she tucked away her emotions. She was accustomed to this type of prioritizing, she saw it most days when she had been working, even in her partner. Without much physical pain, Blake did not display this action the same way - it was generally accompanied with some sort of glazed over look, or hiding her gaze from view. Or hiding herself from view. It was not the physical pain that ailed Blake, though.

"If you had changed enough to become the type of person that I would not trust, I don't think you would be questioning me like that." She glanced over to him, her expression gentle, though her smile hid itself away as she glanced over his expression. No, she didn't think that he had changed so much that she could not trust him. "Do you think I shouldn't trust you?" She questioned, her smile quirking the corners of her lips as she focused her gaze ahead of them again.

Marco

He found himself wondering what parts of her were the same -- and what had changed. What had she been forced to build walls around ; what parts of herself was she forced to recede inwards? Parts that he remembered enjoying when he was younger? With bright eyes and a bright smile with discount beer in one hand and his other arm draped carelessly over her shoulder -- some music in the background that stuck in his head like a splinter, even if he didn't know the words. Or the name of it. Memories that he had tucked away long ago, constantly egging itself to the forefront of his mind.

Especially now.

His eyes darted back over to hers, chuckling lightly as a smile pulled at the corner of his lips and his eyes crinkled for a breath, "I am an alpha werewolf, and you are a fox. Isn't there ... some kind of instinctual lines to be crossed there?" he asked asking with a playful tip of his brow.

Blake

She laughed with his words, a soft noise that she quickly stifled, trying to keep quiet. "I'm not species-ist." She teased, words light in a way that could only mean she was teasing. No, years of him being her one friend in high school could not be erased so easily - of him being the one boy not to take advantage of her and leave her, to not try to turn her into something she was not. He had accepted her, for all of her anger and more, something that she was still hard-pressed to find in her thirties.

"Us foxes are only really dissuaded by disrespect." She told him, in way of a real explanation, "Especially where our families are concerned. That's part of why I've always been so protective of James," Though her voice caught on his name, she was better at swallowing the pain - the pain of separation that cut through her like fire each time she spoke his name, or each time it lingered on someone else's lips in her presence. She didn't think he was dead, she couldn't feel it and that was the one thing that kept her going, the knowledge that maybe he wasn't dead. Maybe she would find him again. She'd found him once, after months. She had to have hope. Her expression fell with the thought, smile thinning into a frown as she listened for any walkers that may be nearby. They seemed thankfully scarce.

Marco

He chuckles again quietly at her words -- shaking his head ever so slightly, "That's a relief to hear," he breathed, a small smile still tugging at his lips as he continued to easily match her gait. "I can't say that there is much I know about the ... way all of it works, when it comes to dynamics between supernaturals of the same species, or even different. I've ran into few and far between wolves since I left New Mexico ; and I was bitten on Day One, I don't have any kind of experience prior to any of this." He shrugs one shoulder, letting out a breath.

Albeit, he heard her voice crack and he was looking to her when she spoke about James, "I'm ... sorry. I assume you have lost him?" Again, possibly misuse of words, but she always seemed to be able to see through it. Lost in the same way he had lost Shilo, not in the way of ... -- "I haven't seen Shilo since before any of this began. She was still back home, in Texas, when it started -- and I was living on my own in New Mexico. I should've -- " he cursed bitterly under his breath in his native language before speaking again, "I should've listened to her, when she asked me to stay with her. I just -- I wanted some kind of independence, and I was foolish enough to think that that independence was over a hundred miles away at a job that would actually take me."

Blake

"Trust me, I've been just making up my own rules as I go," She laughed softly, "I hadn't had much experience with other supernaturals until my parents..." She didn't finish the sentence, knowing too well what the last two words would bring to her mind, already muddled with thoughts of James and the others missing. "The group that we're with, I think there's just about anything you could imagine there... so I don't think it's much of a problem for anyone." It seemed the werewolves were the only ones with problems, to her. Not that it was any help for Marco, then.

Her nod was tight, brief, the way her jaw tightened more than a clear indication, "We were forced to move from where we'd been staying, and we were all separated. Scott and Jackson, the two you saw earlier, are the only two that I could find.. I don't know where James is." Her stomach knotted to say it, "I looked for him for months and I just found him. And now he's gone again." A breath forced its way from her lungs, eyes stinging with tears of frustration and exhaustion that she couldn't let fall.

With his words about Shilo, it was easier to shy away from the pain of losing James. She glanced to him, only for a second, eyes watery as she looked back at the ground ahead of them. "You couldn't have known that any of this was going to happen. None of us could have, it wasn't like there was some countdown for it, or some prophecy." She sucked a breath in, steadying herself a little further. "I was lucky enough to be going to visit James when it all happened, I got off the plane and there the shit-storm was," Blake rubbed her fingers together in her pockets, anxiety building up at just the memory. "His house was already empty, he and Grant and the kids were all gone. I uh -" She hesitated, "I went to your house, after, but it was empty too. Shilo's scent was the only one of yours that I found, and it was older than any of the looters that had been there. Maybe she's still safe." She wouldn't admit directly that she hadn't known that he'd moved, would never admit that she had gone to try to make up for everything - to hopefully help the two of them.

Marco

Blake spoke of a larger group than just the two she had lingering at camp -- and he found himself wondering just how many people it included; and how many of them were still around. If they were to be found -- and what happened to make all of them flee their old shelter. But, he bit his tongue on the regard. The tone was shifting to something more serious, and those other mountains of questions could wait until later. He did not plan on going anywhere any time soon -- he was not, in fact, strong enough to go back out on his own.

"Jackson and Scott -- Scott is the werewolf then, yes?" he asks, dying down then to let her continue. His gaze softened significantly, knowing her pain of losing James all too well, "I am ... sorry about James, Blake," he breathed, nothing but sincerity in his tone before he was reaching out for her hand ; merely to give it a soft squeeze and then letting his hand fall back away. If he scent the tears unfallen in her eyes, he didn't speak of it.

His jaw then clenched when she spoke about Shilo and the house, swallowing so hard that it hurt and turning his gaze away from her, " -- Shilo was the only one who lived there. She had ... girlfriends, and guy friends, and such -- " Shilo had always made friends more easily than he had. "But, she lived alone. Our -- Martina passed away right before I was discharged from the military." Just more sand added to the heaviness of his heart. But, he did find a small inkling of relief in her words -- this at least meant Shilo left willingly, on her own accord. But to where?

Blake

Blake knew that he would have questions for her, many that she wouldn't be able to answer well - she hadn't made a habit of getting to know the others well. She left that to James, Grant, and Mac. They were the sweet ones, the social ones. Instead she drank alcohol with Melissa, bonding with her over a mutual loss of whatever life they had had - though, Melissa's had seemed much more upside down than Blake's. Many of the others were much too young for her, anyways.

"He's the alpha of the pack," She nodded, telling him purely to prepare him for whatever show of poor masculinity Scott may try to show over him. She was on rocky ground with him enough, she wasn't sure bringing another alpha into the mix would bode well for her, but she didn't care - Marco was too important. While his words provided some small comfort to her, it was the soft squeeze of his warm fingers that had her squeezing her eyes shut, a few tears falling in spite of herself. She sucked in a breath when his fingers left hers, forcing her tears back because she wasn't sure she would be able to stop them if she let it go any longer.

"I heard, I'm so sorry." She breathed, this time finding it her turn to give his fingers a gentle squeeze, her own fingers quickly retreating afterwards. Blake felt worse each second she thought about it, he had lost his mobility and his mother, and she hadn't so much as called him. She hadn't known how. How could she have approached him in whatever state he was in - if she had gone to him, would he have even wanted her there? She looked down, reaching up quickly to wipe at her damp cheeks. "You just have to hope that she's safe. Like I did with James."

Marco

He was nodding slowly when Blake told him that Scott was the alpha of the pack. He felt no threat to this, personally. Marco had no pack -- and, up to this point anyway, he truly had no desire for one. The alpha inside of him might, but -- with the years spent in service learning to stone his emotions, it was easy for Marco to ignore the wolf's desires. "Can they be trusted?" he was then asking, "The whole of them -- Scott's ... pack? I am assuming that Jackson and Scott are going to want to find them. When they do, is it safe?" he asked.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, a painful swell in his heart when she apologized and gave his hand a touch of comfort in response like had done with her. The hardest part had been going through all of his trails mostly alone. Mostly. Shilo, barely an adult by the time he had returned from the services -- and mourning Martina as well -- had put her life on hold for him. He owed his sister everything ; he couldn't just -- "Shilo is a smart girl," he started, his voice thick with deeper emotions that he tried to keep a tight leash on, smoothing a hand over his face, "She -- She had somewhere set in her mind to go when all of it went bad. She --- has to be safe. Somewhere."

Blake

"They are mostly quite young," Blake answered, "But they're not bad people - just very protective of their own. My niece has become one of their own, so I think we can trust them." She had agonized over placing her trust in the small group, with their problems, especially seeing as they seemed to attract danger. Ultimately, it had come down to the many people in that pack that had risked their lives for Mac - and the couple that had lost them. She thought them young and volatile, at best, but they had good hearts. It was enough for now.

Blake tucked her hand into her pocket, looking up to see that they were quite close now to the camp - good, considering that they were losing the last of their light. "I have no doubt that Shilo is. She's always been smart." Blake offered him a small smile, though she knew it could not comfort him too much, not from the thickness of his voice. She longed to wrap an arm around him and tell him that she was there for him like she would have when they were younger, like she always had when he was sad, but the gap between them was too large after so long. So she walked, eyes ahead of them, trying to ignore the way her heart hurt as he rubbed his face.

Marco

He nods. Just as she continued to place trust in him, he would return this in kind and place trust in her. If she trusted the pack well enough to continue to stay with them -- to accept that her niece was one of them -- then Marco would do so as well. If they took him at all ; he was unsure of this, but he would likely find out soon enough -- since she happened to be with the alpha of the aforementioned pack. Marco was not interested in a power play, and he did not want to try and take the leadership of the pack away from the young Scott. He just wanted to continue to survive. And no longer be alone.

He sighs, the noise broken as he drops his eyes to where his feet were falling -- his high strung emotions making him struggle to try and keep himself from completely withdrawing into himself. "I don't -- " he starts, and his voice broke -- brows furrowing in as he gave a frustrated noise and shook his head. When he was quite young, when his emotions would become too high strung -- such as when Antonio passed away -- he struggled to find meaning to words. Struggled with the barrier between Spanish and English until it became a muddled mess in his mind, "No creo que pudiera desnudarla si encontré su cuerpo. O, peor aún, si la encontraba como una de esas cosas. No sé qué haría yo."

Blake

It was something that she had considered - the possibility of Scott turning Marco away for being an alpha. While she would not expect anything from the younger alpha, she wasn't sure that she could stick around knowing that she had let them turn Marco away. It was hard to think about, knowing that her family had found a home among this pack and while they were home to her, so was Marco. Maybe home after fifteen years of not visiting, but that didn't change enough to make enough of a difference. Perhaps Scott would respect that.

When he spoke to her in Spanish, she knew that there was a much deeper meaning to it - it was not just an inability to find the right words in English. It was his emotions, likely struggling to drown him the way hers did whenever she thought of James dying. She couldn't stop herself, this time - it didn't feel right to stop herself - as she grabbed his wrist and stopped him, pulling him close for a hug, slowly in case it wasn't what he wanted. "It's gonna be okay, Marco." She told him, softly, her heart tight with the pain of seeing him so sad. She didn't want to see Shilo hurt, and she'd always been grateful that the younger woman had not been in her home when she'd gone to look for them.

Marco

Her touch made his breath start and his dazed thoughts come to a halt -- brows twisting inwards as he stopped walking at her prompting and looked to her. His eyes were misty, but he still had enough handle on himself to keep them from breaching his lids. Her scent draws closer to him as she slowly embraces him, and a soft and pitiful noise is barely audible in the back of his throat. He snaked both arms around her shoulders and hide his crumbled expression against her shoulder -- losing touch on his composure for just a beat due to the familiar touch that he had not known for fifteen years.

"It has to be," he whispered against her, tightening fingers into the material of her clothing to keep her there for a few moments longer ; letting it sate the loneliness he had felt in the time he had been alone and wandering. His wolf, too -- somehow -- felt the comfort and the warmth just as he did. Just was softly, and just as warmly.

"It is --" he stopped voice breaking, and he started over and tried again, "I am glad you found me, Blake. Thank you.

Blake

Blake felt tears threatening her lids in response to the noise that barely left him, reflexively smoothing her fingers along the back of his neck in response, heart skipping a beat at the pain and the relief the contact brought her. She tucked her cheek against his head, closing her eyes against the tears that his sadness seemed to be trying to coax from her. Not one to cry, though, Blake sucked in a breath - she had already cried more in front of him than nearly anyone else in the last several months - save for James and Grant.

There was no protest from her when his fingers tucked into her clothing, keeping her from moving - she would have pulled away, unsure of the way the comfort made her feel, but at least this way she was allowed to seek his touch for a few moments more. She knew that it was going to be okay - if she had found James and somehow, magically, Marco in this whole mess then it had to be okay. She was a pessimist through and through, but these things were too big to ignore.

When his voice broke, her fingers instinctively smoothed along the back of his neck again. "It feels more like it was you who found me," She breathed, her own voice thick with emotion.

#[ // chatzy ]#[ // chatzy : marco ]#[ // char : THERE'S SOMETHING SO RARE IN YOUR VEINS ( marco ) ]

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