Heavy is the crown...

Taking an empty table at Merlotte’s, Peter looked over the menu lazily. He already knew what he wanted, but wanted to kill time by reminding himself what they offered. When approached by a waitress, Peter offered a charming smile. “I promise I’m a good tipper, so please bare with me,” he jested. “One order of each item in this menu for exception of the desserts and a tall glass of the coldest milk you got,” he ordered as if it wasn’t the most bizarre order anyone had ever placed.

Looking between the waitress and a curious patron on the booth next to his, Peter furrowed his brow. “What? I’m good for it! I can pay in advance.” Had Merlotte’s been having issues with dine and dashers? Of all the thoughts that ran through Peter’s head, he never thought of the possibility that he was the weird one in the situation.

Meredith blinked some unsure of where this line of questioning was even coming from. “Well to be honest I’m surprised they haven’t approached you yet. They certainly didn’t waste much time after my father. I didn’t expect the Council to be upfront with me about everything and they haven’t. They like to compartmentalize a lot. It normally doesn’t bother me unless they do something stupid.” Her thoughts went to the previous event and she shook her head becoming somewhat annoyed

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“Yea, same,” Peter admitted, having been very insulted---as he had shown with his outburst during the latest fundraiser. “Then again, I’m Peter. You know how this goes,” he reminded her with a wink. People didn’t like him---with reason, but he was still going to whine about it. 

       “—No, not getting any death feelings or seeing your death , so you can relax .” Lydia assured him . Although she hadn’t been doing much in preventing death from happening to others in bon temps . Part of her wanted to yet another wished she wasn’t involved . 

       “ I saw you… change .” She tried to use a better word from what she saw him do . Shift ? alter ? morph ? Whatever . “ From something so … big to your size. Although, you’re pretty tall and big right now . first time seeing it . Sort of always knew there was more to the world than just vampires. “ 

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Peter chuckled when the Banshee assured his Death wasn’t near. Although having caught the primordial being’s scent early on in town, the werewolf couldn’t help being a little worried. 

As Lydia seemed to struggle with having seen him, Peter realized that perhaps the Banshee wasn’t as used to their world as he’d first believed. His suspicions were confirmed as she spoke. Of course, Peter’s shifted form wasn’t exactly... orthodox, it shouldn’t had surprised him she was confused. “Ah, I see.... Well, glad we had that experience together. Hope it was as good for you as it was for me,” the werewolf teased. “I do have to burst your bubble further: there’s a lot more. I will admit though... I didn’t expect to be your first,” he teased again. “But I’m fine. Doesn’t really hurt.”

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Cora watches him without budging from her spot,    the Hale name is notorious,  but Peter Hale has always been more comfortable with his title than she has.   She is still testing out the waters,    still trying her hand at being around people   -   rather than in the desert like she’s been used to for over six years.  She crosses her arms against her chest with a roll of her eyes,  ‘   So you’re keeping information from me out of pettiness?   Glad to see you haven’t changed.  ‘  Voice steady,   but lingers in between grief and bitterness.   She’s unsure when this anger had bloomed inside of her,  but it had always been there.   Stored right beneath her rib cage,   growing larger each day.   Shoulders slack,   only by an inch,   a subtle gesture of submission that one wouldn’t normally notice  -   but anyone with a wolf eye could.  ‘   Come on.   We can grab something to eat,    or whatever.   ‘ 

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When asked to verbally confirm that he was keeping information out of pettiness, Peter remained silent. As he had expected, however, Cora didn’t truly need the confirmation---it had literally been what he had done. When told he hadn’t changed, however, Peter allowed himself to chuckle openly. If she only knew... Perhaps he hadn’t changed much, but Peter had indeed changed---and for the worst.

Hiding under his comforter, he sensed her move in place. The invitation shifting the tension. For a moment, he laid still as he attempted to figure out why the interaction reminded him so much of Home. Standing up, Peter went to the worn dresser and threw the first polo he found over his tank top. “Yea, I’m hungry. Sausage omelet?” the older werewolf questioned as he walked past the youngest Hale. “Or you want to go out, have something delivered?” 

She was just about to call for the nearest nurse when she felt him grab her. “Peter..” She frowned and turned around, seeing that his broken arm was the one stretched out at the moment. Her lips parted to fuss at him but paused at his question. “The Council, yea.. why?”

It’d been a while since Meredith calling his name had caused the werewolf goosebumps. Even then, all it caused was Peter tensing up as he prepared to be scolded again. However, her tone of voice shifted when the questioning turned to the Town Council and Peter had to literally control himself not to smirk. “I’m going to petition my place in it next week... But I wanted to ask if you hadn’t noticed anything bizarre,” he started. “Any topics that didn’t specifically sound strange but you had issues completely understanding? ... Any secret meetings that excluded other members... or even you?”

       Lydia had been wondering what exactly was he and she didn’t out right wanted to say werewolf . “ Lydia ,” She said her name so he didn’t have to keep calling her miss . “ and im fine and … my senses are fine  . “ Well, as fine as it is for a banshee . “ Thanks for the help and shirt and letting me use your shower and hot milk.” She said apologetically . Shes been on edge especially what she felt .. 

      “Are you okay ?” After all , to turn from something that big into human … he was still a pretty big guy but that werewolf was bigger . 

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The werewolf nodded when the banshee finally introduced herself. “Peter,” he offered in return out of courtesy. However, his sense of smell caused him not to really believe her words when Lydia stated she was fine. Not that he was going to argue with her, after all, she was a stranger. And, in all honesty, hindering him in his own plots as he was forced to play Good Samaritan. 

“Don’t mention it,” he hurried to say when she began thanking him. Last thing he needed was word of his alleged good deeds spreading around Bon Temps. Although perhaps, it would come in handy as eyes would turn to Lydia as locals wondered what Peter hoped to gain from his kindness... Especially when his interest laid in someone else’s prowess.

It did take him aback when she asked if he was ok. So much so, that he paused and---this time---, actually looked at the banshee as if she’d grown a second head. “... Yea, why wouldn’t I be?” he questioned. “Don’t tell me you’re getting death-vibes,” he tried to jest.

    “ Yeah , I don’t really care about how you woke up or need a life story on it .” Nikki mused as tapped on her leg for her dog to get close to her and she placed her hand on his head . “ and you killed your niece . What else shall we point out ?“ She was touchy when it came to Anubis . 

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Although her first rude words made him chuckle to himself with amusement, the mention of Laura Hale’s death caused him to pause. A threatening growl vibrated in his chest as he scanned their surroundings. “How about some truth for starters? You don’t know me, I don’t know you. Speak about my dead niece again and come at me with halfassed accusations and your stinky dog isn’t going to be the only dead thing on this sidewalk,” the werewolf warned. 

⸻

The bloodline is not sated with their sacrifices. It is a hungry lineage that remains empty and unfed, hopeful for any meaty substance that will replace all primitive desires to rule. A long road loomed ahead of Cora and she felt that the further she trudged down it, the emptier the landscape became. There were no longer any rolling green hills nor any babbling brooks. There’s only dust and dirt, perhaps even some bodies buried underneath the quiet tire trails marking an old path. She is committing to the same mistakes as her ancestors, but still the song continues - still, she is eager for her finality. The response irks her, and like anything surrounding her uncle it bred distrust. A cynicism that ran deep along her jawline as it snapped her mouth together and then parts it with a swift force. ‘The past should matter. If it didn’t then what war would be fighting?’ A pause in breath, movement paused as she sharpens her glare at him. The gesture is similar to that of an interrogator with a continuous criminal. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’ Hand waving in a half-circle with an absent dedication, head shaking slightly while she seems to physically and verbally reject the nickname. ‘It’s Cora[…]and you have no idea what I do and don’t understand. You don’t get to choose my worth to my namesake.’

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“I swear, push a few kids off the slide, kill a few frogs and you get labelled a psychopath,” he ranted with a roll of his eyes and a sigh, a statement obviously constructed to provoke his youngest niece. “Family shouldn’t be at war with each other though... I think we can credit your mother with that quote.” A smug smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. “Everything,” he answered as he was asked what he was keeping to himself. “I’m not telling anything to someone who barged into what was meant to be my safe space and belittled me.” Especially now that Talia was gone... taking her leash with her.

Meredith shook her head. She wasn’t about to go back and forth with him about this. “Lucky its only a broken arm. And yes. I want to make sure the break isn’t too bad.” She paused and looked at him. “Can you hang out with me while you wait? Peter this isn’t the dmv.” Glancing at him with slight confusion she stepped out to find a nurse so that she could get him into xray quick. 

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Humans got a little weird about injuries, or so Peter thought from his high horse with his healing abilities. Rolling his eyes as a sigh escaped his lips, Peter allowed Meredith to scold him. The werewolf rolled his eyes again as Doctor Fell refused to listen to him. However, as she went to step out, Peter reached out with his injured arm and grabbed her as he allowed himself to heal lightly. although he preferred to bring people into their world by hunting them and forcing the Bite onto them, he had no real time to lose. Meredith was a Fell to top it off, the fact that she remained ignorant to what lurked in the shadows was comical at best. “Since Talia, no Hale has sat on the Council... Have you?” he questioned.

THE AIR around Sophie-Anne was always light and fluttery, unless you took into context the powerful vampires whom she surrounded herself with. Their aura—unlike her own—was tinged with servitude and absolute fealty to their queen. If someone as much as looked at her sideways, they’d have their head on a pike. Perhaps that’s why Sophie-Anne’s demeanor was always so relaxed, even in the presence of those who outmatched her in strength. Settling her eyes on Peter, her current audience, she could feel his warmth fill up the room. Weres always ran hotter than humans and compared to a vampire they felt like they were boiling. His scent was wild, but not savage; more of a refined woodsy scent that elated the queen’s sensitive nostrils. “Looking handsome as always,” she smiled, though her fangs remained retracted. 

Her cheeky smile soon dialed down by his words and a serious expression moved to her features. Crossing her legs and sitting up straighter, full attention was placed on her guest. In the corner of her eye she could see Sigebert and Wybert shift. It took a lot to make her frazzled and as Peter went on with his explanation, a smile returned to her lips and a wave of curiosity engulfed her. “Witches playing their tricks again—her in Bon Temps? Interesting,” she cooed. Although she didn’t personally care for witches, she had possessed one as a lover a century or two ago. 

As Peter went on with his explanation her engrossment increased. Politely she waited for him to pause before a series of questions would spring forth from her crimson lips. “It appears the witches want absolute chaos to ensue! What do you think their endgame is? Besides insatiable thirst, how else are vampires affected?” So many questions but those would suffice as a start.

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“You humble me, your Excellency,” Peter said in acceptance of her flattery out of pure cordiality. Lied, in fact, since it didn’t humble him, but it fed his ego. Oddly, Peter did not feel out of place nor threatened---even knowing the probability that the vampire queen actually trusted him was very low. Perhaps another sentiment he did not share with his brethren was their absurd hatred of vampires. Then again, Peter hated everyone equally... Everyone but himself.

When asked how else vampires specifically had been affected, Peter took a breath as he focused to bring back the vivid memories recorded in the endless abyss that was his sharp mind. "Uncontrollable thirst and hallucinations that pushed them into a feral state were the two symptoms I encountered in vampires," was all he had for her. "Although there's a possibility entering this feral state depended on the individual and the type of hallucination they had been under."

“There’s rumors that the Founding Families are to blame for the attack,” he stated, obviously insulted by the accusation. “Although I guess the Hales are no longer considered an active Founding Family since most of us were burned alive and all.” A bitter smile tugged at the corners of his lips. In fact, now that he stopped and thought on it: was she calling because she suspected him? “I will be claiming the Hale seat on the council to keep a closer look at the other families,” he shared, thinking the promise would move him further into the Vampire Queen’s favor. Although the werewolf knew the mere promise might not get him much more than pressure.

Chances weren’t something that he was going to occupy his brain with. Everything was a chance. Being struck by lightning was still possible, so he wasn’t going to avoid the world because of something that could happen. Surprisingly, the more that Peter told him the calmer her got. It should have been the opposite. Yet thinking about how people he knew were probably supernatural creatures, more than just McCall and his weird breakfast club, was worrisome. 

He nodded slightly, knowing that the fangers could be dangerous even if he didn’t know much about sirens. Jackson had seen them out in daylight, grew up with them, so he was sure that they weren’t a vampire. At least that was one item that they could check off of their list. “Like you said, I’m just going to have to not take it the wrong way. They have me in their corner and who knows, maybe they’ll be able to help both of us in the future. They scratch our back and we scratch theirs.” If there was one thing Jackson was good at, it was seeing how people were going to benefit him. 

“No getting shot, got it.“ Now humans were something he had to worry about when just last month he was a human too? He took in a deep breath while he thought about a plan. Jackson pushed some of the hair away from his face, running his hand through it. “I think we can use the fact that the curse or whatever didn’t initially effect me.“ He nodded as if he was approving his own plan. “I’m going to ask them to train me if I come across one, saying I got attacked that night and want a chance to be able to defend myself. Then I’ll report back with anything I find.“

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The more time Peter spent with Jackson, the better he liked the younger man---and the more that his ego feasted on having picked him. As he stated he saw the logic in Peter’s words and added his rationalization, Peter nodded with improvement. He loved realistic individuals.

Peter paused, looking Jackson over for a moment as he pondered on whether they should do a test run by breaking a limb. Peter did have some spare vampire blood in case Jackson needed a quick healing, but ultimately he decided to do research before making decisions. “We gotta get you walking before you go running,” he tried to soften the blow. “We can focus on getting you to transform fully before we start training.” One bridge at a time.

As Jackson agreed to attempt to infiltrate the hunters, Peter nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on you from afar. And always remember to call me if anything happens,” Peter stressed yet again. “Although I do recommend to start grip exercises so that you measure your strength. Practice it until it’s acceptable by human standards,” he advised. “And don’t lose your temper. You’re the one in control, no matter the situation---remember that,” Peter advised.

“I’m sure you are the only one who thinks so.” A slight smile formed on her face  as she shook her head. “Name one friend you have. I’ll wait.” Her gaze turned back to the water and she took a deep breath. With his question she took a few moments to figure out an answer. “If this is a spell… I don’t think this is one person doing this. To be able to affect the entire supernatural population, it takes too much power, too much energy for one person. And it would be easier to find out if it was more. “ Arlene paused her thoughts going back to the teachings of Ms. Shelia. She should really go and visit her old mentor “But anything is possible. It can even be a spelled object.”

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“Nah, you all are just too proud to admit someone you dislike it’s hilarious,” the werewolf goaded with a smirk. “I have too many. I rather give no names so nobody gets jealous,” Peter jested with an amused chuckle. 

As the witch looked back towards the water, Peter took a moment to scan their surroundings, disguising it as a deep breath and his gaze following hers. He stayed stoic as she spoke, his brain soaking up the information like a sponge. Unconsciously relaxing, the werewolf nodded slowly. He couldn’t think of how an object could be causing it all, but his attention definitely turned to his fellow townsfolk of the Founding Families. “You know? Ever since I was little, I loved running through these woods.... They were more of a home than Home...” He paused, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Late at night, at the edge of town, fog forms up in a way that is both: enticing and hair-raising... You should go check it out sometime, if you want. Although I wouldn’t go by myself,” he advised with a secretive smirk, now, gaze fixed on Arlene.

@haledownthemoon

After a chuckle at his nephew’s expense, Peter sighed as he buried his phone in his back back pocket once more. While he had told Derek that he’d been at the Hale House---or what was left of it---l, the truth was a little more skewed. Exiting the Hale Vault, Peter decided to pause his investigation to meet with the younger Hale. Taking full advantage of his enhanced speed, the older werewolf hurried towards the remains of their home. Once there, he awaited in the shadowy bowels of what they’d call home and turned into their Hell. 

When Derek’s scent reached him, Peter moved to what had once been a porch. “Welcome back home!” he greeted.