F U C K.

there’s a couple of big differences between jess and wendigo, but one that’s very important to me is the fact that jess is very touch reluctant — she’s awkward with it and often finds it uncomfortable, even if she’s close with a person, and will likely only seek out human contact when a) she’s trying desperately to sooth someone else, despite it making her very uncomfortable, b) she’s very very close with that person and they worked up to it or c) she’s drunk. 

look tall | accepting | @safefromsin

look tall | accepting | @dcputyrook

    Staci honestly wished that he could have argued against what Jess had said. If she let him go, he would have been running to hell and back just to get away from her. Instead of refuting it, he stayed straightfaced, not willing to lie and say he wouldn’t run.

    Once again, she was right. He was fatigued. He was dehydrated. He was starving. He was in a shitty state and she called him right out for it. Just like how she gave him a condescending look, he gave her the opposite, eyes full of shame as she looked up to him.

    “Don’t rub in the fact I’m starving unless you plan on giving me food and water. That’s the easiest way to get me to trust you.” He looked down at the ground and then back up to Jess. 

    “Wh-Why are people after me? I’m not special. I’m not one of a kind. There’s no reason to search for me.”

     Dark eyes — all light gone from them, only the animal left, a smart creature, but a beast nevertheless — settle on him and she shrugs. The motion breaks out of her other behavior entirely.

           "Yeah, sure. You can have something to drink now and food when it stays in."

     She's honest about it — it's just that he's asking all the wrong questions. She could, if she wanted to, pour so much bliss into fresh water it'll kill him (or just enough to be docile) and he'd down it right now in his state; but that'd be something humans do to each other. It's nothing that would fit her.

     Tongue clicking, she does get up, makes a half turn near dancing.

           "Oh, you haven't noticed? Poor baby. Poor poor Staci."

    “I don’t…” Sara says, and she takes a risk in moving closer to Jess, close enough so she can lean forward to rest her forehead on the other woman’s shoulder. She’ll move if the contact makes Jess uncomfortable, but her exhaustion is dragging her down, and she’s not willing to go back to sleep. Not when she knows what’s waiting for her there. “Then I guess it’s settled… You’re stuck with me for the night.” 

           "Guess I am."

     It's awkward, this — and she is aware that's mostly her own fault. When she reaches out, with the very same awkwardness, one arm loosely draped over Sara's shoulders. For her sake, Jess wishes she was someone else — someone who would actually be able to help properly, someone who understands all these things.

           "It's not a problem, you know."

     Softly. She means it — even if she's horrible at it.