escape reality

The second Isaac felt James move, and an unfamiliar presence standing over them, the beta jumped awake, eyes flashing gold. His grip was tight around the toddler, alarmingly overprotective; it was only the woman’s quick apology and his own sleep haze that prevented him from throwing her away from them. It wasn’t a situation he’d found himself in before, one which clearly triggered an instinct Isaac wasn’t aware he had, so as he composed himself, he put his own hand up in apology. She’d been no threat, but the question as to what he’d have done if she had been played on his mind in those few moments, as he adjusted. He realised then that there was no limit to what he’d do to protect James, and despite how obvious that was, his body was now aware of the physicality of it.

Funnily, Riley actually found herself grateful for the flash of his eyes, the clear reveal of his species. It was so unlike her own traumatic memories, it helped to ground her, to shake off the freezing cold that had suddenly gripped her bones. They were in a very different place and a very different time. "Nei, I am the one who is sorry," the blonde shook her head, breathless. "It was silly, I- I thought... uh, it was.." She frowned, unsure how to word the true horror she'd just pictured, the exact image that mimicked her own memories. She wanted to explain but she didn't want to remember. Struggling, chest tightening, she suddenly felt a hand on her arm, and Riley looked up, searching, grateful to find Layla's eyes.

Mitch had been aimlessly pacing around Alexandria for the last few hours, unable to settle his mind. He tried to maintain focus on Ava, by attempting to source help for her symptoms, or at the very least find information to better understand her condition. Yet every time he went to grab a textbook, or interact with somebody, voices flitted in and out of his consciousness. Ones he didn't even recognise. It'd happened before, but never this severe in length or volume, having found it'd worsened the longer he'd stayed in Alexandria. Perhaps years of trauma and fatigue had access to him now that he'd finally completed his mission; it'd caught up to him now that he'd stopped running.

The man seemed as startled as she felt, and despite her own churning anxiety, she smiled at him in sympathy when she heard him swear, unsure of the cause but not wanting to further his clear distress. He seemed provoked, maybe even angry, but for some reason, Riley knew that wasn't true. He was tired and frustrated, paranoid even, but certainly not aggressive. Though when their gazes met properly, her smile faltered, suddenly feeling someone right next to her, the weight of them sinking onto the couch. But when she turned in their direction, they were gone. She was alone.

✁ riley or tara

Rosalie had, of course, followed her family here, but she was far from happy about it, and already found herself missing home. Staying in one place made her feel more human. “How many werewolves are here, exactly? All I can smell is dog.”

Riley smiled at the stranger’s question, finding the concept amusing. She’d personally never minded dogs. “I have no idea, I’m sorry. Can you… really smell them?”

Isaac lay slumped on the couch in the children’s section of the library, eyes closed and mouth agape, peaceful despite his public surrounding. He’d brought James’ out to keep him occupied for a few hours until Scott finished his shift, but at some point during his reading of their favourite story, James had fallen asleep. More tired than he’d realised, Isaac had soon followed after, his arms wrapped around the child who’d curled up in his lap, instinctively protective even in his slumber. 

Having played until dawn at Barcelo, Riley's 'DJ hours' were back in practice, afternoons now her mornings. It would've exhausted anyone else, but she lived for it, and had missed the quiet early mornings, when she'd sit and watch the rising sun. One of the only places to find a similar sense of peace was in the library, and Riley found herself sitting there with headphones on and book in hand most days. Heading for her usual spot, she walked past the pair sprawled across couch, humming a tune as she went. But the song died on her tongue when her peripheral vision caught sight of them, the blood freezing in her veins. She stopped, terrified to turn her head and see them wholly. The smallest glance had already convinced her they were dead, completely lifeless, frozen together in a tight embrace. "Nei," she whispered, forcing herself to blink, unlock herself from her fear. If she could help them, she had to.