voyagers | network } public { but this ain't seaworld, this is real as it gets

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network } public { but this ain't seaworld, this is real as it gets

[The handwriting comes with the quick ease of someone who is used to journals of this nature - legible, but moving at a fairly even pace. It's one of the most comforting things about this place so far, that familiar way of keeping in touch with the rest of the community. Of the things they could have borrowed from Chicago? This was not a bad one.]

Why do I feel like I'm in the middle of a Lonely Island song? Enjoy getting that stuck in your head for the rest of the evening.

[She's not sorry. But there's a pause as she tries to focus. She did not open the journal to talk about how she's on a boat.]

Anyway. New. Still kind of getting used to things. Have a couple of inquiries, if you are so inclined.

First things first: I'm looking for people who, when I say "Chicago," realize it means something a little more than fabulous deep dish pizza and the home of the Bears. I'm particularly looking for the ones from a Chicago that just recently went ka-boom.

Angel, demon, Wanderer - though I guess we're all kind of Wanderers now - doesn't really matter. Hell, I'll even take those from a Chicago that didn't go ka-boom. A little bit of community can go a long way in a place like this. CLF need not apply, however, unless you want a bottle of what looks like really expensive vodka broken over your head.

Moving on.

Also, if you happen to know where I can find a guy named Robert Herron, let's chat. He's tall, with straight dark hair, blue eyes, looks like he's in his mid-forties. If you see him, tell him Claudia Blake is looking for him. He'll know who you mean.

[There's a beat.]

I hope.

[Moving on.]

Dad, if you're here somewhere, I'm at the bar on one of the upper decks. It's kind of cute, with this little anchor behind the bar and ... a very creepy waitstaff. I'm probably going to be there until this very expensive bottle of vodka is gone. So if you see this, drop by. You can split it with me.

[She doesn't really care about public versus private. In case you're not smart enough to figure it out, the guy she's looking for? Totally her dad. But moving on.]

Anyone have any idea what we're supposed to do around here?

[And with that, she'll end her journal ramble before her hand cramps. Flexing her fingers slightly she'll go back to picking up the glass sitting next to her and taking a long swig with a wince. The world just ended. She's pretty sure she's allowed to get super freaking drunk. She's perched on a stool, wearing clothing that seems a little worse for the wear, with tears and soot stains littered across the jacket, shirt and jeans. There's also a nasty gash on her forehead that she's managed to bandage up on her own, but it mostly just looks like the gauze is sitting there for show.

The problem when you bleed white blood.

All the same, she's going to sit there, with her drink, and wait for the responses to come back. Enjoy your day, ship. Feel free to bug the newly arrived guardian.]

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[ derek looks down at the book, then up again over at the girl sitting at the bar who appears to be scribbling in time with the words as they surge to life on the page. experimentally, out of some mixture of curiosity and boredom, he responds in writing rather than spoken words. ]

Haven't seen T-Pain anywhere, so I think you're safe.

[She glances over as the words start to form, smirking a bit in response before she writes:]

So I take it that means no mermaids either? Not that I'm mermaid-sexual, but they'd still be pretty cool to see.

[ ah, so it is her writing.

which kind of confirms a few things he was wondering about the books. the entries within are penned by the passengers, and they apparently serve as some sort of magical means of communication.

if his life wasn't less than ordinary before he arrived here, he'd be questioning his sanity about now.

derek catches her eye, then drops his gaze back down and responds: ]

No mermaids. Just a lot of people who really don't want to be here.

Must be a miserable cruise experience.

[She does notice that glance, but if he's more comfortable writing, she can play along. At least until her drink is finished and she feels like getting up.]

Personally, I was heading somewhere else anyway. This place is as good as any.

Better than somewhere that apparently went "ka-boom?"

[ little does he know, this ka-boom-ed chicago is a popular predestination for the majority of the ship's residents. ]

[Honestly, she's going to be surprised if there aren't at least a handful.]

It was the end of the world. It was kind of like that Semisonic song. You didn't have to go home, but you couldn't stay there.

[There's a pause.]

Though I guess that only really applies to Wanderers. For most of us it was home.

I'm sorry that you lost it. Home is never an easy thing to lose, and it's something no one should have to face losing. Ever.

[ his family dying in that fire and the house being left in smoldering ruins isn't quite the same as the world ending, but he can relate. sort of. ]

Thank you.

[And she means that sincerely. He at least seems like he gets it, which is appreciated all the same.]

I'm just glad I made it out alive. And the funny thing about home is that it's usually something you can get back. You just have to have the right people.

Not always, but sometimes.

[ derek looks up at her, thinking about his sister – about scott and the others. yeah, he's still got a "home," in a way. even if the members of that home aren't always thrilled to be in his presence. (and he in theirs.) ]

[And she's officially bored with writing when he's actually across the room. She finishes off her glass before swinging her legs around the stool and making her way over. She stops just short of him and extends her hand over the table.]

Claudia.

[ he gently shakes that offered hand. ]

Derek.

[The eye contact is only a second, a throw away glance at best, but it's enough. It's a bit like being hit by a bus and grounded completely all at the same time, almost like coming home, but it isn't.

It's probably the most violent, visceral thing she's ever felt in her life but she knows what it is in an instant. She'd be annoyed if she didn't so desperately need to sit down.]

Whoa.

[One hand finds the chair closest to her and she sinks into it, trying to reorient herself.]

I haven't even been here five minutes.

[ something... tingles when she looks at him, their gazes catching for just a second. or maybe it's not tingling, exactly, but it's a curious, subtle sensation that derek can't quite put a name to.

he rises, leaning over the table to peer at her, brows knitted together in confusion. ]

What was that? [ first, then: ] Are you okay?

[Confusion. Confusion that is not her confusion.]

Oh, wow, that's so weird.

[No, she's not really okay. She may be sort of freaking out, but thankfully this bond thing is one way and he can't feel what she's feeling. Unless he's some kind of empath. That would be her luck, to wind up with a ward who's an empath so they can just leech on each other's emotions all the time, that would be swell.

But he's asking her a question and she really should answer it. There's a part of her that almost wishes she had done this before.

She hasn't.

Then again, she also has a feeling that she couldn't have prepared for this either way.]

Okay is not really the word.

[There's a part of her that's super okay with this, like she's finally gotten a sense of purpose that she had been searching for for so long but the rest of her is a screaming mess of ERHSLHFLEHSWHALFHLHF!!!!!!! that she can't really focus on that at the moment. She's trying. Then she looks at him and she buries her face in her hands.]

Oh, Jesus, you're not even from Chicago. Shit, this is going to suck.

[At least if he were from Chicago, she could lead with "I'm a guardian, you're my ward" and there would at least be a base of knowledge for him to go on. He may still hate it, but he'd know what she meant and there wouldn't have to be a long winded explanation, which knowing her will probably include tangents and her getting wildly off topic because that's what happens when she tries to explain anything but this is her ward. She needs to make this work.

She takes a deep breath, before looking up at him and trying to figure out the easiest place to start.]

Okay, so, I'm not human. I'm an angel. And not like Hallmark style though there's probably an angel somewhere who does play the harp, but there's no floating on clouds or anything like that. And while archangels can be super violent it's not exactly biblical. We don't serve God, we're not on a quest for some higher power, we're just a side effect of the rifts. They call us angels because we have wings, but we're born human, and it's just something that comes along later.

[If he tries he can probably catch that same feathers scent that he did with Alexander before, but it's different. Cooler, if possible with no hints of sulfur. And if he tries to touch her, her body temperature is lower than a normal human's.]

[ nope, not an empath — just a werewolf. but that also means he can smell her distress, his nostrils flaring as it wafts over him. panic, nervousness, and feathers, like he's just ripped open a feather down comforter and buried his face in the contents. ]

No, Beacon Hills.

[ his confusion flares into anger as she declares this is going to suck, hackles raised, fingers digging into the table as if about to give way to claws that he manages to keep retracted. but then that ire melts into a quiet sort of calm as he listens and absorbs. an angel. she's an angel of the non-biblical sense.

huh.

derek eases back, settling into his chair again, crossing his arms over his chest. ] Okay. An angel — I can buy that, and I considering that God and I were never quite on speaking terms, I can appreciate you not being one of his messengers. Doesn't explain what happened just now. Maybe it should, but like you said, I'm not from Chicago and my knowledge of ethereal beings is a little sketchy.

I was getting there. That's the preamble. This is the point.

[She takes a breath.]

There are different kinds of angels and they all have different Callings. Archangels, Angels of Healing, Angels of Knowledge, Vengeance. Some of them are more self-explanatory than others, but me? I'm a Guardian. Guardians are a little different.

[There's a pause.]

Guardians were basically created because sometimes people just ... need someone to look out for them. Or at least that's how I see it. Some people need a sibling or a shrink or a friend or someone to just help them get their shit together. The only problem with it is, is they don't let you pick which guardian you get. The universe just sort of decides for you. The guardian locks eyes with you and suddenly you've got this person who's feeling what you're feeling and can sense when you're in trouble, and any sort of privacy sort of goes whoosh! out the window. Oh, and if you die, it could kill them too. Or they might go insane. Either way it's not the greatest situation in the world, but when ever does the universe decide to do things nice and neatly?

[There's a beat. She rubs the back of her neck.]

I guess the universe decided you needed someone to help you get your shit together. Hi.

[ some people just need someone to look out for them. derek could see his mother's face in his mind's eye, smiling and nodding knowingly. he was an ex-alpha, but he never was very good at watching his own back. peter manipulated him while growing up, both kate and jennifer had got to him, and he walked into more traps than he was comfortable admitting to. maybe he did need a little guidance, as much as he really didn't want it. but that was undo-able, wasn't it? he knew enough about the supernatural world to know that some things couldn't be undone. like the bite taking — or the bite not taking, like paige. ]

Like a angel emissary that comes with a side order of extrasensory perception.

[ his brows scrunch in thought as he regards her. ] Not sure if I'm okay with any of this, but it sounds like I don't have a choice.

Yeah. Believe me, this is not what I wanted five minutes into my stay on an interdimensional cruise to nowhere. And I am sorry.

[She's just as uncomfortable with this as he is, if not more. It's the kind of thing that is invasive and awkward, and really she would just rather he talk to her than picking up on all his emotions all the time, forever.

But the proverbial dice have been rolled.]

Also in the interest of full disclosure, I have never done this before. So ... we can figure this out together? Probably? I hope?

[ derek looks down for a moment, drumming his fingers on the table. a situation like this is somewhat par for the course for him. he can only hope that she'll make a better guardian than he did an alpha. speaking of... ]

Alright, full disclosure: [ when derek looks back up at her — sharply — his eyes are a bright, inhuman blue. ] I'm a werewolf.

Nice.

[ ... Okay, that may have been a bit too over-eager, but seriously, werewolves are cool. And there were always a whole lot of different kinds, due to the rifts being the rifts. But none of them had eyes that flashed like that.]

Well, depending on your view point, anyway. Not like the werewolves I'm used to, though. Their eyes don't do that.

[She pauses for a moment before talking a sip of her drink.]

Are we talking major wolfman on the full moon or did Hollywood super exaggerate it?

Nice? That's a new one.

[ in his experience, people didn't usually respond so positively to the news that he was a werewolf. it was either fear, doubt, or outright rejection of the notion that something that was supposed to be pure hollywood fiction actually existed. ]

Transformations vary, but generally only very few of us are able to fully transform on a full moon or otherwise. Hollywood exaggerates it, but there are... [ he doesn't look happy admitting this ] ...points where they get close. Not right on target, but pretty close to it. Most of us, however, don't get that far. What Hollywood likes to put up on the big screen is more the special, rare circumstances and less what you'd see in a group of regular, for lack of a better term, wolves.

And I don't have to shift on a full moon. There's the potential, the instinct to loose control when the moon's out, but it can be contained. You anchor yourself, learn to tame the beast within. It's manageable.

Oh. See, our wolves don't work like that.

[she leans back in her seat as she pauses for a moment, trying to think.]

Every shapeshifter has two forms - big and small. Werewolves, the lucky ducks, get three - one as a wolf, which counts as their big form, one of a smaller animal, and their full moon form, which does get a bit Lon Chaney but they usually lock themselves down so that they don't hurt anyone.

Chaining happens, but that's usually reserved for younger wolves and those who don't know how to control themselves.

[ or those who were denied sunlight, drugged, etc. but those special circumstances weren't as frequent as lon chaney movies would like people to believe. ]

[She nods a bit.]

Lucky you, I guess. And the added bonus of not turning into a ferret at the whim of your emotions.

[Being a riftverse wolf is fun, this is a fact.]

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