Amelia Pace
Werewolf (A)
Gryffindor 7th Year
The Pup Slut.
Posts: 189
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Post by Amelia Pace on Oct 9, 2009 2:46:41 GMT 1
Tonight was officially known as ‘The Night Before the Full Moon’. It was a time when Amelia Pace felt most uneasy. The constant itching sensation that tingled under her skin irritated her to no end. She just wanted to crawl out of her skin. It was days like today, full of lessons and pretence, that she felt like ripping an unsuspecting somebody’s throat out. She found it best if she could escape from the castle for a while, be on her own in the fresh air. Today, however, being a frosty January evening, saw the clouds in the skies brimmed full of water, ready to burst at the seams and pour all over the school. That was why Amelia sat with her school cloak draped about her person, with its hood up to protect her head from the threatening water.
Breathing in the fresh air relaxed Amelia, it allowed her to feel free, and not as trapped in her body as she had been during lesson hours. She wondered what it would be like to roam the forest, as her wolf, would she be safe? Or would she be hunted? Would she be the hunter and killer that they learned about in their Defence Against the Dark Arts classes in her third year. Lessons that she thought so untastefully done and she’d been forced to attend. There was nothing better than sitting in a room full of people, feeling like the entire class were looking at you as her teacher informed them what a terrible monster you were. She’d had to fight everything in her not to storm out of the lesson. What an impression that would have left.
The cold air was biting now. At her skin, at her lips at the inside of her throat as she took in each breath. She watched the clouds form in front of her face as she exhaled, the mist steaming in swirls in front of her face. Upon looking up, Amelia could see a scattering of stars through the leafy canopy. Each shining brightly, telling her it was still alive burning brightly however many light-years away. Subconsciously Amelia was rubbing her hands up and down her arms, the friction warming her uncovered fingers and generating some kind off heat for her arm muscles as well. A soft rumbling in the sky alerted her that the heavens were about to open up on her, that and a change in the smell of the air.
Amelia sniffed again, looking over her shoulder and into the forest. That wasn’t rain, or anything that the natural world was going to throw at her. She sniffed deep and coughed due to the shock of the cold. She held her breath and dry swallowed. She smelt the air one more time. She thought he would have moved on by now. He didn’t seem like the type to hang around for too long. A sudden snap of a twig in the forest shocked her, making her jump out of her skin, even though she knew he was there, ”Connor, you can’t sneak up on people like that!” she said. Sometimes it was a seemingly good thing to have these heightened senses she had around the full moon.
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Post by Connor Pine on Oct 26, 2009 0:48:16 GMT 1
After their brief exchange in the alleyway that should have been it. Connor should have moved on straight away, turned tail and got the hell out of dodge without a backwards glance. And that had been the plan, right up until he’d caught a fleeting waft of Amelia’s scent on one of the roads, crisp and clean in the cool winter air and drawing him back like a magnetic force. He couldn’t suppress the curiosity, he had to know more about their kind from the first ever Were he’d met who hadn’t tried to rip his throat out as soon as they’d caught his scent. Not only that, but he wanted to know more about her.
So he’d followed her trail up to the gates of the school, stopped short when the zing of magic in the air made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. As far as he was concerned magic was just another thing on an already extensive list that he needed to fear. He was already wary enough about schools, all those students he might hurt just by being near them, all those adults who were trained to take an interest, who might actually notice him. Connor had skulked outside, following the perimeter around until he reached a large dark forest. A forest he already knew to be large enough to accommodate a change. He always had a plan, never stayed anywhere unless he could reach safety if something should delay his leaving town.
He’d spent the next day or so lurking in the forest, avoiding encounters with a few of the less than friendly creatures, canvassed a large area of the woods nearest the castle in an attempt to find where Amelia changed. It had to be there, Connor knew of no other alternatives. He’d just come to the conclusion that the entire exercise was pointless, that he was never going to see her again anyway so it shouldn’t matter to him where she changed, when he finally caught her scent in the forest, a scent that was now permanently ingrained in his brain.
It was fresh though, which meant... The restless agitation that always came so close to a change made it difficult to think; made it hard to feel anything other than wolf-like enthusiasm that he’d caught her trail. It meant she was here, now. Connor circled closer, hovered just out of sight of her and watched her rub her arms, shoving his own hands deeper into the pockets of his worn grey hoodie and shifting uneasily from one foot to the other in an empathetic acknowledgment of the cold. Should he say something to her or just leave? In the end the decision was made for him as Amelia spoke, addressing him directly and making him start. He still wasn’t used to being noticed.
”I wasn’t sneaking.” He told her a little defensively, more annoyed that he’d frightened her than offended at her scolding. If there was one thing Connor hated it was being feared, experience taught him that it soon led to abandonment. ”Where do you change?” The bluntness of the question startled even him, changing was a personal thing and something Connor would never have told anybody in case they tried to follow. But he was curious and didn’t know how to phrase it with any more tact, so the forward question would have to do.
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Amelia Pace
Werewolf (A)
Gryffindor 7th Year
The Pup Slut.
Posts: 189
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Post by Amelia Pace on Oct 26, 2009 1:34:09 GMT 1
Amelia had never changed outside the comfort of the office. Well, not for a good few years, but then that wasn’t her fault. She was younger, and new and not used to having to control a monster. The thought of changing in the forest had never really crossed her mind. It had always been the office, locked away from the world, or nothing. She ran too much risk of going further into the school grounds and scratching somebody. The more students infected with this, this disease the more difficult it would be for the school to hide. Amelia had read stories, articles, about where other Weres changed, and their habits, but she had never thought to debate it. Mainly because Connery would put his foot down and she’d lose. She’d rather keep in his good books considering he was the one who looked out for her.
”Then what were you doing?” the general description of sneaking that Amelia was aware of was moving without alerting others of their presence. Which Connor certainly hadn’t done. Amelia ignored that their were no niceties exchanged between them, it wasn’t like that last time they had met they had enquired about the well-being of the other. Just got straight to the nitty gritty ‘You’re a werewolf’ bit of the conversation. Much like Connor was doing now. Blunt, to the point, and most certainly above the usual boundaries. Amelia would have normally snapped back at a question like the one posed to her now. It wasn’t anybody else’s business other than her own. But she felt that if she’d lashed out at Connor he’d high-tail it out of there and she still had so many more things she wanted to know. This was only the beginning.
She thought about what it would mean to him to hear that she locked herself up, would he understand or would he think it stupid? She knew so little about him yet wanted him to answer her questions. Questions she could not ask of any other person she knew. Not even Connery, for there were things even he wouldn’t understand. He just saw her as some poor child who went through a hell of a lot of pain every month and there was piss all he, or anybody else, could do about it. Maybe if she was more accepting of this thing it wouldn’t hurt as much. But she wasn’t willing to try, ”In the castle,” she stated finally, ”In a cage,” she wasn’t certain how he would react to that. Some people might be activists, werewolf rights and whatever bullshit they came up with to accompany it.
Some days Amelia wished that she wasn’t a witch. She didn’t like the classification. But she wondered if it would ever make her life as a creature ay easier. She wouldn’t have to live hiding herself from everybody because they lived in such close quarters to everybody else. Her friends lived in the same building as her and it was getting continually harder to hide where she was disappearing to from them. Scotty had gotten fed up of listening to her pathetically thought out lies and asked her for the truth. She felt bad enough lying to him, so she told him the truth. He’d only figure it out eventually. The rest of them? Well, she didn’t trust them enough to tell them. Didn’t trust them to not abandon her. To them, werewolves were monsters. Not people the other 27 days of the cycle. [/size][/font]
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Post by Connor Pine on Oct 28, 2009 22:22:01 GMT 1
Connor shrugged, painfully aware of just how awkward he could be. A decade of watching from the sidelines had taught him what conversation should be like and he knew he was failing miserably. He didn’t like the way Amelia pushed him, knew just what to say to challenge those rough, biting assertions that he’d been so sure of before. Connor saw the world in black and white, had never grown out of the rather childlike idea that there was right and wrong with no grey areas. To make matters worse, a series of unfortunate, perhaps unavoidable, consequences had left him believing it was him against the world.
Amelia was different; he sensed no threat from her and saw himself in her. He could see that desperate need to understand the curse that afflicted them both, a reflection of the curiosity that had brought him back to her despite his better judgement. Perhaps because of that he made a garbled attempt to explain himself, knowing it was almost as frustrating to get no explanation at all as it was to know he lacked the eloquence to tell her exactly what he meant.
”I thought you’d know...” He trailed off, wondering if she’d get the implication that he’d assumed her heightened senses at this time of the month would detect him. ”It’s hard not to act like a-“ This time Connor cut himself off abruptly. He didn’t want to say it. Predator. For fear he frightened her again. ”Wolf sometimes.” Was what he settled on finally, his blue eyes imploring her silently to understand. ”Besides,” He shot her the slightest quirk of what would undoubtedly be a lopsided grin were it allowed more than a fraction of a second’s airtime. ”You knew it was me, didn’t you?”
Her answer to his question obliterated any of that teasing challenge in him and the anger stole over him before he really had a chance to register that it was there. He was only aware of his hands clenching into fists when little crescent moons of pain bloomed through his palms at his nails digging into his flesh and it took him a moment to realise that the rumbling growl filling the air was reverberating from his own throat. This was why talking to people was dangerous, even as a human, especially this close to a full moon, the beast within him felt like it might burst free. Connor didn’t even bother to wonder why he had reacted so violently against the thought of Amelia being locked up, it was just wrong and he wasn’t going to stop to question his judgement, not so close to the full moon anyway.
”Why do you stay?” He asked, voice still shaking with the remnants of the snarl. He couldn’t understand why she might willingly subject herself to imprisonment month after month. Perhaps her confines extended to more than just that one night, but she seemed free enough to him. ”The wolf wouldn’t be locked up quietly, what if you broke free?” Connor was struggling with an internal battle, torn between the anger that somebody might be imprisoning Amelia against her will and fury that she might be so carelessly endangering the lives of those around her when she changed.
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Amelia Pace
Werewolf (A)
Gryffindor 7th Year
The Pup Slut.
Posts: 189
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Post by Amelia Pace on Oct 29, 2009 1:27:27 GMT 1
Amelia didn’t understand why he was still around. He was a distant person, so he appeared, and she didn’t think he would have stayed around that long. Especially considering how he’d just disappeared after their previous meeting. She was starting to learn, now more than ever, that he didn’t seem to know what it was like to have a place in the world. He was amazed that she surrounded herself with people, but she didn’t know anything other than that. She surrounded herself with friend to distance herself from the wolf. It was the only way she could see of succeeding in her own little mission.
”I try not to think about it,” she answered, ”The less I think about it the less of a hold it takes on me. I don’t want to be it so it leaves me alone,” she reasoned. She didn’t like to think that the wolf was a constant part of her, but she knew otherwise. You only had to look back at weres previous to see that. But she shunned the beast as much as she humanly could and that allowed her to remain exactly that; Human. She caught the slight smile on his face before I disappeared and returned the action exactly, ”Nobody else round here smells as much as you do,” she said honestly, with a sarcastic tinge on it. Apart from the wolf, he didn’t appear to have had a wash in a while.
Amelia took a note of the way his hands clenched, his hackles rising. He was far more accepting of this creature than she was. You could see it. She could feel it. Smell it. But yet she still wanted to know what it was like to feel that way, without throwing herself off the cliff into the world of the uncontrollable. ”Because I’ve got nowhere else to go,” she said, defeatist. She had nobody outside of the school that she could turn to. Nobody to look after her. She was safe here, why would she leave? ”I take this potion, wizards have, called a Wolfsbane potion. It calms the wolf and I just curl up and sleep. No harm. No foul,” she said as a soft rumble of thunder echoed above them.
She felt the first drops of rain shortly after. She wasn’t about to have this conversation in the middle of a storm in the middle of a forest. Not the smartest of ideas by any means. Lightning struck trees more often than people, so they were in danger of frying. But she knew he wouldn’t want to go back to the castle, there were too many people. She looked through the trees and saw the familiar flags of the Quidditch pitch, ”As much as I’d love to have this argument here. I don’t fancy getting rained on. Come with me,” she ordered, walking over to him firmly grabbing his hand and dragging him in the direction of the pitch.
She forced him into the changing room with a word being exchanged between them. It was dry and being well past curfew the chances of somebody coming to the pitch was incredibly slim. She knew from experience when doing the exact same thing before now that no people ventured this far. Students normally got caught before making it thus far and teachers assumed they caught everybody. ”Nobody will disturb us in here.”
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Post by Connor Pine on Oct 29, 2009 2:15:55 GMT 1
It had never occurred to Connor to suppress the wolf inside him. Even when he was nine, after the first change, he’d known he was different. He could feel it, every minute of every day like a constant growling hunger that would never be satisfied. His child’s brain had latched onto a reason for his parents’ abandonment; he’d needed to believe he was a monster to understand why they had left him. And so the wolf had always been just beneath the surface, but always rigorously kept in check. The way he saw it understanding the beast allowed him greater control over it.
”True,” He agreed simply, she didn’t smell savage, didn’t have the stench of blood from the hunt on her like all other werewolves he’d come across had, that he could even smell on his own skin the night after a change. ”I never met another Were as tame as you.” She couldn’t have such tight control though, surely? Not when she changed, nobody could reign in the wolf then. Connor almost wished it was true, that if he tried hard enough he might be able to stop the change from being so violent and messy. Because it was, every single time.
He almost puffed up with pride at her comment, his sense of smell was always something he’d been proud of, completely missing the subtle dig and the sarcasm in her tone. ”They do,” He disagreed with her. ”Everybody can use their nose,” Perhaps not to the extent he could, but it was still one of the five human senses. ”They just choose not to listen to it.” Yet another that Connor felt separated him from the general population. He was alert, paid attention to all his senses, his nose in particular. Normal humans were lazy; they relied far too much on sight, making them vulnerable when it was dark. He saw no harm in taking advantage of the benefits being a werewolf awarded him; it had taken such a heavy price from him in return anyway.
Connor was quite prepared to try and persuade her there were other alternatives to being locked in a cage, to interrogate her sceptically about this magical potion that could allegedly strip everything savage out of the change, but she didn’t give him a chance. Amelia had hold of his hand, seemingly more bothered by the prospect of rain than he was (he’d weathered many a storm outside before), and she was dragging him towards the castle. He almost resisted, feeling flutterings of panic at the thought of being taken somewhere unfamiliar with so many unknown dangers. But she’d caught him off guard enough, unused as he was to physical contact, that by the time he realised their destination was the small building near the sports stand on the lawns his senses had also provided him with the knowledge that they would be alone and therefore relatively safe.
Despite her assurances he stalked the entirety of the small room, as though he expected somebody to jump out from behind the shower curtains. Surveying the warm, cosy space made him wish he’d known about it sooner. Sleeping on one of those benches in the warm had to be better than roughing it in the cold space of an empty and unfurnished cottage on the outskirts of the village. Once he was satisfied they were alone and safe he picked up the conversation as if nothing had interrupted it. ”If this...” Connor paused, innately suspicious of magic, that along with anything else he didn’t understand. ”Potion does what you say why sleep in a cage?” He asked, not sure why he was pushing the point so much.
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Amelia Pace
Werewolf (A)
Gryffindor 7th Year
The Pup Slut.
Posts: 189
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Post by Amelia Pace on Oct 29, 2009 19:45:12 GMT 1
One thing Amelia wouldn’t have been able to do was distinguish between the people around her smelling of good and bad and dangerous. She hadn’t any experience of being around people that were likely to kill her. Well, she had, but he had smelt stale and dead, exactly what he was. Well past his time and completely dead. Not something she wanted to come across again. So why the hell was she hanging out in the forest again? Where the last time she had done so she had been attacked and nearly died, quite graciously. At least homing on her senses helped her from not being attacked again. She felt suddenly grateful that the creature lurking in the shadow was Connor. The chance of him attacking her were considerably less than the vampire; at least that’s what she believed.
Amelia was tempted to thank him. It was some sort of weird twisted compliment. That how she took it by any means, to be a tame version of a monster was better than being the dangerous kind she desperately avoided;”You’re not exactly to dangerous yourself,” she commented. He gave off that sort of demeanour. He didn’t look like he was asking for a fight. Even if he was, he hid it well and was an incredibly good actor, but he didn’t appear to even be completely sociable or capable of talking to anybody. He was right though, not that she knew it, but he was/ she couldn’t control the creature all the time. Times like tonight where she was itching for the full moon to come and the wolf to be released and it to be over for another 28 days. She didn’t agree though, she didn’t see advantages to having a supped up sense of smell and being scared of anything you can feel moving behind you. It really wasn’t something she would petition to keep. Nor would she willingly give it to somebody else, infect them with this? She wouldn’t be so cruel.
Amelia had to stop herself from laughing. Sarcasm wasn’t something Connor seemed to understand, plus, even her comment had been taken the wrong way. She smirked and looked at her feet to hide it from him. Her hair fell free of her hood and dangled before her. She raised her fingerless gloved hand through her fringe and tucked her locks back into her loose hood as she looked back up at him; her hood fell slightly and she felt a drop of rain land on her head. Adjusting her cloak she smiled at him, ”So many people don’t listen at all,” they were lazy, yes. They were rude. They were arrogant but most of all, they were stupid. They wouldn’t notice a werewolf if they lived right under their nose. In fact, they didn’t. Amelia had suspected that her closest friends would have noticed that she disappeared like clockwork on the full moon, especially when they were learning about them in the third year. Idiots.
As they reached the slight warmth of the changing rooms Amelia lit a few of the candles that surround them with a flick of her wand and a dim light was cast around over the benches, casting shadows across the floor. Amelia lowered her hood and unclasped her cloak and hung it on one of the hooks. Her hair fell freely over her shoulders, hair catching on her woollen jumper. She gathered the strands together and pulled her hair over her shoulder, tying it loosely so it kept out of her face; ”The potion calms the wolf. The change still hurts like hell but you never know when it might wear off. Oddly there aren’t many studies into making a werewolf’s life better. People would rather pretend we don’t exist than offer us help. Plus, I don’t want to attack someone if it does wear off. I’m better off in a cage.” she offered, taking a seat on the bench she usually claimed when they were getting ready for a match.
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Post by Connor Pine on Oct 30, 2009 1:04:19 GMT 1
Connor was equally pleased by the mirroring unknown compliment she paid him, a little of the tension easing in his chest as she inadvertently revealed that she did not fear him. It was strange to find somebody with so many similarities, when for so long he’d thought he was the only one, in the whole world perhaps, who thought the way he did. Who desperately tried to suppress the danger that lurked at the very core of his being. And yet they were clearly still worlds apart too, so many differences between them, with only one curse bridging the unfathomable gap between their lives.
Amelia should know better, though, than to trust him so quickly, he knew all too well that some of the most dangerous people had perfectly charming exteriors. Then again the idea of Connor ever being considered charming was laughable, he was far too blunt to ever keep his motives hidden. And wasn’t he doing exactly the same thing, by letting her take his hand and lead him away to places unknown. It was the kind of trust he hadn’t shown anybody in a long time, not since he was nine years old and his mother had taken him by the hand and led him onto the train the last time he’d ever seen her. So really it was quite understandable that he had a few trust issues.
Even after a month in Hogsmeade and a little longer than that with the knowledge of a whole world he hadn’t known existed, Connor still didn’t trust magic. He couldn’t, not when he couldn’t understand how it worked, and it smelled funny to boot. So when Amelia lit the candles with a swift, controlled arc of her wand he couldn’t quite conceal the flinch and didn’t even bother to hide the wrinkle of his nose at the fresh tang of magic in the air. Couldn’t she smell it? Sharp and so tangible he could almost taste it, like licking a battery (not that he ever had... okay maybe just once). He was glad for the distraction her answer gave him; even it did set another softer growl curling in the back of his throat. He still couldn’t help roiling at the idea of a cage.
”It used to,” He said almost wistfully, remembering the torturous agony of his earliest changes, compounded infinitely by his terrified confusion about what was happening. ”I barely notice it anymore.” Connor wasn’t sure if his tolerance for pain had just increased or it really had gotten easier. Of course it still hurt, there was no way a body could make such drastic alterations without discomfort, but these days it seemed like a secondary sensation to the relief he pretended he didn’t feel at being unable to unleash the wolf. Just for one night he could let go of the tight control he kept over himself for the rest of the month.
”And you’re not better off.” Connor disagreed hotly, finally remembering himself and getting back on track. This wasn’t about him; this was about her and her change. He wanted to learn, to try and understand how other Weres dealt with the full moon and it wasn’t like he’d ever met another person he could ask. ”If your potion did wear off the cage would only make it worse.” Perhaps he was just riling against the prejudice that seemed to be steeped in every society he encountered. Amelia shouldn’t have to lock herself up, not when there were other ways she could keep people safe without it.
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Amelia Pace
Werewolf (A)
Gryffindor 7th Year
The Pup Slut.
Posts: 189
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Post by Amelia Pace on Oct 30, 2009 14:42:16 GMT 1
Normally, Amelia wouldn’t trust quite as easily as she had with Connor, but there was just this aura surrounding him that made him seem like he wasn’t the type to kill people for fun, if at all. She was cautious of people but at the same time, if you didn’t put a certain amount of faith in people on meeting them you’d never meet anyone or make any friends. Maybe that was his downfall, he didn’t realise he could trust people just a little until they proved otherwise. Amelia knew she could trust her group of friends, but she didn’t know if she could trust them enough to let them know; she’d only told Scotty because he demanded she do so, promising her he would never leave her on her own to deal with whatever it was, and he hadn’t. He seemed to be the only true friend she’d ever had.
In short, she had spent so much time around magic, living with it with these stupidly overt senses meant she’d just got used to it. The first time she’d returned to school the wolf it had been near unbearable; but after four years dealing with it, she no longer paid attention to the tinge. It made sense for it to be strange to him still, he hadn’t know of this world for very long. When you lived with something for long enough, you knew how to deal with it, or learnt to ignore it altogether. She watched him momentarily, catching his distaste at the smell, and the low throaty growl of his disagreement.
”I don’t think it helps that I fight it, but, she paused looking down at her hands in her lap, ”I don’t want to let it win,” she said. She’d never spoken about this with anybody before. It was refreshing to be able to speak about these things and actually know the person you were talking to understood. Connery was all good and well, but he’d never understand the true extent of what she went through, not unless he ever went through it his self. Amelia’s temper had always been a short lived thing, but she was trying not to snap at the man before her, he didn’t know what it was like to live in her world, he couldn’t understand why she did what she did; ”What else can I do?” she said as calmly as she could muster, ”I can’t risk it.
“What would you have me do? I can’t run around the forest, it’s dangerous,” as much as she could probably fight off any threat in her wolf form, it wasn’t that part that scared her. It was the niggling feeling that somebody could be out doing exactly what she was doing this very night; they’d get in her way and who knows what she’d do. She’d never tasted blood and like hell did she want to. And the morning after, she’d be on her own in the middle of a forest full of creatures that could kill her. Let alone completely naked and cold and would probably die of frostbite before anything else got her. No thank you.
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Post by Connor Pine on Nov 7, 2009 18:26:50 GMT 1
Connor looked up when she spoke, seeing her head bowed, as she stared down at her lap. Not that he needed to see her face to know the expression that would be there; the mixture of fear and disgust that he often felt himself when he thought about being a werewolf. The constant niggling reminder in the back of his mind that he couldn't let the wolf win, that he had to fight, find the right balance to not only survive, but to protect everyone else too. For a moment he was quiet and his only acknowledgement that he'd heard her was a curt nod of understanding. He could relate, and she might never realise how important it was to him that he'd finally found somebody with whom that was true. "Don't you want to understand though?" He asked her, curious. The way he saw it the only way he could stop the wolf from taking over was by embracing parts of himself that he didn't neccessarily want to. In order to prepare as best he could for the one night of the month he had no control he had to know how the wolf thought. Connor pressed his lips into a thin line, shoving his hands back into the pockets of his hoody in a defensive gesture. That was exactly what he was suggesting Amelia did and what he intended to do himself the following night, as it was too late to find a different location. "Not if you go deep enough before you change." He insisted, nose wrinkling at the prospect of the lengthy trek into the woods, something he was used to from years of experience. "And this close to the full moon the other creatures steer well clear." Animals had the uncanny ability to tell he was a Were and the closer he got to a change the more defensively they reacted, no doubt recognising that unique scent he had for the threat it really posed. Apart from vampires of course, but he'd only picked up traces of that sickly sweet stench in the village far from the edges of the forest and they surely wouldn't dare cause a disturbance so close to the school? He didn't think he'd ever be able to change in the company of other people, it was too painful and private and afterwards... Well he liked to be alone then too, preferring to keep his typical bewildered awakening to himself as he stumbled around looking for his clothes and tried not to get too overwhelmed by the way his senses were usually in overdrive.
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