In Translation [Mal]

[Vianne]

Leaves pass quickly. Her head swims as her grayscale vision blurs. Paws dance on the ground, flying with ease over the gnarled roots below. Branches grab at the ragged ginger coat, snagging and splintering. Snapping.

A tongue hangs from an open mouth as the creature pants. The scruffy beast remembers a recent meal in flashes. The taste lingers, evidence still fresh on her ruby chin and back. Satisfied, the wolf had rolled and covered herself in it as well. Ears pin to the skull as the lupine runs. No destination in mind, but the creature simply does not care.

Several times it stops to sniff a new smell or roll in another wonderful smelly thing. Happy and perfectly content, the creature continues on for several hours before it decides to sleep. The heart rate slows and in several hours, the creature is aware of pain. Jaw-clenching pain, cramping, back wrenching, but the beast is not so alarmed even as it's body shudders. It accepts this well enough and the form curls up into itself. Bones shift and eyes squeeze shut. Animals never like to complain, and this one is no different, even in weakness and pain.
------------------

Groggy, the girl draws an arm across her runny nose. She grunts and squints at her surroundings from where she lies on her belly. Noodle limbs refuse to cooperate for several moments, so she stills and blinks. Her head feels heavy, and something sticky clings to her cheek and shoulder. Dirt dots her pale skin and leaves hang in tangled red hair.

A groan passes over chapped lips and all she can think of is pain. Horrible pain. Yet she feels none comparable to it now. Does she? Her dry tongue licks over lips as she tries to hoist herself up on her elbows. Bitter bits of coppery flecks taste strange. Confused, it takes Vianne moments to piece together her surroundings.

Dark trees stand guard at her back, but as she turns her head forwards, a foggy clearing meets her gaze. To her left and right, tombstones stand silently. She swallows, fingers digging shallow trenches into the moist earth. Why had she come here, to the edge of a graveyard? Vianne doesn't understand. What?

Her head aches and her limbs quiver in the cool air. Watery blue eyes glance skyward and she feels the crick in her neck as she strains to look up. A white moon keeps the dark at bay. It paints the tombstones in soft patches of gentle light as her eyes move back down.

A shaky hand lifts to rub the sticky substance from her cheek, but it is too dark for her to see what it is. Vianne doesn't want to know. The girl struggles to rise to her knees, wobbly and unsure of herself. Fear trickles down her spine as those eyes widen. A branch falls from behind, and the noise is all it takes for Vi to scramble forwards on all fours to the shadow of a tombstone. It has to be safer curled up there than lying in the woods, right? Maybe the dead won't mind.

Shivers shake her spine and only then does the poor girl realize she's gone and misplaced her clothes? What? Had she blacked out? Frightened and confused, she bites her lip and ignores the stale lingering taste.

It is the dream again. The real-dream, like the one several nights ago in her room. The nightmare.

[Malakai]

She'd been in a impromptu conference call when she'd caught whiff of the trail. Some poor client of Icus had been nearby and his contract was ticking off to midnight. If she'd been far enough she might have ignored it flat out and let some underling get to it, but unfortunately, it'd been too much of a pull to do anything but abruptly end the call and change into something a bit more comfortable.

That's how she'd ended up digging a grave at midnight. She hadnt even really needed to change before the man had all but croaked, hand on his heart. He was going on seventy and retired. She could tell from the pictures next to his bed (when she snuck in through his upstairs window --) that he'd at least lived a fulfilling life. Well, cest la vie, you dig the own hole you lay in and all.

Although actually, no, Malakai was doing that.

Two hundred years and a three thousand dollar quota to meet, you'd think she was above this grunt work.

Luckily for her (because she certainly doesnt feel like explaining anything) she's already got the body shucked (haha) in the hole and partly covered when she hears something and goes to investigate. The object of interest hardly notices her as she lifts a leg to balance on the edge of the tombstone. Loosening her hold on the shovel to balance and twirl it on shoulder. Leaning her other arm on her uplifted knee and tilting her head.

"You poor thing," She says, breaking the stark spooky silence with a voice that's as mothering and sympathetic as a lion seal circling a stray penguin. "What are you doing here? What are you? Why are you naked? Ew."

There's a pause. "Unless it's some sort of sick necrophiliac thing then - I dont want to know. I'll just be on about my business and this strange disturbing and possibly traumatizing meeting will be as if it never happened."

Because there is honestly a special place in hell for those sort of people and Malakai wants not a thing to do with it.

[Vianne]

Breathing through her nose, nostrils flare as she stares out into the woods. Where was she? How did she get here? Confused and frightened, Vianne didn't notice another's approach.

"You poor thing,"

The sudden voice startles the girl. Chills. Her head jerks back to look, but thumps hard against the tombstone. She clenches her teeth, wincing, and raises a hand to cup the back of her already aching head. What was this? What, what? Who? That voice didn't exactly sound... Comforting...

"What are you doing here? What are you? Why are you naked? Ew."

Oh. My. God. She was naked and in front of another person. Oh my- That's all it takes to send Vianne scrambling to cover everything at once. Feet flail to kick away from the tombstone. She stumbles back on her hip, away from the person. Knees quickly bend to cover herself. Arms hurriedly cross over her chest as her cheeks burn bright red. Unconsciously, she bites on that lower lip, worrying it anxiously between her teeth. Eyes flit to the side. Vianne has never been more confused, scared, and embarrassed in her life.

Meanwhile, she continues, "Unless it's some sort of sick necrophiliac thing then - I dont want to know. I'll just be on about my business and this strange disturbing and possibly traumatizing meeting will be as if it never happened."

The girl stares open mouthed at the woman for a moment. What? Wait... "Wha- No. I'm no... I don't- I don't know. I'm- I'm..." Her voice quivers in uncertainty. The confused werewolf cannot answer those questions. She honestly has no idea, but Vianne knows one thing for certain; she ain't no necrophiliac. Her cheeks turn just a bit more red at even the thought. Gross.

Blue eyes blink, "...Lost."
Her arms hug around herself just a little tighter. The night is dark and the cool air chills her. Vianne honestly has no clue what or where or how. The fact that she's talking to a complete stranger at a graveyard in the middle of the night doesn't even phase her. Considering everything else she's confused about, nothing really makes sense. It's just another bad dream. It's just worse than the last time. That's all.

Eyes shut tight for a split second and then opened again to focus on the woman, as if trying to clear her vision. Nope, still there. Still here. Scared and at a loss for words, the girl just stares. Like a deer in the headlights.

"Who...?"

[Malakai]

Vianne is embarrassed. That's as plain as day to see. Why shouldnt she be? She's stark naked in a cemetery in the middle of nowhere without a damn clue what's going on. Or even enough sense for articulate speech. Malakai almost feels sorry for her, looking down on this poor scared little girl. Almost.

"Wha- No. I'm no... I don't- I don't know. I'm- I'm..."

"You're?"

"...Lost."

Malakai looks at her for a moment. Really looks at her. And upon closer speculation on her part it crosses her mind that this isnt the situation to necessarily be rude and snooty. She can vaguely remember some of her first trumps and shifts out in the woods. Her brother's promising their father not to lose her but surprise! .. Actually losing her. For almost three days. It'd been a horrifying situation to wake up starved and hungry and lost. The dark woods had been enough to make her want to tear her hair out.

With today's technology it was probably worse to be lost -- now. Coupled with that sense of failure and shame because no really there was this thing called a cell phone and if not that then a gps and if not that then atleast a really loud whistle. So come on how could you honestly get lost in the woods anymore.

"Who...?"

Vianne says quietly, but it's loud enough to jolt the shuck from her memories as she shifts the shovel and digs it an inch into the ground. Lowering her leg to lean on it absent-mindedly as she keeps a close eyes on the girl.

"Do you want something to cover up?" She says, sighing annoyingly at something that is much more of a ''tumor'' then a ''conscience.'' "I can get you home as soon as I am finished up here."

[Vianne]

The girl is conscious of the woman's eyes, though it causes her to shrink back slightly, knees pressing tighter together. What was she doing? Judging, for sure. Even Vianne could understand how crazy this looked. What was she? Lost.

There wasn't a good explanation. She has none. No reasons. Nowhere to start. Vianne doesn't even remember leaving her room. Sure, the last few weeks had been anything but normal, with the horrible virus or whatever it was that she had caught, but this was freaky. Vianne remembers blacking out a few days ago, but never outside of her room. Not like this. Not waking up in the middle of a graveyard... Had she started sleepwalking?

Hopefully her mother won't worry, but somewhere in the back of her head, Vianne knows she will. What would she say if her daughter came home like this. Oh good lord, Vi would die. Wait, what if she's been out fairly long? A day? A week? She's in the middle of her senior year of high school, how many classes had she missed? What day was it?

Eyes blink and Vianne questions quietly, wide eyes peering as the other leans on that shovel.

"Do you want something to cover up? I can get you home as soon as I am finished up here."

Vianne begins nodding before that first sentence even finishes. Yes, she'd like something: a jacket or a blanket. Anything. Not just because it's chilly out here like this, but seriously, modesty puhleeese. She can't even remember the last time her own mother saw her naked. Her own hands grip into her side and arm, knuckles whitening.

She thinks that maybe she's found a bit of help. At least, the woman offered to get her something to wear. That's a start. And then home. The relief flickers across her face as Vi dares to hope she'll make it out of this nightmare, whatever it is, "Please." The word sneaks out, faint in a huff of breath. Desperate and willing to trust a stranger when that's all she's got.

Then something's off, a faint rumbling in her head, a stirring. Brows furrow in confusion until it finally passes. Perhaps she hit it harder than she thought? It's odd. After the brief pause, eyes refocus on that shovel by the tombstone.

So the jilted wheels start turning and even though there's plenty more to worry about, the girl asks quietly, "...Finished with what?" There's nothing Vianne can do but sit awkwardly and wait for the woman with the shovel in the graveyard at the middle of the night to get her some clothes.

[Malakai]

Vianne looks a lot more pathetic then she should, and even though Malakai is looming with that usual judging shadow to her face; the hound feels atleast a little sorry for her.

"Please."

The girl says, and Malakai makes some dry noise with her mouth before standing and tilting the shovel over her shoulder and collar-bone. Casually moving back the way she'd come to finish the job (double checking her handiwork). Whatever Vianne says after that is hanging between the distance as Malakai quietly finishes up between the next several minutes. Vainly covering the body with dirt and patting the pile for vague insurance.

Burning bodies would probably be easier, in retrospection. But she didnt do most of the clean-up. That was Icus's job. She just did the dirty gritty degrading work of it all.

Malakai props the shovel between a leg as she rubs her fingers together. A attempt to rid away the dirt and grime of the murder. If she'd smoked she may have brought out a cigarette and propped it between her lips for a long - looonnng - drag. "Quite sorry about that," she says mechanically. It sounds a lot more echo and empty then it ever does sincere. And the way she moves a moment later may not squash any worry that the young supernatural has about getting in the car naked with a possible serial killer.

"My car is just past the wood. Keep up."

And hopefully Vianne does, because Malakai doesnt give off the air of a good samaritan when she practically leaves the werewolf behind on the trek. But finally they make it to Impala and Malakai digs around for something before beeping open the door and climbing in.

Of course, upon checking her messages, her eyes nearly pop out of her head. One hundred text messages on her blackberry, half of which are from Lyra. And six more than likely very angry voicemails.

Malakai starts the engine.

"We're going to make a stop first." She says. Makes sure that the girl is buckled in before taking off.

(enter: THE BEAST: lyra)

[Vianne]

The woman ables off with that shovel of hers over a shoulder. Was she leaving her out here? Vianne's question hangs, unanswered. Lips draw close together and she sits silently, growing anxious as the minutes pass. Eyes glance towards the woods behind. It's dark. What if there's something else out there? Something worse? Sitting alone with her own thoughts, dark tales fill her imagination, running circles in her head. So the woman had a shovel in a graveyard and here she is without anything to her name and... All the what ifs and worries... All the girl wants is to go home.

"Quite sorry about that,"

Vianne simply stares.

"My car is just past the wood. Keep up."

Off she goes and Vi just sits a moment more. Wait, what? How about some clothes? Oh dangit, she was going to have to follow this chick through the woods, hoping she doesn't get killed or kidnapped or just... Waaait! And she's scrambling to get up, since the lady apparently wasn't kidding about her having to keep up. So far, this stranger is the only hope she's got of getting back to civilization. Of course, trekking through the woods isn't so easy or quick when you're trying to keep yourself covered with your hands and thighs the entire time. Do the crossed arms shuffle, then trip, get caught in some bushes... Cheeks burning, she trails behind, lagging and trying to keep up as best she can. If she wasn't already as covered in dirt and leaves as she could have been, she is now. Her foot steps in something wet and the girl makes a noise, not a scream, but an fairly loud "eep".

And then a car appears in the shadows ahead. She reaches it as the woman goes to digging around for something. Vianne hovers, as if waiting for an invitation to climb in. When one doesn't come, the girl gingerly climbs into the passenger seat. Of course, she's still mindful of keeping herself covered as best she can.

"We're going to make a stop first."

Well then... "...Okay." What else can she say? Where were they going anyway? Here's to hoping she wasn't going to get pitched on the roadside along the way. Or worse. Nerves begin to build and after she buckles and the engine starts, the wheels finally start turning. Out of the woods, she can think a little clearer. So she's in a car. Naked. With some crazy lady she'd come across in a graveyard. Eyes glance sidelong at the driver. Then they blink and stare straight ahead. Huh, guess who's stupid. Vianne makes a face at the windshield.

Mama's gonna kill her if she ever makes it back.

[Lyra Everhart]

She was anxious and worried and she had no clue where her beloved was or what she was doing or why it was taking so long and she definitely wanted to know why Malakai wasn’t answering her texts or calls. Not that is was unnatural for them to go unanswered from time to time – especially when the shuck disappeared at night, because we all know what she could or might or would be doing then – but still, Lyra worries and Lyra frets.

So when the sleek car pulls up at the hotel she is already outside and she is rushing forward, and as soon as it is parked and the inhabitants step out she swoops upon Malakai. There could be strangers, observers, the paparazzi, the entire media corporation that they own together and all of their competitors and it would not stop her from stretching up on tips of toes to plant a worried kiss at the corner of Malakai’s lips, brief but full of meaning before she steps back.

“What happened? What took you so long? Why didn’t you reply to any of my texts or calls?” She reached forward to grasp the shuck’s hands, felt the rawness of them and then looked over her more carefully in the dim light that was a combination of nighttime and florescent lighting. Scrutinizing gaze picked up the dirt but appraised and saw no more damage; peridot eyes flitted upward. “Are you okay?”

Only once Malakai had assured her (likely several times) that she was safe and sound would Lyra notice the newcomer. Turning, her eyes raked over her – accusatory, predatory glare. Possessiveness in every move as her grip tightened on Malakai, as she shifted closer to the black dog.

“Who are you?”

[Malakai]

Of course Malakai is a little more spacey then normal. Especially now that she'd become aware of Lyra's manic. The fact that Vianne is strapped in -- still completely nude -- goes mostly unnoticed until she reaches forward to turn on the heat. Night's chill seeping at her bones. After that she makes some sound of recognition and then notions to the back seat. There's a coat there. A very expensive coat. But she's not going to make a big fuss out of it, Malakai would rather not explain to the authorities why there is a shovel in her trunk and a dirty nude underage girl in her passenger seat.

Either way the trip is long and silent and then it's too hot and she's tapping her fingers at the steering wheel like techno is playing on the radio. All the while her phone is making inconsistent beeps in the cupholder. Answering might have been a good idea if she hadnt been one of those law abiding citizens (when she wasnt killing people and picking up women at graveyards she was not littering and registering to vote!). Or maybe it was the combination of anxiety and fear jetting that made her so quiet and ergo Vianne so uncomfortable.

But they amazingly make it to the hotel in one piece. But before she turns in she knows Lyra is in the lobby waiting like the nosy worrier she is. And the fact that yes.. Vianne is still in the car with nothing but a coat has completely gone out of her mind and she's focusing on other things. The valet bends his head down to ask her for keys, but his eyes jump to the ginger in her passenger side and it's only then she realizes her mistake.

Uh oh. Lyra was a reasonable woman. She had to be, she was into business and politics. However, there was not going to be a easy way of explaining this one.

"Go get a robe or something to cover my .. friend here.. up with" She tells the young man flippantly. He makes some stumbling argument but thinks better of it. Dropping the subject before disappearing back into the hotel. She's hardly done before Lyra is bee-ling for her. The fairy plants a kiss full of expression at the dimples of her cheek before rearing backwards with a thousand questions on her lips and possessive palm bridges in her reassuring wandering.

“What happened? What took you so long? Why didn’t you reply to any of my texts or calls?" “Are you okay?”

"I'm fine." She says. Giving Lyra a look that's all the much like a child being fretted over by their overbearing mother."I had some things to take care of. I'm sorry I did not have time to notify you." There is a empty, flat tone to her voice. One that hints to the fact it's something they will talk about later, in private.

Although rather Lyra will settle for just that, she cant say. But can hope.

“Who are you?”

Malakai blinks dumbly. Wrapped in Lyra's coils she realizes that -- no, she hadnt asked the girl's name had she? But before anything can be said (more than likely Malakai stumbling out the truth before Lyra turns on her teeth bared). The valet makes his appearance again with a nice big and white fluffy robe for Vianne. He offers it to her and given that she takes it, looks at Malakai for affirmation before disappearing into the other side of the car.

Malakai clears her throat. "I'll explain upstairs." She tells her woman. Motioning for the hopefully wrapped werewolf to follow along as they disappear into the hotel and then the elevator.

[Vianne]

As soon as the driver notions to the back seat, Vianne's craning her neck back to look. A coat! Great glory hallelujah, she's freezing and immodest, so she wastes no time in reaching back and grabbing it. The seatbelt poses a bit of an issue, but the skinny gal gets herself that coat by stretching for all she was worth. Then, of course, she has to unbuckle anyway to get the thing on.

Along the way, the heat blasts in her chilled face and her red nose begins to run. Vianne thinks nothing of sniffing and wiping her dripping nose on the sleeve more than once. The silence grows awkward and the ride seems to take forever, but Vianne sits there silently (save for the sniffles) and stares out the windshield. Sooo... Where were they headed? Huh, did this fall under the don't take candy car rides from strangers clause? The drive is just long enough to let her imagination run wild and anxiety to build. So Vianne comes to the conclusion that she's stupid.

As they pull in, Vianne does her best to avoid eye contact with the valet. Slowly, she slides down and slouches in the seat. Messy red hair shadows her face. Nope, not here. Vianne does magic and pretends to disappear.

Thank goodness, the woman ordered him to get her a robe! The coat is long enough to cover her, but it's still awkward. She gingerly gets out of the car, but another woman rushes to the driver as she climbs out. And then she kisses her, nearly on the lips. Do what? Was she family or... Like... What was this her little blue eyes were seeing? Pda? Awkward.

Maybe Vianne can just disappear. Go poof like they did in those sci-fi portal things or something. A hand reaches up to absentmindedly scratch at the temple closest to the two of them, effectively shielding them from view. As she does, the ginger girl slides a few inches down the side of the car. Nope, not here. Nope. Disappearing again now. Maybe whatever made her poof into the cemetery will happen again, but this time she'll go poof and be back in her room and everything will be okay again. Yup.

That doesn't happen though, dangit. La di da, nothing to do here.

“What happened? What took you so long? Why didn’t you reply to any of my texts or calls? Are you okay?” So that explained the crazy phone beeps.
"I'm fine. I had some things to take care of. I'm sorry I did not have time to notify you.

“Who are you?”

She straightens. Her hand lowers and eyes cut towards the women, like she's just now realizing they're both here. Her mouth forms a small "o" and eyes widen, as if to ask "who me?" Oh, hi there...

Saved by the valet! Vianne quickly takes the robe and shrugs it on as quickly as humanly possible, right over the coat. Since it's fairly fluffy and snug over the coat, she looks like a fluffy white marshmallow. So now there's nothing to keep her from answering.

"Vianne, uh… I'm Vianne Fields." She swallows nervously.

"I'll explain upstairs." Vianne has no idea what she plans on explaining, since the pup has no clue where to begin. So the barefoot girl follows, ducking the stares of anyone they might pass.

[Lyra Everhart]

She doesn’t quite register the fact that the strange girl stepping out of the car isn’t really wearing any clothes, so preoccupied is she with the fact that her Malakai has finally returned and – seems – to be all in one piece. She doesn’t notice much in fact until Malakai calls attention to it – she looks over then and an eyebrow raises and a snarl lifts her lips and for a moment there’s an acidic glint in her eye and a curl to her finger before she redirects energy to worrying and smothering her lover. Frowns in disapproval when Malakai gets short with her and almost snaps at her but thinks better of it; even for as flighty and free as she is there is some sense in the girl – woman – and she knows that to be seen quarreling would be bad for everyone involved.

She raises a brow at the petulance in Malakai’s tone but says nothing about it because for a moment her thoughts have drifted upstairs and she realizes she has forgotten one important piece of the puzzle, one of dire importance, and for a bit she looks… scared. Even as her gaze is not on Malakai, it is drifting up to the window of what she imagines their suite to be and she is biting her lip nervously, twisting fingers together even as they clutch at Malakai and balking.

“Can we go home, tonight, instead?” But she anticipates the refusal and is all but dragged (perhaps more unwillingly than Vianne herself) upstairs. Has not the time to formulate a plan or a way around what Malakai is about to find – not what, but who – as she steps out of the elevator. Perhaps Malakai has noticed by now that Lyra is not her normal energetic self and perhaps she has commented; if so Lyra has mumbled off some excuse and unwillingly followed behind. But when she realizes there is no deterring her lover from the suite, she suddenly hurries forward.

“I’ve got the key!” And so she fumbles – or pretends to – with it at the door until finally the light flashes green and the lock snicks, and she’s left to slowly opening it.

Perhaps she hopes they have all jumped out the window, or conveniently abandoned the hotel room in some way or another in the meantime, but she can only close her eyes and wonder to Malakai’s reaction as the three figures in the room rise.

The shortest of them all matches if not exceeds Malakai’s height and she smiles just as gracefully as she rises, brunette hair falling around flawlessly tanned features. Her hands clasp together and she looks absolutely delighted – too perfectly so. The dress she wears falls in a silky column down a frame model-thin with a slit high enough to be considered just on the shy side of indecent and her voice is nothing less than a coo when she says, “Lyra~ This isn’t the Malakai that’s been keeping you from our grasp, is it?”

The tallest of them rises, and his smile is a billion watts of sickening charm. “I think it must be – look at how she’s wrapped around her!” His blonde hair falls in messy near-waves around his chiseled features, and as opposed to his companions he’s buff – almost too much so.

And the middle height man remains seated, expression much more withdrawn and yet – observant. He stares at them and remains silent, though a small smile graces his lips when Lyra looks nervously at him.

And so Lyra finds herself in a position to worry – looks back at Malakai nervously. “Mala, baby…” And you know it’s serious at that point. “These are my… ah, friends…” Which is a rather lofty term for the relations the four have had, “That’s Jameson,” gesturing to the blonde, buff male, “Alexander,” to the quiet dark-haired man, “And Brooke.” To the brunette.

“They were keeping me company, is all…” and her voice has gotten quiet enough that a mouse could out-speak her at this point.

Her gaze is pinned on the shuck as she prepares for the worst, quietly begging with her eyes that Malakai not be “unreasonable”.

[Malakai]

Vianne smartly tag's along as the dynamic trio make's there way through the empty hotel. The receptionist gives them a curious glance before sleepily returning to clicking at the computer. If it'd been the day it might have been a scandal worth speaking of - but given her ten hour shift she's drained and silent. More likely to mind her own business then waddle in the strangeness that is Malakai's life.

“Can we go home, tonight, instead?”

Very strange indeed.

As they disappear into the elevator Malakai gives Lyra a skeptical look. She'd expected a serious scolding - or at the least some uncomfortable glaring but the fact the fairy is docile and subservient rings every single alarm bell in her head that: somethings up. To further indicate distress the woman is quiet and shuffling and averting eye contact too.

For a majority of the way back she watches Lyra's uneven steps and flitty behavior with concern. Vianne in those moments is forgotten and invisible even at the shuck's heel. She suspects that perhaps Malakai's blossoming conscious isnt the only thing they are going to discuss tonight.

“I’ve got the key!”

Lyra says. But Malakai has been quiet long enough and intervenes next, "What is wrong with you?" As if the woman had just tried to bite her versus offered to open a door.

But when the door swings open she can suddenly see Lyra's sudden desire to return back to their home and her uncharacteristic maladroitness the closer they'd gotten to the room. There are three strange people in their hotel room and they know her name and who she is and they are too well proportioned and pretty to be human.

“Lyra~ This isn’t the Malakai that’s been keeping you from our grasp, is it?” “I think it must be – look at how she’s wrapped around her!”

Before she can form a response Lyra interrupts, frantically. Malakai does not turn to listen entirely, choose instead to gaze sidelong at the nervous red-head beside her.

“Mala, baby… These are my… ah, friends… That’s Jameson," “Alexander,”“And Brooke.” “They were keeping me company, is all…”

She tilts her head thoughtfully. A smile on her lips that's too sharp to be genuine. "I've never heard you speak of them." She says thoughtfully. And although she's smiling and elsewise undeterred there is something stiff and unwelcoming about the way she's standing and looking at everyone. Even Vianne gets the blunt of her gaze. The poor girl.

"Excuse my current attire. I was visiting a old friend's grave when this girl ran at me from the woods screaming for help and begging for me not to call the authorities. Poor thing wont speak a word of what happened." She looks at Vianne almost sadly. But there's a unseen twitch to her lip that says to the werewolf just go with it. "Wont speak a word at all, really."

Because she does not know these people, and though they may be ''friends'' of Lyra's. But they are no friends of her's.

"The bathroom is over there if you'd like to clean up. Then we can see about getting you back home." And the way she gestures is likely saving Vianne not only from a embarrassing situations but from the wrath that is a possessive overdramatic shuck.

Her mind obscenely, jumps back to the time Lyra had confessed to attending orgies. And before she can help herself she's whirling on the fairy in persona.

"I am glad to see upon my absence you have kept well company, Lyra. I'd hate to have you bored."

[Vianne]

Vianne tags along at their heels, following with her head down. She doesn't really pay attention to the key fumbling, since she won't notice anything out of the ordinary because nothing is ordinary here. In a strange place, with strange people, Vianne just wants to go home. What would mama think of all this?

That door opens and there are people inside the room. Dear lord, strike her sorry soul down. Her mind explodes. As if more people need to know she's got nothing to her name but a coat and a robe. Neither of which are even really hers. Two men and a women, and the men are nice looking fellas. Hey, the eighteen year old girl isn't completely oblivious. Her chin shoots down, starring at her curling toes as the others talk. Arms hug tight around herself. Cheeks burn and Vianne wants nothing but to disappear. Go home, drop dead, anything. Why hadn't she just stayed out there and froze half to death? That would have been better than dying of embarrassment, because indecent, hello. Mama would turn her horrible immodest sinner of a daughter away if she ever found out.

The redhead is so preoccupied with her current state, their words barely register. Eyes go hesitantly from Lyra to Mal, lost, and she visibly flinches under that harsh gaze. Ears vaguely hear and comprehend a brooding issue, but Vianne doesn't really listen, not until the one who had plucked her sorry tail from the graveyard begins to speak again. Was she explaining?

"I was visiting a old friend's grave when this girl ran at me from the woods screaming for help and begging for me not to call the authorities. Poor thing wont speak a word of what happened. Wont speak a word at all, really." Blue eyes dart up to look at the woman. Then those wide eyes blink.

"The bathroom is over there if you'd like to clean up. Then we can see about getting you back home."

Great glory hallelujah, there is a merciful God. And a place for her to hide until she can find a way home. Relief flickers across her face, but the shy girl merely nods. Someone give Mal a gold star. Vianne could hug her, but goes to stiffly walking around the group while keeping her knees as close together as possible while shuffling. Of course, she gives everyone a wide space and doesn't so much as look in their direction. That bathroom door is her destination. Please, lord, let nobody say a word. Don't let her trip either. Well, if she tripped, maybe she'd just impale herself on something. That way she wouldn't have to deal with whatever went flying up. So the girl takes care in placing her feet with one goal in mind.

Her glorious savior arrives in the form of a furnished bathroom, complete with a shiny porcelain toilet and marble shower. Vianne has never been more thankful in her life.

Once safely hidden away in the bathroom, she turns the lock on the door and backs up against it. Finally, Vianne can breathe. Eyes take in her surroundings slowly. A shaky hand runs through her hair, stops, and then pulls out a small twig. She needed a shower. If she was staying here a while, might as well make the best of it. Maybe the running water will drown out the voices. The hot water knob turns and Vianne plans on taking a marathon of a shower. She doesn't even know how or why she had taken to the woods that night. Her mind can't remember. It worries her. The girl slips climbing in, banging her foot on the side, but the hot water takes it all away.

Until someone came and got her, Vianne was staying right here.
Praying.