[ open ] you found me dressed in black

[immuno]

CHARACTERS: LYDIA MARTIN and OPEN
LOCATION: Forest
WARNINGS: None
SUMMARY: Looking for Scott and figuring out forest life


one:
[ Sticking close to the others keeps her surviving, but it doesn't keep her stuff dry. Lydia brought as much as she could out with her the first time—an outfit or two, nothing more—and with the chronic rain that the planet saw, that wasn't doing the job. She pulled thin, willowy branches from enough of the trees and wound them together between branches to make a drying line for the clothes she wasn't wearing, but it didn't do much for her hair, or the state of the clothes she did have on.

At least it was warm.

Stubbornly, she hung them anyway, ignoring the telltale thunder crack that spoke of further monsoon storms to come. ]

two:
I'm looking for Scott McCall.

[ Lydia repeats the name to anyone who'll stand still long enough to hear her. A part of her already dreads the truth, that he's gone, lost somehow, and not coming back. Not dead, no, she knows that much. She'd feel it if he were dead, and he's not. But if Scott were still around the ship, anywhere that he might get to them, that she might find him, she wouldn't have to look. He'd be with his friends.

But he's not.

She simply refuses to accept the reality, insisting upon her search, scanning the various encampments people have erected since the crash. ]

Comments

two;

[canevenlift]

[Liam is still a little disoriented.

Okay, that's an understatement. He's really disoriented.

And a familiar face (to him, anyways) asking about the same person he's trying to find... Well. Let's just say that a useful statement is beyond him right now.]

Lydia?

[immuno]

[ She glances back at the sound of Liam's voice, brow furrowing, then forgets whoever she'd been interrogating in favor of him. She tears away, approaching Scott's beta with greater interest. ]

What are you doing here?

[canevenlift]

I have no idea.

[As if there's any other real answer to the question, especially when he can't remember being on the Tranquility before.]

Do you know where this is?

[immuno]

As far as I know, it doesn't have a name. Or a designation. This planet wasn't on any of the maps we'd been collecting while we were in space. None that I looked at, anyway.

[altercate]

You're going to have to take them down soon.

[ comes a voice from the brush, followed by derek stepping into view, shoulders rolling back, shaking out his limbs in a gesture that signals hours spent in a more four-legged form. he's knotted the arms of his jumpsuit around his waist rather than zippering the suit all the way up as he observes lydia's efforts. ]

Rain's coming.

[ the scent of it is thick in the air, a tell even without the roiling booms of thunder. ]

[immuno]

When isn't rain coming?

[ Sourly noted. She doesn't look back at Derek right away, instead busying herself with the line. This planet seems to be mostly monsoon, one after the other, and she can't say that it's her favorite weather in comparison to the temperate Beacon Hills and the climate-controlled Tranquility. ]

[altercate]

We're better off with rain than with a dry season.

[ yes, derek's thought about this. but he didn't seek lydia out to ask about the weather. talking about difficult topics is still something derek's struggles with; the uneasiness manifests in the set of his shoulders, the warding cross of his arms across his chest. ]

Scott's gone.

[ as many times as derek has had to have this conversation before, he still hates it. and maybe this time, the idea of scott being gone is more difficult. with the loss of the ship, derek had thought for sure that they were all in it together now. ]

His scent doesn't lead anywhere. It just stops.

[immuno]

That's not possible.

[ She turns back towards him, huffy and indignant in a way that can only be that teenage denial. It's not just Scott. That's the real crux of it. Allison, too, and accepting that they're gone simply feels like too much right now on top of what else she's being forced to deal with here. ]

There are no jumps anymore, Derek. No gravity couches to just disappear inside. He's here somewhere. They both are.

[altercate]

That doesn't mean we're supposed to be here.

[ it's technically a poor choice of words, even if what derek is saying is true. they're all transplants. they don't belong in this universe, on this planet. ]

Maybe it doesn't matter about the couches. Maybe we leave either way.

[immuno]

I don't trust maybes. I trust facts. Facts that I can prove with empirical evidence, and last I checked, you can't prove a negative. So unless you have something productive to share, I suggest you— [ Just as she gets into the rhythm of her snappish takedown, a drizzle starts to make its way through the treetops. Her jaw sets, annoyance twitching her eye, and she drops her hands to her sides, straightening, exasperation writ across her features. Dammit. She turns back to the clothes, moving to take them down. As if a bundle will get any less sodden. ]

[altercate]

[ it's by no means a stretch to assume that lydia's next works were going to be "fuck off." the rainfall saves them both, but doesn't send derek scrambling away from her. ]

Lydia. [ exasperated, though he moves forward to start pulling clothes down himself. ] Come on. We need to get to cover.

[ and it's difficult to be angry with her like this, when she's sodden and stubborn and just trying to duck the truth that derek had taken weeks to face head on. they'd lost scott again. there was nothing to diminish that blow. ]

[immuno]

I don't need your help just because you think Scott's gone.

[ Mud sticks to the inside of her high heels, running up her legs. She's still in a skirt. She's not cut out for this, and her ill-fitting outfit and the mud ruining it only sheds light on her lie. She needs help: she just has too much pride and frustration to properly accept it. ]

[altercate]

That's not why I'm helping.

[ there's clear reluctance in derek's tone. outlining his motivation is low on his list of things he wants to be doing. it's not just about scott, not anymore. derek's urge to protect these people is about more than just staying in scott's good graces. he cares. admitting that might be a little too much for him even on a good day, but it's the truth. ]

Stop complaining and let me carry some of this for you.

[immuno]

[ Her lips purse, work a moment, then she clenches her jaw, relaxes it, and turns on her heels to gather up her things in a huff, tossing a crew jumpsuit, loose blouse, and high-waisted shorts into Derek's arms as soon as he's close enough. ]

Does Tyke know how eager you are to get your hands on another girl's underwear?

[ The sass sharpens onto the personal, though, which makes it less defensive and more resigned. ]

[altercate]

Tyke has bigger things to worry about.

[ and it's better not to consider whose underwear derek's had his hands on. derek's tone has gone defensive, thoughts straying to braeden. lydia's accidentally trod on something sensitive, that derek's been trying to avoid. ]

Do you need me to climb down into the ship and find you a better pair of shoes?

[ excellent subject change, right? ]

[immuno]

I don't need you to do anything for me.

[ She stresses 'need,' as if splitting hairs about the phrasing. For the moment, it seems to have saved him from that canny empathic knack she's developed since turning banshee. But only for the moment. ]

[altercate]

Fine.

[ there's an edge of frustration in his tone, but derek's patience has leveled up since the days when he'd first landed in beacon hills. ]

Do you want me to climb down into the ship and get you a better pair of shoes?

[ take that. ]