peter remembers the visceral reaction he'd had to the word when he first arrived in exsilium, the bone-deep rejection of the concept. werewolves aren't pack animals. werewolves run alone. even when he'd run with nicolae for those few glorious months, they hadn't been pack. they were family, but in the end, on that last moon, nicolae had left him, had gone to finish whatever business he had with the world on his own. because that's just how it is.
but he's been at least as much wolf as boy for months, now, and the wolf, the wolf knows. the wolf has chased isaac, has kept him from doing harm, has pillowed his head in dim cages, has tracked him through corridors filled with the smell of death. the wolf knows isaac's scent, knows the sound of his heart and the sound of tears that peter has always pretended he can't hear.
and the boy, well. the boy knows the feeling of isaac's back pressed to his back, the sound of his sleep-breathing. knows that unlike peter, who will sometimes swear a thing just because he likes the ritual of it, isaac only makes promises that he means.
and peter knows that he's never made isaac a promise he didn't intend to keep.
his hand curls into a loose fist, lightly hits isaac's thigh just above the knee, and then uncurls to pat it, to rest there.
[action]
peter remembers the visceral reaction he'd had to the word when he first arrived in exsilium, the bone-deep rejection of the concept. werewolves aren't pack animals. werewolves run alone. even when he'd run with nicolae for those few glorious months, they hadn't been pack. they were family, but in the end, on that last moon, nicolae had left him, had gone to finish whatever business he had with the world on his own. because that's just how it is.
but he's been at least as much wolf as boy for months, now, and the wolf, the wolf knows. the wolf has chased isaac, has kept him from doing harm, has pillowed his head in dim cages, has tracked him through corridors filled with the smell of death. the wolf knows isaac's scent, knows the sound of his heart and the sound of tears that peter has always pretended he can't hear.
and the boy, well. the boy knows the feeling of isaac's back pressed to his back, the sound of his sleep-breathing. knows that unlike peter, who will sometimes swear a thing just because he likes the ritual of it, isaac only makes promises that he means.
and peter knows that he's never made isaac a promise he didn't intend to keep.
his hand curls into a loose fist, lightly hits isaac's thigh just above the knee, and then uncurls to pat it, to rest there.
he is so, so fucked.]
Yeah. Our pack.