[ Red, red, he swore he saw it. The mere sight is enough to make Stiles swallow a lump in his throat, but he still doesn't shrink back, even at the suddenly tighter grip at his hand--
And then he's righted back to normal, and he brushes himself off. It's kind of a curious thing, really, that Derek hasn't completely offed him yet, and he's feeling a little. Confident? Underneath what is a lot of shellshock and terror.
Huh.
Before he can respond again, he just manages a "yeah", and takes a step forward to look at the camp, obviously curious.]
[ Letting out a gruff and unamused chuff, he rolls his head and shoulders, cracking his neck before he makes his way past Stiles and into the camp proper. Despite the fact it means baring his back to this stupid Southerner that he doesn't like, let alone trust, there's strangely not a prickling sensation of unease that typically comes with an untrusted person standing behind him.
Instead, he leads the way in, tension visible in the way his shoulders rest and the rigid line of his spine. It eases, just a touch, now that he's home, or what passes for home, but much of it remains.
Why he hasn't killed Stiles, he isn't sure. He's intrigued by the defiance and attitude, despite the clear smell of fear-- fearlessness while afraid is commendable at times, if incredibly stupid at others-- and oddly wants to see what else he can get out of him.
Whether it's worth the headache or not will be seen. ]
[ He's not dumb. Stiles knows that's a big deal for any kind of animal-slash-vaguely-animalistic person to do, turning their back on someone. And a part of him feels kind of bad. But hell, this is basically agreed upon kidnapping, so you know what, he doesn't feel bad at all.
His attention drifts from Derek pretty quickly, and he starts to look around the camp. It's not overtly different from any Tully host--there aren't any banners, but there are children running around, the smell of food cooking over a fire--a fire oh god. Hurriedly, he dashes out from behind Derek and sets himself near the fire, holding out his hands and trying to get rid of the bone chill that had already set in.
That's better. From here he can look around at some of the other wildlings. Most of them are cloaked in hoods similar to Derek's, and there are a few actual wolves prowling around the camp, one of which brushes up against Stiles and makes him jump half a foot and fall straight back on his ass.
[ Cocking his head away from where he's listening to Stiles behind him, the Faoladh focuses instead on responding to greetings and welcomes from his pack. Though he's still on edge and irritable, he offers them much better greetings than Stiles received. Those with hoods like the one he's temporarily given to Stiles receive claps on the shoulders or a brief clasp of forearms, quiet words exchanged while their new guest goes to warm himself up.
The passing wolves get brief touches on the shoulder, but the children receive much better greetings than even his peers. Crouching down as a group of children approach, he bows his head forward and butts it against some of theirs, listening to their chattered questions before he hears someone hitting the group. He turns, and...
Well, isn't surprised to see it's Stiles.
Despite the laughter, muffled and blatant alike, Derek ignores it and approaches, reaching calmly to catch hold of Stiles' scruff again. This time, however, it's by his own wolfskin and Stiles' Riverrun cloak beneath it, rather by his neck. Hefting easily, he rights him back onto his feet. ]
They'll do that just to see your reaction if you aren't careful.
[ Okay, first of all, ow, that really hurt. Cloak or not, it's not exactly helping his now soaking wet ass, either. And second, he wasn't expecting to get hefted up so easily--his arms windmill back and he nearly smacks Derek again, but he manages to right himself, his cheeks burning red.
He can hear people laughing, and he stuffs his hands deeper into the pocket of his own cloak, turning his gaze to Derek for half a second before turning to look at the ground, mumbling. ] Making a totally awesome rabbit from day one.
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And then he's righted back to normal, and he brushes himself off. It's kind of a curious thing, really, that Derek hasn't completely offed him yet, and he's feeling a little. Confident? Underneath what is a lot of shellshock and terror.
Huh.
Before he can respond again, he just manages a "yeah", and takes a step forward to look at the camp, obviously curious.]
no subject
Instead, he leads the way in, tension visible in the way his shoulders rest and the rigid line of his spine. It eases, just a touch, now that he's home, or what passes for home, but much of it remains.
Why he hasn't killed Stiles, he isn't sure. He's intrigued by the defiance and attitude, despite the clear smell of fear-- fearlessness while afraid is commendable at times, if incredibly stupid at others-- and oddly wants to see what else he can get out of him.
Whether it's worth the headache or not will be seen. ]
no subject
His attention drifts from Derek pretty quickly, and he starts to look around the camp. It's not overtly different from any Tully host--there aren't any banners, but there are children running around, the smell of food cooking over a fire--a fire oh god. Hurriedly, he dashes out from behind Derek and sets himself near the fire, holding out his hands and trying to get rid of the bone chill that had already set in.
That's better. From here he can look around at some of the other wildlings. Most of them are cloaked in hoods similar to Derek's, and there are a few actual wolves prowling around the camp, one of which brushes up against Stiles and makes him jump half a foot and fall straight back on his ass.
In front of a bunch of people.
Awesome. ]
no subject
The passing wolves get brief touches on the shoulder, but the children receive much better greetings than even his peers. Crouching down as a group of children approach, he bows his head forward and butts it against some of theirs, listening to their chattered questions before he hears someone hitting the group. He turns, and...
Well, isn't surprised to see it's Stiles.
Despite the laughter, muffled and blatant alike, Derek ignores it and approaches, reaching calmly to catch hold of Stiles' scruff again. This time, however, it's by his own wolfskin and Stiles' Riverrun cloak beneath it, rather by his neck. Hefting easily, he rights him back onto his feet. ]
They'll do that just to see your reaction if you aren't careful.
no subject
He can hear people laughing, and he stuffs his hands deeper into the pocket of his own cloak, turning his gaze to Derek for half a second before turning to look at the ground, mumbling. ] Making a totally awesome rabbit from day one.
[ That was kind of a dumb joke. ]