monsters and children || illyria
He moved with a predator’s grace, and a hunter’s speed. Her gaze remained leveled, steady upon the wolf in human skin, though she did not fail to note the stake that had seemingly leapt into his hand at the sudden sound of movement behind him. Something else. Vampire. ”You are a hunter,” she observed, her own prowling steps taking her in a slow semi-circle around him, watching him and taking in the form and build of him. ”A hunter of the half-breeds. The vampires.” Further observations, as she drew to a stand still, at least for a moment.
Her head tilted, canting to the side, cocking towards her shoulder, causing the neon blue streaked strands to fall at an angle. ”I am something else," she amended, then, silver rimmed eyes meeting his. "I am Illyria." She doubted it would mean what it should to him, but then he was not simply human. He was wolf, and driven by things, ancient and primal. Genetic memory. Instinct.
"Right…" Not human. No, definitely not. He should have noticed that straight away, what with the odd scent an’ all. Shouldn’t have just assumed she wore some silly perfume and had funny make up because eh, who knew what Americans did, really? Apart from the cartoons on the telly, he didn’t pay much attention to the world wide news, if he was bein’ honest.
— That aside, he really wasn’t fond of her circlin’ him like that. An’ knowing what he was, ‘least the huntin’ bit… his free hand balled into a fist, and he felt his calves flexin’, ready to bolt. “Look, Miss,” he began, “I haven’t met someone quite like you before, but you’re a bit frightenin’, an’ I really think I oughtta be askin’ a friend of mine for advice right about now; he’s much older than me, see.” His head tilted, mirroring her a bit. “The way you speak’s funnier than mine,” he added, blurting that out without meanin’ too. “Flatter-like,” Tom hastily explained, “Which isn’t a bad thing, it’s — it’s just…” He trailed off, at a loss.