undergrounds | they used to sing about the birds and the bees;

dirty paws and furry coat; (a)

It’s easier, now, to be human. Now that she has something like a pack. It doesn’t mean she prefers it by any means. Being human is still difficult, still something she doesn’t ‘get’. It might be easier to blend into the streets of London as a human, but Malia’s never really cared about easy.

Which is why she’s back to old habits, trotting around an area with multiple coffee shops, looking for breakfast. Or lunch. It’s late enough in the day to be either, at this point. It’s a particularly busy one that’s she decided to poke her face into the dumpster for, and she’s just managed to catch them after their morning rush, which means a lot of half eaten scones or donuts or toast or some kind of breakfast sandwich.

Her back paws are scrambling on the side of the dumpster as she tries to climb inside, and she finally does with a loud ‘Oof’. With that, she starts tearing through the bags.

After she’s eaten, she sticks to the shadows as best as she can as she makes her way around the city, doing her best to stay out of the way of people. She’s really not in the mood to deal with animal control now, thanks.

she ran down the forest slope; (b)

Sometimes, she remains human, because it’s the right thing to do. She has to learn eventually to navigate her way through this space. She can’t stay an animal forever. It helps having a family, even if it’s a small one. The gaping wound in her heart is still there, but it’s slowly starting to scab over.

She really hates having to pay for things, though. Malia may have found a family, but she has no income to speak of, and absolutely no job. She probably couldn’t get one even if she wanted one; she never went to school, still doesn’t go, and she has no credentials that she knows where to find them.

Malia’s standing outside that same coffee shop she was at for breakfast, now at the front door instead of the back. She’s got her arms crossed and she’s glaring at it like it’s personally offended her. It smells great, and her stomach is growling and she’d like to go inside, but--

But she can’t buy anything. And she’s sincerely contemplating just turning into a coyote and snagging lunch that way.

Ugh. Humanity.

the forest of the talking trees; (closed to derek hale)

Malia wasn’t going to argue that she probably needed a phone. Allying herself with her cousin’s pack meant that they were going to need a way to communicate with one another when they weren’t close by that wasn’t a series of complicated howls.

She was seated in the passenger side of his car, wrinkling her nose a little at the plastic smell of it.

“You really don’t have to do this,” she says, fastening her belt. Even though she knows that, yes, he kind of does. There was just some vague memory of her mother teaching her to be polite when it came to expensive gifts, and maybe still a little bit of wariness because of who Derek shared a surname with. She knows enough about Peter to know he probably won’t be an issue. It doesn’t keep her skin from crawling when she thinks about it.

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She's not thinking straight and as a result, she turns a corner into a dead end, skittering and sliding to a halt before she runs into the wall. Malia turns to face him, backing up, tail tucked between her legs because this is it, this is—

Malia catches his scent, and she stops, blinking a couple of times. Another shapeshifter? Then why was he chasing her?

She cocks her head to the side, still wary, but not frightened.

Sirius bends down so that he's at her level, holding his hands out in a way that is hopefully non-threatening and showing her that she has nothing to fear. Mentally he's cursing the fact that everything he does always ends up looking worse than it should.

"It's okay, I'm a friend. Just curious is all. Sorry for scaring you." He speaks softly.

Malia leans forward and presses her nose to his palm, sniffing him much like a dog would. When he doesn't use this small moment to attack her, Malia relaxes her body language, glancing around. She's looking for a place to shift that won't get either one of them arrested, considering all of her clothes are back home.

Sirius smiles, also relaxing a bit. He takes off his jacket, offering it to her. It wasn't much but it was a start.

He also turns around, to offer a bit more privacy.

She takes the jacket carefully in her teeth and shakes herself before starting the process. When she's done, she pulls on the jacket, pulling it around herself and closing it.

"You can turn around now."

She looks more like her mother than her father, which works in her favor, considering. Malia isn't the spitting image of her mom, but it's close enough that anyone who knew her would see her in Malia.

It's enough to give Sirius a bit of a start when he turns around. Though he recovers quickly. This girl is a bit too young to be the woman he knows, but he vaguely remembers a daughter. He doubts that she would remember him though, since she would have been a toddler.

"Sorry, the jacket's not much but it's all I've got right now."

"It's fine," she says, shaking her head slightly. "Why were you following me?"

His look of surprise isn't lost on her, but she doesn't understand it. She doesn't remember him, has few memories of life with her mother. She keeps them all as vivid as possible, though. It's all she has left.

"You don't normally see coyotes in this city. I admit I was just curious and then I figured you had to be like me, a shapeshifter," Sirius explains.

"I'm sorry, if I scared you."

"It's fine," she repeats, shaking her head. "It was stupid of me to get caught anyway. I should have known better. I don't have many hiding places, anymore."

"Why not? London's a big city so there's bound to be several?"

He has more than a few, though most of them are a bit more accessible as a dog than as a human.

"I'm Sirius, by the way." He'll avoid giving out his last name for as long as possible. Hopefully, most people will consider it an odd first name rather than drawing any connections.

"Not when you're not a dog," she replies flatly, shrugging a shoulder. She gets more flak than most stray dogs, mostly because people think she's mangy or some kind of bizarre mutt. At worst, they think she's some escapee from the zoo.

"Malia." She doesn't recognize the name at all, probably wouldn't even if he gave out his last name.

"Nice to meet you," He says. He supposes she has a point. He mostly has trouble due to his size but otherwise he's fairly normal.

"Have you been in the city long?"

"My whole life," she says. It's true, despite her clearly American accent. Some things she learned from her mother stuck around after her death.

"She never told me why we moved here. Just that we needed to."

If it's who Sirius is thinking of, he can vaguely recall the reason why. He thinks, at least.

"And I'm assuming you take after her with the shapeshifting?"

Malia nods.

"She was a coyote, too. She told me once that I wouldn't have to worry about becoming a werewolf. Whatever that means."

"Well, as shapeshifters, we do have a natural immunity to werewolf bites," Sirius explained. "So, it's one less thing to worry about. Vampires are the ones you have to watch out for."

Malia presses her mouth into a thin line.

"Yeah, I know." She swallows thick, glancing away. "I try to avoid them as much as possible."

"Good plan, I do the same," Sirius replies. If he's been careful about anything he's been careful about that, mostly.

"Okay, this is going to be an odd question, but...your mom's name wouldn't happen to be Olivia, would it?"

It is an odd question, and Malia gives him an odd look for it.

"Yeah. Why?"

"I knew your mum, way back when," Sirius replies, "She was an old friend of mine. I don't know if she ever mentioned me."

Mallia shakes her head, shuffles her feet.

"No. She never really talked about anyone. It was just us."

Well, that was to be expected, given his reputation.

"Is she still in town?" There's a small note of hope in his voice. Because that's a potential ally, if she is.

they used to sing about the birds and the bees;

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