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

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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.

( brackets or prose is fine, and if you have a different idea for a thread you'd like to use, feel free to leave it as a starter!! )

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"What kind of favor?" Malia looks at her askance, turning slightly to get a better look.

"I have... been away from London and people for some time. I am not accustomed to some of the language." And it's true, her accent sounds like an amalgamation of America and something European. "It would be useful to have someone who might explain a turn of phrase such as you have."

"And you think I can help you with that?" She turns to face Mab fully, now, eyebrow raised.

"You already have." Mab pointed out. It was true. And it probably said something about Mab that Malia knew more about current language among humans than she did. She turned her head to look directly into Malia's eyes. "Unless you believe otherwise." And there was the food to consider. Malia might be too honest for her own good. "I only ask that you try." She offered.

"I'm not good at pretending to be human," Malia says, but her stomach is growling.

"I don't know if I can help you."

Now that is interesting. Mab hasn't said she isn't human. And she hasn't made it clear that she believes Malia is anything but human. The sidhe woman tilts her head a little and curiosity enters her eyes. "Perhaps you are just what I need." Someone who struggles with the same things Mab does would run into the same pitfalls Mab would. It cannot hurt to try.

"We will not know unless we try." She points out and makes a gesture toward the door. It is always safer to have someone else open them. Humans love their metals and the anathema would rather give her away if she touched it. "If it does not work you, you still have a meal." So long as Malia gave it an honest effort Mab would not seek reprisals. It was more than she normally offered.

Mab hadn't said anything, no, but there was just enough 'off' about her scent that Malia was comfortable defining Mab as Not Human and therefore someone who wouldn't object to Malia calling herself not human.

She hesitates, and then mentally shrugs, heading for the door and opening it. What could possibly go wrong?

Malia really does have the benefit of not letting all the thoughts in her head get in the way of simple facts. Many people could learn from her and it might save them some grief.

Not that it wouldn't keep things from going sideways for her but she was certainly quicker on the draw than many humans Mab had met. And some witches as well which was saying something.

Mab follows her inside, never touching the door, she hasn't been in a shop that doubles as a cafe yet, the other one just served coffee. This is new for her. She stepped past the girl and walked to the counter, waiting a moment to be sure the girl was still with her before ordering a tea for herself and one of the scones to go with it and then turning to the girl, "And whatever my companion would like as well." She said smoothly to the boy behind the counter like someone who was accustomed to people just doing as she asked.

Malia doesn't notice Mab's careful avoidance of cold iron because she's too busy trying to readjust her senses. It's not accosting by any means, but the smell of fresh food makes her stomach growl loudly, and Malia all but beelines towards the display food. She's so focused on it that she doesn't initially respond to Mab's cue to order and it takes her a couple of seconds to look up, eyes wide.

"Huh? Oh, uh... um."

She's never drank anything before, but she remembers smelling something good in a customer's hand the other day.

"That one with chocolate, and I think whip cream? And it had coffee. With milk. Oh, and peppermint. And can I get one of these?" She points at a large slice of tiramisu. The barista stares at her for a second and then seems to collect himself, punching the order into his register.

Ahh one of the frothy sugar drinks. Mab had not particularly liked the one she'd had. She looked curious when Malia only ordered the one thing. She'd seemed hungrier than that and they had little sandwiches as well. "This will be enough to sate your hunger?" She asked the girl who's stomach had only barely finished complaining.

But it is fascinating to see her order, she knows all the pieces and if she is k-9 in nature that makes perfect sense. She'd be able to smell each individual piece of the puzzle. And to see the reaction of the barista to the hodgepodge order. But the girl took it in stride and the Barista seemed to decide she was just unique. Which made Mab smile a little to herself as she handed money over. Just bills and nodded to the change cup to avoid touching the coins.

Malia just nods. There's too much, and it'll tide her over for now. She waits for their order, crossing her arms and fidgeting a little and glances around the cafe, ostensibly looking for a place to sit.

The tea and scone make it over first, followed by Malia's sugar shock concoction and her additional sugar shock. Mab is always judging, it is how assessments are made. The fae woman takes her saucer of tea and scone and turns to slip through the crowded room toward a table. The people currently at the table pause, frown and look around nervously before murmuring about having forgotten something and Mab slips in, to sit in a chair that is still pulled out it was so hurriedly vacated.

The tea and saucer settle down and she pulls a napking from somewhere. And honest to goodness cloth napkin, and sets it in her lap before taking a sip of her steaming tea. Once she is properly settled in she looks up at Malia who she expects to have simply followed along and waits to be certain she has started sating her hunger before asking, "You have difficulties around others as well?"

Malia blinks, having followed and sat down, but doesn't question it, the faint hint of magic making her nose twitch. She picks at her food, glancing around at the other patrons, who seem to have suddenly all found better things to do with their time than stare at the two new people who'd come in.

She's not relaxed, not by a long shot, but it's still better than being stared at.

"I don't really know how to deal with other people."

"Mmm," Mab lifts her tea and takes a sip, savoring for a moment before setting it back on the saucer. "I can deal with people." She looks thoughtful, "It is the changes in customs and phrases with which I will need to reacquaint myself."

Her eyes scan Malia's face for a moment as though she is trying to see into the young woman's soul, find the things that make her tick. "What has stunted your social growth, child?" Malia, unfortunately, does not hold the patent on blunt questions but Mab thinks she might be the type of person who can appreciate getting to the point.

Mab's right. Her bluntness doesn't faze Malia. She does break eye contact, though, rubbing her thumb over the handle of the mug her mocha is in.

"My mom died when I was little. I've been alone since then. It was easier to just pretend to be an animal instead of trying to be human."

Malia's drop of her eyes, a sign of submission in a werewolf, is not so much in a Coyote. But it is interesting to see none the less. And Mab still isn't sure what kind of animal the girl is.

"Ahh." Mab considers this. "My sympathies for your loss, and at a tender age it can leave scars on the soul." Not everyone could retreat into a bestial nature to deal with loss. But one had to question if it was something to envy when it left her now on the outside trying to fit back in. "You make an effort now, though." And it was as much a question as a statement.

"I'm trying," she says, looking back up at Mab. Her show of submission is all human and nothing more. The look she gives Mab now is one of earnest.

"I have to try. For my family."

"Family." Mab let the word sit between them as she considered it. Humans places such weight on these things but she had seen the things families could do to one another. It was not so much a thing show reverence to as some might. But the attachments were quite useful. "I hope they appreciate you efforts? It is no easy thing, coming back after such a time in a baser nature."

"I don't know. I think so." She looks down again, reaching for the cup with her untouched coffee in it and wrapping her fingers around it. She looks up at Mab again and narrows her eyes a little.

"Why do you need help?"

Malia has given her a good deal of information, and Mab deems it useful to make it clear what she is. She is all for fair trade to some degree. "I have interacted only marginally with mortals in the last few decades." Harry Dresden barely counted. "I spent a good deal of time up north in the fae courts and their contact with humans is negligible." She tilts her head a little, "I find my communication lacking and as we have decided to take a more proactive role in your realm, I find it necessary to ... update my skills."

It takes Malia a moment or two to fully process what it is Mab is saying. When she does, she frowns, leaning back in her chair. She's suspicious; she doesn't know much about the Fae, never really had a chance to learn, but she knows enough to know they can be dangerous.

This is bad. This is really bad.

"I don't know anything about humans either. Do you still think I can help you?"

Mab watches Malia assess the new situation, and come to the conclusion she might be in a little over her head. Which is really too bad as she already agreed to help in whatever way she could.

"You might, perhaps, be the best person to help. You are in the unique position of trying to fit back in. You will know more of the challenges I face than most others possibly could. You have people you know well enough that you can ask complicated questions without being questioned." She smiles a little and there is definitely a hint of predator in there. "Yes, I believe you can help me."

She's in over her head, but it's too late now. Malia swallows, and nods slightly, trying not to look like she's wanting to bolt. She knows the signs of a predator when she sees them, and while Malia's usually at the top of the food chain - right now, she isn't.

"So what do I do?"

Mab smiled again, almost beatifically and lifted a hand to her scone to take a bite. "You spend time with me, we visit somewhere humans frequent casually and you tell me or show me how to interact in such a situation." That's right, Malia, she's asking you to take her out on at least one friend-date. "Is this task manageable? I can provide more food when needed."

There doesn't seem to be any catch, there. Perhaps other than having to come directly when summoned — but Malia has no job and really no obligations. It's unlikely that's ever going to become an issue.

She nods.

"Yeah. I think so."

they used to sing about the birds and the bees;

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Woah so many typos, sorry about that last post

i didn't even notice!

\O/

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