Disclaimer: Warehouse 13, the world and the characters that inhabit it do not belong to me in any way, though sometimes I lie awake at night wishing that they did and what I'd do with them if they did. And then I write those thoughts down.
A/N: SO... this was supposed to be all done for AU week, Halloween at the latest. Both have come and gone and the thing is still toddling along at a leisurely place. However, I figured I'd post this first little bit in an attempt to make it up to Three for not having this shit done already. This is both for her and because of her - something birthed from long rambling emails that somehow still managed to make more sense the longer they went on. As I said, this is just a taste, but there's more to come. Hopefully you'll want the rest. ;)
"New girl, two o'clock." Pete tries to whisper the words, but they rumble loudly in his chest and reverberate off the lockers they're standing beside. They're still low enough to be lost under the general hubbub and verbal melee of the busy hallway though and they all send surreptitious glances in the specified direction. "Fresh meat." His furry backside hits the tiled floor with a dull thud and he brings one long back paw up and around to scratch the back of his neck.
"Dude, do you seriously have fleas again?" Claudia asks, all raised eyebrows as she flickers her gaze between her friend and the unfamiliar face across the hallway. Pete scratches the spot a few more times and then lets his foot fall back to the floor, furrowing his fluffy brow at her.
"No." He drawls, rolling his head on his massive jersey-clad shoulders. "I told you, that's what this," he pauses, reaching beneath the neck of his shirt and hooking a claw under the collar he's wearing, "is for." He grins, jagged and toothy and inexplicably boyish. Claudia ignores him and sends her gaze back towards the new girl.
"She looks interesting." Claudia notes cryptically, absently running her tongue over the tips of fangs before grinning. "Not exactly 'fresh' though." And she chuckles, before gently nudging the girl next to her with an elbow. "No offence." Myka's milky eyes shift slowly away from the new girl to meet Claudia's waiting gaze and her cracked lips curl upwards in a smile.
The redhead has a point. As a member of the undead the new girl could hardly have argued with Claudia's statement. Her pale skin is cracked and broken, a 'U' shaped strip having been torn from around the outside of one of her dull, dead eyes. There's little blood around her wounds, telling Myka that all of them are old and have long since been cleaned and taken care of. If there's one thing you need to know going into a life of dead cells, it's how to maintain proper hygiene. And this new girl seems as though she could be the poster child for it. Her skin is marked and marred to be sure, but every rip and tear of once tender flesh tells a story.
"I bet she was so hot when she had a heartbeat." Pete mumbles, wistful.
They watch as she awkwardly collects her book for her next class from her locker and then closes with with a dull grunting sound. And that's when she apparently feels their attention on her and turns. She scans their group with curious eyes and then her gaze lands on Myka, and stalls.
And if Myka had been in possession of breath, it undoubtedly would have caught in that moment.
Eyes that might seem lifeless and dead to most, Myka finds strangely captivating in that instant and she may not remember quite what it feels like to be alive, but there's an echo of something so close to it in them that she almost can recall how it felt to have a heart beat beneath her breast. Just for a second.
Myka grumbles low in her throat and Steve startles her by asking if she's okay, his baby-blues peaking at her from between his wraps. She lets out a gravelly "hmm" and jerkily nods her head at him, and when she looks back the girl is already turning away.
"God, I hope they're serving liver at lunch." Pete says, moaning lewdly in anticipation.
And just like that, the moment is over and forgotten.
For all but one of them.