For years the morning after the full moon has been hard for the Salone-Talbot clan. Sure, she didn't have the worst of it, but to say Delia woke up feeling like fresh daisies would be completely incorrect. It's rough, bleary eyed, mused hair and that sort of vacant look of someone who has been through an experience that they can't fully comprehend still grace her features the morning after.
That being said, that's nothing compared to what her son and others like him go through during and after that horrible moon. It had been especially rough since last night had been a blood moon. How awful.
Standing in her kitchen, looking out the large bay windows with a cup of coffee steaming in front of her she stares at the naked figure crossing her lawn for longer than usual. Odd, she thought, Atlas didn't wander outside last night, did he? Except, as the figure gets closer it's pretty obvious that it's not Atlas. No offense to Peter but her son is fucking built. She knows that face though.
Leaving the coffee cup behind and grabbing the quilt from the back of the couch she makes her way outside, leaving the sliding glass door open behind her in order to take possession of the young man before the neighbors do, or, worse, the cops. "Peter? Peter, can you hear me?" Yes, marvel at the lady balls of the little white haired woman approaching a dazed werewolf.
He doesn't quite recall her name, but Peter recognises that face right away. He says nothing as she comes to his aid, his teeth chattering as the quilt embraces him with homely warmth.
He shakes under it, quickly gripping the folds over his chest to hold it close, his eyes searching the older woman's. Peter does little but nod at first.
The blanket wrapped around him, providing warmth and modesty, Delia does a serious but quick look over of him - well as much as she can do when he's wrapped in a blanket. He seems to be alright but that isn't saying much. Her hands press to either side of him and she gives his biceps a bit of a vigorous rub in order to provide additional warmth.
The look on her face is that of complete and utter concern and worry, poor pup.
"Come in, come inside, we'll get you warm and something to eat." She makes a motion toward the open and waiting house. "C'mon, Peter."
Unaware of it, Peter leans slightly against Delia, seeking for her warmth and support as he heads to what must be her house. The grass is soaked in dew, making squishy noises under the soles of his feet. He can barely register it though, one goal becoming the most important thing at the moment: get in.
"I n-need to go back to m-my place. Mom'll be worried."
Delia isn't very strong but she'll try and support the young man up to the porch and through the sliding glass door to the living room. There's a nice sectional couch there and when they are close enough she will try and urge him on to it. It's a lot more supportive than she is and then she can get more blankets and some coffee for him.
"I bet she will be. Just sit, rest, and I'll get you a phone so you can call her and tell her your're alright, okay?" Delia is out of breath which should surprise no one, a lot of excitement this morning! "Just sit and I'll get you something warm to drink."
It doesn't take long before they reach the couch, a trail of muddy foot prints leaving a path behind the pair of them on Delia's floor. Reaching out, Peter holds onto the back of the couch, which keeps him from practically falling right onto it. Slowly he eases down, taking a seat.
Options run through his head; will a call be enough? It has to be. He's too exhausted to walk anymore. At this rate, he'll just pass out.
Delia breathes a little easier when he is down in the seat, poor boy. Her hand idly moves and smooths down his hair like she would do for Atlas after a rough full moon.
"You're welcome, my son can drive you home later. At least she'll know now that you're alright." He's seated, right. Delia straightens up with a sigh and looks around. First, another blanket for her young guest and she'll grab another one from the other end of the couch to put over his legs and feet.
"Now, just rest, relax, let your eyes close. I'll get the phone and you something warm."
The way Delia strokes his hair is not alike the attention his own mother devotes to him in the mornings after a full moon. Peter closes his eyes briefly, aware that if he indulges in resting them for a little longer he will sure pass out on her couch.
Used as he is these days to be caught up naked in these dates, Peter still makes sure to keep his manhood covered from his host, the task luckily becoming easier as she hands extra blanket. Soon he starts to warm up, the teeth chattering stopping.
"No need to thank me," she tells him quietly with a smile. That motherly tone, the kind that says that it's no trouble for her at all and it would be silly to even think such a thing.
Delia brings him a fresh cup of coffee on a tray filled with sugar, cream, and a blueberry muffin. He might be a little hungry, Atlas usually is after the full moon. Maybe she should whip Peter up a full moon special as well. She'll set the tray down on the seat next to him and reach into the pocket of her robe for her cell phone.
Squeezing his eyes shut and then opening them wide as they can get, Peter holds the blanket tight around himself while shifting to the edge of his seat. While sleeping the morning and half the afternoon away is normally his priority on the day after the change, filling his stomach comes as a close, second need. The strong smell of the fresh coffee and the muffing only encourages it, his stomach growling with demands of attention.
"This is more than enough," Peter says, offering her a big, tired smile.
Grabbing the phone, he feels slightly self-conscious as he thanks Delia once more.
He calls his mother, who is quick to answer the phone. There's concern on her voice, but it quickly washes away as she hears Peter's voice. He calms her down, gives as many reassuring details as he can manage. The fact that his host is also a mother wolf most definitely helping matters.
Soon enough he is handing the cell phone back. "Lynda thanks you too. She says she wants to invite you guys over for dinner."
"Over for dinner? How exciting!" She beams as she takes the cell phone back. Delia doesn't get invited over for dinner very often any more, everyone in her life she pretty much knows after the original dinner party meet and greet. She got it a bit more when Atlas was a pup, sometimes anyway.
Sitting down on the foot stool across from him, Delia will look him over again for any signs of wear or tear, any obvious damage.
"You drink some coffee and have the muffin, I'll make you something more substantial in a moment. I just want to make sure you're okay."
Groggy as he feels, Peter's smile grows wider and honest as he notices just how excited Delia is over something as simple as being invited over for dinner. It helped downing the fact that he felt like a nuisance.
Picking the mug of coffee, Peter enjoyed the warmth that stroked his face, the steam coming from it. "I'm okay, just very tired. Bit sore," he commented. With the first sip, Peter closed his eyes, a soft moan escaping him.
Yes, they were no marks on his body, except a couple of barely visible, old scars. Nothing fresh. His skin was practically anew.
He shouldn't feel like that! Delia is more than happy to take him in and help him. Peter seems like a sweet boy, and, honestly if Atlas was out wandering after a full moon she would hope someone would help him out too.
Though, she loves social interaction and she doesn't always get a lot of that.
She gently pats his knee and stands up. "I'll get you something to eat, and try and find you something to wear. Now, tell me how you like your eggs and then you rest, alright? We'll get you all squared away."
"Fried eggs would be nice," Peter points out, lowering his mug and nursing it between both his hands. It's no mystery that this woman already has some experience with the situation. And for that reason, Peter can't help glancing around, wondering if her son is resting somewhere in the house.
"May I lie down here for a while then?" He asked." After eating and getting dressed, I mean." Tempting as it was to just pass out.
That sparks something in her brain, not the fried egg part, she can easily do that part, but about the laying down and getting dressed.
"Oh, would you like to take a shower first? And yes, of course you can lay down here for as long as you would like." The shower thing was the thing she had forgotten about and here he was, sitting, cold, and a little dirty from his walk and she was babbling about sleeping.
"I don't know where my head is sometimes, a shower is one of the first things I should have offered you."
A shower would have indeed come pretty handy, Peter could easily imagine the warm water embracing him, washing away the soil and dry blood. The soreness.
"That'd be nice," Peter agreed. He blinked, bowing his head slightly. Under the morning light that sneaked into her living room, the bags under Peter's eyes seemed even darker. "I'm not sure if I can make it to the bathroom though." She'd probably think he was disgusting. "Sorry, I know I'm filthy."
That being said, that's nothing compared to what her son and others like him go through during and after that horrible moon. It had been especially rough since last night had been a blood moon. How awful.
Standing in her kitchen, looking out the large bay windows with a cup of coffee steaming in front of her she stares at the naked figure crossing her lawn for longer than usual. Odd, she thought, Atlas didn't wander outside last night, did he? Except, as the figure gets closer it's pretty obvious that it's not Atlas. No offense to Peter but her son is fucking built. She knows that face though.
Leaving the coffee cup behind and grabbing the quilt from the back of the couch she makes her way outside, leaving the sliding glass door open behind her in order to take possession of the young man before the neighbors do, or, worse, the cops. "Peter? Peter, can you hear me?" Yes, marvel at the lady balls of the little white haired woman approaching a dazed werewolf.
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He shakes under it, quickly gripping the folds over his chest to hold it close, his eyes searching the older woman's. Peter does little but nod at first.
"Yeah.... Yeah, I'm okay."
All things considered.
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The look on her face is that of complete and utter concern and worry, poor pup.
"Come in, come inside, we'll get you warm and something to eat." She makes a motion toward the open and waiting house. "C'mon, Peter."
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"I n-need to go back to m-my place. Mom'll be worried."
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"I bet she will be. Just sit, rest, and I'll get you a phone so you can call her and tell her your're alright, okay?" Delia is out of breath which should surprise no one, a lot of excitement this morning! "Just sit and I'll get you something warm to drink."
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Options run through his head; will a call be enough? It has to be. He's too exhausted to walk anymore. At this rate, he'll just pass out.
"T-thanks."
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"You're welcome, my son can drive you home later. At least she'll know now that you're alright." He's seated, right. Delia straightens up with a sigh and looks around. First, another blanket for her young guest and she'll grab another one from the other end of the couch to put over his legs and feet.
"Now, just rest, relax, let your eyes close. I'll get the phone and you something warm."
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Used as he is these days to be caught up naked in these dates, Peter still makes sure to keep his manhood covered from his host, the task luckily becoming easier as she hands extra blanket. Soon he starts to warm up, the teeth chattering stopping.
"I can't thank you enough."
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Delia brings him a fresh cup of coffee on a tray filled with sugar, cream, and a blueberry muffin. He might be a little hungry, Atlas usually is after the full moon. Maybe she should whip Peter up a full moon special as well. She'll set the tray down on the seat next to him and reach into the pocket of her robe for her cell phone.
"Would you like anything else?"
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"This is more than enough," Peter says, offering her a big, tired smile.
Grabbing the phone, he feels slightly self-conscious as he thanks Delia once more.
He calls his mother, who is quick to answer the phone. There's concern on her voice, but it quickly washes away as she hears Peter's voice. He calms her down, gives as many reassuring details as he can manage. The fact that his host is also a mother wolf most definitely helping matters.
Soon enough he is handing the cell phone back. "Lynda thanks you too. She says she wants to invite you guys over for dinner."
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Sitting down on the foot stool across from him, Delia will look him over again for any signs of wear or tear, any obvious damage.
"You drink some coffee and have the muffin, I'll make you something more substantial in a moment. I just want to make sure you're okay."
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Picking the mug of coffee, Peter enjoyed the warmth that stroked his face, the steam coming from it. "I'm okay, just very tired. Bit sore," he commented. With the first sip, Peter closed his eyes, a soft moan escaping him.
Yes, they were no marks on his body, except a couple of barely visible, old scars. Nothing fresh. His skin was practically anew.
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Though, she loves social interaction and she doesn't always get a lot of that.
She gently pats his knee and stands up. "I'll get you something to eat, and try and find you something to wear. Now, tell me how you like your eggs and then you rest, alright? We'll get you all squared away."
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"May I lie down here for a while then?" He asked." After eating and getting dressed, I mean." Tempting as it was to just pass out.
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"Oh, would you like to take a shower first? And yes, of course you can lay down here for as long as you would like." The shower thing was the thing she had forgotten about and here he was, sitting, cold, and a little dirty from his walk and she was babbling about sleeping.
"I don't know where my head is sometimes, a shower is one of the first things I should have offered you."
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"That'd be nice," Peter agreed. He blinked, bowing his head slightly. Under the morning light that sneaked into her living room, the bags under Peter's eyes seemed even darker. "I'm not sure if I can make it to the bathroom though." She'd probably think he was disgusting. "Sorry, I know I'm filthy."
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