Many things had sucked for Peter growing up. Knowing that one day his bones would break and his skin would be torn apart had sucked. When he was a little kid he had looked forward to it. After all, if Nic did it then so could he. Peter had dreamed of running together under the moonlight. Howling and hunting and spending the night up awake.
But the vargulf had taken Nic away first.
"Of course not," Peter huffed, eyes narrowed as he looked at Roman almost as if he had suddenly grown a second head. "I can't control it. Nobody is born a vargulf." But Roman wasn't wrong. The potential was there.
It was a choice, Lynda once said.
"But if I ever turn, you can return the favor and cut my head off."
Throwing the butt of his cigarette down at his feet, Peter stepped on it.
Roman held his hands up when he heard Peter huff. "Hey, my bad. I'm just confused then, I guess. Why are you an outcast if you're not a vargulf? Just because Nic was?" If every werewolf had the potential then it seemed very weird to him that they'd single out Peter for having the potential to become one. If it was all just because his family was disliked because of Nic, then that made more sense to Roman. After all, his family was hated because of what his mother and father had done with the company and all the lives they'd ruined through their greedy, harmful practices. Oh, Roman had certainly copped an attitude that carried the air of someone who should be hated, but it had been born out of already being disliked because of his last name. He'd simply fed into the narrative until he'd finally taken over the company. Now he was trying to turn it around into something that meant more than the past slights and sins.
"I tried to murder my mom, so if you needed me to, yeah. I could cut your head off." The words came out simply, a reality that Roman had realized about himself. Just what he was capable of doing, when he felt it was needed. "I dunno if I'd call it a favor. But I know you wouldn't want to be that, so if it came to it, I'd do what I could to stop you." Even odds on him being successful, but he could promise his friend that much. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that, though."
He took a cigarette himself, lit it and inhaled deeply. At the question about Lestat, Roman gave a small shrug. "I don't know. I guess I like that he doesn't seem to give a fuck what people think." That was something Roman could relate to, an attitude he'd adopted and worn like a shield for many years now. "I want to hear what he has to say about what I am. But I don't know yet if I can trust what he says. It's also weird as fuck to be sitting down with someone whose music you listen to and find out oh hey, they're also a bloodsucking fiend and maybe a monster cousin of yours or some shit." The flippant words used didn't hide the obvious way that Roman viewed himself these days. "What do you think about him? I'm guessing nothing good since he and Destiny don't get along."
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2026-03-22 03:00 pm (UTC)Many things had sucked for Peter growing up. Knowing that one day his bones would break and his skin would be torn apart had sucked. When he was a little kid he had looked forward to it. After all, if Nic did it then so could he. Peter had dreamed of running together under the moonlight. Howling and hunting and spending the night up awake.
But the vargulf had taken Nic away first.
"Of course not," Peter huffed, eyes narrowed as he looked at Roman almost as if he had suddenly grown a second head. "I can't control it. Nobody is born a vargulf." But Roman wasn't wrong. The potential was there.
It was a choice, Lynda once said.
"But if I ever turn, you can return the favor and cut my head off."
Throwing the butt of his cigarette down at his feet, Peter stepped on it.
There was a silence.
"What do you think of this guy? The vampyr?"
no subject
Date: 2026-03-22 03:12 pm (UTC)"I tried to murder my mom, so if you needed me to, yeah. I could cut your head off." The words came out simply, a reality that Roman had realized about himself. Just what he was capable of doing, when he felt it was needed. "I dunno if I'd call it a favor. But I know you wouldn't want to be that, so if it came to it, I'd do what I could to stop you." Even odds on him being successful, but he could promise his friend that much. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that, though."
He took a cigarette himself, lit it and inhaled deeply. At the question about Lestat, Roman gave a small shrug. "I don't know. I guess I like that he doesn't seem to give a fuck what people think." That was something Roman could relate to, an attitude he'd adopted and worn like a shield for many years now. "I want to hear what he has to say about what I am. But I don't know yet if I can trust what he says. It's also weird as fuck to be sitting down with someone whose music you listen to and find out oh hey, they're also a bloodsucking fiend and maybe a monster cousin of yours or some shit." The flippant words used didn't hide the obvious way that Roman viewed himself these days. "What do you think about him? I'm guessing nothing good since he and Destiny don't get along."