ooc.
So this is a little better than my first attempt. SO IT’LL DO
ic.
It was a stalemate once Dahmer noticed her sitting there, the two wolves just staring at each other, one on the ground while the other was high up in the trees. She felt as if her words were hanging in the great distance between them, this great void that had never existed until now while both wolves remained motionless and silent. If she were a wolf who was prone to becoming nervous under a scrutiny, she’d be shifting in her spot; instead, Sherlock calmly met his gaze, hardly blinking as she waited for him to make his move. It was a few minutes later, but felt like almost an eternity stuck in limbo, when she watched Dahmer gracefully drop down from his spot in the tree. As he made his way towards her, Sherlock felt a small electric force that caused her heart to beat ever so faster as he passed by but didn’t think much of it, thinking it was merely just due to static electricity.
Sherlock turned her head and watched him, noticing how, apart from the instance in the tree, Dahmer refused to look directly at her. Instead, he looked everywhere but her. That was okay, Sherlock thought, she’d just take the time to observe him without the possibility of him getting angry. His back was to her, but she watched his hunched shoulders as he made what she assumed were adjustments to his plans- she smirked at that, ever the perfectionist Dahmer was, especially when it came to his carpentry. Allowing the smirk to slip from her lips as she concentrated, she let her eyes see what Dahmer wasn’t saying. The shoulders were tense like he was expecting something to happen – maybe his anger to return, as he had been quite angry during their last meeting – but there was no sign of that, for which Sherlock was grateful for.
Before she got much farther on her observations, she noticed that his writing had ceased but he hadn’t turned around. Instead, his shoulders eased up a bit, as if he were remembering something or lost in thought. Since the only movements that Dahmer seemed to be making were unconscious shifts of the body and his shoulders had become slightly ever so tense, Sherlock found it unlikely that he was gathering his nerves to turn around and finally confront her- instead, she assumed that he was lost in some sort of memory. Since Sherlock knew that smell was the strongest link to memories, she immediately thought that some sort of smell had caused him to remember something; however, she couldn’t place any new smells within the vicinity that would have triggered a memory while she was around; instead, she thought back to the words that she had spoken. Ah yes, it was obvious, the words she had spoken had been as heartfelt as during one of their more serious of fights and had been worded very similarly.
It was always so hard for Sherlock to admit that she had overstepped some sort of boundary, because she usually didn’t care that she had; however, this was Dahmer and he was always the exception. He was the only one who put up with all of her quirks and annoying behaviours- he was truly her one and only friend. And while she claimed that she was used to being friendless, she knew that she was happier having Dahmer in her life- he made her want to be better. So even though it was hard for her – and completely out of character – when she knew she had royally screwed up, she’d try to work her way out of it with Dahmer.
Finally, Dahmer turned around and Sherlock met his gaze as she listened to his soft words. She had been hoping for something a little more to go on – because, really, first he tells her to leave and now he was telling her to stay, it was enough to confuse anyone, even Sherlock Holmes. Well, it was enough to work with, she supposed. Sherlock nodded her head slightly in understanding, a very small smile curling the right side of her lips, then turned her head towards the tree house that he was working on. Only you would try to build a tree house with an upcoming hurricane season looming ahead of us. As if just waiting for the topic to be approached, a large gust of wind blasted them but died down several seconds later. Are you going to finish it and your den before it hits us?
Speaking of dens, Sherlock thought suddenly, she supposed she’d have to find one of her own before they found themselves in a middle of the hurricane that seemed to be brewing.
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