"And if we're victims of the night, I won't be blinded by the light," Delilah answered him with the only line she could remember from a song that was well before her time. His appearance had almost made her choke on the hard candy in her mouth, but she saved herself with a small cough, her hand curled demurely against her lips and her tongue tucking the butterscotch securely against the inside of her cheek. The song was amusing because she was possibly the farther thing from an angel, skinny and pale and sitting in the dirt with her long flowing black skirt and black tank top, her dirty bare feet, and her tangled braids.
He didn't belong there; the winds whispered that to her as much as the scent that said wolf and male and blood and danger and not pack. He was as out of place as a unicorn, though far more dark and appealing. She couldn't seem to not look at him with his stark and fascinating tattoos-- she had her own, little girly ones on her shoulders and foot, but his called to her like if she looked just long enough they might be ciphered out to spill his history for her. Not that she should wonder who he was or where he was from, because he shouldn't be there at all, but Delilah didn't always do what she was supposed to anyway. So she looked.
"There are bones beneath the brambles," she told him matter-of-factly. "Deep down in the earth, under the thorns the leaves and the dirt, feeding the trees and berries." Which, once it was out of her mouth seemed a stupid thing to say because he didn't know her, so she frowned a little, but they were out there and you couldn't put words back. Reaching through the vines, she caught a slow-crawling millipede, a thousand little legs tickling her palm like secrets, and she lifted the insect up to whisper to it 'hello, little sister' before tucking it into the pocket of her skirt as well. Maybe later it would tell her who was buried there. It would likely know. "Did they call to you-- the bones?" she asked the stranger, trying to look at the blackberries she found herself darting another glance at him.