Meyra let her thoughts drift in her mind for a while, watching the steaming red liquid pouring from the kettle into her cup as Dennis sympathetically decided to serve her another warm and comforting drink. It didn't go unnoticed that his gesture came without her having to ask, and she found it extremely kind and considerate. "Thank you" She told him in a very fragile voice, barely a whisper. Something was mercilessly squeezing her chest, after his last question, and her voice seemed to get stuck in her throat as a lump formed there, preventing her from voicing her words. Before Tone's arrival she thought she had gathered all the courage to tell the truth to Dennis, but now...now it just felt like a bad idea... What was she thinking, when she thought it was the right time to tell him her biggest secret?

"You did nothing wrong." She began to say, keeping her gaze down, observing the cup of tea she now held between her hands. She could feel it, that Dennis was also avoiding looking at her, that something changed in him after Tone had left. Maybe he got upset that she had left him and made him lie to Tone on her behalf? That thought never crossed her mind until then. And it made her feel guilty and ashamed of her attitude. She acted childishly and selfishly, and despite this, Dennis decided to be a loyal and good friend. Meyra gave a heavy sigh, before turning her eyes back at him.

"There's...there's just this thing I need to tell you." She said, her green eyes showing the worry and fear that consumed her, as she desperately tried to find and use the right words to tell her friend that what was hiding behind those was a monster. She wanted to start pleading for his forgiveness already, but she knew that she needed to tell him the most hurtful words first. "I..."She tried again, but the words died before they reach her mouth. Another sigh, and she diverted her eyes from him, looking down again. Her hands gripped the delicate porcelain, trying to contain the tremor that was taking hold of them, and she felt a layer of warmth under her eyelids as tears threatened to appear.

"Dennis..." A pause, where she closed her eyes and focused on the calming sounds surrounding them, the soft wind, the running water and the distant laughs and chatter. "I'm a werewolf." There, finally, she said it. Meyra grimaced painfully, before opening her eyes again and looking at her friend, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I wasn't ready, and... and I didn't want you to run away from me. You're a funny, kind, a good friend and I... I didn't want to see you start avoiding me or... or hating me." She paused again, while she took a moment to look at him, trying to read his reaction, to see if she had been wrong or right to tell him, "There's so many people that hates us Denners. That fear us and despises us." Meyra continued, not being able to stop explaining herself, the tears that once where just threatening to appear were now starting to cloud her vision, "Please forgive me..." She ended in a mutter, pleading him more then just through her words, trying to hold to the hope that she made the right decision.
@Dennis Tumberton

Meyra assured him he did nothing wrong. He sighed, “If you have something to say, I won’t judge. I’m an open book!” He persisted. The only time he found himself in such a situation was when he was the one at fault. He really found these kinds of conversations uncomfortable but he tried his best to never avoid them. If it was something he did, he’d be sure to change his behavior, he never wanted to make someone upset without meaning to.

Dennis barely heard her correct him saying that it was her who needed to confess something to him. And then it happened. As if a dam broke, Meyra told him she was a werewolf and seemed to reel from her own speech. As if she was disgusted, or rather afraid he might be disgusted?

Sitting beside her he leaned back on the hand closest to her and stared out over the landscape taking in her words and meaning. He made noises as she talked, letting her know he was listening and continue. His eyes narrowed and he brought the cup of tea up to his lips with his free hand. Dennis never had someone who felt so close to him to share something like this with him. Werewolves. And was he the kind to run away from anything? It was all at once too complicated - he couldn’t imagine being the kind of person who would so easily like someone and then pull back over some personal news - but the feelings were familiar. He was sad that she felt like she had to previously hide this from him but also that he would never have asked her to disclose any of this.

The Ravenclaw closed his eyes, still leaning on the arm closest to his friend, as she finished her speech. Why would he be afraid of a werewolf? Weren’t they people too? He opened his eyes, his gaze never leaving the views of the enchanting French chateau. This reminded him of something. Wolves and fear. There was a story: the three little pigs. They were so afraid of the big bad wolf that they hastily constructed houses of poor building materials afraid the wolf would eat them.

Finally, Dennis had his answer. After what seemed like an eternity as if Dennis would reject her completely, he reoriented himself so that he was sitting on his knees and sat back on his feet, now facing her front. And looked into her emerald eyes. He looked at her with all the compassion and understanding in the world, his face a visage of peace and held her gaze. “Meyra,” he said calmly, slowly, and seriously. He took a moment. How could he best express himself and give her the peace he knew she deserved. Dennis was a goofy boy but he wasn’t heartless. After a few moments he knew what he would say. The red head sat his tea cup down and attempted to clasp her hands in his. He continued, his voice steady, “You will always be safe with me. I am staying right here.”

“Besides,” he said, a small smile escaping his earnest demeanor, “I ain’t no pig.”

@Meyra Lancaster

It was a feeling of free fall. She supposed it was moments like this that were often called leaps of faith. You just do what you think its right and hope that your squished heart, that is becoming smaller and smaller inside your chest, is wrong, and that in the end, its fears and insecurities will prove to be unfounded.

The only thing tethering her to the ground, giving her some sort of support and encouragement was, ironically, Dennis' presence. The fact that he had moved closer to her, instinctively made her want to lean against him, to her only source of warmth and comfort in that dreadful moment. But he was also the source of her disquietude and anxiety, the thought of how her friend would look at her once she finished telling him her whole truth, was like looking at an impending judgement that would heal or break her heart in ways she was not sure she was ready to face and to acknowledge. So it was like a feeling of false security that she chose to believe in, as she finally found the words to tell him about her true nature.

She watched him for a moment, her pleading eyes full of hope, as he contemplated the beautiful horizon that embraced them in those enchanted gardens. She could barely breathe as she waited for his response, any kind of reaction to her words, something that would prepare her for what was coming. But he closed his eyes and to Mey, it was like watching a candle being blown out, and its flame was the hope she had been holding so desperately. Of course he would not forgive her, why would he? She was young, but she had already witnessed how her keen was seen, as monsters, as unworthy and vile creatures. So why would Dennis think differently if he had just found out she had been hiding it from him? She just gave him one more reason to dislike and to not trust her.

Meyra was slowly feeling her heart breaking. If she had acted like the coward she felt she was, she would have run away, before Dennis could even begin to say anything. But instead, she stood, almost petrified by the weight she felt weighing down on her, as her friend turned to face her and gently took her hands in his. His voice sounded soft in her ears and she wanted to believe the kindness and sincerity she was seeing in his beautiful green eyes. It was the colour of the delicate young leaves that bring hope and life to the wild and decaying nature, and she wished she was looking at a part of his soul too.

"You promise?" She asked him, in a calm, tearful voice. Like a young child, showing all her vulnerability, without even wanting or being able to wear a mask, to pretend she was strong enough to withstand anything that could be thrown at her. Because she wasn't. Dennis, at that moment, held more than just her hands in his.

A weak laugh, almost more of disbelief than amusement, escaped her at his last remark. She needed time to process his words and more, his smile, and the way he was looking at her. "Why...a pig?" She asked him, frowning slightly, but her expression gained a new light when her own smile began to appear at the corner of her lips, "Dennis what does that mean?"
@Dennis Tumberton

And there Dennis was. The goofy boy, who blows up toilets, solves daring puzzles, and flies headlong into snow banks, was holding a girl’s hand. It was a move that would have sent him nauseous rolling down the valley just a year ago. The boy who’d rather stuff his face full of treats and pocket pastries, lint and all, was now knelt down and looking into the eyes of one of his favorite people. Something changed in that moment. A moment where everything seemed to freeze. A moment where the sweet calls of the birds and the soft rustling of the breeze seemed to echo. Dennis’ heart fluttered, snapping him back to reality. Meyra had just asked him if he promised? Promise what now? Oh, werewolves. Meyra was a werewolf. So lost in the moment, the touch of her skin, the look in her eyes, was he that he nearly forgot she had just confessed to him. “I promise.” He said softly.

Her chuckle…laugh…snort? Was a welcome break from the tension after his little joke. Dennis laughed as well, perhaps more out of relief as if he had been holding his breath that whole time. He let go of her hands, with what felt like longing to hold on, and sat back down where he originally had been when Tone came. “Let me explain.” He said.

He picked up out three strawberries from a series of cupcakes and said, “Don’t worry, I will be sure to eat those.” As if there was any doubt! He then found the last coconut macaroon with chocolate drizzle. He set the strawberries on the picnic blanket on his right side in front of him and the macaroon on the left. “You see. The strawberries are pigs and the macaroon is the wolf.” He said as if he was giving a lecture. “So the story goes that the pigs are afraid of the wolf so they build a house each.” He ate the strawberries each in turn, kind of losing the plot because he was STILL hungry. Finally only the macaroon was left. “However. I’m not a pig. And I’m not afraid of the wolf.” He said at last, handing the macaroon to Meyra. It made perfect sense to him at least. That’s how the story went right? He hoped Meyra could understand. He smiled his Dennis smile.

@Meyra Lancaster