Stefano gazed out at the falling sun from the edge of the forest, a timid sigh escaping him. Normally, at this time of night he would head out into the forest to converse and enjoy the wildlife, but there was no more of that now that the vampires were there. It had been only a week ago, but to him it had felt like an eternity had passed since the vampires had arrived. Stefano did not complain, or even thought of the idea to complain though; it had come down from Michael that this would be a necessary step, and anything that came out of the Alpha's mouth was unquestionable, regardless of any circumstances. However, that didn't stop Stevie's uneasiness around the serene creatures. Being somewhat an outsider of the pack, he had a different view of vampires than a pack-born would; he had no real hesitations to the undead because of their rivalries or because it was unhonorable. Instead, Stefano was just terrified of them and their kind, the fact that they could suck blood and move extraordinarily fast didn't help either.
So instead of being able to be alone and go tuck in the family of bluebirds he had befriended a few weeks ago, he was stuck at the fringes of the forest. While he completely understood the need for groupings - the Cacciatori had some unnerving ability to somehow take down supernatural creatures, which horrified him - Stefano would be lying if he said that he was a fan of his partner, Darcy. She was, to put bluntly, a crazed maniac. She was everything that Stefano could never be in his life: eccentric, bubbly, invasive, loud. In a way, Darcy was a person that Stefano should have around to hopefully break out of his bubble. On the other hand, she was a danger to his privacy and probably one that would embarrass him to no end, especially since she already had a few times.
Another sigh escaped his massive yet timid body before he turned back to the house. It was getting dark, and while he appreciated the darkness as a time of peace and quiet, it was also a dangerous time to wander outside with the threat of Cacciatori attacks higher than ever. So Stefano set his mind back onto the task at hand; carrying the tree he had previously cut down himself. Now, I know what your thinking; a shy, nature loving lumberjack? Where did this paradox come from? In reality, Stefano was on duty to find trees at the end of their life, ones that had either fallen down due to weather or were rotting. It was really the only thing that Stevie could see himself being useful at; his pure, raw strength allowed him to carry trees many times larger than himself with little to no stress, and lumber was always a commodity that could be used.
See, Stefano didn't go to school anymore; after basically failing most of his highschool career, he decided to give up on the idea of graduating, regardless of the views of his other pack members. Instead, most of his days were spent being taught the ways of the werewolf by Michael, trying to become something he was certain he could never truly achieve. When he wasn't under the tutelage, Stevie would make himself useful by being the labourer of the pack, becoming the tool used to lift the awkwardly heavy objects. One of these days, Stevie would go back to high school and get his gr. 12, but until then he would make himself as useful to the pack as he could.
So he hoisted the log back onto his shoulder and continued the short trek to his normal drop stop, which was behind the house near the training area. Stefano himself couldn't shape a log into something beautiful, but he made it available for others that could; anything to be useful would hopefully boost any self-confidence that he could create. After all, Stevie did think of himself as garbage. Finally done for the night, Stefano nearly entered the house before he stopped, turning his massive body around to see a lightening bug flutter around before landing on his shoe. Slowly, he knelt down to admire the tiny insect, envious of its ability to glow; if he could do that, would he be able to think of himself better? Perhaps, but the chances were slim after all. He shooed the bug off of his body and continued inside, a bead of sweat barely escaping his hair and proceeding to make a trail down the left side of his face.
The back entrance was fairly close to the kitchen, which was his destination after all: to be honest, Stefano hadn't eaten much that day. Most of his day had been spent training outside, trying his best to learn to coordinate his attacks and use the brute strength he had been given for something more useful than just throwing wild punches. In real specifics, Stefano's only coordination was stopping large objects and lifting things: most of his mock fights went disastrously, as he would play defensively only against all pack members, regardless of Michael's demands to take the practice spars seriously. So he gingerly opened the fridge, grabbing his gallon jug of water - the stereotypical 'large guy, large appetite' seriously applied to Stevie when it came to his thirst. Grabbing two apples in his left hand, Stefano drained a litre of water and tore through the first apple before leaving the kitchen, finding himself in the dining room and ill-prepared for the number of people in there. He stopped drinking his water instantly, swallowing the last gulp of water out of both necessity and nervousness. No matter how long he would be around these people, Stevie had a feeling that he would feel uneasy in the presence of their power.
Hoping not to interrupt anything, Stefano stayed silent and in the background - like that did any good, for they were bound to notice him. When the did, Stefano gave them a timid and honest greeting. "Guten - Buonasera a tutti." Stefano accidentally stumbled into his native German, quickly correcting himself before it got worse as his face reddened some. Good job, idiot.
Translation!
Guten - German 'Good'
Buonasera a tutti - Italian, 'Good evening to all.'