skinandfragilebones:

iamthefirechild:

She can’t keep up — he’s amazing, like a gazelle, his long legs easily outdistancing her. Everything hurts, bare feet slapping against the pavement, breath rasping in and out of her chest audibly, limbs increasingly heavy. She can’t feel the hunter anymore — but she can feel everyone else, a cacophony in her skull that makes her clamp her hands futilely over her ears.

And then there’s a rock, or a curb, a stick, something — she trips over it and hits the ground heavily.

Stiles knows he should really slow down, his lanky body giving him advantage in his awkward, but quick, running. The only thing that was convincing Stiles to know that she was still there with him was the heavy breathing that came out of her mouth and the slap of her feet that wasn’t in sync to his. And then he hears a crashing, to which Stiles skids to a stop, scrambling after her.

“Shit, shit, shit, are you okay!?”

If everything hurt before, it all hurts even more now. There’s a new hole in her already ragged jeans, and her palms are skinned now. Just finding the energy to move is hard; she’s so tired. She manages to force her eyes open, tears seeping from under the lashes, and look at the stranger teen, but darkness is wavering at the edges of her vision.

She starts to shake her head, starts to lift her palms and show him, and the blackness overwhelms her.

skinandfragilebones:

iamthefirechild:

“Hey, stop!” the hunter shouts after them, but she’s already taken to her heels after the helpful stranger. It’s the adrenalin that allows that; she knows she’ll pay for this energy later, probably at a very steep cost, but whatever the cost it will still be lower than the hunter catching her.

She just hopes the stranger knows what he’s doing.

He does seem to have latched on to a good idea here, though, because the hunter doesn’t even try to chase them. 

The shouting disappears as Stiles sprints down from where he was originally going, Scott’s house only a certain amount of miles away. They couldn’t run that distance forever, but he was sure that he wanted to lose the hunter off his tracks. He’d experienced enough crap in Scott’s world that this seemed like a breeze, but it was serious enough that it was important to him.

Now he’s shouting into the phone at Scott, telling him to open his front door and that he’ll explain things when he gets there. Once he hears the simple word “okay” from Scott, he hangs up immediately and uses more energy into sprinting off.

She can’t keep up — he’s amazing, like a gazelle, his long legs easily outdistancing her. Everything hurts, bare feet slapping against the pavement, breath rasping in and out of her chest audibly, limbs increasingly heavy. She can’t feel the hunter anymore — but she can feel everyone else, a cacophony in her skull that makes her clamp her hands futilely over her ears.

And then there’s a rock, or a curb, a stick, something — she trips over it and hits the ground heavily.

skinandfragilebones:

iamthefirechild:

She shakes her head, red strands sliding around her face. Even if she could speak, she’s not sure she could find the right words to explain the prejudice contained in the hunter’s use of the word ‘contaminated’.

The hunter gestures for Stiles to come along. “You’re going to have to come with me, now, both of you. Come on. That’s an order. Down to the police station.”

When she shakes her head at him, Stiles doesn’t understand what she means at all by it. It could mean that she won’t tell him, or she doesn’t know, or she can’t speak…endless possibilities are present. However, now he’s focused on the hunter and how he’s determined on taking both of them to the police station. Where his father works.

Even though it could technically be more smart to find his father at the station, he ends up darting off in another direction, hoping she follows after him. He pulls out his phone, calling Scott and hoping to God that he answers.

“Hey, stop!” the hunter shouts after them, but she’s already taken to her heels after the helpful stranger. It’s the adrenalin that allows that; she knows she’ll pay for this energy later, probably at a very steep cost, but whatever the cost it will still be lower than the hunter catching her.

She just hopes the stranger knows what he’s doing.

He does seem to have latched on to a good idea here, though, because the hunter doesn’t even try to chase them. 

skinandfragilebones:

iamthefirechild:

The hunter reaches out to clasp Stiles’ shoulder, and that’s when he notices that she’s almost wrapped around the tall teenager. The hunter’s mouth compresses, ends turning down. “You’ve been contaminated,” he says, sounding resigned. “I’m going to have to take you both into custody. Come on down to the station with me.”

And now that he’s almost touched his shoulder, Stiles moves away immediately. Then he uses a curious word, “contaminated.” It’s a strange word to describe a simple touch so he turns his head slightly, looking at her with sharp eyes. “What does he mean by contaminated?”

She shakes her head, red strands sliding around her face. Even if she could speak, she’s not sure she could find the right words to explain the prejudice contained in the hunter’s use of the word ‘contaminated’.

The hunter gestures for Stiles to come along. “You’re going to have to come with me, now, both of you. Come on. That’s an order. Down to the police station.”

skinandfragilebones:

iamthefirechild:

The hunter gives the most incredibly sceptical look to the boy. “Son,” he says, official patience dripping off every word, “just step out of the way.” It rather spoils his attitude when he keeps chasing and reaching for her around the stranger.

She presses herself against the stranger’s back, terrified, wishing she could just close her eyes and make this all go away. The hunter finally realises he’s not going to get her that way, and goes back to trying to coax the boy to get out of the way.

For some reason, it annoys him that he’s being called “son” by a stranger. It could sound rather fond coming from someone else, but it sounds demeaning when it comes from his mouth. He’s sure it’s meant to sound that way, but it’s just rather annoying in the first place.

He feels her press against his back tightly, not even sure about how to solve this situation. They could run off, but Stiles doesn’t have a single clue on how fast he can run compared to the other. The gears in his head are spinning, the ones that make mischief, and they are attempting to come up with a solid plan to get them out of this.

The hunter reaches out to clasp Stiles’ shoulder, and that’s when he notices that she’s almost wrapped around the tall teenager. The hunter’s mouth compresses, ends turning down. “You’ve been contaminated,” he says, sounding resigned. “I’m going to have to take you both into custody. Come on down to the station with me.”

skinandfragilebones:

iamthefirechild:

“Look, son,” the hunter says, calm, in control of the situation, “I know her, and you don’t. So you’re gonna have to take my word for it — she’s dangerous, and I’m trying to get her off the streets. Just don’t let her touch you, and you should be fine. Now step out of the way, and hand her over.”

She shivers. She’s never been this close before, that she can remember. Of course, her memories only go back about a month right now, so there’s no telling what happened before. Maybe the hunter is telling the truth — but she cannot bring herself to trust someone she can’t read, someone so empty of emotion. This boy, though, in front of her, him she thinks she could trust. He has a good heart.

The hunter snatches around the stranger for her, trying to catch the edge of her cloak, and she sidles around, peering around the lanky body. He tries again, from the other direction, and catches the edge. She gives up the cloak, and the hunter rips it off her body. A mass of red hair tumbles out of the hood, half hiding a pale, too-thin young woman. Her green eyes look even larger than normal in her gaunt face.

“Oh buddy, believe me, I’ve seen some crazy things too. She’s cowering behind me, a boy that can obviously not take someone like you down. Right, dangerous.” It’s not the smartest thing he’s said in the world, but he says it defiantly. It’s what makes his words more realistic in the end. However, it also makes him much more at risk as well.

Stiles doesn’t know why he’s standing up for her, especially because he doesn’t even know her, but she doesn’t look harmless, right? However, looks are deceiving….but Stiles doesn’t want to pull that comment, especially when the two of them are in a dangerous situation. It’s a situation that he wishes he could call Scott for, but the other is far away from him.

Before he has a chance to react, one of his hands reaches around and grabs her by the cloak, but she slips out of it before he can tug her in his direction. It takes no time before he turns around, seeing her for the first time in full view. Ginger hair is present as well as a very thin body and a pale skinned — probably about as much as him — girl. He doesn’t understand how she could be a threat in this condition at all, that’s for sure.

The hunter gives the most incredibly sceptical look to the boy. “Son,” he says, official patience dripping off every word, “just step out of the way.” It rather spoils his attitude when he keeps chasing and reaching for her around the stranger.

She presses herself against the stranger’s back, terrified, wishing she could just close her eyes and make this all go away. The hunter finally realises he’s not going to get her that way, and goes back to trying to coax the boy to get out of the way.

skinandfragilebones:

iamthefirechild:

She looks up at the person at the sound of his voice. It’s a nice voice, coupled to a kind, if sharp, face. She shakes her head sharply and dodges behind him hastily, putting hm between herself and the hunter. If she’s lucky, if she’s oh-so-lucky, the hunter won’t have noticed her yet, and she can just hide here behind this tall and friendly stranger until he goes away.

She’s not lucky.

The hunter pauses at her abandoned sign, one eyebrow ticking up, and then he looks in exactly the direction she fled, exactly where she is, and comes over to the stranger. “You want to be careful, there,” he says, to the stranger she’s hiding behind, “that girl’s dangerous. I’m here to take care of her.”

When she shakes her head quickly like that, he wonders what he’s getting himself involved in. If it’s werewolf trouble, though he doubts it, Stiles doesn’t know what he’s going to do. Scott is miles away and there’s no way in hell Stiles can take on a werewolf. Even his terrible bat could do more damage than his own fragile body. So when she hides behind him like that, the other male doesn’t understand what he’s supposed to do.

The hunter approaches and Stiles is stupid as always, thinking about mouthing off to the stranger. It’s really not smart, it never is, but it’s always impulse for Stiles. It comes out of his mouth before a thought can come into his mind, possibly warning him of what a terrible idea this is. The only temporary warning he gets is the biting of his bottom lip as he stares at the other stranger.

“Dangerous? And yet she’s hiding from you. That tells me something right off the damn bat.”

“Look, son,” the hunter says, calm, in control of the situation, “I know her, and you don’t. So you’re gonna have to take my word for it — she’s dangerous, and I’m trying to get her off the streets. Just don’t let her touch you, and you should be fine. Now step out of the way, and hand her over.”

She shivers. She’s never been this close before, that she can remember. Of course, her memories only go back about a month right now, so there’s no telling what happened before. Maybe the hunter is telling the truth — but she cannot bring herself to trust someone she can’t read, someone so empty of emotion. This boy, though, in front of her, him she thinks she could trust. He has a good heart.

The hunter snatches around the stranger for her, trying to catch the edge of her cloak, and she sidles around, peering around the lanky body. He tries again, from the other direction, and catches the edge. She gives up the cloak, and the hunter rips it off her body. A mass of red hair tumbles out of the hood, half hiding a pale, too-thin young woman. Her green eyes look even larger than normal in her gaunt face.

skinandfragilebones:

iamthefirechild:

She wraps herself up in her grey cloak, hood up, even though the autumn day isn’t that cool. It’s the only way she feels even a little safe, though. It makes it harder for the hunter to find her; he can’t just look and identify her. He has to be sure, and that gives her time to run.

She hasn’t eaten in a couple of days. She’s been afraid to come back into town, afraid he’ll find her, and there’s not much to eat in the forest. It’s getting harder to think clearly, but begging doesn’t require a lot of thought — just sit down with her sign and look pitiful (not hard). Hopefully someone would drop her a couple dollars, at least.

She falls into a half-doze, coming alert when she senses someone a little kinder nearby. So when she notices the hunter’s tell-tale absence of emotional aura, it’s almost too late already — he’s only a dozen or so feet away, clearly headed in her direction. Panicked, she abandons her sign and her earnings and bolts, straight into someone’s chest.

It was an autumn day, right towards the end of October, and Stiles genuinely expected it to be cooler than this. He knew it was California, but they weren’t living in the middle of the desert either. Honestly he doesn’t know what to expect at this point, the weather is almost always hot. After living in Beacon Hills for so long, you’d think he’d know.

He’s home alone at the given moment, his dad on another long shift that night. He’d been taking longer shifts lately, Stiles noticed, and some part of him thought that he should go get a job so that his father didn’t have to work so hard. Besides, he had a car, he really needed to get a job. But, first, a walk to Scott’s because he always makes things easier for Stiles.

On his way he gets run into by a stranger, a girl that’s much shorter than him with a shawl over her head. It’s too hot for that kind of weather, even in the middle of autumn, so he really doesn’t understand why she’s wearing it. She also looks terrified, something Stiles doesn’t understand right off the bat. “Hey, are you okay?”

She looks up at the person at the sound of his voice. It’s a nice voice, coupled to a kind, if sharp, face. She shakes her head sharply and dodges behind him hastily, putting hm between herself and the hunter. If she’s lucky, if she’s oh-so-lucky, the hunter won’t have noticed her yet, and she can just hide here behind this tall and friendly stranger until he goes away.

She’s not lucky.

The hunter pauses at her abandoned sign, one eyebrow ticking up, and then he looks in exactly the direction she fled, exactly where she is, and comes over to the stranger. “You want to be careful, there,” he says, to the stranger she’s hiding behind, “that girl’s dangerous. I’m here to take care of her.”

She wraps herself up in her grey cloak, hood up, even though the autumn day isn’t that cool. It’s the only way she feels even a little safe, though. It makes it harder for the hunter to find her; he can’t just look and identify her. He has to be sure, and that gives her time to run.

She hasn’t eaten in a couple of days. She’s been afraid to come back into town, afraid he’ll find her, and there’s not much to eat in the forest. It’s getting harder to think clearly, but begging doesn’t require a lot of thought — just sit down with her sign and look pitiful (not hard). Hopefully someone would drop her a couple dollars, at least.

She falls into a half-doze, coming alert when she senses someone a little kinder nearby. So when she notices the hunter’s tell-tale absence of emotional aura, it’s almost too late already — he’s only a dozen or so feet away, clearly headed in her direction. Panicked, she abandons her sign and her earnings and bolts, straight into someone’s chest.