nercomancyandbooks

[nercomancyandbooks]

[nercomancyandbooks]

After a brief visit with the sheriff Aaron was feeling pretty confident with her detective skills, only going off the glimpse of Jared in the security tapes video footage. (It was a stretch,) to say the least. However, not a long shot. Digits sank into her charcoal leather jacket, it's deep pockets containing her sobriety chip, phone, a pack of *zebra* gum from the dollar tree, wallet, and her badge. The many sets of stairs had the blonde heaving for a moment, "Fuck my life, I need to start running." LOCATION: EICHEN HOUSE. BEACON HILLS, CA. TIME: AROUND NOON. APPROX. 12:24 PM. With Stiles making a fool of himself, as always. Aaron shuffled in between him and the front desk flashing her badge. "Look, I know you remember us. We're not looking for trouble just the janitor." The wrinkles underneath his eyes became more noticeable as he squinted his hues toward the blonde. "Miss.Blackburn... Still, like to bite?" She shifted back throwing a glance to her partner. "Jared's location please?" The man extended a broad finger down a familiar hallway. Aaron inhaled, attempting to swallow the bitter taste of morphine this particular hallway had once pumped into her veins. "Thanks." She muttered shifting on her heels. (This didn't feel right.) Tiny digits fidgeted with the coin buried in her pocket before she spun around to the agent. They hadn't even moved an inch away from the reception desk. The confidence in her eyes had vanished, replaced with torment and sickness. With a swallow, the necromancer tossed her golden locks over her shoulder. "GiVe mE YOuR hAnD!" Cupping her elf-like digits around lengthy spider-leg fingers pulling the male toward the florescent lit hallway to her own personal Hades. Her shoulders tensed, causing the blonde to tilt her head to the side. Cracking her neck a cold chill shooting up her spine (Something was definitely off.) Iron doors on either side of them, riddled with deranged female patients. Aaron didn't dare look inside them; the noises were enough.  "This place still gives me the creeps." She finally let go of the breath she had been holding in. "When Eric put me in here... they'd pump me full of meds. I can barely remember who I was, what I was. I do remember biting anyone I could reach. Brought the blood too." Her hues shifted as a vibration roared inside her pocket. Her free hand tugged her Galaxy out, Derek's name beamed to life along with a red and green option. She swallowed, shoving the device back into her jacket pocket.  Sooner than later, mop water made contact with the detective's boots. Immediately, she released her grip on Stiles. A lanky man met her sapphire hues; "Jared?" Aaron questioned, the male adjusted his rather thick glasses. He squinted, "Yes?" Jared looked the same, however, he had grown a shitty goatee. The blonde dipped her fingertips into her jacket pocket fishing out her badge. "We'd like to ask you a few questions. If you don't mind."

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"Stiles, no wait!" The necromancer called after him, however, he had already disappeared from her sight. "God, fuck no." Her palms found their way to her forehead in frustration they moved across her porcelain skin and into her golden hair.  "The forest plays tricks on you."  Once more she was alone within the dark evergreens. The panic set in - exhale inhale exhale inhale, each breath more rapid than before. The vision of the lion and the girl reignited within the blonde. The anxiety coursed through her veins, the thud of her heartbeat rang into her eardrums. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven." She breathed slower, "Aaron." Sapphire hues lifted to meet a cloud of gray, like looking in a mirror. Although a distorted one, dead irritated gray orbs glared back into ocean blues. Aaron froze, the twin began to circle the blonde. "Blackburn, Blackburn, Blackburn - once so powerful, lost all her spark. Now she can't even conjure a work of art. It's so sad to see myself so pitiful." Raspy - yet clear vocal's filled the silence between the mirrors. "What do you want?" Aaron swallowed. The pale female slowly smirked. "Wake up."  "What?" "Wake up."  Indigo hues shot open - "What the hell…" An elongated mirror crept from ceiling to floor directly in front of the blonde. She met the gaze of the silver-eyed girl. It was definitely her reflection; although her face seemed much paler. As if she really was a living corpse, the twin opened its mouth - but no sound came out. Only a single black spider scampered across her face causing the (real) Aaron to shutter. It became apparent to her very quickly, that she had somehow - more than likely by touching that old map - been summoned to the tower, immediately her hues scanned the empty room. Thank god, spider-fingers hadn't found the structure yet. Hopefully, he never would.  "How does the story even end? Where's the queen?" Aaron was getting much more frustrated then she wanted to be. Whatever had happened to James and Alice was sure to happen again. The necromancer wasn't about to let that happen, even if it meant her own death.  "If I burn it down, possibly it could release the spirits…" She was questioning herself, questioning her every move. Aaron had never been this unsure of herself. The reflection still presents in the mirror, the figure didn't even really reflect Aaron's actions only watching with an ungodly smile. "What do I do!?" She shouted, "Literally why are you even here if you're not going to give me some direction!" The corpse (Aaron) disappeared from the mirror.  And, it was in that moment the tower's interior showed it's true colors. Corpses upon corpses of knights and women a-like riddled the floor near the bed in the center of the room. The queen wrinkled - barely holding on to life laid upon the velvet comforter. "What in the hell?"  "Come." "Um…fuck no." A roar melted every piece of bravery the blonde had left inside her. "This has to be a dream…" James appeared, between the queen and the necromancer. "Where's the boy?" "It's just me." "No, no no… we need both." "I said it's just me, you're all I'm getting." Please for the love of God, whatever was in the woods better of lead him away from here.   However, deep inside Aaron knew it wouldn't, and it didn't.

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Lengthy digits curled around Aaron's shoulder drawing her back into the darkness in order to hide from the galloping horses that appeared out of nowhere. She attempted to glance toward the male, but all she could make out was the worry aura displaying around him.  Carefully, she extended her left palm giving his hand a squeeze attempting to calm his anxieties as he had previously done for her.  Once the riders had disappeared Stiles stood back up, however, Aaron wiggled into the light keeping herself on the uncomfortable gravel. "I'm already exhausted." She complained, glancing to the youth searching an excuse not to move. The strangers suggested following the vortex, and with that Peter appeared which only caused Aaron's brows pulled together with a groan.    She refused to look at him, orbs fixed just past the two standing as the third joined the group.  "I'm not moving." "Just like a woman…" The middle-aged man finally spoke, closing his arms as his frame twisted to get a look at the necromancer. "Stubborn as hell."  "I'm not going anywhere with {you}." A flame lit inside her belly, causing the blonde's voice to change - a hint of raspy hell fire boiling.  "Aaron, sweetie…Come on I'm not the bad guy here haven't you figured that out?" After a long pause of silence, he leaned down to Aaron's level. Reaching his lengthy, rough digits out to brush across the teen's jaw. "You can't still be mad at me." Her cheek growing a shade of pink, the blonde inhaled annoyed once more. Swatting his hand away. Aaron quickly shoving herself to her feet, making quick tracks toward the humans. "Don't ever touch me again." --------------------------------------------------------------------------  A long amount of planning and arguing between the four had finally made enough efforts to form a strategic plot. The stranger - who had now been identified as Robert Evans one of the worst athletes Beacon Hills High School had ever had. So bad that they forced him to quit, apparently now he plays chess… Still not very good at it. - Robert AND Peter would attempt to hop on the back of a horse JUST as the ghost riders entered the exist. If they made it, Aaron and Stiles would go next - Peter made it perfectly clear he had to leave with the first group or else. Aaron rolled her eyes on that one, along with most things he said. However, once the plan was in motion…a bad feeling began to rise in her stomach.  "Wait…" Aaron called out, glancing from Stiles toward the pair.  The hooves began to click a little faster echoing down the tunnel.  "What?!" Annoyed, Robert turned. "Not you."  "Oh me?" Peter pressed a hand to his chest, in a condescending away. Which almost caused the blonde to rebuke her statement.  The clicks her boots echoed, "What if you get hurt? What if you die?" Towering over her - his brows furrowed. "What do you care?" Her hues shifted, "Look, you're a pain the ass but I don't want anyone to die down here."  "Darling, I'll be fine." Lifting his palm up to pat her cheek - he paused dropping his hand. "But it's refreshing to see you care so much about me." A wink - the sound of a violent slap filled the void.  Aaron appeared beside her friendly companion again. "Listen, if this doesn't work…We'll figure something else out." She glanced toward him, attempting to hide the worry on her face. - It was a failure.  The thunder clapped, the horses came into view. Robert jumped - Peter did not. Aaron's jaw dropped; then the instant, the human's body electrified her face buried into Stiles' shoulder. "Fuck…fuck fuck…."  The smell of chard human flesh filled the surrounding area as Peter - annoying, cunning, horrible Peter shoved his palms into his jacket pockets making his way over to the pair.  "Okay, anybody have a plan B?"

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Character Study: Aaron Raven Blackburn; Firewater 

Black Text.

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His apology caught her off guard, a lump gathering in her throat as he continued on. His voice filling the silence, Aaron's orbs met his for a moment. Stiles was kind, in a way no other human being she had ever encountered was, his presence brought light to such a dark world. So many times she wanted to give up, she wanted one last sip of whiskey. A little white pill to pulse in her veins, make her numb forget everything, but the disappointment in his eyes each time he found her was more than Aaron could take. He kept her strong, even in his absence. A soft smile forced to her rosy lips, "You have nothing to apologize for. You needed to get out with your girl. Make a life with her."She swallowed, tucking a lock of gold behind her ear. Her wrist fully visible riddled with white scars from hardships long ago, her sapphire hues lifted to swim in a pool of coffee-like orbs before those four words filled the empty space between the two. "You owe me nothing." LOCATION: Aaron's Cottage TIME: NIGHT, APROX. 2:37 AM.   A laugh arose over the sound of Shaggy and Scooby scarfing down a bucket of crawfish. "You know my family, we used to catch those every summer. They're actually kinda yummy." Aaron grinned, reaching over a stack of numbered files for her hot tea. She brought the Pisces themed cup to her lips, sipping down the liquid that warmed her throat and belly. Crème colored couch contained the detectives, Aaron was huddled under a fuzzy blush tone blanket. The cartoon continued to fill the void in the room, after a moment the nercomancer shifted slightly. "We haven't done this in a long time. A sleepover." She wrinkled her nose, "I remember the first time, I stayed over. John had no idea, and when he came home to me in the tiniest shorts ever in the kitchen making you breakfast; he nearly had a heart attack." She playfully nudged him, "And you lied to him, and said I didn't stay over. THEN he kept insisting that we use protection, and I nearly died." The grin grew wider, "Never forget that, ever. Especially after you told him the truth and he let me stay for a month." She paused, glancing to her cup. "After I left, Derek found me." Aaron pushed herself up from the couch, setting her mug carefully on the counter. She moved toward the garbage bin across the living room fishing out a broken photo frame. "There's something you should know…" The glass was cracked right on the taller person's face, she shoved the photo into his chest carefully. Which revealed a very happy looking Aaron beaming so lamb-like up at a scruff faced male. Derek. "I loved him, and as usual things…" She trailed off, taking the empty cushion next to him once more. A soft - half forced roll of her eyes as she spoke emerged, "There was this other girl, and I…" Aaron swallowed, shifting her hues toward the male. "I wasn't enough… I'm never enough." The room grew silent, accept the flicker of Scooby Doo in the background. LOCATION: Aaron's Cottage TIME: NIGHT, APROX. 4:13 AM.   The cottage had grown quiet, once filled with laughter and conversation from the two detectives. Rainfall had blanketed the quite evergreen area, giving Aaron the one calming sound that could always send her into a deep tranquil sleep. The fuzzy blanket draped over her shoulder, drooling on Stilinski's t-shirt as her head gently rested against his shoulder. The liquid drops grew larger and the rain fell harder with each passing second, the Scooby Doo on Zombie Island menu screen lit up the quaint living space. "I have to see her one more time, maybe she'll be awake and she'll invite me in." Nervously the male shoved his palms into his pockets trotting through the torrential downpour. The fabric to his clothes sticking against his pale skin, the winding road to Aaron's home finally made cover with the tree tops protecting the land from the wet. Greenburg neared her domain, slowly stopping as he reached her gravel drive way. The pale blue jeep sitting perfectly in center of the road sent an anger up the bar tender's spine. A grit of his teeth sent him trucking on toward the porch, the glass was so distorted however not enough. Leonard peered inside the small cottage home, it was everything  he had imagined and more until his view shifted to the couch. The tops of the detective and agent's heads came to view, nestled up together. The anger boiled, slamming his fist against the door. Aaron jolted up from her restful sleep, spinning around to see a shadow looming through the hazy glass at the doorway. She tugged the blanket off her lap, reaching to the pair of guns resting on the coffee table. Once she turned to move toward the door - the mystery shadow had disappeared into the night. The blonde unsettled, peeked out the window the tall figure had just moved out of sight and she exhaled uneasily. Glancing to the door handle, it was locked thank god. Aaron glanced to the knocked out agent, shaking her head. "Could sleep through death." Setting her gun on the kitchen counter. The blonde snatched her cooper kettle, filling it with water than turning on the stove to heat it up. After a few moments, she filled her French-press with coffee, pouring the water in. A dash of crème, two and a half sugars later - she carefully moved back into the living room. Setting her mug down, however she took the evil-eye mug filled with a black abyss of coffee carefully waving it in Stiles direction. "Wake up, sleeping beauty. I made you coffee." After a few moments of groggy-sleepy eyed Stilinski she was sipping from her cup. Aaron reached for her phone, "Sh*t I have a voice message from our video tech." She tapped the triangle, and turned the volume up. Aaron, (the voice began) I went to get the tapes last night and well. I have bad news for you and your partner. Somebody corrupted the files. I'm trying to clean them up but it may take me a few days. I'm so sorry, Blue-eyes. I'll call you when I get them clean. Be careful out there. Chief wants to see you once you're back in town. I'll talk to you soon, Sweetheart. "How in the f***?" A puzzled expression painted her face, shaking her head as she took another sip of coffee. "I can't even think about this right now, your dad is going to rip me a new one for not taking the tapes in myself. Jesus f***ing Christ." Aaron continued to shake her head, attempting to keep her cool. "We should head out soon, stop by the station. Than hit Eichen, find Jared. That's the only lead we even have now."  

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A playful elbow to the gut produced a hearty laugh from the detective as he recoiled slightly. Maintaining a grin, he shifted his bronze optics toward the uncomfortable blonde. "Ow!" He howled, mid-laugh, "c'mon, it was just a joke. You remember those, right?" He continued to tease, transitioning his scrutiny toward the television screen displaying plentiful inebriated fools the night of the gory attack. "Once we pin a location on her inside, she leaves, we'll transfer to the parking lot tape and see who exactly she takes off with." Stiles decided, making eye contact to assure consent on the plan. "She could have been attacked right in the parking lot for all we know. It's not uncommon considering 90% of bar inhabitants don't recall the events of the previous night by the next morning.." He clarified. There had been numerous cases back in D.C. that always concluded at a rowdy bar with zero witnesses to back a single claim. Intoxication may have balanced entertainment, but it corrupted your state of mind and often times, that could be dangerous. Silence settled, minutes adding up as numerous attendees that night came and went. No sign of Jane Doe, ( yet. )   "Your dad just makes me nervous, okay?" The female blurted out suddenly, cerulean orbs glued to the screen. Stiles furrowed his brows, unprepared for the comment. "Nervous? Okay, my dad doesn't typically have that sort of impact on people. He kinda has that soft, understanding vibe about him, y'know? It applies to all except his pain the ass son," he chuckled, toying with a blue inked pen haphazardly placed on the desk. "Every time I see him, I'm worried I'm not doing him proud. Everyone knows you're just…you're better at this stuff than I am. I'm too emotionally invested in the victims. John knows it. He's had to pull me off, 30 cases this year alone. There are just things you don't know about Stiles. Things changed a lot when you…left." "Emotionally invested? Aaron, you're not human if you're not finding some kind of emotional connection to a case. It's not easy leaving one unsolved and just moving on to the next." Stiles explained, understanding her difficulties. "I've gotten pulled off of a few cases myself back in D.C, okay? Some of them just━ they hit close to home. It doesn't make you a ( bad ) detective, just means you have a helluva lot more drive than the rest.." He smirked, trusting that he assisted with her insecurities. The necromancer slipped her hand into the pocket of her ebony leather jacket. Stiles eyed her curiously until she retrieved what she had been searching for. A bronze coin. "One year sober." Stiles snagged the coin, analyzing it carefully. "That's right, I'm clean now. Shocked?" His tongue ran along his bottom lip as he shook his head in response. "Nah, the sensation of shock is typically accompanied by disbelief and I predicted your ability to kick a bad habit,” Stiles explained, continuing to examine the metal sphere clasped between lithe digits. “All part of that drive I was talking about,” he finished with a wink. The screech of the metal door swaying open captured the attention of both detectives. Aaron quickly snagged the coin from his grasp and tucked it back inside of her pocket as Greenberg approached with their orders. Stiles immediately began consuming numerous french fries at a time as the two engrossed in awkward conversation. Greenberg attempted to ambush their investigation with his curiosity and a poor excuse to produce conversation, but Aaron shut him down. For what appeared to be the fifth or sixth time in minutes. Call me Lenny. The simple comment nearly caused the agent to choke on one of his crispy, curly fries as he struggled to stifle a laugh. Copper optics elevated, shooting Aaron an entertained glance. Brows furrowed the moment her dainty hand connected with his shoulder, "what are you━" he shook his head, puzzled as she went on, speaking over his bewildered banter. "Honey, don't you think we should be getting home?" Seizing contact with her cerulean optics, the imploring gaze she displayed spoke volumes. "Uh, yeah... darling? I mean, yeah, ( darling ) we should get out of here. Sleep, sex, y'know.. for tonight.. the agenda.." Stiles nodded uncomfortably, pitifully playing along. He could mentally feel Lydia's dainty fist colliding with his cheek at the simple comment. Nervous and fictitious or not. His awkward, flirting game also needed assistance. In moments Greenberg exited, realizing he had been shut down. The detectives were left alone once again and Stiles was unable to eliminate the amused grin occupying his full lips. Naturally, he received a shove from Aaron and the mention of his adorable girlfriend waiting for him back home. "I would definitely be dramatically castrated.." Stiles admitted, running calloused digits along his chin. "You.. you, on the other hand, you always have 'Lenny' to fall back on.." he chuckled, teasingly, until Aaron grabbed his arm in order to force his attention toward the screen. Jane Doe. There she was. Ordering drinks with a gleeful smile occupying her painted lips. It was dismal knowing that she would meet her demise only a few hours later. "That's not him,━" He trailed off, receiving a clear view of the male. "Wait, yeah, yeah! That's him. Sh*t.." Aaron pulled her phone out, dialing one of her connections. Stiles smirked, offering a look of approval. "Impressive.." He joked with a nudge as he lifted himself from his seat, stretching exasperated limbs. He tossed some money down on the counter before agreeing and heading out of the bar with the blonde. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Lengthy digits clutched the edges of his thick, ebony trench coat. He discarded his jacket, hanging it on the rack situated by the entrance. Stiles ambled further into the charming bungalow, scrutinizing the moderate furnishing and dark decor occupying the neutral colored walls. Trinkets scattered the surfaces of furniture along with a plethora of case files and obscene crime photos. Typical life of a detective. Stiles would be misrepresenting himself if he said his space was orderly. It appeared ( exactly ) like this. "Hey, don't knock the crime board, okay?" He grinned, slipping onto one of the comfortable stools gathered around the bar. His elbows made contact with the sleek countertop as the necromancer retrieved a few cartons of leftover Chinese from the refrigerator. Once the food was mild in temperature after pressing the handy 'reheat' button on the microwave, she set the table for the two. "Jeez, all this MSG just for that little.. keebler sized body..?" The male elevated a brow, speaking with his hands before he scooped rice and orange chicken from the cartons and onto his plate. The sharp teeth of the fork plunged into the chicken as he quickly shoveled the food into his mouth. With a mouthful of chicken and rice, his caramel orbs shifted, attempting to tune into the conversation. Stiles swallowed the cuisine hastily, tongue rolling along his bottom lip as he toyed with the rice between his fork. "That's a pretty.. meticulous theory," Stiles admitted, "the kid was disconcerted around blood, that's true. But, that doesn't rule out the possibility of him being an accomplice. We gotta look at it from every angle.." He explained, nodding his head. "We pull up his information tomorrow, gain some insight on his place of employment and check it out." The moment the blonde mentioned Eichen House, the spherical piece of orange chicken slipped from his fork and into his plate. "Eichen?" He inquired, the idea of stepping foot in Eichen again generating an agonizing throb between his brows. "Of course, I mean, where else would a squeamish, mentally unstable, loner acquire work, right?" He chuckled shaking his head as he finished the remaining Chinese occupying his plate. The detective gently pushed the plate along the countertop, returning his gaze to Aaron. "We should probably get some sleep, but.." he trailed off shaking his head. "I'm pretty freakin' alert and energized right now, and, I mean━" Stiles was aware that he had bailed on his life in Beacon Hills, it was ancient history, but it happened. Aaron Blackburn was one of the close friends he abandoned. "I'm sorry for just taking off all those years ago. I just, I needed a fresh start with Lydia and I didn't take into consideration the emotional backlash my ridiculous decisions could cause," Stiles admitted, catching her gaze. "So, I'm sorry.. I really am.."

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"God what I wouldn't give for an Old Fashioned right now." The bar erupted with laughter, and small spats between old friends over which one actually hit the 8 ball into the correct pocket. Aaron hadn't been in a bar in over a year, slowly she dug her digits into her jacket pocket. Flipping a small bronze coin in between her fingertips - a reminder of how far she had come. Of how far she had fallen since the human had left her alone. Her thumb grazed the engraving, before dropping the coin back into place. Sapphire orbs chased a couple of giggling clearly high school girls with practically a piece of cloth covering all the right places. She shook her head, glancing back to her partner. "It sucks being on the clock huh?" She remarked, dragging a palm into her long blonde hair just as her attention shifted to the bartender. Hues flickered between the two males. Aaron allowed Stiles to take the lead on this one, a slow smirk pulled to the side of her lips. He had a knack for this sort of small talk - "Color me impressed." She muttered under her breath after Greenburg began to lead them toward the back room. Instinctively Aaron's fingertips grabbed the back of the agent's coat, as if she was afraid of being separated from him. She weaved past a couple of arguing men just before the three reached the security room. The blonde sighed loudly as the sound abruptly stopped, and her digits unwound from Stiles' jacket. Greenburg flashed her a goofy smile - Aaron's hues shifted to the wall of outdated monitors. What a shit hole. "Can I get you anything?" To Aaron - he sounded hungry, and not for something he was allowed to consume. A slow smile pressed to her plump lips as her partner ordered. "I was actually talking to Aaron." She didn't make eye contact, instead - her slim digits pressed to the table in front of Stiles. Her torso leaning over the agent, as she lowered down enough to get a better look at the screens displaying the bar. "If, you have Vanilla Coke…I'll take that." Her eyes narrowed toward the parking lot monitor. "Hold the whiskey. I'm on the clock after all." She swallowed loud enough for the agent near her to hear. She was - extremely uncomfortable. Aaron felt the weight of his hues traveling up and down her frame until the door shut. The blonde shifted her weight back up - to stand beside her seated partner. She rolled her head back in frustration, groaning as Stiles teased her about the pervious situation. "Shut up!" She playfully elbowed him.   Once she had composed herself, she leaned back over the table. Her index finger grazing the screen. "To be perfectly honest, I think the parking lot is the best bet. Listen… Jane Doe clearly went home with the guy OR was attacked outside. But I guess it's worth a shot to see who she exactly came here to meet." After a few moments of silent watching and zero sign of their Jane Doe, she glanced to the male. "Your dad, just makes me nervous okay?" Aaron contemplated her next set of words before her mouth opened and closed in fear of her choice of words. However, she began. "Every time I see him, I'm worried I'm not doing him proud. Everyone knows you're just…you're better at this stuff than I am. I'm too emotionally invested in the victims. John knows it. He's had to pull me off, 30 cases this year alone. There are just things you don't know about Stiles. Things changed a lot when you…left" The blonde began to explain.   "I lost my way okay?" She admitted, digits fidgeted for a moment before dipping into her left leather pocket and tossing the coin in his direction. Lengthy fingers grasping the bronze circular melt piece. She closed her eyes for a moment. "One year sober." A weak smile pressed to her pale lips. "That's right, I'm clean now. Are you shocked?" The melt door crept open abruptly, digits snatched the coin from the agent shoving it back in position where it belonged. Greenburg made one last appearance handing Stiles a heaping plate of curly fries. He turned to Aaron, "Here you go, detective." Her hues trailed up to meet his for a moment. A shiver of disgust ran up the necromancer's spine. A reluctant thank you forced past her unpainted lips. A flirtatious smirk met her eyes as he leaned down placing the cup next to the blonde. Which gave her a chance to smell his - sickly sweet odor. "Anything else?" A dry no slipped from the blonde's mouth. A disappointed expression displayed upon the male's face. "Found anything yet?" He attempted to continue the conversation. "We are not allowed to give out that kind of information. Mr. Greenburg, but thank you for allowing us to examine these security tapes. Could you send a few copies over to our lab?" "I can definitely do that BUT please, call me Lenny." His brows wiggled, - Aaron held back a gag. Quickly shifting her hues to Stiles. "Honey…" Her palm clutched/* his shoulder. "Don't you think we should be getting home, I mean we can go over these tapes in a little bit more comfortable setting don't you think?" Aaron's eyes slightly widened pleading for him to play along. Greenburg folded his arms, "I thought…" Aaron's orbs moved back to the overgrown horndog. Her brows raised as her palms found their resting place on her hips. "Though what?" He swallowed nervously, "Nothing I…" - as quickly as he came he was gone. A long sigh of relief met Aaron's lips once more turning to her partner. "Jesus-fucking-Christ wipe that grin off your face. As if we would ever roll in the hay. Lydia would fry your ass up - I would probably be burned at the stake. Can we get back to Jane D- Wait, Stiles! There she is!" The blonde sprang toward the screen. "Look 9:22 pm, looks like she ordered a few rounds… Fucking Greenberg." She gagged loudly this time. "Who's that dude?" Closely examining the scene the blonde exclaimed. "Jared….uh uh what's-his-face!" Her hands began to fling around attempting to describe the male. "You know… skinny kid, glasses, always threw up, and cried. Jared!"   Aaron spun around, fishing out her cell, thumbing the screen until she reached the correct phone number. "Just…give me a minute I have some ideas…." After a few moments, a male picked up. "Hey Ronnie, do you think you can analyze some footage for me? It's a security tape, down here at the Wood Tavern." The male's voice boomed from the other end muttering a yes. "Alright, great just come pick it up when you get a chance. We need to locate an ID on this Jane Doe I think we might be able to pull in her driver's licenses she used to buy her drinks." Her gold cellphone pressed to the shell of her ear, slightly turning toward Stiles smiling. "I also need you to get a clear picture of this male suspect she's seen with." A few more words for exchanged before Aaron began to end the call. "Alright, alright. Thanks, man. You're a life saver." Shoving the technology back into her jeans pocket the blonde bit her lower lip, glancing at the untouched glass of Vanilla Coke. "How about some real food? Until audio can figure out Jane Doe's name - or we can get a positive ID on Jared…We don't have much of a lead." Thankfully Greenburg was extremely covered up with half-drunk customers when Aaron and her partner decided to slip out of the bar. "Are you planning on staying with John?" Aaron finally blurted out, as the cool California breeze came rolling in. "You can stay with me…I'll take the couch." LOCATION: Aaron's Cottage TIME: NIGHT, APROX. 2:17 AM. A trip deep into the depths of a sea of evergreens, the two arrived at a landscape fit for an old Brother's Grim storybook home. The full moon illuminated the surrounding area through the tall looming trees. Stone exterior with an elongated flower garden faintly came into view, a row of southern magnolias lined the driver way on each side. White blossoms in full bloom creating a view Aaron had only dreamed of waking up to every single day. Once the engine shut off, the petite blonde fished out her keys. Slipping from the half-dead Jeep, she glanced over her shoulder to Stiles nervously thumbing through each key until she reached the correct one. "John's the only one who even knows where I live…and I guess now you." She murmured, strolling up the stone pathway to the large walnut door. It was clear the necromancer had isolated herself more so now than ever. Her key fits perfectly, once it was open the aroma of vanilla and sandalwood swirled around the night air seeping from her cottage domain. "We can order a pizza, or I think I have some leftover Chinese takeout in the fridge. I can make something if you'd like… maybe chicken and dumplings?" It was quaint, decorated a gypsy mountain witch attire. It fit Aaron perfectly, and she had worked hard the last three years to get to this point. Derek Hale had given her a little bit of his families money in order to make a down payment…However the place was hers, and hers it would be alone. Aaron shimmed off her leather jacket hanging it up on the small coat rack near the door. A bronze melt bowl contained her keys on the bar in the kitchen, which she was already in glancing through her eggshell blue fridge. The living room was riddled with case boxes, files scattered over the coffee table with an empty copy of Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island resting on top of a photo of a woman's corpse. She didn't apologize nor really make any comments about the disarray of cases she had open in her little space only glanced in his direction shooting a cheesy grin. They were more alike than Aaron had ever imagined, "All I need is some yarn, and a crime board huh?" She teased the agent. Fishing out the takeout from the fridge, six little white boxes most of them were completely full. Each one she warmed in the microwave before placing them on the counter near the bar, a couple of mismatch lavender plates accompanied by gold forks were brought out later. The stools on the opposite side of the kitchen were clearly her only source of a dinner table. The blonde hoisted herself upon the melt chair, with a grunt. She was almost too short even make it - she reached for the orange chicken and rice spooning out a great deal into her plate. "I've been thinking…" She mumbled after a few bites. "I don't think Jared is capable of murder. He vomits at the sight of blood, but I still think we need to talk to him. Maybe he can give us some idea about Jane Doe. Honestly…" Aaron shifted her gaze to meet his. "I'm almost sure that kid works at Eichen." She grimaced at the thought. "Maybe tomorrow we should ride out there, and ask him some questions."

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Porcelain features altered, displaying an exasperated look, upon perceiving the veracity behind his unforeseen visit. Droplets of rain descended from the gloomy sky stretched overhead, bathing the environment surrounding them. In return, it was also scouring the crime scene of any shred of evidence it once contained. "Alright, I don't want any more FED's out here, this is ( my ) case." A possessive and ornery response flooded colorless lips. Greed often accompanied the life of a detective. The glory, the incogitable pleasure of making an arrest, pulling a perpetrator from the streets, and providing a grieving family with ( some ) sense of peace. It was exhilarating and unlike anything, he's ever experienced. The blonde placated her initial anger, replacing it with... was that jealousy he was detecting? Annoyance? Irascibility that he harbored more experience on this particular case than she did? A body severed in two perfectly clean halves. Should he really feel ( honored ) to be the insightful creep on detached corpses scattered around Beacon Hills? Suddenly, he felt queasy. Stiles elevated his hands in surrender. "Look, I'm not trying to step on any toes, okay? I came alone. Not that I would actually extend an invitation of ( any ) kind to the morons I'm forced to work with, anyway.." The detective vocalized aimlessly, just as he typically had. The necromancer conveyed evident distress in their current setting. Stiles allowed caramel optics to shift toward the decrepit Hale residence, severely damaged from blazing embers and abandoned. "You? Scared? The girl who makes a livelihood out of mingling with ghosts?" Brows furrowed, gaze shifting back toward cerulean irises. The dainty female ambled down the slippery grass and toward the outskirts of the forest, Stiles following suit behind her. "Yeah, because the morgue is a far more convivial ambiance," his sardonic tongue presented itself as he chuckled. "Back to carting your pedestrian ass around in my jeep. Yup, sure is good to be home." * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Linoleum flooring, outdated wallpaper, and archaic artistry littered the corridor walls. Stiles shoved his hands into the deep pockets of his ebony jacket as the duo approached the entryway of the morgue. Before entering, the blonde concluded their silence, her vocals halting him abruptly, her azure optics meeting his bronze ones. "John doesn't know what I am. He hired me because of you. Not because I'm a good detective or a necromancer. He hired me because of you." Brows furrowed, lips pursing as he scrutinized her features. "This may come as a tremendous shock to you, but I don't exactly have much pull when it comes to my dad. He recognizes greatness when he sees it, Aaron." Before either of them could utter another word, the examiner elevated his gaze toward the two occupying the threshold. Aaron entered the moderately sized room first, Stiles in tow. The two engaged in minor conversation, entering the room further. Half of the deceased corpse sprawled across the examination table where the male, he now knew as David, had previously been scrutinizing it. Elevating his gaze, he caught the thick rims of the glasses situated upon the examiner's nose. The middle-aged male had been glowing and gleeful. It was rather morbid considering the setting and circumstances. "It's little Stiles!" The balding man exclaimed blithely, "I've heard so much about you; son." Before Stiles had a chance to vocalize a word, David was already reaching for his hand. A repugnant liquid attached to his calloused digits, bronze optics observing the vile fluid with a grimace. "Sorry about the corpse juice..." Lips parted, hand elevated as if it were diseased. "You just said━" Stiles moistened his bottom tier, rolling his shoulders back. "It's fine, it's always been a dream of mine to take back a grotesque souvenir from the morgue," he muttered sarcastically, snagging a towel from the surface of the counter to sterilize his hand. Aaron engrossed in conversation with her longtime pal whilst Stiles inspected the body visually. The incision was far from clean, it was rigid and rushed. This was the handiwork of an amateur which typically meant the suspect was a half-wit hiding in plain sight. "Wood Tavern," Stiles blurted out, meddling into their conversation regarding the finest cuisine, particularly steak, in Beacon Hills. "Yeah, I know that place. Can't tell you how many times Scott and I edged our way in with poorly constructed fake I.D's." "I don't think I'm going to be able to do much with just one half," Aaron explained after David excused himself from the room. "Especially the bottom half. Kind of like, y'know, impersonal, right?" Stiles admitted with a shrug, examining the body further. "And she was more than likely trekking through the woods considering the lacerations on her feet, probably caught a few rocks, splinters.." "Are you hungry? We can discuss over a bite." Stiles elevated his gaze, caramel optics observing her, "definitely, all this time spent observing a decaying body was bound to work up an appetite, right?" * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Defeating melodies and boisterous party-goers occupied the tavern. A pool table inhabited the back corner of the expanse, a slew of rowdy male's undoubtedly playing for money as multiple women gawked. A couple of older gentlemen were situated on the bar stools, knocking back their fifth stein of beer with unbalanced limbs. "Safe to say that we picked the ( worst ) possible day to turn this into a potential crime scene," Stiles spoke loudly into the ear of his petite guest. "I'm starting to feel out of place being the only sober one present tonight." "Not the only one! I'm just buzzed," the bartender behind the counter eavesdropped, turning to reveal his face. Jet black hair, deep cerulean eyes, and a pale complexion. Stiles recognized the male immediately. "Greenberg? Still in Beacon Hills? Thought Coach would have driven you out directly after graduation.." Stiles admitted as he rested lithe digits over the sleek surface of the counter. "Actually, Coach drove me right into bartending school." "Coach... drove you to this conclusive career opportunity?" Stiles inquired, puzzled. "I've had a lot more experience with alcoholics than you think. Coach was just one of many and I've had the utmost privilege of tossing him out of the bar more than once." Greenberg chuckled fondly at the memory. "Well that's, uh, very.."the detective ran calloused digits along his stubbled chin before tossing his hand out to the side to emphasize his thought, "revenge of the nerds of you.." Stiles cleared his throat, making eye contact with Aaron before changing the subject. "Look, man, truth be told we were kind of hoping to review some of the security camera footage from Wednesday night." He slipped his hand into his pocket to retrieve his badge, flashing it to his previous classmate turned bartender. "Oh. Well.." He trailed off, eyes shifting to Aaron before agreeing, "yeah, sure.." Greenberg analyzed the badge, nodding his head toward the backroom in which he led them. The noise diminished once they exited the party, door closing behind them. A moderately sized room with a few televisions sectioned into squares revealed various areas of the bar occupied a desk filled with numerous trinkets. Greenberg tapped a few buttons on the security system before time-stamped footage of Wednesday night popped up. "You can start it whenever you're ready," he smiled almost flirtatiously at Aaron, "can I get you anything?" He more so questioned the blonde. "Yes! Order of curly fries. I haven't eaten a freakin' thing since the plane ride." Stiles admitted, slipping into the uncomfortable chair in front of the monitor. "Well, I mean, unless you count a poorly constructed free meal consisting of dry chicken and overly salted vegetables.." "I was actually talking to Aaron," Greenberg interrupted, optics shifting back toward the necromancer. Once his answer was received, he exited, leaving the pair of detectives alone. "I'd say Greenberg still has a bit of a crush. I could practically see the sparks between the two of you. I can definitely see a potential date in the near future," Stiles teased, hovering his finger over the play button on the remote. "I'm ready to hunt down our Jane Doe when you are," he finished, waiting for her to agree to the kickoff of the video.

[nercomancyandbooks]

Character Study: Aaron Raven Blackburn; Firewater - F.R.I.E.N.D.S.

“Oh, that’s okay, girls tend not to like me.”

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Sapphire hues darted around for a moment, scanning the uninformed male. Stiles continued to explain. John, John sent him here? Ouch. The old man doesn't think I can handle this on my own? I'm perfectly capable of handling this case. Why would he send his goofy kid out here? This is dangerous, but on the other hand, Stiles is very smart. He is FBI after all. Something I could never have achieved. Aaron's thoughts ran a mile a minute, the young adult had closed the space between them glancing toward the pool of blood she had previously found. "Alright, I don't want any more FEDS out here, this is my case. Although I guess I could use your help. After all, you were here when all this first began, I wasn't." A touch of bitterness left her lips, on that last part. The pool of blood quickly began to dissipate with each passing minute. "The rain's gonna wash out whatever evidence that was here." The downpour continued, Aaron tried not to look at the Hale house. "I know that if this was a real copycat the rest of the body would be up there." Suddenly her anger for the agent being there faded. "But, I don't want to go up there." A sharp stab of melodically plunged into her stomach, glancing at her former best friend and then toward the half-decayed home. They had lost touch for so long, he had no idea the things that had happened since he and Lydia left for Washington. "Come on, this place gives me the creeps. We should get to the morgue." Skinny digits wrapped around his jacket, tugging on the sleeve. "I hope you drove here cause I still have no means of my own." She teased lightly, turning her back to the ashy ruins. Thank God it's out of my sight. LOCATION: COUNTY MORGUE TIME: NIGHT, APROX. 12:43 AM. The car ride was mostly silent. A big part of that was Aaron's fault because the moment she stepped foot into his pale blue jeep. ( Yes the same pale blue jeep from high school. ) Aaron blasted the radio in an attempt to drown out her current sorrowful mood. The blonde paused at the morgue door. "I usually do this part alone. David is the only one at the station who knows what I am. So he usually lets me have a moment alone with the corpses before he washes them and gets them ready for release." Aaron swallowed pressing her palm against the swinging metal door. "Your dad…" Sapphire hues moved to his whiskey orbs. "I haven't…John doesn't know. What I am. He just… he hired me because of you. Not because I'm a good detective or a necromancer. He hired me because of you." She exhaled, shoving the door open her melancholy expression exchanged for a cheerful goofy smirk. A male with a receding hairline leaned over the lower half of the body, continuing to pick off evidence with a pair of tweezers. "David! Baby, what have you got for momma?" A long sigh left his lips, as he adjusted his glasses. Standing up straight with a rosy red complexion. Aaron always managed to get the middle-aged man blushing. "Miss. Blackburn, ah…uh.. I…just-" His golden hues floated to the younger male. "I declare! It's…" A large grin pressed to his lips. "Little Stiles! I've heard so much about you; son." David extended his palm, clasping his fingertips around the young adult's. He gave a swift but smooth handshake before letting go. "Sorry about the corpse juice…." He puckered his lips, glancing down at the young woman's lower half. Aaron's fingertips curled around her jacket's opening tugging the fabric forward. "Sweets, let's get back on track." A smirk pressed to her lips, as her eyes squinted. "Any sign of sexual assault?" Her head nodded toward the body. "Honestly, ma'am I can't tell. I've yet to take the kit, would you…" "Oh no, that's your job."  "Well lucky for us…" David's fingertip extended in the direction of the jagged cut along the torso of the corpse. "Whoever cut her in half…didn't do such a bang-up job." He tossed her a small plastic sample bag. Aaron caught it mid-air, the blonde held it up in between her and the agent. "Looks like a….blade tip." The shiny silver melt glistened in the light. "Uh huh!" David chimed in, "That it is, darlin' and if you find the saw that matches it you've got your copycat killer." "COD, was the laceration to her stomach…" "David, you are not telling me she was alive when he sliced her in half?" "I'm afraid I am…" "By the time she died, she would have already passed out from the pain. I doubt she felt very much of it." "And it looks like." The middle-aged man placed a bowl of stomach contents on the table. "It would seem like date food to me." Aaron raised her brows, "So…you're thinking the victims killer was…her date?" "It's not a long shot, Aaron. Judging by the fact her legs are freshly shaved." The blonde shook her head, "Any idea where you can get…" She reached for the bowl squishing around the half-digested contents. "Looks like steak." David gave a shrug…"Best steak in towns that bar down the street." "Thanks David." Aaron slowly grinned. "I'll leave you and Stiles alone, with Jane Doe." David smiled, patting Aaron's shoulder and then Stiles'. Before disappearing behind from plastic in the back room. At that moment Aaron let the decay smell reach her, it didn't bother her like it did when she was younger. The blonde glanced to the agent. "I don't think I'm going to be able to do much with just one half." The blonde loomed over the legs, glancing down to her feet. "It looks like she was running for a long time… grass stains yeah? Lacerations on her knees." She tugged her nails to her mouth chewing them for a moment, before swinging around to face the young adult. "Are you hungry?" "We can discuss over a bite." ------------

[nercomancyandbooks]

LOCATION: NW, WASHINGON DC. TIME: NIGHT, APROX. 1:10 AM. A manifold of pellucid windows littered the grim walls within the loft. Cold, hesitant light emitting from the glowing crescent moon high in the sky, suffused the ominous expanse. Bronze optics fixated on decaying flesh, the discoloration of bruises scaring sallow skin. Judging by the foul odor emitting from the deceased, Stiles guessed she had been deteriorating here for days, but there was no sure way to know until the body arrived at the coroner for further assessment.

"What do we got?" Detective Alexander Walker approached, jaw in motion as he chewed the remainder of his hamburger.

Stiles grimaced, lithe digits lopping around the outer edges of the 'POLICE', bulletproof vest adhesive to his chest and torso. "And you're still the only one I know who can ingest food of any kind around a crime scene." The male uttered bitterly. The aroma displeasing to anyone with human senses. The victim, once helpless and alive didn't help matters. Stiles could never stomach food while working a case, not until it was solved and his victim and his/her family was delivered justice.

Walker's hands merged to discard stray crumbs clinging to his palms.

Broad digits coiled around the wrist of his irresponsible partner. "I'd appreciate it if you ( restrained ) yourself from deterring my investigation. Just for once, y'know, try it out." His hand clapped the infuriating detective on the shoulder rather harshly.

"I think you mean ( our ) investigation, Stilinski." The idiot corrected before shuffling off to question a forensics analysis.

Copper oculars rolled into the back of his head as Alex departed from the conversation. Frequent visits to his Sergeant's office to file numerous complaints about his nonsensical partner were becoming a daily activity. Stiles was unable to perform his job with this idiot trailing behind him with the means to destroy everything he touches.

He needed to get out.

Buzz. Buzz.

A thundering vibration prompted him to reach for his cell phone in the confines of his hoodie. Brows furrowed once the caller ID signaled across the screen.

"Dad? Hey, everything okay?" It wasn't like his father to call him this late at night unless there was an emergency. A supernatural emergency.

"Stiles.. you need to come home. There's been a murder." John Stilinski appeared unnerved, vocals quivering.

"Okay, yeah. I kind of feel like that's Beacon Hills tagline. I swear to god it's on the freakin' welcome sign driving into town.." Stiles muttered, hand rubbing the back of his neck profusely.

"Stiles, it's a copycat. A girl split in two."

His breath hitched in the back of his throat as he attempted to process the vital information his father was displaying to him. His jaw tightened, bronze orbs wavering.

"I'm on my way."

LOCATION: BEACON HILLS, CALIFORNIA. TIME: NIGHT, APROX. 11:42 AM. Embarking into the heart of the forest had proven significant. Seeking a fraction of the currently adrift corpse. Stiles paused the moment he reached the old Hale residence.

A thick layer of ebony smog ringed the area, spurring the plausible assumption that the eerie display symbolized destruction. Almost as if providing caution to individuals who approach.

Stiles furrowed his brows, observing the expanse, noting the silhouette of a petite woman kneeling down in the damp grass. An abrupt downpour descended from the opaque sky, a crackle of thunder in the distance.

A hand slipped down to the holster his gun remained perched in, ready to reach given any sudden movements by the unknown female in question.

The crunch of leaves beneath his converse interrupted his stealthy nature. Whiskey orbs concealed by heavy lids, muttering a curse word beneath his breath.

Smooth, Stilinski.

The blonde shot up, the muzzle of her weapon aimed directly at his head.

"What in the holy hell, you scared the living dick out of me."

"Sorry, I━" He paused, eyes narrowed, lips pursed. "Wait, Aaron?"

"What are you doing here Stiles?" The blonde inquired, exasperation present in her tone. "What are you doing in Beacon Hills?"

Stiles swallowed thickly, approaching the blonde further, adjusting his gun within his holster. "Clearly, not anticipating the muzzle of a gun shoved in my face. Not exactly the ( warmest ) welcome home gift." A nervous chuckle escaped parted lips.

Silence.

"Okay, humor is off the table tonight. Got it." The male allowed lithe digits to roughly scrub the back of his neck. "My dad called. Notified me of some intense copycat murders. All supernatural related. And, since you and I basically lived this freakin' nightmare, I figured I could help." Stiles shrugged. "I'd say based on this jumpy, trigger happy encounter, I'm not entirely wrong." He teased, hands occupying his hips as he further approached.  

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An onyx haze suffused the ominous tunnels, emitting a grim ambience. Pale, lithe digits remained separated as his hand lingered, awaiting the hesitant blonde to accompany him. Bronze optics observed her decolorized features, lips parting to question the evident dismay. "I— I don't wanna go back down there." She stated simply, the terrified blonde remaining immobile, cerulean orbs fixated on his expectant hand. Stiles sighed through fared nostrils, hands meeting the denim of his pants as he rapidly obliterated the perspiration clinging to his palms. She wasn't the only one anxious about what may be lurking in these tunnels, but they needed to   ( try ) to find a solution. "Look, I get. I'm pretty freakin' terrified myself, but if we sit here and do nothing? We're no better off than Peter and the rest of these idiots, loitering around an inoperative train station waiting for a train that's never going to come." The youth explained, reaching for her hand once again. "We have to do something." Aaron remained immobile for a moment before reluctantly accepting his assistance down to the steel tracks. "I came from that way." She instructed wih a shaky finger. "Okay, then it appears tunnel number three is the clear winner." Stiles guided the teen to the side, the gravel beneath the soles of his converse sneakers grinding with every step. Conversation dwindled, replaced with uncomfortable silence. The unsettled pair continued to venture down the chosen tunnel, the unlit passageway offering them no mental tranquility or sign of solution. It was only amplifying their uneasiness. "It's dark Stiles, and when I say it's dark in these tunnels I mean it's aimless blackness that feels never-ending…" The youth attempted to glance over at his companion, but all he could make out was her silhouette in the thick, ebony gloom. "And, I don't like who I become in the dark." She clarified, further analyzing her jitters. Stiles inhaled deeply, lithe digits scrubbing the back of his clammy neck. "Well, fortunately, you're not alone. I may not be the most encouraging company considering my lack of physical strength and supernatural stamina, but — I'm not going to let anything happen to you, okay?" A smile graced her lips, providing a sense of warmth and comfort. Stiles was grateful that he could ease her mind considering his own psyche was suffering drastically. "You-who!" A lanky male hollored, a flask in his stern grasp, lantern perched beside him. "What a life saver.." Aaron muttered, a grin forming as she dashed toward the stranger perched on the side of the tracks. "Wait—" Stiles attempted. "Didn't anyone ever teach you not to interact with strangers..? No..?" He sighed. "Okay then.." The youth followed suit, reluctantly approaching the tipsy stranger. "You want the flask, you help me get out of here." It was an intriguing proposal, but not one Stiles was able to offer a positive solution to. "Well?" Aaron glanced back at him and he furrowed his brows, offering a shrug in response. "I'm not exactly a specialist on these guys, you know? I don't have an outline of these tunnels in my back pocket." Stiles confirmed, scratching between his brows in frustration. "Looks like the flask stays with me," the outsider responded pointedly as he took a swig of the remaining alcohol in the confines. Aaron jutted her bottom lip out in a pout. Stiles crossed the tracks, approaching the two. "If we all actually work together we might—" Vocals fizzled out as the high-pitched whine of a horse rumbled. Stiles snagged Aaron's arm drawing her off to the side to duck down below concrete aligning the side of the tracks. The riders appeared through a vortex, the clap of hooves on the rubble passing by as they began their quest down the tracks with a fresh victim. Once commotion died down, Stiles stood upright. "Did you see that? If we can get through this, we're home free.." The stranger with the flask spoke, approaching the vortex that began to fade. "Not that simple, kids. That's why you ( need ) me." Peter piped up. The lycanthrope emerged, unwanted and unwelcome. A hint that he would never fully grasp.

[nercomancyandbooks]

Vocals laced with apprehension echoed. Bronze optics unbarred, scrutinizing the ebony coated forest. The figure bound in disheveled bandages diminished from sight. The youth swallowed thickly, large hands slowly descending from his aching head. The blonde now appearing bewildered by his actions as well as her current surroundings. "Are you okay?" She inquired, slender digits grazing his jawline to pluck him free from the trance he found himself captive in. Cerulean orbs observed the mossy patches beneath her frame, "what the hell happened to me?" She concluded. Stiles allowed dry, chapped lips to part, calloused digits gliding along the forest surface. "Uh, you, uh—" his words sputtered, failing to attain a necessary tranquility. "You just— fainted. Well, first there was like an excessive amount of embers illuminating the entire cave. It was like a pyro's wet dream. And, then.. yeah, lights out." He managed to explain, his hand roughly scrubbing his chin as he attempted to erase the intense memory of the nogitsune from memory. Heavy-lidded irises examined his features, the blonde appearing to be on the brink of slumber once again. Vocals slurred as they filled the expanse, a dense fog forming across the land. "I heard you talking to yourself," the blonde pointed out. Nerves flourished, tongue dancing along his plump lips. Stiles chewed his bottom tier profusely, uncertain if he should explain the events of the notgitsune to the necromancer. The last thing he needed was to alarm her in her present state. "Were you talking to a ghost?" A soft titter and a jovial tone. The idea of Casper creeping into his psyche offered a far more compelling impression. He'd take a fun, cuddly little ghost over a menacing, nefarious fox any day of the week. The pad of her index finger gently tapped the tip of his nose and his brows instantly furrowed as he pulled back alarmed. "Think you hit your head a helluva lot harder than I thought.." Conversation diminished for a moment, the necromancer dazed until the ancient paper crammed into his pocket caught her attention. A dainty hand extended forward, snatching the design from the confines of his pocket. Her azure orbs observed the decrepit outline. "You—" vocals receded the moment her entire face lit up, her words far more emphatic than his own. "If there's a place you got to go. I'm the one you need to know. I'm the map!" The female recited the rhyme frequently as she found her footing. Her frame swayed, vocals never ceasing. Stiles climbed to his feet, brows furrowing as he watched her, bewildered. "Uh huh, a map tends to marginalize specific pathways to specific sightings," Stiles explained to the erratic female. "Basically the definition of the word.." He muttered, approaching the whimsical teen who silenced suddenly. "Hey, you okay?" He inquired, concern lacing his vocals as lithe digits coiled around her wrist. Aaron's optics unbarred, the once convivial attitude altering to a state of terror. "I don't want you going anywhere near the tower.." Her tone was stern and urgent, producing goosebumps to form upon his pale flesh. "The tower? What?" Stiles attempted to follow her warning. Puzzled, bronze irises studying her features. "Aaron, what the hell are you talking about?" An onyx silhouette moved out of the corner of his eye, the figure of a female ducking behind the brush. "Hey, look! Wait!" Stiles pointed toward the currently wandering woman before taking off in a sprint after her. He didn't bother to wait for Aaron to respond before attempting a heroic act of saving the adrift female.    

[nercomancyandbooks]

I was never afraid of death. He'd been with me since birth. Tugging on my shirt tail like a child wanting to leave a boring grocery store. He would say to me, "Are you ready to leave yet?" And sometimes I'd ignore him and go about my business. Other times I'd answer, "Maybe tomorrow." or "Maybe next month." He would smile and I would too, because I knew he would always be there. He would always be waiting for me... The match sizzled just as a roaring flicker of orange flame ignited, swiftly slender fingertips grasped the pastel pink candle neck shoving the flame against the wick. Her lips pressed together blowing out the heat just before it had a chance to sear her painted black fingers. She closed her hues for a moment, curling each finger inward until six more candles ignited. Each flame dancing to the rhythm of its own beat, tossing a few sprigs of lavender into the scorching tub of liquid. Stripping each piece of fabric from her pale fragile frame, she sank into the fiery waters. Sapphire hues darting to each candle, her expression blankly following the flames as they grew, faded and grew once more. Like a game of cat and mouse each one wishing only to blaze as bright as possible. A long sigh vibrated up from her throat, closing her eyes for a moment in an attempt to keep her emotions under control. "Are you okay?" The deepest darkest voice erupted among the silence.   Aaron's lashes stayed shut, the voice continued. "Are you isolating yourself again?" He questioned, "Are you okay?" The voice asked once more, moving from the corner of the bathroom to the tub side. "I'm fine." She lied, fluttering open her eyes to meet the half-decayed hues of Death. She smiled slightly dropping her head. His boney fingertip moved underneath her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Aaron." She raised her brows, "What?" His skeleton-like-head tilted to the side examining the blank expression upon necromancer's face. "I'm fine." She repeated, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Than why do I sense such sorrow in that big heart of yours?" He knelt down in order to get a better look at her. "I said I'm fine, I just want to be alone." Aaron pleaded, glancing toward the hooded figure.   "No you don't." "Yes I do!" "If you really wanted that then why seven candles, Darlin'?" She shrugged quickly."Why do you insist on living here? Why don't you just come home if you're in so much pain?" His hues trailed down, "Just give up, Aaron. You know you don't belong here."   "I told you once, I've told you a million times. I don't belong anywhere." She exhaled a half annoyed sigh. Beginning to wish she had never lit the first rosy candle. "You belong with me." His voice raspy and drier than she remembered. "Just because I have these abilities does not give you free claim over me." She protested, shaking her head. "I can't go with you, I won't die for you."   "Than why did you call for me?" He questioned. "Because I needed a reminder, that my life is worth living and nothing reminds me of that more than your sorry soulless ass attempting to convince me that I should end it." Her hues narrowed, beginning to twirl each fingertip inward. One by one the candles light diminishing, Death's jaw dropped for a moment. "One day, you will choose me. You will."   The last candle flicked to an end and the figure had vanished. A sigh of relief left her rosy lips. "Maybe, but not today.... Not today."

[nercomancyandbooks]

( Owes List )

 Starters: 02 || Replies: 03 || Discussions: 02 || Owe me: 01

I owe you  

The Zeppo x3 : Memory Meltdown, Grimm Forest, Copycat Killer

Requiem : Suicide isn’t Silence 

Stoic : Dangerous Destination 

you owe me

Silver Tongue : Will Circle Be Unbroken (6/14/18)

discussions

Antihero : Trust is earned, not given

Silver Tongue : Beware The Forest

desired stories

Alice in Wonder/Murderland: Dark/Mature theme