Sweet like poisoned wine

Stiles was sitting in his desk chair, homework spread over the desk surface and being completely ignored, by the way, as he stared down at his hands. After everything with Jackson (yay. still alive. he really shouldn’t be so unhappy about that really), Stiles still couldn’t help but remember the night of the rave. The feel of a handful of ash slipping from his palm, gritty as sand, until it was gone and the circle completed. He hadn’t had enough, he was sure of it. But no one had seen, and no one had asked- Scott almost dying and Mrs. Argent getting bitten of course trumped his little triumph and wow he was a bitter almost 17 year old (closer to 17 than 16 and damn it, he was going to own it). He’d never even had a chance to ask Deaton, plus he didn’t trust Deaton anyway. If only there was someone he could trust. Someone who knew something about… something that seemed a hell of a lot like… like magic.

“That’s what happens when I’m politely asked not to visit.” She replied with a laugh as he lifted her. She felt positively tiny in his exuberant embrace, feet off the ground and his arms warm around her. Gilly could smell Sally Claudia on him, warm and sweet as he remembered her. Thinking of her always brought her scent back, the curl of the lotions that she made and the garden that she always tended. Gilly could feel her sister in the lavender and rosemary that positively surrounded the house - though Claudia had of course made it seem like the plants were placed seemingly at random.