#moonvigil

perhaps it is the bit of fresh air,   or the sound of her sons laughter mixed in with the gentle breeze, that has ella feeling a bit lighter on her feet. if she closes her eyes, she can imagine herself someone quieter. perhaps back home in the wandering isle with a little cottage and a garden that ella could tend to while theo chased around the butterflies. years ago, she thought that the second army would always be her place. that the kefta she wore would hold more bearing to her than anything else ever would. her hands were meant to save, not to kill. her path always fit that of a healer. it was not until she had theo that her entire way of thinking changed. 

@moonvigil​  :  why do you have that look on your face?   (  x  )

“ i’m here for business, not pleasure. “   -  bruce ‘emo boy’ wayne. @moonvigil.

She’s been talking herself in circles trying to find a way to say what she needs to. Edging around a subject they both know is coming; Willow cannot stay in Beacon Hills, and she can’t ask him to come with her when she goes. Ben has already set up a room for her at his place, and is coming to pick her up when summer ends. Until then, she’s been allowed to stay with Stiles and his father  -  a kindness she can never repay from Noah  -  so that she can finish out senior year without having to set foot in that house. Willow holds a pillow tightly to her chest, her voice trembling before she’s even gotten to the hard part. 

               “So I’m gonna -- go on tour, you know? I just... I think it’ll be better, if I go away from here. I can’t -- I can’t stay. That place just isn’t home any more...” 

❛ you feel like home to me. ❜ - stiles, @moonvigil​.

His response cuts her and she isn’t sure if he means it to. Willow stares at him, her lower lip trembling, her emotions bubbling over into tears she thought she had run out of. Her hands fall to her face, a gut wrenching sob from the pit of her stomach draws her breath. 

❛ nope, puppy dog eyes aren’t going to work this time! ❜ - stiles, @moonvigil​.

It’s happening again:        The world, still moving around her, seems to have come to a standstill somewhere about five seconds ago. For Willow, this stutter in time is noticable, jarring -- she feels everything, you see, all around her. And when the world is delayed the way it just has, the feeling is unpleasant. She feels drunk, warped, out of place. 

One moment, they’re in the cafeteria, smiling. The next she feels the minutes tick by between the seconds, she feels panic, paranoia, fear. Dread. One moment, she’s grinning, carefree --- the next she’s trying very hard to pretend as though she didn’t just feel something terrible take place. As though somebody here didn’t just suffer something violent that nobody else seems to notice.

❛ your heart is beating so fast right now. ❜ - malia, @moonvigil​

                           “Mine? Um, yeah. I--”         Willow stands suddenly, chair scraping the floor behind her. Colour drained from her face; a numb tingling in her cheeks and the tips of her fingers.       “I’m---” 

                    “Do you have to be so---”           Her arms flail around between them, gesturing to coax her brain into finding the correct word for the situation. ‘Such an asshole’ would be the most apt way to do it, but she doesn’t want him to make fun of the way she says ‘ass’ and deflect what she’s saying into a roast session about her accent.         “--Such-- Do you have to be so... Brazen about everything all the time?” 

Brazen probably isn’t a great word either. Too British. Too snobbish. But she manages just fine. It’s not like she’s trying to start an argument, but she does want to scold him. He’s so harsh on everyone. Abrasive. The sarcasm she understands, she loves -- but to strangers... It’s going to land him in trouble (more trouble, that is) and it makes Willow anxious. 

👿.     “     𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒     ”     𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄     . ↳↳     accepting    ( @moonvigil​ / malia )

04. a bloody kiss .

there was a ringing in his ears, a pounding in his skull as he pulled her upright and into his arms. whatever righteous fury had swept through him like a flood was gone.  ❝ malia . . . ❞  his hands trembled, and his voice shook as he murmured her name, a choked whisper as if he was worried that anything louder might shatter the world. he pushed her hair back out of her face, wiped the blood from her cheeks, her chin, her lips, and shook her, sharp and desperate.  ❝ open your eyes! ❞

     for one long eternity, nothing happened. cosmo held his breath, sinking deeper and deeper into the cold chill of shock and despair, until finally, finally, malia opened her eyes. cosmo all but crumbled forward, relief washing over him in a cleansing fire. he cupped her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers, harshly and desperately, the taste of blood turning the kiss metallic and hot, but he didn’t care — he kissed her as he had been wanting to kiss her for years. deeply, mindlessly, he wanted to pour every word he had never said, every soft thing he had never committed out of some deranged concern of overstepping.