#p:crossfire

@adwoojin

it’s half past four a.m. when she parts from the building, a willowy profile against subdued lamp light and the smudged cascade of moon. it’s only in the low light she’s ever truly alone, walking her ghosts like prized possessions, walking the street as if an outsider. this time, death follows her – blood, stitches, and death – the former having been a healer’s attempt, the latter a purposeful abandonment ( superficially wounded soldiers filter out. a woman and her team, alike only in profession, relieve three men of their pains. death feasts tonight ). after, she’d been meticulous about the stain, about sheets bloated with human substance and dark wine-like fluid drooling from raw cadavers. after, she’d honoured their memory by scratching their name, robbing their identity, burning bodies so only their spirits remained because such people will not be discovered, such people are not wealthy enough for lavish funerals. such people cannot afford to be enemies of the tigers. but the wicked && scrupulous – they’re all the same, at the end of the day. there’s no rest for either. 

the darkness comes in pieces, soojin pocketing a handful, fingers combing through supple wind when a fleet of lights guarding the entrance rouse awake, flinging unkind and harsh shadows across the pavement. the masked raccoon secreted in the shrubs glowers at her intrusion, though soojin shares the same discontent. here, she trusts in muscle memory to navigate toward the mailboxes, hidden deep around the corner, and the blurry visioned and tired woman eyes the parcels she’s been neglecting for over a week. 

slowly, lazily, letters claimed by her grasp stack upon a box, then clapped loosely between her hands, && it’s almost mechanical the way arms move, feet shuffle, motion which would betray awareness if her gaze isn’t already so careened toward pitted slumber, weariness gloving her fingertips. then, a drip of sound; her keys dive onto the floor but there’s something else, someone she hadn’t seemed to observe. her attention snatches on him, a queenfish to hook and line. a man, piloting her interest: seo woojin, who still haunts her. 

He's an idiot with a baseball bat. Of course that's no news to Stiles, nor is it that they've had another run-in with hunters. Ever since the Nemeton incident, the supernatural have been flocking to Beacon Hills like moths to a flame. So, naturally, hunters were tagging along for the ride.  It's all happened too quickly. Bullets, knives -- glints and flashes of metal as the combat erupts around him. A simple patrol he'd insisted on assisting with turns into a potential bloodbath in the blink of an eye. The pack's all standing their ground, fighting, and what's he doing? He's an idiot with a baseball bat; the human who's told to 'stand back' and 'find cover'. Bullets whiz past, nearly grazing his flesh as Stiles ducks behind the trunk of a tree, pressing his back firmly to its abrasive bark. Hazel eyes flicker between sides as he tries to make sense of the muddled mess of hunters and supernatural, both fighting for their lives amiss the forest trees. It's dark, and he can just barely make out the outline of the hunter's figures, squint to barely see the pack's claws and teeth glinting in the pale moonlight. Fuck. They've gotten themselves into a pickle. Sure, the pack's picking off each hunter like nothing, but that doesn't ease Stiles' panic. They have a track record with this kind of thing -- and it isn't good. This confrontation is a timebomb waiting to implode upon them, taunting Stiles as he keeps his eyes peeled for any risk beyond the obvious.  And that's when he sees it -- the insanely large gun pointed at Cassie's chest from a distance, hidden within the underbrush. Stiles' eyes widen with panic.  Turn around. Turn around. Cassie. Cassandra, turn the fuck around.

He hears the surefire click of a cartridge being placed into the weapon, and that's when Stiles knows he needs to act.

"CASSIE!"

Maybe he's thinking too fast, or maybe he's not thinking at all. One second he's hiding, and the next he's bolting out of the shadows, shoving Cassie aside.