#vvulfric

the warning is languid and hushed: a door gingerly slid shut so as to avoid an unintentional solicit of unwanted attention. seemingly lacking urgency, the attempt might slink over her in an unfair shade of apathy, coloring her indifferent or facetious when she’s nothing of the sort– 

quite the contrary, actually. kate couldn’t snare the quality of impassivity with a royal flush. maybe not even with every good hand she’s ever scraped together flat on the table. the many nuances that link her joints together are steeped in caring, in watching, in whatever instinct she’s attempted and failed to bury over the years that has her warning a tall, dark, and handsome stranger that a cop’s over shoulder watching him. 

that someone’s watching him besides her. 

werewolf (lone wolf like her? she wonders), on the run for a crime you didn’t commit- or in her case, had a really really good reason for? maybe she relates. maybe she doesn’t relate all that often. maybe that means something.  

                 “ --- That’s not mine. I figured if I leave it there, no one would try to join me.”

        He gestured at the scarf thrown over the back of the chair by his side, head tilted back as he took in the sight. If ANYONE could ruin his plan of wanting to sit by his own and mop over his coffee, it was Mister Bunny Teeth with his perfectly trimmed beard. That’s for sure.

she’s got ONE LEG swung over the fence  ,     only half hiding the bold  ,     big sign that reads  ,     DO NOT ENTER  .     velma clears her throat  .       ❛     –––    good evening  .     ❜

   ‘ so... it looks like i’m the alpha now? ‘

he’s never really been one for small spaces, but now?  isaac’s beginning to think he isn’t one for large spaces either, because this place feels too big in its grief. 

all of the empty rooms contain memories of the dead.

derek may as well be dead too, for all the dialogue he provides, so caught up in his own comings and goings -- any means of distraction to forget that vernon boyd bled out right there, in the middle of the living room.

and cora, well, she’s like a balm to a burn, but is yet to realise that isaac and derek’s burns are third degree.  you can’t really do anything about those burns other than watch the skin melt away, and hope to god you don’t get an infection.

in this life, family seems to be synonymous with loss.

one question nags at him, though.  persistent.  demanding attention.  so when he senses derek’s returned presence, he asks it.

     ❛ why do you stay in beacon hills? ❜

i'm jus content you keep feeding my (public) blackmail folder even after all these yrs