@roxanna-castillo

Snow was officially back on his feet since returning to Klamenth Falls. A new perspective, energy, and goals in mind helped carry him through the first week. This and the many people around him who’d proven time and again their love for the reaper who was less than deserving. It had been a very busy Valentine’s Day. Snow did everything and more to ensure John’s office was crammed full with cliche goodies--the sort that could make anyone gag. Especially the pompous mayor who simply wouldn’t give to words. This was plan B. Stuff. Give him stuff. Lots of STUFF.

The gifts weren’t without their emotional value, and Snow felt there was little chance John wouldn’t pick up on the personal vibes and message hidden in each offering. There were a few others in town Snow wished to give thanks to. He believed no one should go without on Valentine’s Day. John turned him down by business hour end, but Snow wasn’t going to waste the day, he would extend the invitation. Maison Derriere was a riot tonight. Snow made a point to find Roxanna, give her a hefty donation for a personal dance, before stealing her away way late in the evening. Since the incident at the gallery he figured treating Roxy would get her mind off of the trouble or create a comfortable platform to talk about it. She’d been there for him through so much. Always made him feel welcome and wanted. This was nothing.

“You’re stealing all the chocolate.” Snow whined around a warm cinnamon bite still filling his mouth. In his large hand he clutched a small arrangement of freshly fried and dusted churro sticks. Rich chocolate dip paired along side it, soon to be entirely scraped away. Food trucks had traveled from the major cities to Klamenth Falls just for Valentine’s evening. Most everyone was alone at home or with someone at a fancy restaurant, while Snow and Roxy started their adventurous dining experience with dessert. “This is turning into a race or somethin’.”

@roxanna-castillo

“Another word,” The hunter heaved out on a heavy breath, voice still a whisper, and his accent came out as that of an American. After all, Stiles had enough time to practice... “and I’ll leave you to bleed out right here.”

Despite the initial struggle, Skinner had relocated his hefty blade where it belonged; at Roxanna’s slender throat.

Why did it have to be her? Stiles hadn’t the luxury to consider such questions or memories of time spent with Roxy at the festival... when things, for a short moment, felt better.

Stiles didn’t have the luxury for any of that and he knew now, above all, he didn’t deserve to pretend he ever had the right.

He dragged the girl through the coarse gravel and leaves. It wasn’t uphill, thank goodness, and their destination wasn’t far now.

“Ya won’t have a shot of being rescued then.” Stiles was careful with each word to ensure his identity wouldn’t be compromised. Dressed in black from head to toe he could feel the blood she’d clawed out of him dripping to his elbow. Some down his chest. The adrenaline he’d missed so much shut all of that off. He had energy and hatred. Enough to shut out parts of himself he’d discovered here in accursed Klamenth Falls. Weak parts. Here and now, Stiles would finish the job.