Good friends, good books, and a sleepy conscience. @ali-maccrae - Tumblr Blog

“I said no”, he pulled his backpack out of the man’s hands, stumbling backwards and falling off his crutches. He wastes no time and kicks at legs in front of him, cast and all. He had no intention of going back home right now, he didn’t care what they did to him.

ali-maccrae

“Excuse me, what’s going on here?” He had just been wandering around, only to stumble on what looked like an assault. Involving the boy he met just a week or so ago, no less. Alistair moved to help the boy up, peering suspiciously at the man who was trying to take his book-bag.

#Caleb

call-me-stiles:

Stiles sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything but what I saw.” The boy wished he could be more help but right now he was useless. “I’ll do some research as soon as I get home. I’ll figure it out somehow. You never know what could help us defeat the Horsemen.” There was always the alternative that maybe it was already in the cave from another time altogether but Stiles did not want to think about that. It would be devastating if he couldn’t somehow figure this out. “Let’s…let’s get back to trying to protect this library.”

“Alright...” Alistair said, nodding and taking up his brush again as he set back to work, “You’re right.” He didn’t have much else to say. His mind kept wandering back to the symbols and what they could possibly mean. Did Death have a back up plan? The idea that it wasn’t the real Death popped back into his head again, and he half wondered if this sort of power was possible through alchemy. Or was it Hades? Anubis? The very idea of them made Alistair dizzy. Whatever it meant, it couldn’t be good.

#Stiles

sphinxmemesmusings

Send in a flower for a AU!

Rose: Bookshop AU

Violet: Shape-Shifter AU

Tulip: 1940s Noir AU

Bluebell: Detention AU

Sunflower: Boarding School AU

Daisy: Group Project AU

Peony: Truth or Dare AU

Delphinium: School Rivals AU

Gardenia: Roadtrip AU

Poppy: Record Store AU

Orchid: 1920s Con Artists AU

Snapdragon: Apocalypse Survivors AU

Chrysanthemum: Arranged Marriage AU

Lilac: Fallen Angel AU

Pansy: Sex Line AU

Marigold: Amnesia AU

Carnation: Mobsters AU

Daffodil: CIA AU

call-me-stiles:

Stiles took the paper and nodded his head. “Yeah. I can draw it.” He grabbed a pencil and as he began to draw, his tongue poked out of his lips in concentration. First there was a circle and in the inside of a circle there was what, to him, looked like a wide H or barbells. It was the Greek capital letter theta - though Stiles could not remember the name. “Like this,” he said as he handed it over to Alistair. “I don’t even know how I remember any of it. I wasn’t studying it. I guess it just caught my attention for a moment.” Stiles shrugged his shoulders and then sighed. “What does it mean?”

Alistair frowned at the symbol, scratching his head. Not because he didn’t recognize it, but just because he wasn’t sure what it meant. “That’s the letter for Theta. I don’t...are the horsemen using Alchemy for something?” He couldn’t imagine what they would need alchemy for, But if the supernatural was real, that meant some of the other fantastical elements of the world could be too. He had no idea the real limits of Alchemy.

#Stiles

rileylyon:

It seemed unlikely that someone who actually lived in Beacon Hills could also be lost, but he still didn’t seem particularly threatening, and she wasn’t sure why he’d lie. “Are you new to town too then?” Riley asked cautiously. She wanted to believe him, because for some reason the idea that someone else had managed to get as lost as she did was a little comforting.

“Oh no, I’ve been here little under a year almost. I’m just, really that helpless,” Alistair said, his blush creeping up on him out of embarrassment. “I try to do what I can, though,” he continued, “And I have the fortunate luck of some training so I can take care of myself alright. I can keep you company, if you like?”

#Riley

druidicart:

Alistair knew. That was all Art could focus on. He could feel it on a much deeper level than Art could, but that meant the tree had to be crying out in pain incredibly loudly for even Art to pick up on it. The fact that it went so deep worried him more than it had, before. “The Nemeton was in pain before, but now it’s worse. It’s aware. We have two options at this point… to put it back to sleep, or to heal it. I think we have been trying to put it back to sleep, but now, meeting you… I think we can heal it. But it won’t be easy.”

Truth be told, a lot of this was way over his head. Alistair had a fair understanding of his powers, now, but the how and why of some things was still a little fuzzy. The bookkeeper wasn’t entirely certain he could do anything of real worth. But then, just sitting on the Nemeton had grown that tiny sprout. Perhaps if he really tried he could regrow the whole thing? Surely that wouldn’t be too different from the grove here. “Alright, what should I do?” he asked firmly, determined to help set things right.

#Art

rileylyon:

Riley eyed him a moment longer but was fairly certain he didn’t pose a threat to her, or at least he wasn’t lying when he said he wouldn’t hurt her. “I- um.” She shook her head in the hopes that it would clear it. “I’m a little lost,” she admitted. Under-exaggeration of the century. But it probably wasn’t a good idea to tell strangers that she had no memory of leaving her bed. Especially not strangers who also took late night strolls through apparently hazardous territory. “If it’s so dangerous, why are you wandering the streets?”

“Well, you see, I’m a bit lost myself,” he said, which was true enough in it’s own right, “I have an abysmal sense of direction and really I just can’t be helped sometimes. I would have been home hours ago but, you know.” Sure he had the compass that pointed him “home”, but Jordan was working tonight so he’d be all over town. A good and thoughtful gesture made null by romance. Odd, that.

#Riley

shelleyhennigsource

I do #tinder profiles now @the_ryan_kelley

#He totally did

call-me-stiles:

The name of the symbol caused a tugging in his brain. He knew he had heard that name before - or maybe read it - but he could not remember. “Yeah,” he answered, trying to remember it all exactly. It was such a traumatizing event, being in a cave while dealing with Death going after his girlfriend. He had been helpless and terrifyingly human. “There was a different symbol. In the circle or the center of the Ouroboros. I’m pretty sure it was a Greek letter. Not alpha or omega, though.”

It didn’t make any sense. Were the horsemen using alchemy? Stiles had mentioned before that the bodies were those of the deceased, so maybe they were reanimating them using that somehow. Homunculi. Temporary shells? None of it seemed to match up, but he didn’t have the whole puzzle either. “What did it look like?” He asked, grabbing a piece of paper he had been cataloging the symbols on and held it out for Stiles, “Can you draw it?”

#Stiles

packxnurse:

She was glad to hear that they were fine, but Alistair changed the topic back to her kidnapping. “Peter rescued me. Got shot with wolfsbane, but he should be fine. The kids are all fine, they weren’t there.” She was relieved about that. The fear she’d felt when she’d first heard the gunfire had been unbearable, wondering if someone she cared about would get hurt because of her. “Or as fine as they can be with everything that’s going on. Lydia lost her mom.”

Alistair nodded, a troubled look in his features. If things kept on like this, he’d get wrinkles before he was thirty. ‘I had heard about her mother. It’s, an unspeakable pain,” he said softly, “And I am unsure how to reach out to her. I worry for her, you know? But I remember what losing a parent is like, and Lydia and I are very similar. She may wall herself off and I don’t know how to help. At least you’re safe, and the rest. That I can take comfort in.”

#Melissa

druidicart:

“I’ve never met one, either. I’ve never met anyone like you before. I suppose… anything similar would keep to themselves.” Of course, meeting someone new didn’t always make Art want to study them under a magnifying glass, but another bit of magic he knew nothing about? And one that resonated with plants? Art was all set to keep the librarian around… and pick his brain for much more. He wanted to ask if misfortune fell on him and his father when they came across the book, but it seemed as though Alistair had fallen silent, his head cocked to the side, listening. Art knew that stance well–he’d seen it on werewolves, mostly, so he found it odd to see a non-wolf use it. His brow furrowed when Alistair’s did. “You can hear it?” he asked quietly, wondering if his voice would interrupt whatever Alistair’s senses could pick up. “There was another druid here once before, Alan Deaton. He woke up the Nemeton and ever since, the town became increasingly unbalanced. Deaton’s methods have always been questionable at best, but imagine waking up to find your arms and legs have been cut off.” Art wrapped his arms around himself as if he’d gotten a sudden chill, although it was still quite warm. He hadn’t discussed this with anyone, yet, but he hadn’t met anyone who could grow an entire grove of trees. “I can’t hear it, but I can feel the unbalance like a tiny nagging voice in the back of my mind telling me I’m forgetting something important, or that there’s an important item I must cross off my To-Do List but I can’t.”

Alistair nodded, and when his eyes open there was sorrow in the blue of his irises. An awful chill ran up his skin and left him with goosebumps. After everything he had been through over the past few years, including the cornucopia of new horrors in discovering the supernatural and literally facing his worst fear...nothing shook him quite like the nemeton’s pain. “It’s crying, wailing. The trees, they speak in a language that isn’t and often so slow that you’d mistake it for a breeze through leaves if you weren’t careful,” he explained, “They’ve been doing their part to try and ease it. To shield people. But it’s pain poisons the ground around it. I wish for all the world I could ease it. Do you think it possible?”

#Art

dailyteamcap

#It me

rileylyon

Riley hadn’t slept in days. If she was realistic, she knew that she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since her dad was killed back in France. Her mumbled excuse of jet lag was just denial. And the worsening nightmares were hardly helping. She woke up screaming two nights in a row, scaring the shit out of her great aunt. And now? Now- she was walking down a dark street somewhere in Beacon Hills because twenty minutes ago she woke up from one of said nightmares in a random driveway instead of in her bed. Riley hadn’t been caught sleepwalking since she was a little girl, back when her dad always woke her before she wandered too far from home. Riley tried not to think about the fact that he would never do that again. It was a lot harder to chase away the memory of finding his lifeless body in the street when she was alone in the middle of the night. But she could try. She shivered, wrapped her arms around herself tightly, and started walking. All Riley wanted was to get back to the house and get some god damn rest. If she had to see the pity on Aunt Amelia’s face when she spotted the dark purple bags under her eyes again in the morning, she was going to suffocate herself with one of the ugly couch pillows. A noise in the shadows quickly drew Riley from her musings. She spun around, eyes narrowed. “Who’s there?”

ali-maccrae

“Sorry, sorry!” Alistair said, holding up his hands in what he hoped was a placating stance, “You can relax! I won’t hurt you!” At least not intentionally, but the book keeper could not think of how anything he would do would hurt anyone. Except, for making the trees move and slam into people. And the whirlwinds. And...okay, so he could hurt people. But not on the street like this. “I just, saw you walking and I thought, maybe, you needed help,” He tried to explain, smiling softly, “Dangerous to be wandering the streets nowadays, you know? I swear I didn’t mean to startle you.”

#Riley

@hellandbackhq

Working a double today, lovelies. Replies will probably come tomorrow morning. Hang in there!

#ooc (out of trees)

calebtyler17:

“That bothered me, I was referring to you talking afterwards. If you can keep from tripping over broken limbs in the future that would be helpful”. He decides to just start eating, he needed to hurry up before his parents realize he wasn’t at home anymore.

“I’ll do my best,” Alistair said quietly as the boy began to eat. He looked as though he were in some sort of hurry, and Alistair had overstayed his welcome. “Alright, well...take care!” he said, waving a bit before heading on his way.

#Caleb

druidicart:

“But… just like there are different names for werewolves throughout the world, there can be different names for kodamas, right?. Nymph seems like the closest, or just a tree spirit. Either way, you’re the protector of this tree and in return the tree gives you… the ability to grow plantlife?” The way Alistair described the way the author cut down the tree struck Art as odd. “Why would an author of all people want to share a tree with someone? They could simply write about it and immortalize it within the pages of—-oh. Oh.” Art stood up straighter as realization dawned on him. “Did he turn your tree into a book?” It felt poetic, but the wrong kind. He would never want to touch a book make from the wood of the Nemeton. It was bad enough people had already created magical artifacts from the roots. Alistair’s worry caught Art off guard and confusion moved itself across his features. “It’s bringing trouble because it’s a stump,” Art stated. “When you break a musical instrument like a flute or a clarinet and try to play it, it creates a nauseating screech. But if you repair that instrument, the screech turns into a pleasant melody. I think that’s what’s happening. If we restore the Nemeton, it will stop drawing negative forces, but stay neutral. But it’s… only a theory.”

Alistair shrugged his shoulders in an honest way, if such a way could be done, and nervously scratched at the hairs on the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t know. Probably? I’ve not met a nymph before. Well, except Liodes. But they’re of the sea and more detached from everything than the kodama ever was,” he explained, and brought his hands before him, “And I am, something new. Or something rare. I’m not sure which. The spirits aren’t meant to merge with the souls of humans. But here I am. The author did turn the tree into a book, and misfortune followed it wherever it went. Until my dad found it and brought it home. The spirit, for whatever reason, didn’t continue on it’s bloody spree. Something calmed it, and I’m not sure what it was. That part is still fuzzy. Like memories you try to recall from being a toddler.” The bookkeeper wasn’t even entirely sure why he was telling the boy this. Maybe because he seemed so wise beyond his years. Easily able to pick up on words left unspoken and he knew more about the nemeton than anyone Alistair had ever met before. The blonde frowned, letting his eyes fall closed as he focused on the whispers of the forest. Voices that spoke in no language, wisdom without words and all at once. There, beneath it all, he could feel something reach his ears. It reminded him of the cries from animals when they were caught in traps or hurt, only this poisoned the earth that heard it. Why hadn’t he heard it before? Or perhaps he had and that’s what lead him to the nemeton in the first place? A desire to heal. To protect. “It’s in pain,” he said, brow furrowed as he merely reiterated Art’s point.

#Art

call-me-stiles:

“I’m all for trying anything that might work,” he told the older man, his paintbrush raised. “I want to protect this town as much as anyone else. I think that sometimes I come off as selfish, which is completely fair, but I do have an interest in keeping people safe.” He smiled at the man. “I’m glad they were safe here. Honestly, if there was just one place people could go to be safe that would make all the difference.” Stiles nodded his head, a smile etched across his face, as he listened to his friend talk about his relationship. It dropped though when he realized he almost painted something bad. “Oh, shit. Sorry, man.” He flipped through the book until he found one that looked familiar. “I’ve seen this before…” he muttered. “In the cave…where Death is…or usually is…” He couldn’t understand what it meant but the familiarity of it was incredibly striking. “I don’t think I realized I had seen anything until now.”

Alistair frowned, the rest of the conversation in favor of the symbol Stiles had found. The moment he said something about Death, the bookkeeper became determined to try and decipher something. Anything. For once. “That’s the Ouroboros,” he said suddenly, tracing his finger over the serpent, “It’s Egyptian in origin, adopted by Greek culture and prominent in the study of Alchemy. You said you saw this in the cave that Death appears in? Was there anything else?”

#Stiles

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Good friends, good books, and a sleepy conscience.