#bansheewhispers

[washisanchor]

she was just sitting there quietly, going through her English notes she made earlier in class, when she suddenly heard heels making their way towards her. Or so it seemed to be. She looked up for a minute, and then looking down again. That person indeed seemed to head towards her.

❝            !!❞  

[werelosingstiles-archive-blog]

     ❝Lydia, seriously, how many bags        do I have to carry?❞

[wolfwithoutabite]

                           ▋ ▎

                               ❝ ------. . . How did you get t h a t                                                                               answer? ❞

[sataninvneck-blog]

        "–– –– Why do you keep coming back?                 It makes your argument of hating me a lot less compelling, Lydia."

[sataninvneck-blog]

   Peter Hale as a school teacher. What a laugh. A man with virtually no    tolerance for stupidity chose the worst possible occupation imaginable.    His job consisted of being surrounded by idiots, and worse, it was his job    to try and teach them not to be idiots. Essentially, he'd need to work miracles.

   Why was he there, then? Surely, an ulterior motive had brough him to    accept the position of English Literature teacher at Beacon High. Though,    whatever his agenda was, it would not be revealed until the timing was    just p e r f e c t, as everything else he did: precise; calculated; carefully planned.

   The new teacher enters the room with no intent of letting a friendly facade spread    across his features, nor of bothering to give his students a second look. A firm,     commanding voice echoes through the room and dominates it, perhaps the teens    were quiet out of curiosity rather than respect, but quiet nonetheless. 

        "Let us just skip the long introductions          and f o o l i s h ice-breakers. I have little          interest in learning all of your names, if any          at all."

    Sure steps only come to a stop when he stands in front of his desk, leaning over it     and finally scanning through the faces of his class. One in particular had caught his     interest, though he does not glance at her twice; though a smirk does appear upon     his lips. Silence hangs in the air. Amused, Peter looks at the puzzled young people     before him, and they stare back.

           "Good. Now that we're settled, pick up your copies of            The Great Gatsby. I trust you have done your Summer            reading, yes? Let us have ourselves a little discussion."

    Cerulean hues travel through the room, landing at one Ms. Lydia Martin.      The malice on his smirk only seems to grow as his gaze locks on hers,     though it is only perceptible for a split second, before he breaks into a     more respectable countenance. 

                 "––– ––– Ms. Strawberry Blonde, start us off." 

[werelosingstiles-archive-blog]

[ bansheewhispers ]

         ❝Come on, Lydia. What do you want            out of the vending machine?            ———— my treat.❞

                  [ he swears, this is the last time he'll                     drag her out on another late night                     walk. mark his words. in the meantime,                     junk food should help her make it                     through the night on a full stomach. ]