a familiar odor wafts to her nostrils, activating sensitive smell. it is of subtly damp earth and oak trees, with a wild undertone that is associated with a particular species. instinctively, her head tilts toward the source, hearing spiking into supernatural plane ( as if there is something for her to hear! ) it’s only one moment later that she loses patience with the action and faces the direction, gaze holding witness to the owner of the scent. it is immediately translated in her head that, despite the other’s uncanny resemblance, he is not stiles. which brings a single memory of another stilinski, a name in which is lost within a surplus of other meaningless facts.






