it shouldn’t matter. where you’re from, who you were ; it shouldn’t define who you are now. but for ana, it’s of grave importance. ever since the news passed of who she was, that her parents were not who they said they were - there had been a distant longing within her heart. something there, like a wound upon her gums that would die if she didn’t keep prodding it, a scab that would heal if you stopped picking at the remains. not that ana ever had such issue with the miracle of werewolf healing.
but she wanted to know who she got that miracle from. there were streams of dna that she didn’t know who they belonged to. she wasn’t stupid; she had worked out that something was faulty in her faux father’s story. that she had been bit as a child. ( the wolf was one with her now. ) fingers caught braeden’s shoulder, a nod of her head gesturing for her to hold back. ‘ are you staying in beacon hills for a while ? because. . . i kind of need your help. ‘ a pause. ‘ i really need your help. but i need this to be kept lowkey. scott & stiles; they can’t know. especially stiles. ‘ // @reprisale
