Like a Hug in a Cup || Vic & Stiles
Long walks had become a crutch of a kind; given the troubles of their life right now loneliness was the worst of the enemies nipping at Vic’s heels. So they'd decided to explore, just as they’d done as a chid, and lose the boredom in the questions their mind could conjure with the aid of New Orleanian architecture. They’d avoided the Bayou, recalled Tajim warning them away from it when they’d first arrived some years ago, and headed into the city. Not to the usual loud and joyful districts, but to rather more mundane and necessary areas. Shops, chemists, even the hospital; the last drew them a little close, childish as it was the noise and lights were beckoning.
They hefted they shoulder bag, full of food, drink, a small note book and pens, and meandered lazily towards the sterile looking building. They’d not gotten too close when they saw a figure perched atop the bonnet of a rather old looking truck... a familiar truck and a familiar figure as well. Stiles... Wasn’t be around Allison’s age? Lord... maybe he’d been involved in those ghastly events as well. They walked closer.
“You know,” their voice soft, “Men have sat out under the stars for centuries and found everything from comfort to fear in their glittering reflection. What is it you’re looking for?”
