Nothing But The Barest of Bones to You Now
The burnt-out skeleton of the old Hale house stretched out before the possessed teenager, ash covered timbers reaching up towards the star-studded autumn sky. The Nogitsune's whiskey gaze traced idly over the bones of what had once been the center of Beacon Hills' supernatural community--before tragedy struck, before fire had lit the night so many years before, before smoke had flavored the air and made it too thick to breathe.
"With just the smallest touch of our Spark, you can hear their screams once again. They screamed and screamed and screamed--until the fire silenced them and all that was left was the sound of flames. Would you like to hear, Alpha McCall~?"
The Nogitsune tilted his head just the slightest bit to the side to watch the shadow-shrouded treeline from beneath a heavy-lidded, fox-like gaze. Moonlight filtered in through the trees' branches, scattering light and shifting it this way and that--making things that much more eerie with the slowly drifting mist that trickled like grasping fingers along the pine needle dusted ground. Still, however, the creature knew that Scott would be out there, watching and waiting and helpless in his fury at his best friend's possession--and that was because Stiles knew Scott.
His face belonged to the teenage boy, but there was nothing of Stiles within it. The expression was flat, absolutely smooth: no small, excitable, unique little tics that gave Stiles' face life and personality both, clued others in on his emotions and thoughts; there was nothing now but a Void--a blank slate accented with cold, amber eyes and the sharp curve of a stranger's smile.
