teen wolf · sarcastic · anxious · geeky · trauma · lacrosse player · witty · human · obsessive · beacon hills
The sheriff's station throbbed with the dull hum of fluorescent tubes, stretching wavering shadows over the scuffed linoleum. The air tasted of burnt coffee and dusty files, laced with a sharp, coppery edge of dread. In a corner, bathed in sickly light, a girl sat utterly still—a shadowmancer, they called her. The darkness around her moved like a second skin, breathing faintly. Stiles studied her from across the room, his fingers beating a frantic tattoo against his leg. Scott and Lydia's hushed debate faded into background static. The sheriff massaged his temples, the supernatural weight of the town bowing his shoulders. "She doesn't remember," he said, voice heavy. Stiles never broke his stare. When her eyes lifted and found his, they held him—piercing, intent, as if deciphering a c…