And it’s the flood of MEMORIES that spark fear                  throughout the man of seventeen years, more than the                     actual presence itself. It was the knowledge of every                    tribulation given out with barely a slight of hand that               made Stiles wish for the sun to gleam with the HARSHNESS                        of a summer gaze, if only to rid him the sight of                      this SHADOW, this parasitic creature, so v o i d in                       all but the need to cause CHAOS and STRIFE to                      feedfeedfeed an insatiable desire for other’s PAIN.

                   It’s the memories of his MOTHER that come rushing                the hardest, full break-neck speed to every vulnerability                 in his mind they could find. It’s a [ crippling ] thing but one               that breathes such an easy familiarity —- why wouldn’t it?                             Stiles now lives with her memories with                                               every movement,                                                 every thought,                              with every sight of his father’s eyes,                                                     so worried,                                                      so scared,                                                   so CAUTIOUS.

                   There’s a foreign curse rushing through him, his very                       life-blood. It’s the KILLER to his mother’s death, a                 constant reminder of the fact that he’s not like his friends,            not a good person, not a protector, not anything but a BURDEN.

            [ So what would he want with SKINNY, DEFENSELESS Stiles? ]

                                     ”In your future and in your past                                   I come and go so senseless and fast                                        My purpose is unknown to all                                  Remembrance seems to drift then fall                                     I travel by night and fade by day                                    Because that is my common way”

                It’s with a whispered chant that he begins their DANCE                but it’s not for the other. Though he feels RIDDLES should               almost disgust him, now, Stiles can’t help but find a certain…                                        comfort in their mysteries.

                            ❝ Reciting a riddle for me, hm?                                  How truly creative, Stiles. ❞         The words are hummed by a  shadowy figure that stands          with his hands clasped so  tight  behind  his back that his          arms  nearly  SHAKE. He calmly leans back on his   heels         and as he  looks at  the boy  before  him,  he  feels   rage          spark within his body. It’s a FLAME and it is  growing   as          if it were being fed by the air — it is growing STRONGER          and  STRONGER  and  BRIGHTER  and  BRIGHTER and         as he takes a step closer, his  eyes  narrow dangerously.                              ❝ The     answer    to    that    is    DREAMS…                                  They’re such interesting things, aren’t they?                                  Sometimes  they  may  be  real   and  other                                  times they are not — they could even come                                  true within time.  They  could  become  true                                  after years and years  of  waiting  until  you                                  don’t even remember having them.              You can also dream about people              you have  never  met  before and             the next thing you know is  you’re              finding them on the street.                                           You can dream  about  MONSTERS                                           and sometimes they really are there.                                      And sometimes they can even be YOU. ❞         He allows his arms to fall to his  sides as  his  lips  press         together into a thin line.                                     ❝ How    have    you    been    feeling,    Stiles?                                         How have you been dealing with everything?                                         The PAIN                How    have   you   been                                        The GUILT              handling   the     magick                                        Your FRIENDS         that   has   finally  been                                        Your FATHER         released from your inner                                        Your MAGICK         cage? ❞         The   creature   saunters  ever  closer,  his  hands  extended          toward  Stiles  and  he  looks  as  though he  is lion  that  is          hunting  down  its  wounded  prey — the  prey that is  now          laying down and resting - out of  energy.  His   smooth  tail          flicking impatiently behind  him  as  he  stalks forward —-          he  is   ready  to  pounce  and  tear  into  his  prey’s  pretty,          tender flesh.  He   licks  his  lips  and  tilts  his  head to the          side. His gaze shows nothing but HUNGER.                                           ❝ You can even die in your dreams..                             Are we in a dream, Stiles? ❞                                                                                …maybe

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