❝I'm overwhelmingly human. Sorry to disappoint.❞
Luna Flores hasn't had an easy life. And after moving to Beacon Hills, it isn't about to get any easier.
Forced to uproot her family's life in Arizona, Luna hopes to find respite in the unknown, quie...
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BEACON HILLS CEMETERY was placed in an awkward part of town: not quite the center of it, but slightly a ways back, connected immediately to the woods. Seemingly like everything else.
All roads led back to Beacon Hills Preserve it seemed, and for a town so small, that forest felt as if it happened to have a habit of swallowing everything and everyone whole.
Luna Flores stepped out of the shadows in order to save herself from the feeling that she was suffocating.
She paced back and forth on the fallen, dead leaves, sighing as she glanced back at the direction of Allison Argent's house. It was only a few meters away, well within walking distance to the point that she could see Stiles Stilinski leaned against his Jeep, on the phone with his father in the Argent driveway; and well within If I Scream, People Will Be Able to Hear Me distance.
After Stiles and her had nearly broken the Argents' door down, she had to flee from the embarrassment and openly welcomed the excuse to leave when Sheriff Stilinski started calling his son.
Of course, finding Allison safe and unharmed was a tremendous relief — though dealing with her mother's withering gaze (including an eye roll or two directed at Stiles, neither of which Luna can blame her for), and having to explain Scott's behavior (trust me, Allison, he really likes you, he just had bad—sushi!; "Scott's never had sushi," Stiles later informed Luna) felt like she were participating in a bad improv night with her and Stiles trying to accurately finishing each other's sentences, and somewhat failing.
For two people with ADHD that seemed to absolutely clash with one another's, it only ended with abrupt interruptions and talking over each other as Allison looked at them as if they were on every drug possible. In simpler terms, it should've been a shitshow, but because Allison happened to be nicer than they expected, it wasn't. Not entirely, at least. Though Luna suspected that Scott wouldn't be too happy with the fact that the only thing her and Stiles could come up with for an excuse was explosive diarrhea and vomiting from food poisoning. Whatever. Beggars can't be choosers.
Glimpsing over her shoulder to see Stiles still adamantly speaking into the phone, gesticulating with wide eyes and with an attitude she was still growing accustomed to, she leaned against the Beacon Hills Cemetery gate that cornered the entire graveyard, staring up at the streetlight above her. For some, it might have been creepy, with the fog rolling in over the moss and ivy leaves, the biting frost that made her pull her jacket closer. But she didn't mind it.
For the first time this week, other than when her and Stiles attempted to dance at Lydia's party, there was a sense of ease. Nothing inside her was pinging, no ringing alarm that usually foretold that something bad was going to happen, no sense of intuition that she knew to follow unless she wanted to end up in a body bag. And, yet, considerably, for the first time since freshman year, she had found herself in more and more situations where that was becoming evidently possible.
