Changing Patterns

• 14 •

"Talking" 'Thinking...
Important
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    I ignored the knocking on my door, Scott had chased me up and I was really not in the mood. I'd prefer he just leave me alone at the moment, I don't need the damn werewolf smelling me and trying to calm me down, I mean they used to do it all the time and for fucks sake but Scott know pays attention to what I smell like again. Whatever, more knocking and Scott yelling through the door about letting him in and talking to him, he just wants to do his normal Scotty thing and be optimistic, remind me we'll figure it out. Eventually he sighs and starts to walk away after telling me to get him when I'm ready.

    I sigh in a similar way and push against the white board before me, god annoying. Her names Anemandria, a long time witch of beacon hills, said to have left years ago and I suppose know returned. Witch of the blue, probably like eighty something years old; besides looking 25 freaking years old. A witch's magic reflects themself, some with white, blue, purple, red, really any color. Though the colors vibrancy reflects their power. Anemandria, her, she's extremely powerful. Bright blue, her eyes were diamond for Christs sake. Whatever, I roll my eyes and throw myself back to my bed, only half my body making it; legs hanging crazily.

    I groan out and slam my hands down against the soft mattress on either side of me, searching my ceiling for something I won't find. Instead my mind skips around the words the witch spoke.

    "Hanc manum, claude auferet, imperium et custodiant. habere usque ad extremum sex anni sunt supra!" Of course I can't decipher that shit. Only reason I remember the damned words is because they continue to whisper in my ear every time I try to fucking leave. Hell.

    I kick my legs against the floor and reach the bed frame, planting my feet and push if myself back onto the bed properly. Keeping my arms flailed to my sides and sighing as I wiggle comfortably. Only a minute of peace before a growling werewolf passes my door practically stomping his way to his room and mimicking my earlier door slamming. What the fuck could've pissed Derek off so much he'd lose his cool; the brooding, stone faced, closed off werewolf wall cool that he loves so much. Whatever. Shit I'm saying whatever so much, fucking hell man.

    I need a distraction, something to do, something to try and change my mind. My head turns to the window, tried that, failed, ended up cracking my damn dresser. Again, whatever. I pushed up off my bed and leaned close to the window, tapping my fingers on the glass, my nails didn't reach the glass, happily. I sigh as I push it farther open, second floor, just a grassy hill below, if this had worked I'd have broken my ankle. What the hell was I thinking. With that I pull the window closed, shit they must have heard me yell earlier, lovely way to announce how fucking pissed I am to be trapped in this house right know. Whatever.

    I sigh and look over my shoulder at me door and stare a moment. What am I thinking right know. I twirl around and start toward the door rolling my shoulders with a sigh raising a hand to my hair, brushing it through my short hair and then dropping my hand to the doorknob. Swinging it open, inward, and stepping out only to be caught by Allison as she starts up the stairs and meets my eyes.

    "Stiles! Hey are you okay?-" as she starts the question I'm already turning away and starting toward Derek's door. "Stiles!" She says as I reach it and knock a couple times, Allison getting closer too quickly.

    "Derek, you can hear me, let me in." I insist, Allison only reaching me seconds before the door opens, she took my finger tips and I pull away stepping into Derek's room past the werewolf who stares with red eyes, anger still pained on his face.