Changing Patterns

• 16 •

"Talking"  'Thinking...
Important
_writing_
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Scott scratched the top of his head as he and Lydia entered the back of the clinic. Deaton was already there, searching through a book almost in a frantic way, he'd looked up to catch the two supernaturals entering and smiled softly before bowing his head. Deaton closed the book he leaned over and looked to Scott, his eyes saying he had information to tell them. Lydia cleared her throat from their stairing contest and spoke before anything else could happen.

    "Stiles is trapped in the house and some witch lady threw a glowing blue ball at him." She starts, the vets eyes shooting to her. "Two days ago." The banshee pursued her lips.

    "And you waited till know to tell me?" Deaton asks calmly. The vet pinched the bridge of his nose and let's his eyes close.

    "It's not just that, the witch called him a Sanctor. What is that?"  Scott answers the silence.

    "Actually, that's something I wanted to talk to you about. Since the attack with the werewolf I've been noticing some things. And that, a sanctor, is the topic I've come across." When no one spoke Deaton sighed, he reached for the book and passes it to the younger adults.

    The two take the black cover book and open it to the first bookmark. A ring, circle, presented on the front of the page with lines crossing through it. Each line had a word written over it. There were blank lines and others with confusing non-English words,  but the lines each had supernatural names on them. The circle had multiple words around it. The first Scott's eyes landed on was the Opiekun, and then four words later besides it was Sanctor, guardian, ward. Scott looked up at Lydia in confusion, who kept her eyes stationed on the books page.

    "Human." Lydia pointed to the short paragraph below it. "The Sanctor will always be human, healer and healed to any transforming wound." At this point she met Scott's eyes, they looked to Deaton together.

    "First let me explain the witch part. A witch isn't born with magic, they have to earn it, or- gain it, I suppose. Most of the time it would be magical or enchanted objects that are sealed to their soul. And animal sacrifices to make the magic stronger."

    "Sooo, what, know we're gonna find a bunch or dismembered animals and shit." Lydia strikes as he takes the book and begins to look through it more.

    "No." Deaton answers with a sigh.

    "Okay so how does this have anything to do with Stiles being locked in the house." Scott answers fishing in his hockey for the remaining shards of the magical orb stiles was hit with. The alpha hands over the shards warped in a rag.

    Deaton takes the rag and lays it out, looking over the shards without touching them. "I'm explaining this, because a witch is the closest thing to a Sanctor." The vet uses tweezers to pluck up a small shard and hold it to the light, a small line of words glass into view and disappear again with the smallest shift.

    "And what is that exactly?" Lydia finally asks placing down the book on a different page that explains something about a Basalisk. "Also, is this your journal?" Lydia's fingers tap over the page.

    "My uncles actually, he taught me and my sister about the supernatural. And a Sanctor, is a human, no supernatural involved. Except for the fact that they literally act as supernatural ward."