Changing Patterns

• 21.5 •

"Talking" 'Thinking...
Important
_writing_
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    "Well, similar to you, I've never done this before. So let's start with focus, and, does anyone want to help me here?" Deaton states calmly, his request falling to the supernaturals in the home.

    Isaac shrugs lightly and steps up with a half smirk across his face. "Sure, how do I help?"

    Deaton nods thankfully and gestures toward stiles. "Just stand besides stiles, and stiles focus him."

    Stiles nods and looks at Isaac, smiling softly and earning a gently smile back. The blond stuffed his hands into his jacket pocket and sighed happily. Stiles stared back at the young man before sighing and throwing his head back over his shoulders. Stiles looked over at Deaton, the vets eyebrows rose in question at Stiles's action.

    "Okay I need more then just focus here. That's like! That's like telling a toddler to know how to paint the Mona Lisa with one color and his fingers. Or throwing an untrained, 17 year old, into heavy combat with nothing but his fists." Stiles exasperatedly tosses his hands at his sides and blew out a heavy breath as he slapped his thighs.

    "Stiles you have to focus on his supernatural side. His strength, his healing, his speed, the things that make him different from being human." Stiles focused back on Isaac, his attention on Deaton as he spoke. "The goal is to figure out how to push the supernatural out, and then we'll figure out how to do the opposite."

    "As in normal." Stiles says lightly as he nods at Deaton and gathers looks from the pack. "Okay, supernatural, focus of the not human part." Stiles mutters calmly to himself, instructing himself.

    Stiles looks back at Isaac, past him is Scott, Cora leaning on the doorframe with a smirk, Allison laying her arms over the shoulders of Lydia, who crossed her arms and cocks a hip to the side. Lydia held a plain face, but her eyes shone confidence, and besides her was a cross armed Derek. Derek watched from the sidelines as stiles looks over Isaac, closes his eyes, slowly breaths an inhale and exhale, and then again looking over Isaac. Stiles focused on the others eyes, he imagined them glowing a yellow-orange, stiles imagined Isaacs teeth growing into a
k-nine style. He imagined hair growing over Isaacs cheeks and down the sides of his neck. Stiles focused on Isaacs hands, tucked into his pockets, he thought about how his claws would grow an inch from his nail. How the ends would be darkened.

    Isaac stumbled back steps, swinging his hands from his pockets and bowing his head as he slams his hands to the doorframe of the front door. Claws digging heavily into the wood of the house and racking marks down the doorframe. Scott's hands find Isaacs sides, just at his ribs where he pats reassuringly and hums calming words and questions toward the blonde. Isaac looks up at stiles, the human panting and scaredly watching the transformed young adult stare back at stiles.

    "Are you okay?" Stiles practically whispers before taking a step forward, Isaac steps back into Scott's arms, blinks, and swallows thickly.

    "U-um..." Isaac hesitates.

    "That was good stiles, as a Sanctor you were able to push out the supernatural end of Isaac, which is probably what happened before." Deaton speaks up, nodding his head toward stiles in a knowing way.