𝖎𝖓 𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖈𝖍 𝖍𝖔𝖕𝖊 𝖒𝖎𝖐𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖘𝖔𝖓 𝖎𝖘 actually hope stilinski
and lives in beacon hills, unknowing of her real
heritage, until her mother and father and a crazed
family of original vampires arrive at her h...
❛ the one in which she's way too pretty to be killed. ❜
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(look at my man looking way too good)
WHEN STILES APPROACHED HOPE THAT AFTERNOON, IT DIDN'T TAKE A GENIUS TO KNOW SOMETHING WAS WRONG. His eyes were wide and frantic, his movements swift, and he spoke impatiently, as though he didn't have a moment to spare. And Hope, at her locker putting her newest canvas drawing in her bag, was swiftly concerned.
"Woah, woah, woah..." She trailed, interrupting his incoherent rants about Coach thinking he needed mental help?, "What's happened?" Her words were filled with both confusion and worry and her arms came to grab his shoulder, grounding him.
Hope knew her brother often got like this. Maybe it was his ADHD, maybe it was his severe anxiety, but he always panicked when he'd found out something. Good or bad, this was always the way he would explain it to her; three times over, to make sure she understood the importance of his words. Still, Stiles looked more rushed than ever before, like it was life and death.
"Stiles, breathe, and tell me that again. You're giving me a fucking aneurysm trying to figure this out...why did Coach say he was going to call dad and do we need to kill him before he can?"
He exhaled sharply, "Hope, Hope, Hope...look at this." He said, gesturing to his Lacrosse stick, something that made Hope frown because she knew he didn't have practice until later on in the day, ready for the scrimmage. If she remembered correctly, he'd just left economics, so where had he found this stick from? Still, her reluctance made him groan, and he shoved it to her again.
She took it unsurely, "It's a Lacrosse stick, Stiles." She pointed out, unimpressed.
Rubbing his face with a groan, he started elaborating, "No, well, yes, it is a Lacrosse stick, I guess━Hope, look at the bottom of it." He finally said after a moment, lifting it so she could see the imprint around the base of the stick.
Hope squinted; to her, it looked like a normal design made by the company that the school buys their equipment from. But then, as Stiles twisted it left and right, she started to see something familiar, though where from she couldn't recall. "I don't understand." She lifted her gaze to look at Stiles, "What's so significant about a simple pattern?"
"Are you being serious right now?" Stiles said, and he swung his back to his side and began rummaging through it, "I was in Economics and I was looking at the case file for the girl who was stabbed, you know, uh...oh, Carrie━"
