˚ ೀ⋆ ˚ 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐒 . ❝ when a dream becomes reality and reality becomes a dream, danger lurks like a shadow hiding in plain sight. ❞
── ❪ stiles stilinski x fem!oc | teen wolf, ongoing ❫
── ❪ first act: seasons 1 & 2, 𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺𝘀 ❫
...
▐ㅤ ★ 𓈒˚. HEATHENS ヾ ͙ ࣪ ˖ ੭ ⸻ stiles stilinski x fem!oc ⸻ chapter yet to be revised
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⋆˚˖°. CHAPTER 00₊˚ ⋅ ▬ AN ALPHA'S CALLING ˖ ׅ ࣪ ۪
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JANUARY 9, 2011 ⊹ ˚. ── BARLOWE HOME
▬▬▬▬ ۫ ִ ࣪ ₊ THERE WAS AN OVERWHELMING SMELL OF FOREST in a way Cleo had never felt before. For the first time in her life, she was able to pick apart every individual scent that created a feeling of comfort she had never felt, at least not while in the middle of the woods. There was the heavy aroma of rich soil that was so unmistakably because of the damp earth, and it mingled so well with the musky scent of fallen leaves and the sweet yet nearly unnoticeable smell of flowers that she wouldn't usually notice around this time of the year.
As much as it was extremely overwhelming, it was amazing in an unique way— it almost felt like home.
It took her a couple more seconds to get used to the view of the forest, that would usually feel terrifying in the dark of the night (Cleo could never shake off the feeling of something deeply wrong whenever she stepped foot there, as if there was something taking advantage of the darkness to hide). She could see more clearly than ever before, from the texture of the trees to the way the water droplets clung to a spider web that hung between two branches.
Still, she didn't have time to focus on such trivial things. She came to the woods with a goal with mind, with something very specific to do— what, she didn't know yet.
Something was wrong, deeply wrong, and it was her duty to figure what it was— why, she didn't know. There was a new and foreign sense of responsibility clinging to her shoulders, nearly making her bend her back with the weight of it, yet she couldn't show such a sign of weakness; it was below her rank, below the image she needed to portray— to who, she didn't know.
The answer to at least one of her questions seemed to come not even a second after that thought left her mind, and it came with a scent. A familiar one, although she had never felt it in her life before; the pungent smell of charred wood and ash lied underneath and was almost entirely taken over by the aroma of fresh cedar oil with a woody background to it, and that was home, what home smelled like.
"There's nothing here, I told you", a deep voice came from behind her, and as much as it would usually make her feel alerted in case any danger presented itself, she didn't. She trusted him— but who the hell was he? Home, her mind answered.
"There is, even if you don't see it, or smell it", Cleo's voice sounded so different, way more confident and self-assured, yet that didn't mean anything to her in the moment. "I know something's wrong, and I'm not leaving until I figure out what it is."
"You're losing your mind— it seems to be a family trait after all", his voice was quieter, a hint of sadness she felt like she needed to make go away. It made her heart clench with longing and sorrow.
"Stop being such a pessimist, little brother. Your pretty face can't handle any more wrinkles", her voice was lighter, even if her heart felt nothing like it. She was pretending, as she had to— but why? She just felt the need to do so, to appear strong. "You can leave, I'll be back soon."
"This is stupid, let's just go", his voice was persistent this time, clearly wanting her to come with him, but Cleo couldn't spare him another glance. Her eyes narrowed as she heard something breaking from the distance, and while it could've been just another animal, her gut told her to investigate it.
"That is why you won't be taking the lead anytime soon, brother. You need to start listening to your instincts, not just your senses; you might not see, hear or smell anything, but we know damn well some things are good at hiding in the dark", Cleo's voice was strangely wise, almost as if she had lived a thousand different lives even though she hadn't.
Maybe that was what finally made her mind click, as if realizing that was deeply wrong. That, whoever was speaking, it wasn't Cleo.
When waking up in a dream, Cleo usually felt a little bit wary, but it always passed a couple seconds after and then she would instead find it funny. There was always something funny about being aware of your surroundings when you were simply in a dream, maybe because of the way you could manipulate that reality to fit your taste and you could have a little fun, even if it was false. But that time, it didn't came.
She didn't feel relaxed, she felt afraid.
She could feel the imminent danger in every fiber of her body.
She needed to leave.
Cleo's mind spiraled after the realization sunk in and it took her longer than it should have for her to come back to herself, to reality. She wanted to scream, yet her mouth didn't move at her will and her voice didn't seem to bother with her attempts to make it come out; she felt trapped inside her own body— was it even hers? Everything seemed even worse, as if her tension amplified every single one of her thoughts and senses, making it harder to breathe once she realized she couldn't control even that.
What the hell was happening to her?
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